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faeriekit · 7 months ago

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Feet on the Ground

loose phic phight fill for @oldfashionedbattlehymn

warnings for: murder attempt, discussion of child death

********

Danny wakes up in a garbage bag.

It isn’t as gross as it sounds. Danny’s the only thing in there, and it’s not like the lack of air is going to kill him; he could rip his way out, but honestly, going intangible is just as effective and twice as easy.

And, of course, once he’s phased his way out of the dumpster behind the gas station, Danny is very, very grateful that he didn’t even try. Everything else in there is….eeugh. He shivers.

Well. It’s got to be early morning now—it’s dark. There’s no other cars on the highway. Even the gas station itself is closed, and the stars have already lost their spark.

Time to head home.

Danny wakes up behind the gas station. Again.

…Okay?

The first time, Danny had just assumed he’d fallen asleep somewhere weird while flying around the neighborhood, but a second time is a pattern. It’s definitely not his fault this time either, because there’s no way he would have duct taped his arms and legs together or slapped a gag on his mouth.

That’s kind of. Ominous.

Danny frees himself of the garbage bag first— and thank goodness he doesn’t have to breathe— he floats himself out of the bag and the dumpster, which had…thankfully been given a good scrubbing since last time? There’s some other trash, apparently, but nothing sharp enough to cut through his durable, tape-based bonds. It takes some finagling and some eye lasers for Danny to finally get his arms free.

And. Hoo Boy. There’s no more liberating a feeling than peeling tape off your mouth, even if your mouth skin kind of comes off with it and you bleed a little. But it’s fine! It’s green, which means it’ll heal.

Fabulous. Danny zooms off invisibly into the night, more than willing to put the night behind him.

…Okay, the third time is what makes it more than a coincidence.

Danny shucks out of the bruise-tight ropes around his wrists, torso, knees, and legs, spits out his gag, and flies home. He finally has to give into the inevitable, and attempts the last resort:

“Jazz?” he whispers, slowly rocking his sister in her bed. Jazz mumbles in her sleep.

“Jaaaaazzy…” Danny tries again, trying not to look either too spooky or too imposing. Jazz’s reflexes are such that—

The laser she keeps under her pillow goes off. Danny loses a few millimeters of hair, which means that her aim is getting better.

He doesn’t have any trouble seeing in the dark (or, uh, not anymore, anyway), but it’s easy to see Jazz’s sleepy squint as she pulls herself somewhat upright. More like a shrimp with scoliosis, but, well. You know.

“Whuh,” Jazz asks. “...Danny?”

“Hey,” Danny whispers, a ghost at her bedside. Jazz grunts. “Uh. What does it mean when you keep waking up in a trash bag behind the gas station?”

Jazz blinks. Jazz rubs her eyes. Jazz blinks again, looking more sleepy than coherent but at least somewhat aware of her surroundings.

“Garbage bag?” Jazz asks blearily. “You were in a garbage bag?”

“Yeah,” Danny whispers back. “My legs were tied down?”

“...Danny, were you murdered?”

Danny stops.

“Huh?” says Danny.

“So, if you look here,” Tucker points out, finger not quite touching the glass of his CRT monitor, “That’s when Danny gets murdered.”

There is a collective eeew from the assembled viewers— Jazz, Sam, and Danny, all crowded in Tucker’s room.

“Yeah, Tucker agrees. The light from the black-and-white footage flashes in the reflection of his glasses. “Here’s where he’s tossed in…there. And this is when they tossed him in the dumpster.”

There’s no sound on the gas station surveillance footage, but Danny imagines that his body clanged on the way in. What the hell. Danny got murdered behind a gas station, and he didn’t even notice?!

They watch the archived footage of a Ford F-150 driving off the property, and then Danny’s dead body being unceremoniously tossed in a dumpster. It’s kind of surreal. No one had noticed. There was no one to report the crime committed.

“I can’t believe that guy just clocked you over the head, like that,” Sam points out. “It’s just a regular car jack. It shouldn’t have gotten you in the first place.”

The observation isn’t appreciated.

“Be nice! My brother was just murdered,” Jazz scolds. Danny doesn’t think she sounds as offended as she should be. “Either way, it’s certainly an attempted murder, if not a successful one. We have to do something.”

“…Can’t we just call the cops?” Tucker asks, turning away from the computer. “I mean. Look. That’s proof. We have proof right here.”

Sure enough, there is footage. Right there. There’s Danny’s murder, in 240p black and white.

“Where’s the body?” Sam asks dryly, and. Uh. That’s a problem they’ll have to solve.

Everyone looks at everyone else. No one has a good solution.

“…Do we have to do this?” Tucker realizes at the same second as the rest of them.

Jazz looks at Danny. Danny looks at Sam. Sam looks at Tucker.

Tucker stares back at them, entirely unenthused with the conclusion they’ve come to.

“…Okay then,” Jazz exhales. “How do you want to do this?”

Sam ends up on top of the gas station, a cell phone in her hand.

Tucker, PDA in hand, sits in Jazz’s passenger seat. The camera feed is ongoing and recording for posterity.

Jazz taps her fingers on the wheel of her car. There isn’t anywhere better to hide than down the road and around the corner, so she does, hoping that they’re on the other end of the road from whoever’s killing her brother every night.

Danny is, of course, wandering through the neighborhood.

Losing her baby brother—on purpose—is the worst thing Jazz can imagine. She feels sick. She wants to throw him into the car and speed away, and break every speed limit law in the county on her way out. She wants to pack him in bubble wrap and ship him expedited to France.

But she does leave her brother alone. She lets Tucker look over the footage as Danny roams around town, just as unaware and unsuspecting as his last few outings.

Tucker sees the man first.

He bolts upright, eyes on his PDA. “Jazz.”

Her head whips around. They watch, silently, as someone approaches Danny’s lone figure on the doorstep outside the gas station.

They can’t hear anything. That’s the scariest part.

“Call,” Jazz demands. Tucker does.

Doubtlessly, on the roof of the gas station, Sam is dialing too.

So. Danny knows this guy.

And. Uh. It’s kind of embarrassing; he’d asked if Danny was okay walking home alone at night a few hours before his dumpster wake-up call, and Danny had said it was fine.

Apparently, no, it wasn’t fine. That being said, Danny hadn’t been expecting a guy in a button-up and khakis to be the guy murdering him on the down low. He kind of looks like the dude who sells you televisions and burner phones at a Wal-Mart.

The guy comes all the way over to where Danny is sitting on the thin concrete step of the gas station. His breath fogs up from the weather and his eyes rake over Danny, up and down; down and up.

“Hey,” he says, looking all the world like any other concerned citizen. Danny’s heart throbs. “It’s cold outside. You need a ride back to town?”

“…No,” says Danny, who doesn’t.

“Your mom okay with you comin’ home late by yourself?” the man asks nervously, hands going to his hair.

Danny thinks about how many times he’s woken up in the dumpster. He thinks about seeing his own body on the camera tape. Prone. Dead.

“You still keep a car jack in your passenger seat?” Danny asks instead.

The man freezes. An attempted murderer he might be, but he’s not exactly an Oscar-winning actor. “What?”

“The car jack,” Danny repeats. He doesn’t know if he’s mad the man keeps targeting him, or whether he’s grateful Danny’s the only one who’s died so far. “It’s got a lot of sharp corners. They hurt, you know.”

The man…carefully laughs the statement off, but he looks. Nervous.

Danny doesn’t really need to confront him; he only has to stall long enough that Tucker or Sam can call the cops, so that they can see this man’s face and get him on the record. But.

There’s a part of Danny…

The man looks so human. Flush with blood. Solid enough to break. Fragile enough to be made broken.

Danny still resents being made dead. This man didn’t kill Danny—not in any way that mattered, but he’s an easy target.

He doesn’t breathe. The man watches a boy sit in the shadows of a building where he’s been dumping bodies, and Danny can taste his fear.

“It hurt a lot,” Danny says, and he isn’t referring to waking up in the bags every couple of mornings in the last few weeks. “It hurt so much. I was screaming.”

The man is silent.

“Do you like to hear the screaming?” Danny asks, suddenly curious. Did he care, if Danny had screamed, or if he had been too unaware to notice he was dying? Would he have cared, if there were others more breakable than Danny that he had hurt?

He doesn’t answer.

“I don’t like it,” Danny confesses. In a horrible way, it’s easy to tell his would-be murderer about his death—unlike Tucker or Sam, who witnessed it, or Jazz, who loves him, this man can’t be affected by Danny’s take on his own death. In fact, if he is hurt by the thought of Danny’s death…good. It’s better if he is. If there is remorse in him. “I don’t like to hear screaming. I screamed for so long, and so loud. It felt like forever.”

The man’s hands curl. He steps back.

Danny can’t help but to frown. If he leaves, the whole point of calling the cops will be for nothing, and he’ll be warier of coming back to where Danny’s body was dropped. “Where are you going?”

The man takes another step back. Danny rockets upright. He’s on his feet in seconds. “Weren’t you here for me?” Danny asks, genuinely confused, arms outstretched. “We’re here. You dumped me here over and over again.”

“Shut up,” the man snaps, startling the both of them with his volume. “He—you’re not real. You’re… Be quiet. I have real things to get done tonight!”

Danny’s dead heart throbs. Is there another dead kid? Did Danny let another kid get killed in Danny’s place? “Do you?”

The man loses his voice.

“We’re already here,” Danny points out. He steps closer—closer to the truck that drove his dead body around town, further from the dumpster where his body had been dropped. The disposal hadn’t been a funeral, but it’s closer than anything Danny’s ever had. “You’re here. I’m here. Aren’t you here for me?”

A choked breath. Danny gets closer. The ectoplasm in his skin is too warm and too cold—but he has no idea what he looks like from the outside. Is he glowing? Is he see-through? Does he just look like any other dead kid: a little too cold, a little too pale?

They’re eye to increasingly shorter eye. Up close, the man just looks like any other guy. Shaved in the face. Wrinkles around his eyes. A nose. A mouth.

Danny’s not afraid of him. His head tilts. “You’ve already killed me three times. What are you going to do now? I’ll just come back again. I won’t even notice. I died. I know what you look like—I know how to find you. It’ll be easy.”

The man’s pupils dilate—

And then there’re hands on Danny’s neck. And. It’s kind of painful, but Danny doesn’t have to breathe. So. He just kind of…pretends to be hurt?

He’s meant to be stalling for time. The cops are coming. All he needs is time.

So Danny makes some somewhat dramatic sounds and kicks out with his feet, because a fight lasts longer than a passive victim. He lands a hit to the man’s stomach, and another to his chest—he doesn’t drop Danny the way Danny might have expected, but Danny isn’t going to run out of air, so this can last forever until the man lets go. Or does something.

“Stop— coming— back,” the man snarls, and suddenly sounds nothing like the dudes who man the tech counter at the Walmart. “I got you— you should be gone!”

Danny is gone. But he’s also here. And he’s also been gone for a very long time, and he’s also getting choked out by a guy in a gas station parking lot. It’s been a rough few hours of waiting for this dude. He might as well make it worth it.

So maybe his body turns a little translucent. Just a little. Just enough to see the streetlight through his skin, probably, and the hazy road behind them.

Getting thrown to the concrete hurts, but, you know, not as badly as getting tossed into a wall by Skulker on a rampage. Danny’s barely going to be bruised after this.

The guy runs to his car, and Danny frowns, scrambling back up, and, wait. Wouldn’t having bruises be better? As evidence? They better not heal too quickly, or else that’ll be it of his physical proof.

“Where are you going?” Danny asks, more perplexed and angry than anything. Isn’t he supposed to try to kill the witness??

But the guy hauls butt into the cab of his truck— and then the lights go on and the tires start spinning, the engine roaring to life.

If Danny wasn’t actively on camera at the moment, it would be easy to fly after the car. As it is, he’s pretty fast, but he’s not quite quick enough on his feet to chase after a pickup truck careening down the highway in the dark.

The man’s gone in a few seconds. Honestly, Danny’s kind of annoyed about the whole thing. It would have been nice for it to work.

Sam climbs down from the roof of the gas station, phone in her hand. “No, I just— he choked out my friend and drove off! Send someone over here already!! You— do you need the license plate again?!”

Danny just looks at her. Sam covers her phone’s mic with a hand: “They’re saying five minutes,” she mouths.

Great.

Danny hunkers down, throat bruising, and Sam sits down beside him. They wait.

By the time the cops pull into the gas station, the guy’s more than out of sight. Sam’s the one who takes the lead on dictating their story. Danny sort of doesn’t realize how out of it he is until someone tries to throw a shock blanket on him. He almost hits the guy square in the face— and Sam’s the one who has to catch his arm.

Uh. Oops.

Jazz and Tucker roll in, hardly pretending to have not been nearby; Jazz wraps her arms around him, and Danny lets her.

Sue him. It’s late. He’s tired.

“...And I can’t believe you weren’t able to get down the road in time to catch a man who choked out my best friend,” Sam snaps, which, aw! Danny’s a best friend. The cop she’s attempting to strip down for parts looks less sympathetic than Danny feels. “You’re barely a ten minute drive up the highway! What were you doing, meandering?”

“No,” the cop grits out, eying Sam like a bug on his shoe. “We were telling the officer down the road what to look out for.”

Apparently, jamming the gas down hard enough to bust your speedometer gets you pulled over at the speed check.

The night is over before Danny knows it. Someone gets him to the station, someone takes photos of his bruises and takes his statement. Someone calls Mom and Dad and then Danny’s in the GAV, half asleep and exhausted beyond belief.

He falls asleep on the couch, Mom’s fingers in his hair.

It’s not like the Amity Park police tell them anything, but Jazz is the one who finds the report on the news.

She records it on the TiVo for him.

“Eustace Miller, from Tennessee,” Sam reads aloud, knee to knee on his couch. Tucker adjusts his glasses. “Looks like he was already on the run.”

“Or as good as,” Tucker agrees quietly. “Looks like they’re pinning a couple of cold cases to him.”

They watch; there’s pictures of him from his hometown, and from the towns he would visit on his joyride across the country. There were pictures of his family. There were pictures of kids Danny would never meet: kids who were already dead, and who had been for months. Years, even.

They’d looked so happy in the photos from when they were alive.

…Danny could relate.

Jazz turns the report off that night, thumb on the power button. And that’s all it takes for Danny to stop waking up in a trash bag.

#phic phight 2024 #tw murder #tw child murder #tw death #I think that covers it???#wait #tw choking #there we go #Danny works out some of his feelings about dying young #danny phantom #phic phight #this is very quickly being edited and posted on lunch break please bear w/ me #faer fic #sam manson #tucker foley #jazz fenton

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rebelliousstories · 3 months ago

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Protector

Relationship: Remy LeBeau/Gambit x Reader

Fandom: X-Men

Request: Yes by Anon

Warnings: Fluff, Mentions of Ailments and Sickness

Word Count: 1,073

Main Masterlist: Here

X-Men Masterlist: Here

Summary: Running a fever and having to deal with medical shenanigans is a recipe for disaster. Thankfully, a certain Cajun knows how to keep calm under pressure.

Consider Donating: Here

There was nothing fun about being sick, anyone will tell you that. What is worse is being sick in a home full of people with powers. And yet, no one can heal whatever ailment she had. It was ridiculous. She was not sick enough to go down into the infirmary, but just enough that she was staying hopped up on DayQuil and trying to rest as much as possible. But she still had tests to grade, and assignments to make, and none of this could be done from her bed. It had to be done at her desk so she actually got the work done.

“Ma cher, da Gambit is here. Where ya at?” Bumbling into their room with a card between his fingers and a new bottle of Jack Daniels, her boyfriend had come in. She tried to call out to him, but was cut off with a cough that revenged her throat.

“Oh, cher. Whatcha doin’ now, huh? You ain’t supposed to be up if you feelin’ like dis. Come on, to bed wicha.” He slid across the bedroom, and set down the objects in his hands in favor of helping his lover.

“No. I’m glad you’re back Gambit, but I’m fine, sweetie. I need to finish my work and then I can go to bed.” Remy leveled her with an unamused expression as she turned back to her work.

“How long you been workin’ at dat?” He questioned, coming over as he was still dressed in his suit. Taking off the long leather trench coat, the man ran a hand over her shoulder as she did not take her eyes off the pages.

“Ever since I finished my classes for today.”

“You did your classes today feelin’ like this? Mon amour, you must take care of yourself.” He pulled the fingers off of one hand and pressed it against her forehead. It was starting to feel clammy and hot; she had a fever coming on, and she was being too stubborn about accepting help for Remy’s liking.

“You’re burning up. Come now, cher. You go bed now.” But no matter how much he tried to move her, she remained stubborn and resolute.

“No Remy, I’ve gotta get my work done.” She protested.

“Yes. Come on.”

“No. I can’t take any time off.”

They went back and forth for a minute or two before the man releashed his touch on the woman and hung his head.

“Why won’t you just take some time to recover, cher? These can wait.” Remy, once again, tried to reason with her.

“No, they can’t!” She screamed, throwing her hands up in frustration. “I’ve gotta-”trying to form the proper words to convey her frustration, her breath skipped. Once that skip happened, it was all over. Her heart began beating hard and fast. Her hands were shaking. She was hyperventilating. She was sending herself into an anxiety attack.

As soon as he recognized what was going on, Remy jumped into action. The other set of fingers came off, and soon he was wrapping her up in his arms. Pulling her into his chest, he began stroking her hair and trying to calm her down. Her tears continued to fall. They fatten with each passing second, and showed no signs of slowing. He showed no signs of letting her go, out of comfort. Which was the same reason she was clinging to him now.

But he just provided her the comfort that she needed in that moment. He slowed his breathing, and placed her head on his chest. Remy’s hand grasped one of hers, and rubbed soothing circles on her knuckles. She was starting to slow her breathing, following Gambit’s lead, and was letting out quiet sniffles as she was resting against his chest.

“There, there cher. You gon’ be alright,” Remy whispered, and pressed a kiss to her head. “Just let it out. You gon’ be just fine.”

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered, “I’m just- I’m so overwhelmed. I hate being so sick. And I can’t think cause my head is all stuffy. I’m worried about getting droplets on my papers from coughing, but I’m more worried about coughing because I don’t want to spread this to the kids. But I need to finish these before tomorrow. I promised I would have these done by tomorrow.”

Remy’s heart broke at the sight and sound of his lover. Her own downfall was going to be her steadfast nature to stay ahead of her work for the school. But surely, this was not a matter of life and death for anyone.

“Dey’ll understand if you take a lil longer for how you feelin’. Come on, you not gonna do any good work like dis. Let Gambit take care o’ his cher. I make you a thing of Nawlens syrup. Best thing my mama ever make for me when I was sick.” With that, she finally conceded and allowed him to help her to bed. Remy sat her down on the bed, and turned to give her a pair of pajama pants. He set it down on the bed, averting his eyes from her, and only turned around when she tapped his shoulder. Gambit took her clothes and pulled back the covers as he watched her crawl in.

The man disappeared into the bathroom afterwards to change from his suit. He heard rustling from inside the next room, but felt better knowing that she was finally taking care of herself. Slipping into a cut off shirt and some sweatpants, Remy opened the door to the bedroom to see an adorable sight. His girlfriend was lying in the bed with her face smushed into the side of his pillow. Making his way to the bed, Gambit felt bad for disturbing her, but it must be done. He grabbed her and realized that she was already fast asleep.

Remy sneaked underneath her on his side of the bed, and replaced the pillow with his own chest. She moaned, squirmed, but ultimately resettled in her new spot. While she drifted off, Remy stayed up for a little just watching her sleep. He was always going to be there to tell her to take a break. He was always going to be there to take care of her. Even if she did not understand why he did or said what he did or said, he knew why. Everything was done to keep her safe.

#rebelliousstories #writing #remy lebeau imagine #remy lebeau #remy lebeau x reader #gambit x reader #gambit #gambit imagine #xmen imagine #x men comics #x men movies #x men imagine #x men

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merowkittie · 3 months ago

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hi! idk if you’re ok with anon asks but i’m not comfortable sharing my blog</3 i was wondering if you could write deadpool and wolverine x reader where reader is depressed and she just wants to feel better and logan and wade comfort her and assure her that she will get better? i totally understand if not but this would seriously make me so happy! tysm!!!!

hello! i’m completely fine with anon asks! i totally understand you <3

thank you for requesting, i hope you enjoy!

Foggy Tea — DP & WV

warnings: obvy talks of depression / unhealthy coping mechanisms / angsty just a bit / not proofread

notes: sorry this took a minute to write! hope you enjoy!! <3

maybe it was the air. something in the breeze.. that made you feel so out of touch with yourself. the thoughts that would constantly bounce around your mind, determining your every move and action.

it wasn’t so bad. you were used to it.. used to the tug of your heart, the constant feeling of failure, fatigue, and the mood swings. but better is what you wanted to feel.

to feel perfect in your body, to feel smart, to be loved and comforted when you’ve been low.

though, slowly and surely you’ve fallen down the same rabbit hole you’ve fallen down before, and sure enough, there’s no one to save you once again.

or so you thought.

the evenings air was tense. you moved slow as you continued to chop the vegetables you were preparing to put into a stew for dinner.

you just wanted the night to be quiet. to be filled with the chatter between your partners, mostly wade with the occasional interruption of you and logan.

but things never end up going your way.

"ah!" you yelped as your finger got cut open by the knife you were using to cut the vegetables. logan usually sharpened the knives in the house when they've begun to dull down.

at the sound of your yell two heavy pairs of feet ran over to you.

“Are you ok, peanut??” Wade put a hand on your shoulder, turning you slightly so he could look at you and see if you were hurt.

logan instantly appeared behind him, silently yet obviously looking you over as well for a sign that you were hurt. but he could smell it.

the twitch in his nose and the way his eyes wandered down to your hands. the heavy metallic smell was intense to his senses as more blood leaked from your finger.

“wade. her hand.” he said gruffly.

wade looked down, finally noticing what the cause of your sudden yell was.

the two exchanged a glance at each other now concerned because as clumsy as you are sometimes, this has never happened.

your quiet demeanor doesn’t help your case either as you just sit in wades arms and stare at the blood on your hand, and tremble.

“ok, let’s get you all cleaned up and squeaky clean, yea?” he wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pressed a kiss to your temple, leading you to the bathroom so he could take care of your finger.

“it was an accident.. i’m sorry—” wade cut you off with a finger to your lips.

“aaah, tatata.. no apologies should be spilling out of those sugar lips now should they?” wade wiggled his finger a bit on your lips, “wolvie is going to clean up the kitchen a bit and maybe instead we’ll order some takeout?”

he looked at you, waiting for answer but instead you just nodded your head.

with that, he began to clean up the cut on your finger. stopping the bleeding and checking to see if you’d possibly need stitches, which was not the case, thankfully.

you let him work. just watching as he cleaned the blood with some cotton balls and wrapped it in gauze. he wasn’t really used to using these things anymore since he and logan could heal and such so this was throwing him down memory lane a bit.

but most of all he was just worried about you. him and logan. they’ve noticed how you’ve been acting and have been meaning to speak to you but there was never a good time. not until now.

“you know i’m no good when it comes to comforting people, peanut, but me and wolvie need to talk to you about how you’ve been acting.” wade spoke up as he finished wrapping your finger.

“i know.” is all that you said before sighing.

wade slapped his hands on his knees before standing up and holding a hand out for you to grab. doing so, you followed him back to the kitchen meeting up with logan who was sitting at the dining table with a fat cigar in his mouth.

noticing you two walk in he eyed you a bit, seeing that wade took care of your finger. once you were seated next to him he grabbed your hand and pressed a kiss to your injured finger, endearingly.

“y’ok?” he grunted out into the back of your hand, still holding your hand.

“mhm..” looking up at him to find his eyes already on you filled with so much intensity and concern broke your heart a bit.

wade had the same look, not as much intense but still he was obviously worried. they both were.

you felt selfish to have them like this. blessed with two men who took care of you in turn of you taking care of them, constantly devoting themselves to you, just for you to feel a “little” sad?

honestly, how much more clumsy did you have to get. it was pathetic truly, to have them—

“get outta yer head, bub.” logan puffed out some smoke as he rubbed on your knuckles.

“you can tell us how you’re feeling you know.. i tell you guys how im feeling all of the time!” wade pitched in.

“you tell us how you feel after you’ve had sex and/or masturbated at the thought of one of us… that’s different wade. very different.” you shook your head at him.

he nodded his head with an amused chuckle at your words. you were right, but he wasn't trying to be a clown right now. he wanted you to genuinely express what was going.

logan squeezed your hand reassuringly, trying to coax you into spilling out your emotions, to have them understand what you're feeling and going through.

with a heavy sigh you spoke finally, "I'm sorry.. I just haven't been feeling like myself. I mean, this happens all the time though, i'll be fine.. you don't have to worry, really!" you tried to play it off, your face betraying your words.

were you really fine? in truth, what was wanted was for them to comfort you and tell you that everything was fine, it'd be ok, but you were just scared to let them in. let them see you at your lowest, but they were here to show you that it was ok to let them see you like this.

logan softly called your name, a heavy hand resting under your chin to pull your face towards his, "listen. stop downplaying what yer feeling.. I-- we.. can see right through your bullshit."

at the tone of his voice you realized maybe telling them the truth was best. constantly you would run circles in your head. so today the running ceased.

"I just want to get better.. but I can't do this by myself. I need help.. I don't know what to do anymore. I just want to feel better." your voice broke as you said the last couple of words.

the boys seeing you so helpless like this broke them. why didn't you say anything? how long have you really been feeling like this? and how didn't they see it before? these questions would have to wait because what you needed right now was them.

you needed someone to show you that there isn't anything remotely "wrong" with you, you just needed to get out of your head.

"sweetheart, we're here for you anytime, y'know that right?" logans voice reached your ears through the turbulence going on in your head.

wades hands reached for your free one to hold. squeezing tight just as logan did moments before.

"we can be here for you, baby. just let us help you, yea? we can cuddle up with mary puppins and watch some cheesy rom coms, and you can tell us everything." wade nodded his head at you from his seat on your right.

and everything was just so tempting. it's what you wanted. to spill your heart out and have them listen and hold you.

"everything will be alright bub, let us take care of you." logans hand made it's way to the base of your neck, gently caressing your skin.

maybe you will let them care for you tonight.

#deadpool and wolverine #wolverine x reader #poolverine x reader #poolverine #deadpool x reader #wolverine #wolverine x deadpool #logan howlett x reader #wade wilson x reader #wade wilson #james howlett #deadpool 3 #deadpool #x men #x black!reader

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gingerbloof · 11 months ago

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red (astarion x fem fighter!tav)

contents: light smut, fingering, tav getting injured, blood, fluff, hurt/comfort, mentions of other companions (Halsin, Shadowheart, Lae'zel, Gale), bathing/skinny dipping in a hot spring Astarion being an absolute sweetheart, use of safe word (hard stop), non-sexual intimacy

author's note: gahhh finally i got this request finished! this is a anon request from my smut prompt list (which you can find in my masterlist!) it's more fluff/hurt/comfort than smut, because i wanted to change it up a bit since its been rather smutty on my blog thus far, but regardless, i hope you all enjoy! (image taken from @dailyastarionpics) word count: 3,821

It was yet another excruciating day of traveling Faerun, and unfortunately with no leads on curing your ceremorphosis. You and your party drudged their feet sluggishly back into camp, wishing for nothing but the sweet release of sleep. Even though the sun was already starting to peak over the horizon and morning dew started to bead on each blade of grass your tired feet landed on.

Karlach, half asleep already, started the pointless fire as Shadowheart went around to heal everyone. Once she made your way to you, her eyes widened. She brushed silver bangs off her face so she could look at you clearly. Her face grew with worry as she spoke.

“Tav… How did that happen?” She asked, pointing to your ribs. Your face scrunched up in confusion as you looked down at yourself. You then see a horrific wound that wrapped from the front side of your ribcage that wrapped around to your back. You stare at it wearily, blood dripping down your skin and mixing with the dirt under your feet.

You suddenly grew pale as you felt the adrenaline from your last battle start to wear off. You tried your best to keep your composure. Years as a fighter taught you that there was no use in submitting to any wounds you may have gotten from battle. Lae’zel admired that about you, which is why it surprised you when she looked over from her tent and raised her eyebrows in surprise and rush over to you.

“Tsk’va! Tav what the hells happened?!” She asked, a very rare worried tone in her voice.

You let out a sound between a chuckle and a scoff. “It’s just a… scratch,” The last word was soft and breathy, then you felt your body begin to sway, and your surroundings blur, until darkness clouded over you. The last thing you heard was your beloved fanged partner shout “Darling!” before you submitted to the pitch blackness of unconsciousness.

***

You woke up with a groan, pain shooting through your side. You open your eyes slowly, the world slowly coming back into focus. You were snug in your bedroll, shirtless, and caked in sweat. The injury you got must’ve infected you at some point and gave you a fever, which was now thankfully breaking.

You looked down at your injury and saw that it was quickly healing, probably thanks to the help of both Halsin and Shadowheart. Careful stitches held your broken flesh together, which you knew was thanks to Astarion, whom you barely noticed was right next to you reading a book. You started to sit up as he snapped his book shut and shifted so he was on his side facing you.

“Easy, darling!” He said concerningly, laying you back down slowly. You looked up at him with sleepy eyes as you allowed him to lay you back down. “You’re still in a bit of bad shape, no sudden movement, alright?” He said soothingly, running his slender pale fingers through your hair and laying a kiss on your forehead.

You sighed softly with a bit of frustration, leaning into his kiss. “I’m fine, my love…” You said, your voice low and gruff. “‘Tis but a flesh wound, I promise.”

He rolled his eyes at you. “‘My love, I don’t believe a ‘flesh wound’ would cause you to collapse from blood loss and get… twelve stitches,” He said, glancing briefly at your injury and counting them quickly. “We also had to pull a rather big chunk of metal out of your side…” You sigh again and carefully cross your arms over your chest, pouting at him. “I’ve had a lot worse, you know,” You said in a snarky tone, pointing to the big gash in your face that you had gotten years ago.

He gasped and placed his hand over his chest in a sarcastic manner. “Oh, I’m so sorry! It seems I have forgotten that such a strong bodied fighter such as yourself doesn’t need any comfort,” He said cheekily, the corners of his mouth curving into a smirk as your face flushed bright red.

“I-I didn’t say that!” You pouted even more, turning your head away from him. Regardless of your strong outer shell, he always brought out your very well hidden soft interior. He was the only one who could do it, and knowing that inflated his already massive ego.

He laughed heartily at your reaction, gently taking your chin in his cold hand and turning your head back around to face him. “You are utterly adorable,” He cooed, giving you a quick smooch on the lips. “Come, let’s get you cleaned up, darling. No offense, my love, but you smell like death.”

You frown and sniff yourself briefly, the smell of stale blood and sweat assaulting your nostrils. How embarrassing… You nodded, and he very carefully helped you up. He pulled off his own nightshirt for you to wear, and linked your arm with his so you didn’t stumble.

As you exit your tent, the assaulting rays of the afternoon sun almost blind you. You squint in the light and use your hand to shield your eyes as Shadowheart and Halsin quickly rush over to you both, relief washing over their faces.

“Tav! You’re awake, thank Selune!” Shadowheart beamed, cupping your face gently. You smile warmly at her and chuckle. As your best friend, other than Astarion of course, Shadowheart was always giving you sweet friendly touches. You adored having someone like her around.

Halsin was next to speak, his large frame thankfully shielding the sun from your still very tired eyes. “Thank the Oak Father… We were worried your injuries were far too grave for us to heal alone. Good to see we were wrong,” He smiled warmly at you. “How are you feeling?”

You shrugged as you leaned against Astarion a bit more. “I’m okay, it just hurts a bit. We’re going to the river to clean up quickly,” You respond, reassuring them that you were fine. “Of course if she’s alright enough to do so,” Astarion chimed in, lifting your shirt enough for the healers to take a look at it.

Shadowheart hummed and reached her hand out, chanting a soft “Te curo” as a soft blue light wrapped around your injury. This eased the pain quite a bit, and from the looks of it, her simple healing word seemed to have closed the gash up just a bit more. A sigh of relief left your lips as you said a silent thank you to her.

“I think she will be fine, but I do recommend going to the hot spring, the warmth of the water and the healing properties of nature should make her feel good as new,” Halsin said. Astarion smiled at both of them. “Thank you, we shall take our leave for now, then,”

As you both turn to head towards the spring, Halsin spoke out to you once again. “Would you two mind if I joined?” A small but sweet smirk on his face. Both you and Astarion chuckled. You had both indulged yourselves with Halsin before, so it was always on the table when the time seemed right. Astarion looked to you to silently ask if that was alright, and you shook your head. You just wanted him right now…

Astarion replied on your behalf. “Mmm, tempting, but not tonight, druid. I hope you can understand.” Halsin nodded, fully understanding. “Of course. Enjoy yourselves, both of you.”

After walking for a few meters you found the spring. Neither of you have seen it before, so you both took a moment to soak up the view. There was a beautiful waterfall in the distance that led to the river, and mountains could be seen just beyond it. Moss covered rocks were placed conveniently around the steaming body of water, perfect to sit on to dip your feet in, and the trees hung low enough to lightly diminish the harsh ways of the afternoon sun from your view.

You smiled and sighed softly at the view. It was breathtaking. Astarion, however, was entranced by a different view. You.

You felt his eyes upon you and looked over to him, your eyes immediately locking with his. You tried to play it cool, looking back at the spring before you. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” You asked softly. He stepped closer to you, gently placing his hand on your hip and carefully pulling you closer, minding your wound. “Not as beautiful as you, my love,” He purred softly, placing a kiss on your forehead. You flush deeply, and not just from the steam of the spring.

You both stay there for a moment, enjoying each other’s company. He sighed a contentful sigh as he pulled away from you briefly. “Come now, my love. Let’s get you all cleaned up,” He smiled. You nodded and started removing his shirt from yourself, but he quickly stopped you, taking your hands for a brief moment. “Let me, my dear,” He gently lifted the shirt off of you, careful not to let you lift your arms up too far. The shirt pulled off of you, revealing your bruised and injured body. Crusted up blood flaked over your skin, but regardless Astarion still looked at you like you were the most beautiful being in all the Relms.

Your small clothes came next. He slowly slipped them down around your ankles leaving you bare. Astarion soon followed suit, yanking down his pants and slowly stepping into the warm water. He reached his hand out to you and you took it, following him into the water.

You sigh in relief, the warmth of the water immediately relaxing your tired muscles. You stepped further into the pool, sinking down until the water was just above your breasts. Astarion went back over to the rock he left his trousers on and pulled out a bar of soap, which you hardly even noticed he grabbed. You raised an eyebrow and smirked.

“Let me guess… Stolen?” You jabbed, crossing your arms lightly. Astarion half shrugged nonchalantly. “Only from Gale,” He responded with a chuckle. You roll your eyes and shake your head playfully. You weren’t surprised, he always took the opportunity to take anything important as he saw fit, especially if it was from Gale. He made his way back over to you, getting the bar of soap wet and lathering it in his hands. “Turn around, my love,” He said softly, taking your shoulders and spinning you in the water gently so your back was to him.

You comply and briefly dip yourself further into the water to wet the rest of your body. As you stood back up he placed a soft kiss on the nape of your neck and started his work. He scrubbed away the grime and flaked blood off the backs of your shoulders. You hum happily, wrapping your arm around to gently wrap your fingers around his beautiful silver locks. He wrapped his arms carefully around you, pulling you further into him. He placed soft kisses along the shell of your ear as the lather made its way to your chest and torso.

He continued to clean you innocently and sweetly for a few more moments until he turned you around. The way the suds of the soap encompassed your breasts and the golden rays of the sun making your wet skin glow flipped a switch inside of him. You were the most ethereal thing he had ever gazed upon.

You were entranced with him too. The sunlight bounced off of his beautiful pale skin, and he almost appeared to shimmer in it. His ruby eyes glinted as he looked at you, nothing but love and devotion filling them.

“You know…” He started softly, tracing the backs of his knuckles down your arm, gazing down your figure. “I can think of some other ways to relieve some tension, darling,” His voice was a hungry purr now, honeyed words floating sweetly into your ears like a soft lullaby. You nibbled your bottom lip as you watched his movements as his hand creeped down to the front of your thigh. Once again, you tried playing it cool, despite the ever growing heat in your core. “W-What do you mean?” You asked softly.

A low chuckle left his lips. “Don’t be coy, darling. You know exactly what I mean,” A smirk tugged at the corners of his lips as his fingertips gently grazed across your folds, making your breath hitch in your throat. “What’s the matter, my sweet? Cat got your tongue?” He hooked his index finger to part your folds and catch against your clit, brushing against it gently.

You grabbed his hand in an attempt to push his fingers against your swollen bundle of nerves more to get some much needed friction. He stiffened his hand, not allowing you to move it. He clicked his tongue in disapproval and shook his head, the corners of his mouth lifting in yet another devious smirk.

“Patience, my sweet,” He purred next to your ear, his other arm snaking around and gripping your ass gently, pulling you further into him.

You stumbled a bit into him, clearly flustered by his bluntness. Uncharacteristic for someone of your class and background, but you didn’t care. Astarion brought a side out of you that you haven’t felt safe enough to channel in years, and you were very grateful for him for it.

He chuckled at your apparent shyness, placing soft kisses along your ear making you shiver. “S-Star…” You whimpered, making him groan. He loved that nickname, and you always knew the right times to use it. “Yes, darling? What is it?” He replied smugly, his feather light touches grazing your folds again, making you tense up.

“Please…” You mumble, making him groan in playful frustration. “My darling, we’ve gone over this multiple times… You must– say it with me now… use your words,” You shyly said those three cursed words along with him. As he said, you have gone over it multiple times, but you were much too stubborn to give in and actually tell him what you wanted. That was, until you were too desperate for him not to care anymore. Just like how you were right now.

“Astarion,” You said sternly, trying to keep up your strong facade. “I want you to touch me. Use your fingers. Please.” The last word you spoke was soft and breathy, your stubbornness bending like a hammer to hot steel. He grinned, his fangs glinting in the glow of the setting sun. Gods, he is beautiful…

“Of course, my love. Whatever you need,” He purred, his fingers finally placing soft pressure against your hard clit. You gasped softly as he used those two slender fingers to massage soft circles into it. You shivered, despite the hot steamy water that surrounded you both, and grasped onto his shoulders, burying your face into the crook of his neck.

He gently ran his fingers through your hair as he continued to stroke the fire in your core. To the innocent bystander, it might’ve looked like you were just having a sweet romantic hug in the water, but down below the surface, he was giving you endless pleasure, quickly bringing you to the point of no return.

With you being inexperienced when you started being intimate with one another, it never took you long to reach an orgasm, especially if he was the one touching you. He chuckled as he felt your body tremble against his. Your blunt fingernails gently dug into his skin as you felt your orgasm creep closer and closer. Normally, he would make you ask to come because he relished in the sounds of you begging. However, given the circumstances, he decided to play nice with you today.

“That’s it, my pet… Let go,” He whispered, kissing along your shoulder gently. His pace quickened, earning him a soft airy gasp from you. Your breath wavered as his fingers continued their quickening pace against your clit, your legs starting to tremble. “A-Astarion…!” You choked out, grasping onto him for dear life. He hummed in approval as his pace quickened once again, making your eyes snap shut and let out a delicious, loud moan.

Your orgasm crashed into you like the waterfall behind you crashing into the river, your whole body twitching and spasming. You almost fell over from how hard you came, but thankfully Astarion’s stiff body kept you upright. He slowed his pace, riding you through your orgasm and whispering sweet praises into your ear. “There you go, my sweet… What a good girl you are,” He peppered kisses along your neck as he slowly withdrew his hand.

You panted as you looked at him. Your face was beet red, and your brow was starting to bead sweat from the heat of the spring and your orgasm. He smiled sweetly down at you and caressed your cheek. “Would you like more?” He asked, as you felt his cock throb against you. You nodded eagerly, slipping your hand down beneath the water to stroke him gently. He took your wrist and shook his head.

“Please, my dear… Allow me,” He purred. He gently guided you over to a nearby rock to the shallower end of the pool. “Bend over here, darling,” He gently coaxed. You were quick with your actions, yet careful. You didn’t want to reopen your wound. You gently bent over the rock, arching your back slightly for him. He came behind you and stared at your swollen cunt, dripping with ecstasy and still twitching from your previous orgasm. He ran his hands across the swell of your ass and down the sides of your thighs, groaning softly. “Beautiful…”

He took his cock and gently pressed the tip against your hole. “Are you ready, my sweet? Are you ready to be stretched by my cock?” He asked, his tone sweet and innocent despite the filthy words. You nodded eagerly, arching your back a bit more in an attempt to push yourself onto him. “Y-Yes… Please, I need you…” You replied, your voice full of desperation.

The eagerness in your words was all the confirmation he needed. He slowly started to roll his hips into you, pressing each inch of his cock further and further into you. You moaned loudly as you stretched around him and clenched. He hissed in pleasure at your tightness as he thrust slowly in and out of you, closing his eyes. You growled softly at the feeling of you. “Gods, Tav… You feel so fucking good,” He said, pressing into you harder, earning a loud yelp from you.

Sometimes, especially in moments of insatiable desire such as this, Astarion could be a bit rough with you. It was almost like he went feral from your sounds and the feeling of you pulsating around him. Thus, you have agreed upon a word that either of you could use if things got out of hand. Neither of you had to use it yet, but if he kept up this harsh, rough pace, you would have to use it.

His speed increased, thus his roughness. The pleasure started turning into a soft, manageable pain as the tip of his cock pounded against your cervix. He must not have noticed your body tense, because he kept going, wrapping his hands around your waist, accidentally touching your stitched wound.

That is what made you say it.

“R-Red!! Astarion, red!”

His eyes snapped open as he stopped, pulling out of you quickly and turning you around gently, his face broken with worry. “Oh, my dear, I am so sorry… Did that hurt? Are you okay?” He asked, checking your wound briefly to see if he had accidentally reopened it. You panted softly, trembling a bit. You winced softly with pain. “I-It was just my injury… I think I’ll be okay,” You reassured him, feeling bad that you had ruined the moment. He shook his head. “No, darling… Let’s stop, I don’t want to cause any more harm to you. I-i don’t know what got into me, I-”

You noticed he started rambling a bit and… Tearing up. You had yet to see him cry about anything, so this surprised you. Your face grew with worry as you caressed his cheek. “Hey… It’s okay, I’m okay,” You said gently. He leaned into your touch and shook his head again. “Gods I am so sorry…” He apologized again, his voice laced with guilt. You kissed him sweetly on the nose and smiled at him. “My heart, I’m okay. Thank you for stopping when I said it.” He chuckled at that. “Of course I stopped. I want nothing more than for you to be comfortable,” He said gently, placing a soft peck on your lips. You kissed him back and smiled warmly. You had never had anyone who cared about your safety and wellbeing as much as he did, nor him with you. You both felt so safe together, and absolutely nothing could ruin that.

He pulled away slightly and took the bar of soap again, coaxing you over with his finger. “Come, my love, let’s finish getting you washed up.”

After you both bathed, you stayed in the spring for a few hours, talking about everything and nothing and enjoying each other’s company. The moon had risen a while ago, bathing you both in its faint blue light. You stared up at the moon as you sunk down into the water to your shoulders. You barely noticed the wound anymore, and you felt relaxed and very well healed.

Astarion had gotten out a few minutes ago to dry off. He stared at you and had a devilish idea. He smirked to himself as he slowly slipped back into the water, trying not to make too much noise. He snuck up behind you, totally oblivious. Just as he was about to splash you with water, you flipped around and got his face and hair soaking wet, making him groan in frustration. “Gahh, my hair! My beautiful hair!” He pouted, making you laugh hysterically. “Sneaking up on a fighter, really, my love?” You said through laughs. He scowled a bit, then started to laugh as well. “Foolish idea, I know…” He admitted, wading closer to you. “But you didn’t have to ruin my hair…” He whined. You grin evilly at him, lifting your hand to his head.

“No, no! Stay back, you!” He shouted as he tried to get away from you. You chased him around the pool for a bit, laughter and playful banter filling the night.

Halsin and Shadowheart were silently watching you both from the clearing just before the pool, smiling sweetly. “She seems to be doing a lot better now, doesn’t she, Halsin?” Shadowheart queried, making Halsin chuckle as he replied. “What can I say… Love certainly is the best medicine.”

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mayullla · 8 months ago

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Hello hello, good day/evening to you, hope ur week has been fine!

May I request (if its still open?) Yan!Baizhu with fem reader? It's rare to see someone write for him after all 🦋🌷 thank you

Title: Gold Rings

Character(s): Baizhu (Genshin Impact) Summary: You didn't remember your fiance after you fell from the cliff and were rescued but he continued to stay by your side as your doctor. Warnings/tags: Yandere Baizhu x amnesia fem!reader, manipulation, 2k word count

[ - A little present~! Event - Closed - ]

You stared at the ceiling, made of brown wood, but found nothing interesting. Awake with nothing to do, you could not help but raise your left hand at the ceiling, reaching for something that wasn't there.

You weren't sure what you were reaching for.

But all you could do was stare at the ring on your finger. A thin gold band reflected the sunset light from the window.

You remember nothing. Nothing at all.

You were still healing; your body ached in pain if you moved too suddenly, even when most of it was somewhat healed. It was hard to stay still, frustrating as you tried to remember the past, as if you were trying to reach the fringes of the past yet barely able to touch it.

"You should rest, my dear." You almost jumped, startled at the calm yet disappointed voice. It wasn't loud, but after staying in the room alone for a long time, your ears were sensitive to his voice. "I brought you some food. Have you slept well?" the voice asked.

You recognized that voice somewhat, not as a voice that you heard in the past that you could not remember, but it was the first voice you heard after waking up in this room. Dropping your hand to the side of the mattress, you pushed yourself up slowly with his help. Sudden movements made you dizzy, which you had to learn the hard way. Looking up again, you looked into his golden eyes, slit pupils. His eyes almost reminded you of that of a snake.

"Y-yes," you told him, nodding your head slowly, which prompted a smile on his lips and a crinkle in his eyes. "Ah, that is good. A good rest is always needed when you are sick," he told you as he took the stool that was beside your bed and took a seat on it, placing the food tray on his lap. You had to think for a moment... What was his name..? He had told you before, but it had escaped your mind for a moment as you blinked owlishly at him.

“Hmmm?” He looked at you, tilting his head as if wondering why you were staring at him like that.

Baizhu.

Baizhu... you thought to yourself, a hidden delight that you were able to remember his name when you didn't remember much else. He... he was your doctor.

And the man to whom you were engaged.

He was the first person you saw when you opened your eyes, right beside you, sleeping on the chair with his head on top of his crossed arms on top of the bed. You saw the dark circles under his eyes and his pitiful state. Yet your awkward movements caused him to get up, his eyes wide like saucers as he held your hand, crying and pained.

You didn't remember much after that, forced to go back to sleep still too tired. But you remembered the shock and pain in his eyes when he saw the confusion in your eyes as you looked at him. The question of who he was looked like you had shattered him greatly, yet he kept up the act of someone strong. Asking you questions like your name and who you were, most of which you were able to answer. He asked you if you knew how you ended up here, but you didn't remember that.

He tried to be as gentle as possible with the news. Amnesia. You were out and about collecting herbs in horrible weather in the high cliffs of Liyue, where you had a slip and fell, tumbling down a small cliff. Thankfully, you were just smart enough not to head to the steep cliffs, for if you fell from the high mountains, you would have probably died.

Baizhu was kind... too kind, in fact, you thought to yourself, feeling nothing more than a stranger. You didn't understand his kindness when there were no memories to back up the overly kind gestures. Most doctors would not go to this point, to be fair, kind... They didn't try to see their patients almost every hour, every day.

But you also felt guilty.

Because even though you didn't understand the reason, there was a reason why he acted like this. You still remember the pain in his eyes when he realized that you didn't remember the time spent with him, his love, or your own love towards him. He barely covered up all his pain with a smile and his glasses, with the snake around his neck observing him as you looked at him with guilt.

You lived alone in the harbor of Liyue, having moved here and stayed for a long while now. Baizhu told you that you worked for him, with Qiqi collecting herbs and medicinal flowers for ingredients for medicines and remedies. Baizhu said that you were a hard-working person and that sometimes you would help at the pharmacy too.

"I could make some time and head to your home again today. I tried to look for your diary, but even when I looked everywhere, I wasn't able to find it," Baizhu said with a sorrowful expression. You had asked him to send someone to fetch your diary so that you could see your own past that you had written.

However, it was not found.

You shook your head, telling Baizhu that it was okay. Maybe the diary was with you when you were up in the mountains, as you sometimes took it with you outside. Baizhu looked heartbroken, unable to look at you in the eyes, as the proof that you and he were lovers, other than the rings, was gone. The snake that was wrapped around his neck was not there to cover up the awkward silence between the two of you.

You felt guilty that you didn't remember, unable to remember something that was almost like it didn't happen. Looking at his hand, a ring shined under the light from the candlestick. The sun was setting, and before it got too dark, Baizhu had lit the candle. A simple band, yet the same color as yours. You wondered what your relationship with him was like, how much you showed it outside to the public and inside, how long you had feelings for him, or who confessed first. You do not remember even one thing. Reaching out, you placed your hand on top of his, smiling at him.

You wondered if you should trust him. It would be awkward if not hard to start everything again, but if your relationship with him was real, then you thought that it would not be hard to bring those feelings back again. You remembered the people who visited you, Qiqi, who you remembered was a zombie and had a hard time remembering, talked to you in a way that showed she knew you. She would often hand you some flowers that she picked at the mountain, hoping that you would get well soon. Clearly, that was enough to tell you that you were at the pharmacy often or had multiple trips to the mountain with her collecting herbs.

Not only that, the people who knew you also visited, some friends who stayed by your side. While a little awkward at first, having a hard time sinking in the fact that their friend may not be remembered, many of the memories spent together, while some others were more mature about it and tried to help you whenever they could. They all said the same thing, though, that you were a private person when it came to love, but they were also not surprised by the ring on your hand. Some said that they noticed it before the accident but didn't have the time to comment on it before, as you looked very busy to stop and have a chat about it back then.

They didn't look all that surprised when you told them that Baizhu was your fiancé, as he had told them a little while ago before coming here. They also thought that it was highly likely that it was him of all people. They had seen you two together multiple times before, after all, though not announced as a couple, there was certainly chemistry there, one of them commented.

When you were finally able to go out, many regulars who had to visit the pharmacy often greeted you in surprise when they finally saw you. They had heard of what happened and could only feel sorry as they asked if you were alright. It was there too that people talked about you and Baizhu being together. "It was horrible that such a thing had happened to such a lovely couple," an old grandmother commented. When you asked them to go into more detail, the granny and older ladies all told you in enthusiasm of how cute the two of you were while they watched from the side waiting for their medication.

It was hard to believe, yet the more people talked, the easier it became to believe that you and him were lovers. Your engagement was recent, and you didn't have enough time to tell others about it before the incident.

Baizhu watched as you talked to the elderly who told you many stories of what they saw between you and Baizhu as you listened to them, hesitantly wondering if this was the truth or not. Other than the engagement rings, it must have been difficult to believe that you and him were lovers with hardly enough physical proof. All you had to go with was him and the people's words.

How splendidly did this work in his favor.

You see, you were never his to begin with. You had a lover who lived deep in the mountains, whom you would visit often on your trips. You kept it a secret from everyone. The only reason why he knew when it would have been difficult for him to follow you up high mountains was Qiqi.

Qiqi, after all, was very fond of you and more often than not tried her best to remember moments by writing them in her diary to keep. It wasn't him looking at the small girl's diary that he knew that, but more so a slip of the tongue of some sort. Whenever it was the two of you who went on a trip, Qiqi always came back telling that she had remembered someone talking to you often, also helping her get to flowers that were a little difficult to grab easily due to her height.

It seemed that you had started to take an interest in another man. Baizhu wasn't happy, annoyed more than anything that you had fallen for someone else. Changsheng mocked him for his frustrations, but was startled by his irritated demeanor. It wasn't supposed to show, and most didn't notice, but he supposed those who knew him knew that he was in a very bad mood right now and learned to avoid him unless it was something very important.

Yet before he could do anything drastic, it seemed that the archons had done everything for him instead. You just had to go to him in this heavy storm and hurt yourself. You knew of the storm, yet the feeling just didn't sit right with you as you continued to think about that man. Something was wrong. You left the pharmacy even when Baizhu told you not to leave.

How shocked he was when you came back very injured and with amnesia. Even if he was saddened, scared even, that you were in pain, Baizhu could not help but become a little delighted.

When you looked so worried, your poor, soft, lovely heart was unable to stand the idea that he was hurt when it was all a lie in the first place that he was your fiancé. Changsheng pointed out sarcastically that he was deranged in the head when it came to you. Too sly already, yet when it came to you, it seemed that he was greedy.

And maybe he was, when you were placed right in front of him, how could he not consume his precious little thing’s mind?

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astars-things · 5 months ago

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Jack on a roadie but Y/N falls off the jungle gym at preschool and breaks her arm. He feels terrible when he gets the voicemail 2 hours later after press all the way in California. Thankfully Mama El was already with Y/N and she had a cast and she even got to pick the color. But jack didn’t know that and immidately facetimes his mom. Even tho she assures him that she’s fine and he talks to his daughter. He beats himself up for months for not being able to be there. But when he comes home the next day (that’s when the roadie was planned to end anyway) he insists on keeping her home from school and cuddling all day.

I was sitting in the locker room, the hum of post-game chatter filling the space around me, when my phone buzzed. The voicemail notification blinked insistently, but it wasn’t until I was back at the hotel that I had a chance to listen. The game against the Sharks in California had been intense, and I was exhausted.

“Hey Jack, Um, just wanted to let you know that Y/N had a little accident at preschool today. She fell off the jungle gym and broke her arm. She’s okay now, we’re at the hospital, and she’s got a cast. She even got to pick the color—purple, of course. Call me when you get this.”

My heart sank. Two hours had passed since Mom left that message. Two hours of Y/N being in pain, scared, and I wasn’t there. My hands shook as I fumbled to FaceTime my mom, Ellen. She answered quickly, her familiar face filling the screen with a gentle, reassuring smile.

“Jack, she’s okay. Really, she’s doing great.”

“Can I see her?” My voice cracked, a mix of relief and guilt washing over me.

Ellen turned the phone, and there she was. My little girl, Y/N, lying on the couch with her tiny arm encased in a bright purple cast. Her big eyes lit up when she saw me on the screen.

“Daddy!” she squealed, wiggling her fingers at me. “Look at my cast! It’s purple!”

I forced a smile, my chest tightening. “Wow, that’s awesome, sweetheart. You’re so brave.”

She beamed, showing off her cast, completely unfazed by the ordeal she’d been through. Ellen took the phone back, her eyes softening with understanding.

“Jack, she’s really okay. The doctors said she’ll heal up just fine. Kids are resilient.”

“I know, Mom,” I replied, but the words felt hollow. “I just wish I’d been there.”

Ellen’s smile faded, replaced by a look of sympathy. “You can’t be everywhere at once. She’s safe, she’s happy, and she knows you love her. That’s what matters.”

We talked for a few more minutes, but I couldn’t shake the gnawing guilt. I hung up, staring at the darkened screen. How could I have missed something so important? The roadie had been planned to end the next day, but it felt like a lifetime away.

That night, I barely slept. The next morning, I was on the first flight back home. As soon as I walked through the door, Y/N came running to me, her purple cast held high like a trophy.

“Daddy, look!”

I scooped her up, holding her close. “I see it, sweetheart. It’s the best cast I’ve ever seen.”

For the next few hours, I didn’t let her out of my sight. I called the preschool to let them know she wouldn’t be coming in, and we spent the day cuddled up on the couch, watching her favorite movies.

Every time she laughed or told me about how brave she was at the hospital, the weight of guilt lifted just a little. But it didn’t go away entirely. I kept replaying Ellen’s voicemail in my head, imagining Y/N’s fear and pain, and hating that I hadn’t been there to comfort her.

#send in requests #imagines #thanks anon!#luke hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes x daughter!reader

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cas-readsandwrites · 3 days ago

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Lavender: Interludes

Set in Jackson post TLOU S1 in the Lavender universe by @justagalwhowrites, a few little scenes of Joel, Doc, and the fam in Jackson. Listen I am not pregnant, I have no desire to be pregnant, so I don't know WHERE this came from, but I love soft Joel healing from his trauma and finding love and joy in his family! Content: Reader is described as pregnant. There is smut. And fluff. And love. Grab some ice cream and your heating pads if you're in the same time of the month as me. Minors DNI. 3.6k words

I am not quiet about the fact that Lavender is one of my favorite fanfics, in my two decades popping in and out of various fandoms. Doc and Joel are my distraction and angst and comfort when I need it. Sometimes my imagination runs a little wild.... many many thanks to Kit for creating these characters and being totally cool with the fact that I wrote a little fanfic of her fanfic :D So here we go!

~~~

Joel had walked into the house late one evening, after patrol had gone long and he had to wait to give report to the next crew going out. He was extra antsy and wanted to get home, now more than ever. This was his last patrol for the next several months, as he would not need to leave the walls of the town during the last month of your pregnancy and hopefully not for a month or two afterwards. He would be put on extra shifts on guard duty or with the carpenter crew, but as long as he was within a quick run down the street or an ear-shot of someone yelling for him with news of you, he was fine with that.

Anyway, when he had come home, you had been standing in the middle of the living room, seemingly all the sheets and blankets from the house around you and stacked in a laundry basket at the bottom of the stairs. All of the glasses and mugs were sitting out drying on the counter, as well as the few baby bottles you had brought home from the clinic (just in case you had said, hopeful that you would be able to breastfeed). All of the lights were still on upstairs.

“Baby,” he said, matter-of-factly, “what the hell are you doin’?”

You spun around, holding a fitted sheet in your hands, fresh from the laundry line outside. The town was encouraged to use the communal laundry whenever possible, to limit wear and tear on the machines in the houses, but understandably many families had middle-of-the-night unexpected messes or heavy loads that they would do at home if the mechanicals still worked. The dryer in their house was still inconsistent, as much as Joel took it apart and banged on it and put it back together, it gave them a few good spins before shuddering to a halt again. Thankfully Tommy and Maria’s across the street was still functional, adding to the growing list of ways that he felt like he was in… well, a commune, with his brother as their lives and households continually overlapped, something he suspected would only increase after the baby was born.

“I think I’m nesting,” you answered back, looking around at the piles of fabric and wiggling your fingers in the sheets. “It seemed like a good idea to have all the linens clean, and then I was hand-washing some things in the kitchen, so it seemed like a good idea to clean off some of the dishes and things we haven’t really used, they were kind of dusty and I didn’t want it getting in the bottles…” you trailed off and sighed. “Ok, it looks ridiculous, but trust me, it needed to be done!”

Joel wasn’t about to fight you on that, as much as he worried about your health and safety in what he viewed as an extra-fragile state, it seemed like you had come even more alive with an extra vivacity throughout your pregnancy. Even when you were throwing up, or cranky with hormones, you were even more feisty. Which was saying something, considering all the times you had verbally sparred back in Boston, along the road to Jackson, even back when you were taking care of yourself and your grandmother all alone. “Ok, well… can I help you?” he asked. “Seems like you got it in hand, but please don’t tell me you’ve been carrying laundry around all day.”

You waved your hands again, corners of the sheet scrunching around your fingers. “Ellie put up with me for a while and did the heavy lifting with the wet things. She wanted to go out for the evening, though, so it’s just been me and the folded piles tonight.” You looked around as you tucked the corners across and into each other, neatly snapping the sheet and folding the edges in. “I guess if you can take these all back up into the closet upstairs, then it will be mostly done.”

You looked around at the folded pile in the basket, mentally cataloguing your task, before seeming to snap out of it and look back at him. “But you just got home! I’m so sorry, blame my brain for being wired towards this.” You waded through the piles and threw yourself into his arms, even with your stomach grown with his baby, still fitting in just right where he could wrap around your shoulders and your back and you could lean into that space against his chest. Joel ran his hand up and down your back, around your side, warm palm against the place where your child grew. You hummed as he kissed the top of your head, centering himself as he always did when coming home on your scent and the warm gravity of you in his arms.

“Why don’t you go up to bed?” he murmured against your temple. “I’ll get the rest of this. You’ve been on your feet a lot. Please go lay down? I’d love to just… be with you tonight.” You nodded, tipping your head back to kiss him. He anchored himself to you, the press of your lips against his.

“I’m glad you’re home,” you said, squeezing him again before stepping away and looking around at the living room before walking upstairs.

They had been in this house for several months, well-established in Jackson, but he couldn’t shake the nighttime routines yet, circling the first floor of the house, checking that the exits were clear, locked, lights off, locking his rifle in the downstairs closet, keeping his sidearm in the nightstand next to his side of the bed. He heard you moving around the bathroom and treading the hallway into the bedroom. Thankfully, Ellie came home not too soon after as he was finished folding. She shrugged and tilted her head with an eyebrow raised in a nonverbal I don’t know, man, it wasn’t my idea. He handed her the basket and wordlessly gestured up the stairs. She just as silently tilted her forehead against his arm as she passed in a greeting and good-night, and they trooped up the stairs together. “Good night, Ellie!” he heard you call across the hall.

He showered, washing off the road and sweat, before climbing in bed behind you, already nested in your structure of pillows. “Mmmf,” you murmured, nestling back into his chest. He traced the line of the back of your neck with one hand and looped his arm around your front, resting on your stomach. You traced the back of his hand with your fingers in the dark. It didn’t seem to take much, even at this stage in your pregnancy, and soon you were bringing his hand below the slope of your stomach to that place between your legs that seemed so much more sensitive nowadays.

“Baby,” he murmured in your ear, “you gonna be ok? Don’t want to hurt you…”

You moaned quietly as his fingertips traced your clit, leading down to your center, tracing your entrance and just dipping inside. You gasped and tilted your hips, moving your leg to open that space for him. “Please, Joel,” you breathed, trying to be quiet, mindful of Ellie down the hall. “I trust you, I know you won’t hurt me, I want to feel you, please…”

He kissed the space below your ear, the scratch of his beard tickling the back of your shoulder. “Don’t gotta beg for me, sweetheart, always gonna give you what you need.”

Urged by your own hand, he felt the wetness from your entrance already, dipping his fingers in to coat them, coming back to your clit, warm and aching. It didn’t take long for the pressure from his fingers, alternating between circling and lightly pressing on your sensitive areas, before he felt you throbbing, heard your tiny gasps as you tugged on the corner of your pillow, thrusting your hips back into his as he brought you to your edge. Even after months of your reassurance that you knew he wouldn’t hurt you, had never done so, and you still obviously wanted him, he waited for your cues. He tried to ignore his hardening cock, but your thrust backwards had nestled him into the soft flesh of your ass, so warm and delightfully more from pregnancy, and he couldn't help as he rocked against you. Even as you came down, you pushed his hand back towards your center, hitching your top leg up to rest on his, reaching behind for his hip, holding him close.

He ran his hand down your leg, gripping your thigh against him as he moved to push himself against you, the heat and wetness from your center drawing him in. He lined the tip of him with your center, your body grasping to pull him in, as if promises over decades and the proof of your love growing inside you weren’t enough. He stopped only long enough to ask, “this ok, baby? You feel alright?”

You whimpered, tilting your head back towards him, and he ran his nose along what he could reach of your jaw, kissing the side of your neck, breathing against the edge of your ear. “Feels so good, please, don’t stop,” you whispered, rocking just so the tip of him slid in. He closed his eyes, focusing on the feel of you around him, pressed against him, as he slid inside you from behind. You bit your lip to stop from crying out, rocking back into him with abandon. He had to focus to stop from coming immediately - how could he not, the softness of the most round, plush parts of you pressed against his body and in his hands, your warmth even more enveloping. He focused instead on the lines of your body, kissing your shoulder, gripping your hip as he thrust in and out, syncing with the rocking of your hips. His hand slipped around your front to the top of your legs again, circling and rubbing against your clit. You were so lost in your pleasure, grasping at the blanket in front of you, and he wanted this to last as long as you needed. Unable to see your face or kiss you, giving himself into your body wherever you would take him, he used his words instead, punctuated by his own groans and pleasure. Words of praise and promise, your beauty, the sensation of your body, goddess that you were, holding both himself and your child together deep inside yourself.

-finally, “oh, fuck, there you go baby, I can feel you, so ready, come on-” and you turned your face down into your pillow, breathing heavily, as your body fairly shook with your orgasm, clenching and rippling around him, and he held on tight and rode it out with you, thrusting up once, twice, one more time until he felt himself come apart deeply and at home in your body.

The two of you lay together in the tangle of blankets and blankets, now kicked down around your legs and askew around you, his chest heaving with deep breaths against yours. He felt you melt into the mattress. After a moment he checked himself, not wanting you to need to move, and cautiously lifted an arm to brace himself against the mattress. You made a little noise and tilted your head back against him again. He reach in front of you and sat partway up, leaning over you to kiss you at an angle, reassuring you, and himself that you were still alright, that he hadn’t hurt you or pushed you too much in some way that he would have no way of knowing about, his memories of the only other pregnant woman in his life so far distant and embroiled in its own tinge of sadness and self-doubt that none of it was to be trusted. Only you, here, your daughter for all intents and purposes down the hall, the solidity of this house, was what he could count on.

He kissed you again and nuzzled against your forehead. “Lay down, baby, I got you. Need anything?” he felt you shake your head and settled against your pillow. He smiled. You often had a hard time falling asleep and staying asleep as you advanced in your pregnancy, but something about the release of sex would turn you into goo and put you to sleep afterwards almost right away.

He carefully sat all the way up, leaning over you to reset your pillows where you liked them, against the pressure of your knees, hips and belly supported against the mattress, under your arm, one against the small of your back. When you were tucked in and covered, he quietly stepped down the hall to fill your glass of water and set it down next to you, checking again the lights outside and the door to Ellie’s room, before sliding carefully back in behind you. Not able to get as close through your fortress of pillows, he rested an arm along your hip, breathing in the scent of your hair that always seemed to end up draped across his pillow.

He heard you sigh and shuffle, and was about to ask what else you needed, before you spoke quietly, through the cloud of sleep he knew was almost ready to carry you off. “I love you,” you murmured into the soft darkness of the bedroom. He leaned his head forward, resting his forehead on the space between your shoulderblades, just behind your heart. “Love you so much, baby,” he whispered, squeezing your hip, before sleep claimed you both.

~~~

Joel and Tommy watched as you and Maria talked in the living room of Tommy and Maria’s house after dinner, while they stood in the doorway of the kitchen drinking whiskey, judiciously keeping the scent of alcohol away from your pregnant self and Maria’s breastfeeding. Well, Tommy was watching Joel as Joel watched you shuffle on the couch, gently positioning yourself to rest your lower back. “She doin’ ok?” Tommy asked, trying to catch Joel’s eye.

Joel glanced over at his brother like he was unaware they were even in a conversation together. “Oh- yeah. She said her legs and back are starting to get real tired. Tried telling her to rest more, but you know her, says moving is actually better and she doesn’t want to leave the clinic yet.”

Tommy nodded, knowing this brand of his sister-in-law’s stubbornness and resilient streak. “You ever try doin’ the thing where you stand behind her and lift up her stomach?”

Now Joel was really looking at his brother. “What?” he asked. They didn’t really… talk girls. Joel did his best when Tommy was growing up to have The Talk (that went pretty well, living embodiment of the consequences of Joel’s actions usually screaming in her high chair in the background of those conversations when Tommy would be headed out the door to pick up yet another date) as well as trying to make sure his brother was generally a respectful and polite person to a partner, but other than that, they didn’t really talk about the ins and outs of each other’s relationships. Until you. Even way back when, yours and Joel’s relationship had been more real, more recognized, tangible, than most other things in his life.

“Yeah,” Tommy said, “you know, like you’re gonna hug her from behind or somethin?” He demonstrated in the air in front of him. “Get your arms around her and under her stomach, towards the bottom, where Maria always said was the most sore because it was heavy, stretching out some muscles, and just-” he linked his fingers together, glass carefully balanced in one bear-paw of a hand- “hup.” He demonstrated gently lifting a beach ball in front of him.

Joel watched his brother looking like he was trying to hula hoop in the middle of his kitchen. “Sure it doesn’t hurt her?” Tommy laughed and patted his brother on his arm. “Be gentle, man. Naw, Maria loved it. Would have walked around behind her for the whole last month for her if I could’ve.” Joel nodded, regretting already the time he missed in his brother’s life, refusing to accept his new marriage to Maria, blocking out the thoughts of his brother becoming a father, when all his brother had done for him was to step into Joel’s own life and take on Joel’s burdens as his own. By the time Joel and his girls had made it back to Jackson, several months had passed and Maria had already given birth.

Tommy patted his arm again. “She knows you’d do anything for her. Maria and I will, too. Need a babysitter or an extra hand when it’s time, just holler.” He gestured with his glass towards their window that overlooked the street, across which your home with Joel was softly illuminated by the front door light, waiting for you to come home. You caught Tommy’s movement out of the corner of your eye, looking up and smiling at your husband and your brother-in-law together again, as they should be.

The next day, you were walking slowly around the house while getting ready for a shift at the clinic. You were still the only doctor in town, though they had gained a few additional staff that, while not quite trained as well as you’d hoped nurses would be, were improving as medical assistants and able to triage and take histories and help with physical exams. One of the more senior nurses who had been in town for a while had taken on the heavier medical work before you had arrived. She had taken to your education and you had recently “graduated” her from your unofficial training and dubbed her a nurse practitioner, only needing to sign off with you on certain types of cases. The extra help meant that at least you could sit more and slow your pace to see a few less patients, but for now you said your brain and your energy were fine, and you weren’t going to let a few bodyaches get in the way of being present for the people who needed the knowledge that only you had.

Joel watched as you stood in front of your dresser, choosing which top to go over your precious few pairs of pants they had found to be modified with a maternity band. You sighed and rested your hands on the small of your back, leaning just so, trying to stretch - well, everything.

Joel begrudgingly remembered his brother’s words, knowing he was going to be eating shit for a while, Tommy being more of an expert in the “pregnancy and infancy caregiver in the apocalypse” duties. Joel still had him beat in the teenager department at least. For now, though, he walked up behind you to kiss your temple, slipping his arms around you as he often did to trace the contours of your body, holding your hips or placing a palm to feel the baby.

“Wish you would call it at the clinic, baby, I really do,” he murmured.

“I know,” you sighed, “not yet, though. My mind feels fine. I’m taking it as easy as I can there, I promise, and you know I’m in the right place if I need anything.” You looked down at his hands gently circling your stomach. “I know by now it’s useless to ask you to not worry, but please, take it easy on yourself, too,” you said, placing your hand on his.

Joel wanted to bury his face in your hair, carry you to bed, hold on to you and rub your feet and bring you tea for the next four weeks. He didn’t deserve you, mindful as you were towards his worries and the health of the entire town. “You’re askin’ for the impossible, babe, you know that.”

You laughed lightly. “I know. I can try. At least I didn’t leverage doctor’s orders this time.” You tilted your head back, resting on his chest. “I’ll take a few more days, keep making some plans with the staff, and see how I feel later this week. ‘kay?”

“ ‘kay,” he echoed. You moved to step forward and reach for a dresser drawer again, but Joel followed and gently tugged you back against him. You opened your mouth to softly protest - you did need to get moving, after all - but Joel slid his hands firmly under your stomach, warm and sturdy, and without even realizing what was happening, you felt the pressure in his hands increase and a blessed lightness spread across the top of your hips and your pelvic muscles.

Joel leaned back just slightly, the weight of your belly in his hands, and he heard you make a noise he had never even heard you make in bed. “Oh God,” you groaned, drawing it out in a soft sigh. “I didn't even realize how much that- please don't move, I just want to stay-” you let your arms drop, thoughts of a shirt vanishing as you let yourself be cradled in this temporary, bodily gravity defying relief.

Joel wanted to chuckle at your words, but the deep instinct to simultaneously protect you while bringing you so close, around him, be inside you, kicked up again. He could only rest his forehead on the crown of your head, remind himself that you were here and whole and healthy, and marvel at your innate strength and abundant spirit to allow your body to be changed for him and for your family. He would always strive to be worthy of you, he knew that now. For now, that meant standing quietly in your home together, swaying gently, holding you and your child, your whole universe in his hands.

#cas reads #tlou fanfiction #lavender #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal characters #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction

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koolades-world · 11 months ago

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Behind the Scenes

All it took was the watchful eye of your best man.

“How was yer day?” Mammon took your bag from you as the two of you began the walk home from RAD together.

“Uneventful mostly, but not bad. The fact that you were there during Seductive Speechcraft today was more than enough to turn my day around.” You turn and smile at him.

“What’d ya mean?” He glanced over at you.

"Just a bad day. Having you at my side make it better." You try to deflect.

"What happened?" He reached out to grab your hand, which you took.

"A couple things." You avoid his gaze.

“What’s the matter, darlin’?” Mammon stopped you in your tracks by standing in front of you. He looks right into your eyes, and holds your chin in his hands.

“You’re so caring Mams, but I’m fine. Thanks for asking.” You place a hand on his arm, trying to continue walking. He stops you, holding you close.

"Ya've been havin' bad days for a while now. What's the root? Ya can't hide this from me." You sigh, realize the jig is up.

"There's been this demon at RAD who's been picking on me. Today he stole my Potions homework, shouldered me into my locker, and almost drowned me in the bathroom. Thankfully the professor let me off since I never forget my work at home, but next time I might not be so lucky." You admit.

"He what? Forget the whole homework thing, I'll kill the bastard. Who did this to you? You gotta tell me about this stuff. Where does it hurt? Tell me the truth." Silently, you lift one of your sleeves to reveal the bruise you got from being slammed into the locker and pull down the collar of your uniform reveal the outline of fingers on the back of your neck. You wince at the memory. “What were ya planning to do? Suffer in silence? Mc, I don’t tell ya enough that I love ya.” He cupped your face in his hands, speaking to you gently.

“Usually when this happens, I just use a spell to cover it since I'm not good enough at healing magic yet. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not telling you and I’m sorry for worrying you, but he…” You trail off, glancing around. “I don’t think I should even be telling you this.” Mammon looks at you, then around the both of you as well.

“Ya know damn well ya can tell me anythin’. Fuck him. If ya want, ya can wait until we get home.” Mammon knew whoever this demon was wouldn’t dare to both you while he was around.

“I want to wait until we get home.” You said. That was the only thing you had been sure about that entire conversation. Mammon, instead of letting you walk, opted to carry you, insisting it was for your own good. You couldn’t shake the feeling of paranoia, that he was somehow listening and that you said too much.

One you both arrived home, Mammon sat you down in the living room and called over everyone that was home. In a matter of minutes, Levi, Satan, and Asmo were gathered around you, concerned at how oddly serious Mammon had approached them. While you sat silently, Mammon explained. You could see the rage blossoming on Satan’s face, and the horror on Levi and Asmo’s.

“Sweetie, why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Asmo cuddled you in a similar way that Mammon did when he found out.

“I was afraid…” You search their faces for their reactions.

“What did he say to you?” Asmo asked.

“He told me he would hurt my family if I told anyone. Not you guys, my human family. I haven’t seen them in so long and I didn’t want anything to happen to them. I really miss them. He said it would be fun to…” You couldn’t continue. A silent tear makes its way down your face. Mammon wiped it away.

“You don’t have to continue.” Asmo pulled you in closer to him.

“What’s his name?” Satan speaks up for the first time. His face was a little red and his eye has begun to tick, but looked eerily calm otherwise. To the untrained eye, it may have looked like he was calming down, but that couldn’t be more wrong.

“Please don’t hurt him.” You begged them.

“Why?” Levi, who had also been silent, nervously asked.

“He must have a reason for acting the way he has been. He probably has a family, and friends. I don’t think he deserves to be hurt, just maybe talked to.” Asmo gripped you hand tighter at your words and swept some hair out of your face.

“We’ll see what we can do, honey.” Asmo exchanged glances with his brothers. “How about this? We take you to Purgatory Hall to spend time with whoever’s there right now while we go talk to Lucifer, Belphie, and Beel.” He asked you.

“Can’t it wait? What if he’s listening?” You pleaded.

“I can assure you if he is out there and dares to act on his threats, I will see to it personally.” Satan’s tick was stronger and more noticeable.

“Anyways, I trust Sol with my life! If there’s anyone I would let look after you, it’s him.” Asmo told you.

“Ok, if you’re really sure. I trust you. Thanks guys. Can I have a hug?” You rose from your stop to be swarmed by the four demons around you. They took care to not hurt you more. You felt safe in the middle of them.

All of them personally went with you to drop you off at Purgatory Hall. Simeon answered the door, and as soon as he took in the scene, his usual smile faded and called for Solomon. Mammon explained the situation, to which they promptly agreed to help. As Asmo transferred you to Simeon, you heard Solomon asking them to save him a piece. It send a sharp shiver down your spine. As soon as the door shut, their facades dropped.

“They never told us his name. Even if it means I have to check every student at RAD, I will. After all, there can only be so many who meet his description.” Asmo chuckled. Satan was still doing his best to hold in his explosive rage until they were far enough from Purgatory Hall.

“Levi, take Satan somewhere to decompress for a while. We’ll reconvene here once we find the others.” Mammon took out his DDD and began making the calls he needed. Asmo also took out his DDD to check as many Devilgram accounts as he could to see if anyone looked particularly guilty.

As soon as Lucifer found out, he practically flew out of the place to meet up with his brothers. It was easy to see the similarities between him and Satan at this point. Belphie and Beel weren’t far behind. It was rare to see them both so agitated. The three of them quickly went in to see you, to see for themselves that you were ok, and to ask for the name of who has been bothering you. After much coaxing, they finally got it. Lucifer made Simeon promise to heal you, and with that, they vanished again. You didn’t know what to think, and hoped they would adhere to their promise.

Once they found him, they didn’t know what to do first. Question him or get straight to what they were there for: to make him pay for what he did. Each of them had their own idea, that they would never dare tell you. While you were safe and sound at Purgatory Hall, the brothers were having the time of their lives. It was a side of them they would never let you see; the side of them that truly reveled in misery and pain.

That demon vanished.

About a week and a half later, he reappeared a changed demon. He apologized for everything he did and remained out of your way from then on. He seemed physically fine, but was a different demon altogether. He was much nicer, and quieter. His friends avoided you like the plague, afraid of something you didn't understand. In fact, after that, everyone treated you like gold if they didn't already. You weren't stupid. You knew the brothers did something but nobody dared tell you. It was a little uncanny as everyone outside your household was pretending nothing had happened in the first place.

But the brothers were kinder, if possible. They kept bringing you small trinkets and gifts, like flowers and anything they thought you would like. They checked up on you more frequently and took you out more frequently. They always made sure you had everything you wanted even if you didn't ask for it. They even arranged for you to see your family in the human world with one accompanying you, although you suspected the others were watching from a distance. It was still chilling to think about what they did to that demon to make them stop so suddenly upon their return, or where they even went, but you settled on never knowing what they did. You just took their gestures at face value and appreciated them for it.

The brothers were glad you were recovering from everything. Anything you refused to tell them, they got out of the perpetrator. Simeon was an amazing healer, and even Lucifer wasn't sure how he brought him back together, mentally and physically. You could never find out.

errrr i don't really like this </3 the concept was more fun but I can't scrap it after how much i put into it

i kinda wanted it more ominous with less words but i think I need more writing practice for that lol

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extra-v1rgin · 8 months ago

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☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆

A/N: For the foreseeable future this will be my last installment in the Tomioka’s wife series. Reading the other parts is encouraged but not necessary. You can find all other parts on my masterlist

Also this took like 7 different drafts until I could write something I like so y’all better be thankful!! (/lh)

This work contains vague spoilers for the end of kny

Cw warnings for quick references to death, ptsd, and an amputee written by an abled body writer (though I tried my best)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆

Sex with one arm is a lot harder than either of you expected. You offered to sit on his lap, or that you could each lie on your side, but Giyuu insists on doing this “properly” (in his words).

It’s difficult though. Tomioka keeps moving to lean on his absent arm before crashing into you. He can’t even get his dick in before knocking his forehead into yours. Your love for your husband is everlasting, but your patience during sex is not.

“Giyuu.” You slide out from under him. “C’mon let’s take a break.” The look on his face is a little heartbreaking but your temple is still throbbing.

Tomioka presses a soft kiss to your chin. “I can do better.” He can’t pull you back underneath himself while also remaining upright so instead the man crawls towards you.

You eagerly return his kisses despite the sadness you can taste on his lips. Giyuu is never unappealing, but you’d be lying if you said you were the least bit turned on right now. “It’s late. Why don’t we hop in the bath?” You know you’re not clever with how you avoid his propositions. Even if you tried your hardest Giyuu would be able to see through your words.

He nods and doesn’t push any further. Tomioka can’t hide the sense of rejection he feels. You try to offer a few calming words but they don’t clear his misty eyes. It feels like a knife twisting inside your gut.

You let him wait in the room while you prepare the bath. The lack of his presence by your side is simultaneously relieving and sickening. It’s the same hesitant awkwardness that was present when you first got married, except ten-thousand times worse because of how intimately you now know him. A few tears slip down your cheeks but thankfully they don’t develop into anything more.

“Giyuu, the water is ready.” His back is to you. The man is staring at his sword propped up in the corner of the room. It only sits there because you didn’t know what to do upon receiving it, and Tomioka himself seems reluctant to touch it. “Giyuu…” He turns this time, obediently following you to the bathroom. “Do you want me to do your wrappings?” It’s not really a question when you’re already moving to unwind the gauze. He sits patiently while you reveal the remainder of his arm. It’s mostly healed now, but there’s a few scabs that haven’t disappeared yet along with all kinds of colorful bruising that paints his stump in greens and purples. It’s an unpleasant sight, but you’re reverent as you run your fingers over the delicate skin. Tomioka doesn’t look at the length of his arm. There’s a conversation there that you don’t know how to start.

Thankfully the bath does seem to relax him slightly. Even after weeks of rest and only gentle work there’s still so much tension in his muscles. It only seems to lessen in the warm water with you.

“How was your day?” It was the first time you left the man alone in the house since his arrival. You invited him to help you with some shopping but unsurprisingly that offer was rejected.

“Fine.”

“What did you do?”

He ponders the question for far too long. Usually Giyuu just follows you around the house while you clean or cook or just sit quietly. “…I went for a walk, outside.”

“Good, the weather’s been nice lately. Is that all you did?” You try to keep your tone casual.

“I looked at my uniform, since you cleaned it, but-“ The words fall out all at once before coming to a halt. Behind you, you can feel how quickly his heart starts beating.

After a few seconds of silence, when it’s clear he won’t say anything more, you shift to face him.

Giyuu isn’t crying but his eyes are glazed over. They don’t focus even when you move to cup his chin. “I can fix it. I know you said I didn’t have to but if you’ve changed your mind I can.”

“It’s not that. I’m not sure what to do with it now.” The only thing he’s managed to decide upon is his haori. After stitching it together from scraps (for maybe the thousandth time) it moved to the small shrine dedicated to Tsutako and Sabito and a few other new faces. Admittedly it feels odd for the familiar pattern to be absent from his body.

“You don’t have to decide now. We can keep it in the closet or packed away for however long you’d like.”

He falls quiet again. The man looks a little less sad, but not by much. When he leans down to press a kiss against your palm you manage a wry smile. “I’m glad you’re here.” His eyes brighten as they finally focus on you. The statement prompts a real smile to blossom on your face alongside heat rushing to your cheeks. You lean forward to give him a real kiss, not too chaste and not too forceful. It’s something simple.

“I love you a lot. I know things are weird, so much good and some hard things getting muddled together. I hope I’m not making you feel bad with, with the sex and-“

“It’s fine. I don’t know why I-“ His voice cracks. “-Why I keep pushing for it.”

“I love you,” you repeat. “And I’m glad to see you home. Though we should both find hobbies maybe.” You put another smile onto his lips.

“The bath is getting cold.”

“It feels like we only have productive conversations in here though.” It’s proven in the way neither of you leap to get out. You’re content to leech off of Giyuu’s body head and occasionally shiver.

Eventually though all the excuses in the world can’t keep you in the cold water. With a sigh you’re forced to step out and shiver on the bare tile. You grin at Giyuu from behind your wet dripping hair. He fetches robes for the both of you. Meanwhile you go to the counter a pull out a medical ointment for the remaining cuts and bruises on your husbands figure. It has a wonderful earthy smell and makes his skin baby soft. You’re convinced Urokodaki could make a fortune if he started advertising the mixture to women.

Though you lament your calloused hands you keep the salve closed until Giyuu offers you a robe and takes a seat. While you cover yourself he remains nude. With scrapes and bumps all over his body the robe would just become a nuisance.

“I can do it myself if you’d like.” It must be the hundredth time Tomioka has made the offer and as always you’re quick to refuse. You’re doubtful he could get all the spots necessary with just his good arm, but also because you enjoy giving back to the man. He’s given up so much of his body and mind, both to you and the world. Watching his eyes relax as you paint the ointment over his skin is a welcome sight. You focus first on the smaller wounds, scratches on his chest and back. Even with fresh scares you move lightly as to not disrupt the delicate skin as it mends itself.

Finally you move onto Giyuu’s biggest wound. The leftover stump of his arm is twisted and bumpy. You have to work carefully to cover all the dips and bumps in the skin. The green salve also helps to cover the ugly purple and blue bruising. Though the white bandaging truly cleans everything up. You wind it tightly around his bicep to put pressure on the swelling. You can tell he’s trying not to react but you notice how he breathes out carefully.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. You have to do it.” But you still notice how his shoulders relax when you pull away. You put the ointment away and help him tie the robe.

“Want me to help with your hair too?”

“I can manage.” You know his short hair is easier to sort through but you miss combing through his long locks at night. On occasion he’d even let you plait it and see the waves it formed in the morning.

“Alright.” You press a light kiss to his cheek. “I’ll get the futon all neat again. Don’t take too long.” You’re aware he’ll probably linger for a bit. You can’t remember if Tomioka seemed quite so distracted before.

Still you don’t want to be overbearing so you leave him on his own. You go back to the bedroom and fix the rumpled bedding. While Giyuu is doing whatever he pleases you tale the opportunity to claim your spot and get comfortable.

When the man joins you you’re already snuggled up and half-asleep. Though you eagerly reach for your husband as he comes into view.

“You’re always so warm.” As Giyuu climbs into bed you pull him closer and tuck yourself into the opening of his robe. Like this you can soak up the heat that seems to radiate from his skin constantly. Your cold fingers worm their way down his front to rest against his abs. You almost feel bad as his muscles stiffen in reaction to your frigid digits.

“And you’re always freezing. You need to wear your gloves more often.” He huffs in annoyance but as his arms curl around your backside you know he can’t be too mad.

You wiggle upwards to sit face to face with Tomioka. “Goodnight handsome.” You mumble the words against his lips in-between gentle kisses.

He hums a muffled reply because you’ve already gone back to hiding your face in his neck. But you’re happy to assume it’s a wonderful confession of love to give you sweet dreams before you get dragged to sleep.

—-

Giyuu hasn’t quite gotten used to normal living yet. He wakes up far too early and with nothing to do the man will either hold you until you wake, or wander around the house aimlessly. Today you’re happy to see he’s chosen the latter. It may seem contradictory, but if he stays with you then you’re slow to wake and even slower to get out of bed.

There’s also the unspoken issue of his struggle to dress himself. You’re not surprised that he isn’t used to getting dressed with only one hand available, but you are surprised that he’s so resistant to your help. Every morning you watch him struggle to button his shirt and buckle his belt. How could you not offer to help? Anytime you reach out though he seems more frustrated than relieved. Even when you don’t help it seems like he can’t bare your gentle looks.

When you find Tomioka his buttons will probably be lopsided and the loose sleeve will have gotten messy somehow but at least he won’t start the day off with a sour attitude.

So after getting ready yourself you set off to find the man. It’s warm outside so you check the engawa first, passing by the koi pond and rock garden. (Both of which you should probably take better care of. At least now you can possible pass off some of the responsibility onto Giyuu.)

He’s not outside so you check inside and then go back out when you still can’t find him. It takes too many passes in and out but finally you spot him through a clearing in the trees. Tomioka moves slowly with the bokken, repeating familiar motions. Before when you watched him train the motions were quicker. Giyuu moved before to push himself to his limits. Now the movements are more like a dance. The point of his sword traces the sky slowly.

You stop at the edge of the clearing to observe him. Your husband is shirtless which means you get the opportunity to admire his figure. Vaguely you recognize the patterns. It’s not exactly clear where one strike ends and another begins but a few unique movements break up the swinging.

He repeats the dance maybe 2 or 3 more times. Giyuu doesn’t acknowledge your presence but you’re smart enough to know that he must see you. You’re happy to stand and watch until he’s done. Hypothetically his stamina is enough to last hours but even his most intense sessions rarely last that long. After maybe 20 minutes he begins to slow down before coming to a stop. You feel like clapping but you know that’d be embarrassing for both you and him.

Tomioka comes over and leans on your shoulder. He drops the bokken and wraps a strong arm around your frame. The man is a little sweaty but you don’t mind.

“How are you today?” You can predict his answer. If he’s actually doing something with his time then it’s a good sign.

“Hungry,” He mumbles into your hair.

“Well breakfast would’ve been ready if I didn’t come searching for you.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine! You can help me now, or watch. You must be tired.”

“I’ll help.” He pulls away from you to fetch his shirt. It’s one of the few you haven’t hemmed to match his shortened arm. Before he can say anything you knot the loose fabric and fold the ends up a few times. If he really intends to help then you can’t deal with the empty sleeve dragging over the counters.

You pull back to soak in his appearance now. His shirt is a button up, a struggle with one hand but he’s managed it nicely. You tug at his collar to straighten it out.

“I buttoned it before putting it on this time.” There’s a slight shyness to his voice. His eyes look at your cheeks instead of your eyes.

A surprised laugh bubbles from your chest. “You’re so smart.” You tug him towards you for a quick kiss.

Giyuu blushes. He’s been more receptive to your words lately, at least more visible in how he reacts. It’s a shame as you had just been getting used to reading his expressions. His blush is pretty though so you can live with the difference.

You drag him indoors and direct him to start on some rice. Slowly you’ve been coaching Giyuu on how to cook food that’s flavorful and more complex but he hasn’t made too much progress yet. It’s not that he’s bad at cooking, but rather that he can only cook the same rotation of a few simple dishes over and over.

Still he manages to hold his own with the sides while you focus on grilling some fish. It’s not much a proper breakfast but Giyuu eats 3 servings if you make something lighter like porridge or pastries. You like the more savory tastings too.

With both of you working it’s a quick process after which you enjoy a quick breakfast. Tomioka doesn’t talk that much more compared to the before version of him that sticks in your mind. It’s nice, the parts of him that feel the same. The different parts are good too just strange.

“I’m feeding the koi today. That doesn’t sound like much of a chore but I like enjoying a meal out there as well.”

Giyuu nods. “I’ll join you.”

“And afterwards I want help reorganizing the guest rooms. They should be more permanent. Everyone else is settling down now too but afterwards I hope we get more visitors.”

“Like who?” He asks it like it’s an actual question.

“Urokodaki-san, Uzui-san and his wives, whoever Tanjiro-kun hangs around with.” You’ve heard stories of the redhead’s friends and you’re still not sure if you want to meet them but they are welcome anyways. “And if you try to keep anyone out then I’ll invite them myself.”

You can tell there’s a disagreement hiding in the back of his throat so instead Tomioka keeps his mouth shut and bows his head.

“And they all like you too. It’s not me they’d be coming to see.”

With that breakfast ends.

—-

The days start to move more smoothly. Giyuu figures out how to dress himself and doesn’t complain when you do step in to help. He doesn’t drop his chopsticks anymore although plenty of rice still gets stuck on his cheeks. You think his practice (maybe not practice because there’s no need for a performance now) with the bokken is helpful. You’re no expert but you can see how his balance has shifted.

You do get a few visitors too. Your parents visit once. It’s the first time they’ve been by in the year or two you’ve been together. You don’t mind the fact now that they married you off. It’s not a rare fate and things ended up better because of that anyhow. You’re still glad that they don’t stay for too long though.

The rest of your guests are livelier. Suma announces that she’s pregnant and you all celebrate over a bottle of sake. You’re not sure how the three women will share the mothering duties but Makio and Hinatsuru seem just as happy as Tengen is. At some point someone asks when it’ll be your turn and while you’re happy to laugh off the half-joke half-question Giyuu’s face turns the color of the salmon you’re sharing. Even the next day you think his cheeks are still tinted pink.

You get lots of letters from Tanjiro but it seems like his group is too busy to justify a trip. They’re only a day or so away however and a housewarming will be a great reason to visit in a month or so. Even Tomioka seems to look forward to the idea of seeing the boy.

Some people stop by as they travel. A lot of them you’re not familiar with. Mostly they’re corps members who were in the lower ranks. You know you won’t see the majority of them again but it’s nice to meet them and dine for the night. It’s a good kind of change, keeps you from getting bored, but rare enough of an occurrence that you don’t feel too on edge.

You introduce Giyuu to some of the people in the town when he starts accompanying you. It’s true that most people there are acquaintances at best but they’re kind (and of course curious). Everyone stares when he carries loads of rice in one arm. Now that he’s nearly healed it’s easy for him to show off his strength.

You track time by Giyuu’s wounds. You’re only bandaging his arm now and only because the pressure quiets the ghost pains that creep up the limb. All his skin is smooth and pale, interrupted by the occasional scar. It’s an even tone though and unmarred by any bruises or knots.

He’s somewhat adapted to the loss of his arm by now. Most things come easier now, dressing and helping with chores. Chopsticks are still a struggle and his writing is hardly any more legible but it’s slowly improving.

And it seems with how things have stabilized that Giyuu wants to try fucking you again. After your last rejection he hadn’t brought up the idea again. Kisses had stayed soft and slow, lasting only a second or two. His hand held your arm or waist but never slipped down past the small of your back.

Tonight though you can already see how forward he is. His lips meet yours already open, tongue immediately sliding into your mouth. You meet him eagerly. Your hands wrap around his neck and rub against the ends of his hair.

After only a moment he pushes further. It’s easy for Giyuu to tempt you backwards. His weight on top of you makes his boner incredibly apparent. You’re unashamed as you buck upwards, grinding against it.

Though you easily give into the way his hands dance around your waist and ass there’s hesitation when they move back up and try to peel away your kimono.

“Giyuu, do you really want this? I do but only if you’re not gonna… get frustrated.” You wince at the harsh language. You are not a statue of patience yourself.

“Do you want it?”

“Yes, A lot. I want you so badly. But I wanna do it right y’know. Or I want you to enjoy it… I dunno. I’m not good at expressing my thoughts like this.” You end with a nervous laugh that bleeds into a kiss as Giyuu tries to quiet your worries.

With nothing else to say the kisses morph into something more heated. Your hand slips into Giyuu’s hair. He keeps trying to move down to your neck or chest but you’re hesitant to let him leave your face so soon. Occasionally his eyelashes flutter against your own while his nose keeps bumping against your cheek.

Eventually you let him have his way with you. As his moves downwards you help him to slip off your simple yukata, exposing your breasts.

You didn’t mind the waiting before. There were more important things to focus on and the thought of sex faded to the background. Now all the weeks of nothing that didn’t seem to matter before are rushing in. Your body feels like it’s on fire wherever his lips move. Every touch sends waves of arousal straight to your cunt. It’s barely been five minutes and you’re chanting Giyuu’s name like you’re about to cum.

When he pulls back from your breasts his lips are soft pink and wet with drool. You pull him in for a few more kisses while he continues to fondle you. He has to practically pin you down to get away again.

The man is careful with his weight. When he needs to use his hand for something Tomioka has to shift his weight onto his legs. It lengthens things in the best (worst) of ways. Right before he pulls your fundoshi off you must wait and twitch while the man gets in a proper position. It’s even worse when his fingers trace over your abdomen so slowly. Tomioka moves his digits right around your pussy instead of over it despite how your hips jerk towards the touch. Eventually he drags your fundoshi off and throws it to the side.

With your cunt exposed you feel shy. For a long time the embarrassment of sex and nudity had gone away as it became commonplace. The way Tomioka looks at you now however is shameful. His eyes are hungry as they sink down close to your cunt.

When he moves forward his mouth is equally ravenous. His fingers have already felt how wet you are so he wastes no more time with teasing. Tomioka sinks his teeth into the meet of your cunt. While fangs pull his tongue pushes and enters your tender core. With a breathy sigh you try to relax into the sheets. Though your body continually tenses you turn your focus to the feeling of the soft futon below you. If you lean into Giyuu’s touch too much you know he’ll make you cum within minutes. This is something you want to draw out, enjoy.

The first few minutes of Tomioka eating you out are pleasant, soothing even. After attaching himself to you the man has calmed somewhat. It feels less like he’s trying to suck out your soul and more like a slow pattern of movements. His tongue spears into your cunt, moves upwards to trace around your clit, and then back down so he can press wet kisses over your hole until the cycle continues.

Eventually your grip on his hair loosens. As it stretches from ten to twenty to thirty minutes all the sensation around your pussy melts together. It’s not boring— Giyuu’s body against yours will never be —but the level of stimulation has plateaued.

“Mmm ‘Yuu baby I want you inside of me.” You drag him up by his bangs until his head pops out from between your thighs. The entire lower half of his face is shiny with slick and sweat. His lips are plump and wet.

“Can I go a little longer?” Your husband’s rough voice sends waves of arousal back through your stomach. His grip on your thigh is tight.

“Just a little ok? I won’t let you have all the fun.” You cradle his face and press a firm kiss to his lips. It tastes like salt and skin. Within a moment he dives back down.

Tomioka moves for another fives minutes or so while you pant and moan. You could fall asleep like this. When you close your eyes and the sensation radiates outward from your core it’s like your body is melting.

Eventually you convince him to surface again, this time for real. You kiss more although the taste of his mouth isn’t the most pleasant with your slick all over it.

With a few upward movements of your hips you convince him to begin bedding you properly. Tomioka has to sit back on his knees for leverage. It means you can’t kiss him anymore but thankfully you can still stare at his soft face. As he slides into you, you watch how his expression shifts. Your hips slide upwards while his hands holds onto your waist. Though it’s been a few months since he’s fucked you Giyuu’s dick slides in with little resistance. Bit by bit he thrusts forward, slowly sinking in. You keep your legs spread wide open until his hips finally press against your own.

The stretch is nearly painful as you attempt to wrap your legs around him. When he pulls back your hips get some reprieve but he quickly thrusts back in. As he finds a rhythm you can ignore the burning stretch in favor of the pleasure.

It’s hard to keep your eyes open but you don’t want to miss any moment of this. Giyuu looks like he’s doing the same. His eyes slip closed only to pop open as he bites his lip and slides deeper into you.

Your husband leans further over you to plant a hand on your side. As his face hovers over your own you jerk him closer. His pace stutters and slows but doesn’t stop. When you pull him in for a kiss Giyuu’s speed suffers again but his lips on yours is just as stimulating as his cock.

He pushes away and carefully lays his head down on your chest. You go to question him but as his hand moves from supporting himself to circling your clit all the words in your brain turn to mush.

It’s a bit awkward with his arm sandwiched between your bodies and the weight of Tomioka on you but the feeling is worth it. He gives up any leverage he has in this position so you contribute a few weak thrusts. You don’t have the same strength he does so instead you settle for grinding down on him. Though your hips groan in annoyance you wrap your legs around Giyuu’s to force them closer.

“I love you,” you pant between breathy moans. With his pelvis grinding against your clit sparks keep going off behind your eyes. You pull his head upwards to press sloppy kisses against his lips. “Are- are you gonna cum soon? G’yuu I dunno how much longer I can wait.”

“It’s ok you can cum anytime. I’ve got you.” Tomioka presses a tender kiss to your jaw, right under your ear where it tickles you in all the right ways. As his hips smack against yours everything explodes.

The only thing you can do is pant his name in between proclamations of love. Your muscles are so tight they burn but it’s worth it. With your toes curled your feet begin to cramp up.

Right when the pain begins to overtake the pleasure you fall limp. It shakes your entire body as Giyuu keeps thrusting but you’re already wrung dry. You count to ten a few times until he finally spills inside of you. When his movements end you relax into the futon. Everything hurts just a little but it’s worth it.

Your husband pulls out slowly and flops down beside you. You can barely move but you turn to face the man and plant your head over his shoulder. As your legs shift all kinds of gross fluids moisten your thighs.

“I love you… so much. You’re great.” You press light kisses on whatever skin you can reach.

“Do you want a bath?” His hand reaches up to brush hair off your forehead.

“Yea but I don’ wanna move.”

“Grab onto me and I can carry you.”

Part of you wants to point out that that still counts as moving because everything still aches but you push that part back and wrap your arms around your neck. It’s harder to get your legs in place because you can’t feel anything below your waist but eventually it happens.

Tomioka grunts as he forces himself to stand and you feel bad because he must be tired too, but by the time you open your mouth he’s already setting you down on the edge of the bathtub.

It takes too long to fill but your patience is well rewarded when you sink into warm water. Your muscles shift back into place and you regain the ability to move.

Turning around you face your husband. He has a faint tired smile that widens when you press another kiss on his lips. “I love you.” You mumble the words over and over. “You’re so- I dunno I just love you.”

“You’re tired.” He returns the kisses softly. “Should I take you back to bed?” You’ve barely washed up and there’s no way in hell you’re stepping out until you’ve scrubbed off at least 3 layers of skin.

“Give me a sec,” you groan and reach for the washcloth. Scrubbing between your legs you try to ignore the slimy feeling of whatever leaks out from your cunt. Carefully you scrub your pussy too, wincing at how tender it is. Tomioka takes the towel from you and moves even gentler. Any contact with the area is still horrible but you breathe slowly until he decides the job is done.

He does your thighs again before moving to your back. Giyuu digs his thumbs into your muscles and you have to suppress another moan. It’s like magic the way he pulls pain from your bones. Soon enough you’re letting out soft pants again but the impromptu massage lasts only another minute or two.

You swear you can hear a smile in his voice. “Is it my turn now?”

The muffled noise you make isn’t really an answer but you take the towel back. Turning towards him you run the washcloth over his pecs. In its tracks you leave more kisses. You’re sloppier in your movements than he was but to be fair you’re also falling asleep as you move. His chest makes a wonderful pillow and the water is still warm enough to be soothing.

Tomioka moves to pick you up and you make a tired noise. “Sorry sorry, are you clean enough?”

“I’m fine.”

You squirm around in his arms until you vaguely face him. “I’m so lucky to have such a strong husband.”

“Do you want to get dressed.”

“No it’s ok. We should wrap up your arm though.”

“We can do it in the morning, you’re tired.”

After a moment you pick your head up. “Not that tired.”

“It’s good to let the area get fresh air. One night will be fine.”

“Ok but don’t complain if it’s sore in the morning.”

Tomioka carries you out of the bathroom. The futon is still soaked in sweat and whatever else so while you cling to his back he throws an extra blanket on top.

Finally as he sets you down you let your eyes slip shut. As Giyuu settles beside you your arms wrap around his figure. You attempt to press a few more kisses against his lips but really it’s more like smashing your lips onto him. “Mmm, love you. Sorry for making you carry me.”

“I love you too.” The man kisses you properly. You wish you could manage to stay conscious for more than thirty minutes after sex. You want to treasure this moment. Instead you fall asleep.

Luckily the morning is slow.

#kny #demon slayer #nsft #kimetsu no yaiba #tomioka giyuu #tomioka #tomioka x reader #tomioka’s wife #reader insert #afab reader #female reader #domestic fluff #domestic life

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tadpolesonalgae · 6 months ago

Text

Surprise…?[*]

Mor x reader

synopsis: reader plans a sweet little surprise for her girlfriend but gets shy at the last minute. Thankfully, Mor arrives early, finding reader in the midst of her surprise before she has a chance to back out.

a/n: I know mommy is American, but it just feels wrong to use mummy so we’re keeping it with an o (also happy June everyone!)

warnings: reader being kinda housewifey, so many sapphic vibes I’m so happy, mommy kink, themes of exhibitionism/voyeurism(?), sexual themes!

word count: 2,220

——————————————————————————————————————————————

You flush, stepping out from the bathroom, hands wringing together as nerves fizzle beneath your heated skin.

You’ve made the bedroom look nice, made sure clothes are crisp and clean, folded neatly in their shelves or organised on hangers, have made sure the sheets themselves are suitably coloured in a romantic red, pillows plumped with the duvet spread flawlessly over top, and small candles flicker throughout the room, emitting the distinct scent of vanilla that’s one of the few the two of you can agree on to have permeating every corner of your home.

Everything looks as you’d wanted it to, down to the clothing, but… You glance away from the bed, teeth pushing at the softness of your inner lip, shifting on your feet as you’re reminded what you’re wearing. Pretty, red lingerie that settles comfortably against your skin—the sweep of your hips, the curve of your breasts—flawlessly fitting. The lace has neat floral designs embroidered into the sheer fabric, small leaves unfurling from the blossoming petals, and you trace your fingers over the delicate stitching.

Is it too much?

You glance self-consciously around the room, looking at it through a new, doubtful lens. Mor’s been having trouble with some diplomatic affairs, navigating court politics and while she hasn’t revealed details due to their privacy, you know she’s been stressed. Will she even want this?

Easing in a breath, you reassure yourself—you aren’t offering sex explicitly, if she wants to then you’re ready, and if she doesn’t then the mood is set for another kind of relaxation, and you can run her a bath.

Your throat rolls, again glancing down at yourself doubtfully. You don’t want to pressure her into anything… You should put something on over the top to hide the lingerie, so if things happen on their own you’ll be prepared. That way you won’t have to worry, and you won’t be so…exposed.

Now, where had you put that one night gown? Mor bought you a silky red one that would match the theme of the room, as well as easily being interpreted as romantic or relaxing—it would be perfect. Thinking hard, you’re fairly certain it’s actually folded up in one of the boxes beneath your shared bed, having felt too shy to wear the silky gown.

Hesitantly you pad around to the bed, kneeling on the creamy carpeted floor as you check, spotting the box you remember. Crawling forward, descending onto your forearms while your ass remains stuck in the air, you slowly shuffle as far as you can before the base of your spine is pushing against the bed frame. The box is just a little further away, so you reach out, arm stretching as fingertips graze the lip of the cardboard, so nearly there…

A muffled thud comes from behind you and you startle, head smacking on the wooden boards that hold the mattress aloft, and you whine as the pain blossoms across your skull, ankles crossing, toes curling as you blink away the startled tears.

“Sweetness…are you alright?”

Frantically you scramble out from under the bed, humiliation and embarrassment flushing hot against your skin as your arms cross self-consciously over your torso, thighs pressing together in attempts to conceal the finely stitched lace that’s hugging your hips and breasts. “I— You’re home early,” you state, glancing through the room nervously. Your throat rolls, then you’re swiftly turning on your heal, heading directly for the bathroom. “I was just—… Let me get my robe on and I’ll be—”

Elegant hands sweep around your waist delicately, Mor having moved faster than you as she holds you still, bringing herself into your body. “Hold on, sweetness,” she says gently beside your ear, “I need you to slow down for me. What is all this?” You fumble, squirming lightly as you feel the soft fullness of her breasts grazing your back, the gentle stoke of her fingertips over the exposed skin of your tummy. The slight tickle of her breath against the shell of your ear, fanning down your throat.

“I…” You swallow thickly, shifting in her hold, hands tentatively settling over hers. “You’ve been tired lately, so, I thought it might be nice to…to relax…together…” Your voice gets quieter and quieter, eventually trailing off into the silence, nerves wriggling in the pit of your belly, sizzling beneath your skin as you wait for her reply.

“Is that what this is for?” Mor murmurs, fingers grazing the band of thicker lace just below your breasts. “To…relax?” She sounds a little breathless, but mostly composed.

“Only if you want,” you mumble, features hot with embarrassment. “I…the bathroom’s ready too, if you want…”

“To eat you out in the bath?” She asks, pulling your body flush to her own, her hips pushing against the swell of your ass, winding lightly, subconsciously as need begins to flicker to life.

Your breath catches, fingers stuttering over her knuckles at the suggestion, wild heat fluttering across your skin. “I— I’d thought you might want one to yourself, actually,” you manage to squeak out. Mor hums beside your ear, and her hand skates higher, the pads of her fingers lightly grazing the red gauze of the lingerie covering your breasts, skimming across your nipple, feeling the slight bump beneath her digits, liking the way your breath hitches.

“Will you get on the bed for me?” She asks softly, voice strangely thick as she noses at your throat, and your thighs press together, heart pounding with nerves and… You bite your lip, “how?” What position?

Her red lips curve at the question—you’re prepared and ready.

“Start on your hands and knees?” Mor requests breathlessly, squeezing your waist reassuringly. “Give me a real pretty view of you.” And with a quick kiss being pressed to your jaw, she releases you, and you fumble your way over to the bed.

With as much composure you can manage, you crawl up onto the bed, disturbing the perfect set of the crisp sheets as you lower onto your hands and knees, legs slightly spread as you lean your front forward to the mattress, head tilted to the side to glance at her for approval, heat fluttering beneath your skin.

Stood at the foot of the bed, Mor’s removing a bag from her shoulder, the first having been what made the dull thud sound when she’d dropped it at the entrance. Then her hands are dropping to the richly coloured fabric of her dress, tugging it off over her golden head of hair, the silky strands gleaming in the candle light, and with less than a thought she’d brought one of the plush armchairs up from the living room, falling back into it with what looks like an intense relief.

“Keep still for me, sweetness,” she instructs breathlessly, and you bite down on a needful sound as she pulls her hair from the front of her body, allowing you a full view of her almost naked torso, save for the underwear still greedily clinging to her figure. Arousal begins to simmer in the pit of your belly as her red-tipped fingers make their way down her body, your throat rolling as she slopes in the unnecessarily large chair, hooking her legs carefully over the arms, so she’s splayed apart, baring her clothed sex for you to see.

“Mor…” you almost whimper, barely managing to keep your voice steady, forced to watch from afar as the pads of her fingers run teasingly down her centre, applying a slight pressure to the dip between her thighs before dragging back up, lightly circling a small spot at her apex. You swallow thickly, considering how it would feel to crawl over to her, to remain on your hands and knees as she keeps your hair back from your face while you lick at her sex, allowing her arousal to gleam against your lips and nose, to have her dripping down onto the seat just so you can lick all the way back up to her clit.

“What is it, angel?” She asks, eyes locking with your own as she dips her hand down her underwear, fingers slipping beneath the pretty fabric and heat swarms your body as you listen to the sounds as she plays with herself—out of your view.

“I…want to see…”

Her lips curve in a feline grin, one that has your thighs desperately wanting to squeeze together to find some kind of friction, but she’s told you to keep them open, so you have to obey. Instead you settle for spreading them a little wider, hips winding gently as if that’ll suffice for rubbing against her.

“How perfect,” she muses, hand retracting from her underwear. “I want to see you, too.”

Your spine curves, hips shifting as if to draw her attention back between your legs, toes curling on the mattress as you watch her shift in her seat. Her finger points at you, and you squirm as magic begins guiding the red lace down over your hind, dragging slowly past your thighs, embarrassment and arousal liquefying between your legs as you feel the material sticking to your pussy, slick suctioning the material flush to your wet heat, imagining how soaked the underwear must be. How erotic the view must be.

“Mor…” you plead once she’s pulled them away enough for her to see you. “Please…”

“Please what, sweetness?” Mor asks, heat simmering in her gaze, and you fumble, knowing what she wants. Your fingers curl in the sheets, looking away as you pull your lower lip between your teeth.

Mor’s lips curve, leaning further back in the seat as she allows her fingers to dip below the band again, drawing your attention as her digits wet themselves in her arousal, playing with her clit idly before dipping down to her entrance. You watch helplessly as she pushes two of her fingers inside, able to hear as they gently slide in and out, curling how she likes while the heel of her palm glide over her clit—all of it painfully hidden from you.

“What do you want, sweetness?” She asks again, voice more breathless than before, able to make out the hot flush on her cheeks as she watches you with that intensity. “I—… mommy…” Mor’s lids flutter with pleasure as the title floats from your tongue, her hips winding to bring against her palm, feeling the fresh wave of arousal that drips from her cunt.

“Oh good girl,” she moans softly, half-lidded eyes remaining locked with your own, and you realise with a start you’re actually dripping with arousal, can feel as the erotic liquid gather just shy of your clit, the droplet heavy and full enough to begin dripping down into your underwear. Mor wishes you were dripping into her mouth, instead. Wishes her head was already between your perfect, pretty thighs while you hovered above her, patiently waiting for each drop to grace her tongue.

Arousal swarms with staggering ferocity as the fantasy blossoms across her mind, evolving into something more substantial, how she could make that a reality so simply. How she could so easily lay her head beneath you, your arms tied above your head so you’re partially suspended while you’re kept spread out above her face. How she could strap a vibrator to your pretty pussy, pressing tight to your clit, so she could watch as you cum again and again without relief from her mouth, simply allowing your slick to gather, to drip as she’d wanted.

“Mommy, please…” you beg breathlessly, and Mor can’t find it in herself to refuse, watching how you react, how your eyes watch her so keenly as she slides the underwear from her body, allowing it to drop to the floor, and a series of small, whimpering moans spill from your mouth, practically begging for her to go over to you and…

She swallows thickly, your arousal permeating the air, desire uncoiling all the stress and tension that’s slowly been winding up in her body.

“You’re being so good for me, aren’t you, sweet girl?” Mor breathes almost to herself, removing her bra before she stands, completely rid of clothing and with half a thought you’re completely naked, that lovely red lingerie disappeared from your body, allowing her to take you in.

Mor settles on the bed behind you, and you make to raise up onto your arms, to turn to her, but she gives you a look. “Stay right there for me, okay?” You flush, wanting to please her, and return back into position, shaking as she gets closer, anticipating the pleasure she’ll push into your body. “Will you be good for me tonight?” She asks lowly, watching how you shudder as her breath brushes the sensitive area between your legs. Gods, she could really just lean forward and latch her mouth over you.

“I will,” you mumble, hips shifting slightly, and Mor pulls away from your cunt, glancing down at where your head is pressing into the mattress, looking back at her.

“Tell me, sweetness,” she instructs, goading you into repeating that lovely title you’re often too shy to use.

Heat flushes your cheeks, but this time you don’t look away.

“I’ll be good for you…for mommy.”

——————————————————————————————————————————————

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @slut4acotar @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644 @lilah-asteria @nighttimemoonlover

#mor x fem!reader #mor x reader smut #mor smut #june #x f!reader #morrigan x reader smut #mor x fem!reader smut

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jakes3resin · 8 months ago

Text

Ran My Fingers Through Your Hair

Curls Fic is finally finished, @getinthefuckingjaeger here you go, the finished thing. I'm going to go lay down and wail now.

John's curls are a mess.

Well, technically everyone's hair is a mess right now. Buck can't even imagine what his own hair looks like at the moment, but Buck can only focus on John, has only been focused on John since the man walked in looking like he'd been kicked to hell and back nearly a week ago.

It's just... John's curls are tangled. They're dirty, and Buck isn't completely sure they actually managed to wash out all of the blood. He'd been too focused on keeping John alive back then. He still is, but now with John's fever finally breaking, Buck can focus on other important things.

Like John's curls.

They're the prettiest shade of chestnut that Buck's ever seen. Never seen anything half as pretty. John says his hair's just brown, maybe a coffee brown if he's feeling poetic, but he doesn't know what Buck's talking about when he says they shine in the sun. There are pretty hazel and auburn undertones that you can see when Bucky stands just right in the sun if you look, and Buck always looks.

That pretty chestnut is hidden now. No hazel or auburn in sight. Buried even. Under dirt, blood, and grease like Buck's never seen. John's hair is a mess.

And don't get him started on John's curls. Buck can barely bring himself to see them as they are now. They're usually movie star pretty without John even trying. Buck had heard more than one girl lamenting how such pretty curls ended up with John, who doesn't grow them out or spend too much time on'em. He doesn't need to, Buck muses as he reaches out for one such curl. They just spring to life, beautiful and perfect. John grumbles more often than not that they're annoying under his crusher cap, how they're always falling in his eyes if he doesn't gel them back. So why can't he cut them off, Buck always gets asked, big blue eyes staring up at him with light and laughter.

Because I love them, Buck always answers. And that's that. John always let's Buck have his way and keeps his beautiful curls even when he moans and groans about them. He doesn't mind them too much really, just complains so that Buck turns to stare at him. He loves it. He let's Buck pet them and preens when Buck helps style them.

Buck's curls are limp now, weighed down and unwashed.

It's silly to be so hung up about the state of John's curls, this Buck knows. But, there's something in him that needs to see those curls healthy and full of life. A clawing, desperate thing that refuses to budge out of his chest whenever he looks down and see dark, dark blood and dirt burying those precious curls.

Where did it all come from? Buck brushes more dirt off. Why won't it just go away? Why is it there? What happened to John to cover him like this?

"Buck," Brady's voice cuts through Buck's thoughts, and he stares up at the other. He clears his head, tries to show Brady that everything's fine, that Bucky's on the mend.

Brady looks worried. Buck understands. Even though John's fever had finally broken late last night, they're not out of the woods yet. There's still the concussion to worry about, the barely healing wounds on his face and body, not to mention the general peril of living here in this camp that could end up killing John. Worrying about all of that is exhausting, and Buck hopes the boys can at least take some hope and solace that John's doing a bit better today. Some hope would be good for them.

"I brought dinner." Brady lifts his hands, showing off the bowls full of what passes for food round here. Buck presses his lips together, trying to calculate just what he'd have to bargain to get John something healthier. "How about I help him eat? Give you some rest."

Rest? Buck turns back to stare at John. He's still sleeping thankfully, but can Buck afford to rest right now? There's so much to do still. He can't leave John.

"I'm fine Brady."

Buck doesn't turn to look at the other man, but he hears him sigh and turn away. Plates clang together, and Buck just lets that noise fade away to check on John again.

He's still sleeping. Doc says it's good that he's sleeping, that it means his fever and concussion are healing. Buck hasn't seen those pretty blue eyes in so long, but he tells himself that it's okay. That rare fevered glimpses will be enough if it means John's here, that he's healing like he should be.

Buck doesn't think about those first few awful days. John collapsing into his arms. Brushing dirt off only to find dried blood and deep wounds. His temperature rising and rising without end. Of John's screams as the fever dragged up memories Buck couldn't understand. How John had stared through him, treating him like a ghost.

Perhaps Buck is a ghost. Perhaps he...

"Major, please."

Buck jumps when he feels a hand come down onto his shoulder. He whirls around, placing himself between John and whoever dared get this close.

"Brady," Buck breathed out once he recognized the other man. Brady stares at him, face pale.

"Please, I'll wake him up and help him eat. You can sit right there and eat too."

"I'm fine," Buck brushes the other off. Brady clenches his jaw and steps closer. Buck reaches down to bury a delicate hand in John's curls. Despite the grime, they ground him, keep him in the moment.

"Sir," Brady's eyes dart from John to Buck and back. "I'd like to help. He wouldn't want you working yourself to the bone like this. He needs you Buck, and if you collapse because you wouldn't rest, I'm not sure the boys and I could take care of both of you."

Buck presses his lips into a fine line. His fingernails scratch at John's scalp. John stirs.

Brady turns back towards the table. Buck looks down at John. His eyelashes flutter, but sleep still seems to have him in its grasp.

"We could wash his hair after we eat."

Buck whips back up to look at Brady. Brady meets his gaze evenly. His fingers curl up, strands of hair caught in their grasp. John shifts under him. He breathes out, forcing himself to calm down.

"It's not right leaving his hair like that. Doc said we could try washing it once his fever broke, right? I'm sure Bucky would love to wake up to clean hair."

Buck stares at him. He slowly extracts his hand from John's curls. John murmurs something just as Buck takes one stumbling step away, but Brady rushes in before Buck can move back. He smiles at Buck, but it's not as calming as it should be

"I'll be over here then." The words taste bitter.

Buck gestures to the table. Brady seems to deflate ever so slightly, but Buck can understand that. Watching over John can't be good for the men. John's usually so full of energy, and watching him sleep and sleep and sleep has to be taking it out on the others. Buck should say something.

"Boys," Buck greets as he drags out a chair next to Benny who greets him with a quick nod. Benny gives him room, but his presence is grounding as Buck sits. The others stare back over their plates. "Mind if I join you?"

"Course not Buck," Murph slurps up his broth.

"Take a seat."

"Thanks."

Buck barely tastes the food, which on any other day he'd be glad for. The Ritz this was not, but the longer he sits, the more he wishes to go. He can hear John’s voice murmuring something, but it quickly stops. The boys all talk, discussing what's happened that day, guard rotations, and any news they've heard from the new arrivals. Important things, but Buck can’t focus on them. Their voices fade into a dull drone falling into his ears. Buck takes it in and tries not to turn around.

He stares down at his hands and tries not to flinch when he sees how dirty they are. Dirt, John had said something about shovels. Why shovels?

"Buck?" Benny nudges him.

"Hmm?" Buck scrapes his spoon against his bowl for lack of anything else to do.

"Crank says there's an extra jug of boiled water if you'd want to wash Bucky's hair."

A jolt runs through him. Buck looks up. Crank stares back, a tentative smile on his face.

"That's mighty kind of you," Buck drawls. "Thanks."

"I'll go grab it." Crank rushes towards the window.

"How's ole Sleeping Beauty over there anyway Brady?" Benny calls out. Buck clutches at his spoon.

"Sends him compliments to the chef. What do you think he's doing, Benny?" Brady calls back, a sarcastic bite to his voice that sends the others laughing.

"Just asking Johnny," Benny's leg presses against Buck's, and he tries to smile as everyone seems to take this as a cue to settle down.

Crank comes back with the water, sets it down right in front of Buck with a satisfying thud.

“Should be enough in there to get him up to grooming standards, right?” Crank laughs as he says it.

Buck’s stomach rolls. His meager dinner barely settled before it turns over. He says something, he’s really not sure, but the boys all laugh and turn back to the last of their food. Buck turns his head and catches Brady tucking a curl behind John’s ear. Its the one that likes to hang right in John's eyes. It flopped back nearly a second later, stubbornly refusing stay.

Brady looks over and sees him watching. He smiles, but Buck can see how tired the other man is, dark shadows under his eyes. None of this was easy for them. John was a pillar for every man here, had been since the war began, and watching him struggle like this couldn’t have been easy.

Buck excuses himself from the table, unable to bear it any longer. His exit is quietly accepted as the boys start to gather up plates. Crank takes his and exchanges it for the jug.

Normally, Buck would protest, but the water plays some kind of siren song on him. The idea of cleaning John’s hair is too tempting. He’ll have to get Crank back for it another day.

“How’s he doing?” Buck sets the jug down next to John’s bunk. Brady’s hands quickly gather up their dishes. John doesn’t stir.

“Ate most of the broth, hates turnips though,” Brady gnaws at his lip. “Wasn’t fully lucid, but he recognized me which is something right?”

“Sure, it is,” Buck pats him on the shoulder. “Doc said that it’s a good sign if he comes around like that remember?”

“Right Buck,” Brady holds up the plates. “I’ll take these, and then we can wash his hair. Wait for me?”

“Sure,” Buck says. The lie falls off his tongue without any remorse.

John’s hair… It doesn’t feel right letting someone else wash his hair. Not when he’s like this and doesn’t know who it is. Brady disappears from view, and Buck grabs a rag from his own bed. Its not much, but it’ll do for now. He dips it down into the water, he really was going to have to thank Crank. Buck hadn’t even thought to save some water.

Buck turns and looks at John. His curls lay limp against his pillow, gnarled and greasy. There’s dirt and blood streaked across the pillow. Buck desperately misses John’s shampoo. Some dame had recommended it to him once, and it worked wonders on his curls. Left them soft and springy when John didn’t style them.

Buck runs the rag gently across his head, careful not to tug on any of the curls. It comes away spotted with dirt, and it kills him that he has no idea where it came from. None of them were this bad when they came to camp. Just John. Just John with his dirt and blood.

“You said you’d wait Buck,” Brady sighs from behind him, and Buck can’t find it within himself to feel guilty. “Fine, I brought a bowl. We should be able to soak most of the blood out.”

Brady helps him maneuver the bowl under John’s head. Buck tosses the pillow aside, a vindictive pleasure running through him at sending the dirty thing flying. John flinches when they pour the water over his hair, but Buck is quick to calm him.

“Stop,” John grunts, restless. Brady freezes next to him, but Buck just pets at his curls. More blood blooms bright red in the water.

“Just me, Bucky, just me.” Buck whispers even as John clutches at his blanket. He mumbles his name, and Buck smiles. “Don’t worry, just washing out your curls for ya.”

Brady stays silent but tense next to him until John settles. Buck reaches over for one of the aid kits they’d kept at the foot of John’s bed since his arrival. There’s not much left having been picked clean while John’s fever raged, but there’s some soap that had been left alone thankfully. Buck had bartered for it before John’s arrival, and hopefully it’d do the trick here.

“Its not shampoo, but we’ll make do right John?” Buck runs a hand over John’s curls. Brady jolts next to him, and Buck spares him a glance. Right, he’d forgotten that his John wasn’t the only one here. “Run the suds back and forth over the curls. Don’t tug on’em, alright?”

John’s curls still feel stiff in his hands as he washes them. The blood had clumped and matted the hair on the back of his hair together, but letting it sit in the water seemed to be the trick. The water turns a deep murky brown, but a weight lifts off Buck’s shoulders the more he washes away.

“Hand me that comb.” Buck points, and Brady jumps to follow.

Brushing through the wet curls calms him. He’s done it hundreds of times. John pliant under his hands as he works. All that’s missing is John’s running commentary. Buck carefully works around the cuts on John’s head. They’d spot cleaned them to the best of their ability days ago, and Buck wasn’t going to risk reopening the wounds now. Doc could take a look in the morning if John felt up to it.

Wounds like these don’t just appear on a person’s head. One cut, Buck could chalk up to maybe the bail out hadn’t gone smoothly, but there were three cuts on John’s head all of them crisscrossing. Something has to happen to cause these. Someone has to be responsible for this. John had said something about German towns, calling out for guards to stop something. The pieces weren’t connecting.

There’s no towel to dry out John’s hair, but Buck grabs his spare shirt. He’ll be fine. Brady disappears with the bowl and jug.

“Buck?” John’s voice breaks through his concentration. His voice sounds lucid this time, and Buck scratches his nails through the now clean curls. John hisses at the sensation. “That you?”

“Got it in one.” Buck can’t hide the relief in his voice. “How you feeling?”

“Like shit.” John grunts. Buck can’t help the laugh that bursts out of him at that. God he’d missed that voice. It hadn’t been the same during those fevered days. John hadn’t… John hadn’t been there, not really.

Buck puts away his now sodden shirt and comes round to face John. Clear blue eyes greet him, and he can’t help the smile that fights to appear.

“Tell me I look better than you do?” John’s eyes trail over Buck’s face, and Buck drinks him in.

“Never,” Buck grins. John laughs and then groans as pain no doubt spikes through his head. Buck rushes forward cursing himself. He grabs his pillow off his own bed and gently lifts John’s head to place it underneath. “How’s that feel?”

“I’d say better, but this is worse than any hangover I’ve ever had.” John murmurs, eyes pinched tight. “How long have I been asleep?”

“In and out for about a week,” Buck shifts putting himself between the light and John’s eyes. The soft sigh of relief from John tells him everything he needs to know. “What do you remember?”

“Germans,” John shuts his eyes trying to concentrate. Buck cups his cheek, and John practically melts into the touch. His cheeks feel too warm against Buck’s cold hands, but its not high enough to be a fever. “Brits actually hit something.”

“What?” Buck’s heart leaps into his throat. Had John been in a bombing? The question bursts out of him before he can stop it. A dish clatters behind them, the sound as loud as a bomb in Buck's ears. A bombing could make sense. That would explain the head wounds.

“No,” John murmurs, eyes shut as if the memories are hurting him. “Sorry, that wasn’t it. After. Was there after. Germans were there. So much pain.”

“John,” Buck tried to soothe him. “Its okay. You’re not there anymore. You’re okay.”

“Terroflieger, that’s what they called us.” The German falls clumsily off John’s tongue. His breathing speeds up. His hands twist in his blanket. “The guards didn’t stop them. Shot the others”

“Stop John,” Buck begs. He doesn’t want to know this. “Just breathe, okay? Breathe for me.”

“They asked about you,” John stares up at Buck. His eyes are wild, and Buck’s not sure John’s even actually seeing him. He’s a ghost again for John. “Asshole seemed smug about it. Shooting down all the good pilots.”

Buck didn’t know what to say. He pulls John into his arms, allowing the other to bury his face into his shoulder. He murmurs quiet platitudes as John shakes. He wishes he could stop those memories from hurting John. Wishes he could wash them away like dirt and blood and dirty curls.

But all he can do is bury his hand into wet curls and curl himself around the one person he has to protect. His fingers tug and pull at the curls, destroying all of Buck’s hard work as John shakes in his arms still talking. Still listing horrors that Buck can't piece together. Voices fade in and out behind them.

“Its okay,” Buck murmurs, pressing a kiss into John’s curls. They’re a mess again.

“We’ll be okay.”

#mota #masters of the air #buck x bucky #clegan #bucky egan #john egan #buck cleven #gale cleven #john bucky egan #gale buck cleven #this actually took everything out of me #am i super happy with the final product? no #but i need this away from me before it causes problems in my real life

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captainsophiestark · 1 year ago

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Bird Strike

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my Year of Olympians and part of a bigger challenge being run by @yearofcreation2023 which I’m finally catching back up on! It features a ton of other awesome creators and runs all year, so go check it out!

Fandom: Top Gun

Prompt: Apollo; light, the sun, truth, inspiration, medicine, healing

Summary: A bird strikes brings Hangman down and leads to confessions from him and Rooster's sister.

Word Count: 1,825

Category: Angst, Fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"Alright, you're all good Bob. Just take it easy on your wrist for a little while, and you should heal up just fine."

"Thanks," said Bob, giving me a smile as he hopped off my exam table. Life was never boring as Top Gun's chief medical officer, but thankfully today I hadn't had to deal with any serious injuries. Just a slightly sprained wrist from a little too much dog fight football.

"Sure thing." I headed for the door with Bob, since I didn't have anyone else waiting for medical attention. Jake Seresin, the most arrogant pilot at Top Gun (except maybe Mav), was currently up flying, and since I didn't have any pressing work to attend to I wanted to listen in on how he was doing.

"Hey!" Bradley, my older brother, waved as soon as he saw me and Bob enter the room. A few aviators were gathered around, listening to the comms between pilots still in the air. "You missed my run."

"Oh no, I'm so sad. How will I ever recover?"

Bradley just rolled his eyes at me as I sidled up next to him beside the radio. I could hear Jake's voice, strategizing with his wingman and tracking the instructor's positions. I tuned in, imagining I could see his plane as it flew across the sky.

"So you're in here listening carefully to the radio for Seresin but not your brother?"

"Shut up," I said, shoving him back much harder than necessary. I wasn't sure if he knew that he'd found some truth in terms of my feelings for Jake, but I never wanted him to know. "I heal injuries for a living, and I'm just as skilled at causing injuries."

"Don't you have some kind of oath to do no harm?"

"You're my exception."

I gave him a fake sweet smile as he narrowed his eyes at me. He opened his mouth, probably to make a bad attempt at a comeback, but he stopped short at the sounds of distress coming from the radio.

"Hangman, watch out!"

"Bird strike, bird strike!"

My heart stopped in my chest. The room went dead silent, everyone freezing and all conversation coming to a stop as we listened to the radio.

"Hangman to Tower, Hangman to Tower. I need to come in for an immediate emergency landing."

"Copy. Just stay calm, we've got the runway open for you."

"Alright. I'm coming around."

The silence stretched on, hanging over the room like a heavy blanket. I twisted my fingers, fidgeting, trying to dispel the nervous energy. He was going to be fine. He had to be.

I saw Bradley glancing at me out of the corner of my eye, but I ignored him. I kept my eyes and attention glued on the radio. I wasn't sure if I wanted the silence to end or not, but I didn't get a choice as the radio crackled to life again.

"Tower, it's no good, I'm losing speed and altitude too fast. I'm gonna have to eject."

I felt like I'd been hit by a train. Wordlessly, I reached out one hand, and Bradley quickly took it. He stood tall and strong beside me, his face clouded while my world spiraled out of control. This could not be happening.

"He's gonna be fine," Bradley muttered. I barely heard him. It sounded like we were underwater, and the room had started to spin.

Bradley and I had lost our dad this way, when the canopy to his fighter jet didn't detach the way it was supposed to. We'd both been pretty young, but I swear I remembered every awful moment of our mother coming to break the news, of Mav explaining just what had happened and how sorry he was with tears in his eyes. When Bradley had decided to follow our dad's path into becoming a pilot, my number one nightmare had been losing him the same way. Now I might be forced to live that reality with Jake instead.

The silence stretched on as Bradley and I stood, shoulder to shoulder, waiting with everyone else in the room. A moment later, I heard Mav's voice over the radio.

"Canopy looked good and I saw a chute."

Mav continued to call out his position for Jake's recovery team, but I barely heard it as relief crashed like a wave through my ears. I wouldn't be completely relieved until he walked through the door, but at least it sounded like he was going to be just fine.

"It's okay," Bradley muttered, pulling me into a quick hug and mumbling into my hair. "It's okay."

I nodded, still feeling a little shaky as I gave him a quick hug before pulling back.

"I need to get to my exam room. Even if he's perfectly healthy, he's gonna need a checkup to make sure nothing's wrong."

"Do you want me to come with you?"

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to force myself to calm down a little. I shook my head.

"That's alright. I'm okay."

Bradley didn't look totally convinced, but I managed to shake him anyway with a promise to call him if I needed him. I focused on taking deep breaths and trying to calm myself down for the walk back to my exam room. It sort of worked, although I literally paced the room waiting for Jake to be brought in. When I finally heard shuffling outside the door, I quickly crossed the room and flung it open.

"I told you, I'm fine!"

Jake stood in the hallway on his own two feet, wrestling with one of the men who'd brought him in. The guy didn't budge despite Jake's protest, but I decided to step in before things could escalate.

"Jake, get in the exam room."

His head snapped up to face me, but despite his momentary surprise, he didn't back down.

"I'm gonna tell you the same thing I told them, I'm fine. I don't need an exam-"

"You ejected from your plane. You might be walking, but that's no grantee you don't have an injury just waiting to show itself once the adrenaline fades. So come on. The less you fight it, the sooner you can leave and go do whatever it is you want to do so badly."

He fixed me with a look, but I just crossed my arms and stared right back. Finally, once he realized I wasn't going to back down, he sighed.

"Fine. But if I miss somebody shooting Maverick down, I'm gonna be pissed."

I resisted the urge to reply as Jake walked past me, and I followed him into the exam room. My brain still didn't completely believe he was sitting here, in front of me, apparently completely healthy. The adrenaline dump made my hands shake a little as I checked Jake's heartrate and went through a few more basic checks.

"Are you sure you don't feel any pain?" I asked while I worked. I'd already asked him twice before, but I wanted to keep checking in case his answer changed, especially as any potential shock wore off.

"For the third time, yes. Quit hovering already."

I stepped back, hands on my hips as I fixed Jake with a look. He seemed to be perfectly happy and relaxed in the wake of his dangerous adventure, but I was still wrestling with the thought that my worst nightmare almost came true, so I wasn't in the mood to be gentle.

"Jake, it is my job to check you out and make sure you're not injured with something that's going to come back to bite you the second you're out the door. So sit still, stop complaining, and let me do my job!"

"...Since when do you care so much?"

"Excuse me?"

"Not about your job, but... about me. You seem like you care a lot. I thought you hated me for all the shit I give your brother."

I sighed. "No. I mean, sure, sometimes it's annoying and sometimes it's a little over the line, but... no. I don't hate you, Jake."

He didn't really respond, which left me to finish my exam without resistance. Thankfully, he was perfectly healthy, not a scratch on him. Still, that didn't stop my hands from shaking as I lowered my stethoscope. I started to pull away, but Jake caught my hand and stopped me.

"Hey, you're shaking." I closed my eyes and let out a long breath. I'd done so well hiding it until now. "What's wrong?"

I opened my eyes to find Jake staring at me, his bright blue eyes full of unusual concern. I sighed.

"You know mine and Bradley's history, Jake. I lost my dad to the same thing that landed you here today. I've spent every single day since Bradley joined the navy terrified that I would lose him the same way, and then when I heard you on the radio, dropping out of the sky and being forced to eject..." I took a deep breath, steeling myself, and then looking back at Jake. "I've had feelings for you for a little while now, Seresin, but when I heard that call? I just about had a heart attack at the thought of losing you."

Jake huffed a little, disbelieving laugh, then tugged me closer to him. My heart stuttered in my chest as Jake grinned.

"I've had feelings for you for a while now, too," he said. A smile pulled its way onto my face, but a moment later, Jake's expression sobered. "Although I have to warn you, sweetheart, if we do something about those feelings... you're not gonna be any less relaxed going about your day since I'm going to be up in the air all the time."

I sighed and closed my eyes, leaning in to rest my head against Jake's forehead. He still held my hand tight, giving it a little reassuring squeeze.

"I know," I finally said. "But... I'm willing to take that risk. It's worth it to me. And it's not like I wouldn't be worried about you anyway."

Jake pulled away, the grin firmly back in place as he looked at me. "I'm glad I'm worth it to you."

Without another word, he leaned back in, this time for a kiss that I'd thought about more than once (and apparently so had he). We stayed that way for a long time, savoring the moment and each other as my hands wandered over Jake's shoulders, reassuring myself that this was real. He was okay, and now we were both better than okay.

When we finally pulled apart, Jake still had that ridiculous cocky grin on his face as he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me tighter to his chest.

"Your brother is gonna hate this," he said gleefully. I just laughed and lightly smacked his chest. He was right, my brother was going to hate this, but Bradley would just have to deal with it. Now that I had Jake, I didn't plan to let him go any time soon.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury

Top Gun Taglist: @elenavampire21

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ghost-rattan · 1 year ago

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Can I request for an injured reader x Akutagawa and ranpo (You can add more as long as these two stays :D) where the reader got into an argument in a mission with them, got injured accidentally, and the reader kept saying their ok (literally limping around) but the character kept insisting and eventually do it by force idk how to explain hwuhshs English is my sec language:^

Tysm^^

🐑

HI!!! Sorry this took a while! I will most likely do a part two of this because I had so much fun!

Reader gets hurt!

Ranpo

You where on call with Ranpo because he was out of town on another mission

"You can't go" he had already seen the out come of this mission and he knew you his lover would get hurt

He loves you so he wont let you go simple as that

But you kept pressing to go on this mission

All you needed to do was go to the suspects home and bring him into custody

"Ranpo! its just a possibility I will be fine!"

He angrily ended the call so you went on the mission!

Ranpo was right you ended up having elbow and two broken fingers thankfully though Atsushi was with you and carried you all the way back to the agency

but while you where out on the mission and getting hurt Ranpo was on a train back to you (that he some how got by him self we don't know how he just did)

When Ranpo arrived back at the agency you where just back too

He just looked at you, he didn't say a thing but he hurried you to Yosano's office

after you where healed he just hugged you and cried

"I knew this would happen...I'm sorry I should have made more of an effort to stop you!"

He blames him self for you getting hurt

He is so scared of losing you

"I'm alive, you see? its ok, its not your fault"

you have to comfort him

Akutagawa

You where both on a mission and you both had to split up

He knew you where no match for the enemy you had no ability while this guy had a dangerous one!

"Stay back I will get them one at a time if I must"

He looked at the handful of underlings that had joined you both on this mission

"Protect them"

he then proceeded to walk towards where one off the enemies had ran off too

you started walking in the opposite direction towards where the other enemy had gone but one underling had tried to stop you

"you can't go that way! We have orders too keep you here!"

"he said protect me not for me to stay still"

before any could try and stop you you ran off to get this enemy of the port mafia

during the fight you had got shot in the knee and got a punch to the nose but yet you won the fight

when Akutagawa had arrived to see what had happened and catch the other enemy he was surprised to see him dead on the floor

but to his shock he also saw you hurt and in pain

he froze

his head stopped working but before he could even register he was running to your side and lifting you up bridal style and taking you to the port mafia med bay

he was worried sick and lectured you about doing reckless things like that

"My love I'm ok I promise to be more careful, I honestly did it so you wouldn't have to do so much"

he loves you to much to stay mad at you for long

those hench men do have a lot of explaining to do though-

#bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd headcanons #bsd x reader #akutagawa x reader #bsd ranpo #ranpo x reader #bsd ships

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aqua-the-smiter · 3 months ago

Text

Part 6 mfers, sorry this took so long Cato Sicarius x female reader Divider by @squishyowl Song - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3q63sILptUs

Cato awoke to a soft apothecarium cot underneath him and the sweet scent of flowers. It was warm under the covers. His limbs felt leaden and the sleepiness didn't abate like it usually did. Sedatives then. Nothing hurt either, which meant the analgesics he must have been pumped with were something else. He could feel a pressure on his chest. Lifting the white sheets and looking down, he could see a lump of bandages.

On the small table next to him was a cup of water and a vase full of different flowers. Alongside these was a stack of notes, some hastily scribbled while others took up several sheets of parchment. Late afternoon light filtered in from some window or other. He tried to sit up and quickly decided that could wait for a bit long with a groan.

"Cato?"

He turned his head to see you nearly running back into the room. Sitting yourself down in a chair by his bedside.

"Peahen."

"By the throne." You said in a choked whisper, throwing your arms around his neck and kissing him. it was all your could do to not break into tears right there and then. "You're ok!"

Slowly, he put an arm around you and squeezed gently. "Of course I am. How long have I been out? Is Melor alright?"

"You get stabbed in the chest and still your duty is the first thing you think about when you wake up." You kissed his cheek.

"He is far more than just my duty, Peahen."

"I know, I know. Thankfully the little guy is just fine. A bit shaken up but otherwise unharmed. It's been three days."

He laid back. "Then all is well. What happened since?"

"The Primarch has tightened security around the whole Fortress, but that's probably obvious. That Word Bearer who turned on his comrades was given over to the Redeemed."

"That is good to hear. He seemed decent."

You reached over and grabbed the stack of notes. "He left you one in here somewhere beforehand."

Cato took them and began to shuffle through them, skimming the contents. They were letters from his battle brothers. Well wishes, congratulations. Even a few apologies. He found one that was just a single sheet, the oddly spiky handwriting suggesting that the author was not quite used to writing in Gothic.

Thank you for allowing me the chance to redeem some of my sin. That boy will love you like a brother for all of his days. - Robavam

There were others. He found ones from Calgar, Ventris, Titus, and several other officers. Practically all his comrades in the Victrix had written one. Some from regular marines, some from neophytes. Even some of the Redeemed had sent their wishes. He laid back after reading a few. There was an odd feeling in his heart that he couldn't put his finger on.

You resisted the urge to lay your head on his chest. Instead you cradled his head in your arms, stroking his hair.

"You were so brave Cato. So, so brave. You know there's pict recordings of your fight? Security footage. The Primarch let me see them after everything was reviewed. And lucky too. They had to bring the Redeemed's chief apothecary here to help patch you up. Now the whole place smells like flowers."

"I can see that." He poked the bandage on his chest. "But it was not anything special.

"You killed six Chaos Astartes and a terminator. How is that nothing? Don't undercut yourself." You chided him gently, kissing his cheek. "You're a hero."

"So it would seem."

"You are!"

Cato didn't look convinced, and changed the subject. "Since you seem to be well informed, Peahen, do you know how long I'm to be here?"

You flushed a bit. "Well...someone had to look after you while you were out. The apothecaries told me I could tell you since I've been here the whole time. The sword went in deep, poked a lung but missed both your hearts thankfully. You're healing up nicely thanks to Apothecary Asphodelus, but you're supposed to stay here for a few more days just so you can be monitored."

He let out a small, hollow laugh. "Just a little to the left and it probably would have killed me. The Primarch must have been disappointed."

"Lord Guilliman is extremely proud of you!"

"I'm sure he is."

"Cato!"

"What?"

"What's with the cynicism? You did good." You stroked his cheek in a mollifying gesture. He huffed like a dissatisfied dog.

"I didn't do anything special. I just did what was expected. Of course I would have either way, I would never just sit by and let Melor be harmed or killed." Just the thought of it made him feel slightly sick. "But it was my duty regardless."

"I think you went a little above and beyond. You would have been expected to get Melor out of danger, not kill six marines and a terminator solo with a massive wound. You're undercutting yourself."

He sighed. "Maybe. I am just happy that he's safe."

That I didn't fail.

In that moment it hadn't mattered what anyone thought of him, or how he thought of himself. All that had mattered was that Melor's tiny life was at stake, and that he had been the only one standing between it and the boy's enemies. Everything had dissolved. It didn't matter how he was perceived. A failure, an egoist, arrogant, a sexist, a weak leader, whatever. He had done his duty. He knew the truth about what and who he was, even through the screams and pipe organ music that haunted his memories. That was enough for him.

Wasn't that all that really mattered in the end?

You felt him relax in your embrace, and you ran your fingers through his hair. Letting him drift off back to sleep in your arms again. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ The Primarch came to see his gene-son later that day, bringing a special someone along with him.

Cato was awake again when he came in, Melor cradled in one arm. His golden eyes lit up when he saw the Ultramarine. He cooed happily, reaching out with his arms and making grabby hands at him. He was surprised at that. The boy seemed too young to recognize him so easily, and with such enthusiasm.

Guilliman didn't seem surprised. He smiled at the scene before addressing Cato. "It is good to see you well. I was worried I had lost you for a while."

He tried to conjure up something confident and snarky to say and found that he couldn't. "I fully expected to die that night. The fact I did not is nothing short of a miracle."

"All the same, I am quite glad you're still with us. It would have been a devastating loss. Not just for me either."

Melor continued making grabby hands at his cousin, and was started to get fidgety. You watched the scene with amusement.

"Is he alright?" Cato asked.

"Just fine. He wants to be with you for a little while I think. Would you mind?"

"I could hold him for a bit." He agreed, masking his apprehension.

The boy was handed over in short order. Cato cradled him in his arms the way he'd seen you and Primarch doing. He weighed practically nothing. So light and fragile. Melor reached up a tiny hand to him and tangled it in his beard, giggling.

"Aren't you a little young for mischief?" Cato asked, the question directed as much to Roboute as to Melor.

Guilliman picked up on his suspicious. "He is...unique."

"He would be, wouldn't he?"

You patted his cheek as he untangled Melor's tiny fist from his beard. "Oh come off it Cato. Look at him, he likes you."

"Which is also unusual."

"He's the son of a Primarch." You reminded him. "Of course he'll be a little unusual."

Sicarius looked like he wanted to argue with you but dropped it, turning his attention back to Melor. To your surprise, the Primarch shot you a grateful look, which you decided not to question. Whatever was strange about the boy, it was probably best not to question. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------Cato was back on his feet and out of the medicae in another three days, although under strict orders to go easy for a while longer. He was functional, but not healed. The process was slower, both because the wound was quite deep and because it seemed the sword had been covered in a mild poison of some sort. Thus his recovery would take more time, and he was relegated to light training and paperwork.

He was not prepared for the reception he received when he was finally walking the halls of the Fortress of Hera again.

There had been distance. Respect for sure, but he could tell there was a warmth gone. His reputation had proceeded him for the most part. Not anymore.

There were hushed, awed whispers as he passed by. Serfs and Astartes alike stopped and saluted him. There was genuine admiration from his battle brothers now. Real, deep respect. Neophytes and scouts would nervously approach him during drills, asking for advise. Before he had felt like the Primarch's disappointing side project. Now he was being lauded as a hero.

It was like everyone had finally divorced the version of him they had in their heads, and come to realize the version of him that truly existed. The two different people that had been running around since his return from the Emperor's Will had become one again.

That didn't mean all was well though.

In truth he felt disdainful now. It had taken his near death to alleviate himself of their scorn. Like the Emperor's Will wasn't enough. Nothing he had done since had been fucking enough. Not only was he haunted by the screams of his dead and dying, but of their disapproval as well. It left a bitter stickiness in his throat whenever he thought about it. He had never been one for self pity. This just made his angry. Why did he have to prove himself when he'd already done so more times than he could count? Why did he have to shed his own blood and come on bended knee for them to see he had repented from his younger years? Why did he have to repent for them at all? As if others hadn't done a thousand times worse.

The exception was you, of course. You were always the exception. You were the light in his life.

Guardianship over Melor had been temporarily passed to a few different Ultramarines on a rotating schedule. Among there were Uriel and Demetrian, although Cato wasn't off the hook with him either. Instead spending time with the boy when he had a spare moment. It gave him a convenient audience for his bitterness.

"I'm like you now." Cato said. He was sitting cross legged on the floor, shaking a rattle for Melor. He giggled, his tiny hands reaching out for it.

"How so?" Titus asked. He was standing in front of the door, back to his brother, one hand on his chainsword. "Did you cross the Rubicon while I wasn't looking?" He joked.

Cato snorted. "Of course not. I mean everyone thinks I'm a hero now."

"Are you not? You nearly died saving the little one."

"I suppose so. I am just jaded about it. Instead of earning the title by cutting through hordes of orks and swarms of Tyranids, or tearing my way across a daemon infested planet like Caedo, or everything that Ventris did, I get it by being stabbed in the chest and killing seven enemies."

"You already had a good reputation before then." Titus reassured. "This was special."

"My reputation was lying beaten and bloody on the floor before this."

His expression knitted into a frown. "It was not that bad, Cato. You had some blunders, but it is as the Chapter Master said. No leader of men has only victories."

"And you really believe that, do you?" Cato scoffed. "You don't have to lie to spare my feelings Titus. You're too good of a man for that."

"Do not tell me you saved Melor only for your reputation."

"Of course not! I...care for the boy." He admitted. "He is our cousin. And the last of Lord Ferrus Manus's legacy."

"Then what has made you so bitter?"

"Why like this? Nothing else I did matters. Why does all the rest of my suffering mean nothing!? I have been at the sharp end for years. I have been brought to my knees time and time again, but all of that is forgotten. I have been humbled so thoroughly that only by nearly dying, and not for the first bloody time, did anyone remember who I actually am. The wraith going around wearing my name is finally banished."

Titus didn't respond, but he turned to look at Cato, and his expression was pained. Sicarius didn't see it, too occupied with Melor.

He didn't mind coming to see the boy. There was definitely an affection for the boy, born of their kinship. Melor was, after all, his cousin. But the more time he spent with him, the more he realized just how strange he was.

It wasn't anything big. More a series of small oddities that added up. He was a normal baby in nearly every way. Which made the ways that he wasn't stand out all the more. There was his recognition of Cato, for example. His golden eyes lit up when he saw his cousin. Easily picking him out even without his helmet on. Beyond that, even. He always seemed to relax around him. Like he felt safe with him.

The other thing that really tipped him off was his unusual strength, which was usually demonstrated when someone tried to take a toy from Melor's little hands. For example, he had been gifted an old plush toy that had once been Primarch Guilliman's when he had been a child, a fact that boggled Cato's mind to think about. It was a pegasus, soft white with a fluffy mane and tail, shimmery wings, and a dove gray muzzle. He adored it, and would cuddle and roll all over it. Good luck trying to take it from him when it was nap time, however. You'd end up in a surprisingly even tug of war. What's more, Cato always got the impression that Melor was holding back because he didn't want to damage the thing. Which was more brainpower than any barely-over-a-month old should have.

But he acted just like a normal baby in every other regard. He was a normal baby, just with a few quirks.

Still, it was clear there was much the Primarch hadn't told him.

"With all due respect my lord, there is something you neglected to tell me about Melor, isn't there?" Cato said, before Roboute could get a word out.

He sighed, shifting the topic of conversation in his arms so his head was resting more comfortably. Cato probably had a gut feeling this conversation was supposed to be about him and was trying to prevent it before it even started. Still, if he'd already figured it out anywhere, there wasn't much to be gained by hiding it.

"I know what you're trying to do." Guilliman replied. "But you are correct. I felt it was not information that needed to be shared. Since you are at least somewhat aware of it, I will tell you. Given enough time, you would probably figure it out on your own anyway."

"He's...alright, isn't he?"

"Of course he is. He is just...well, he's unusual. You see, by some miracle, he is a full blooded Primarch."

Sicarius's eyes widened. "What? How?"

Guilliman sighed. "I don't know. Ferrus doesn't know. As near as either of us can figure, my brother simply got incredibly lucky with the boy's genes. I have a feeling the only person who could tell us for certain is the Emperor, and I am not bringing Melor anywhere near him."

His face scrunched in a pained frown with memory for a moment before relaxing.

"That's why he recognizes me then? Why he seems much stronger than he should be? That's why the Word Bearers came."

"Yes." He nodded. "I don't think they knew either, but they knew he was different. They knew enough to deduce he could be a threat one day."

"Is he doing alright? He was very shaken when I found him." Cato asked.

"He is young. Some things still linger, but as long as we keep an eye on him, and make sure he feels safe, he will heal just fine from it. that is why I let him be with you so often."

"He feels safe with me?"

"As much as an infant-even an infant Primarch-can register something like that. Make no mistake, he is still only a baby. But you shouldn't be surprised. You nearly gave your life for his. I'm proud of you, and your actions."

"Yes. Despite my injury it seemed to remind everyone that I am not, in fact, a paper general."

"Cato, are you well?" Roboute asked his son.

He sighed. "I am just fine, my lord. It has been a trying week, but I have been through worse. And I am relieved that Melor is alright."

He paused.

"What has Titus been telling you?"

"He has told me enough. He's worried about you. I am too."

"What is there to be concerned about? You know what's wrong with me."

"You seem very...jaded."

"Of course I am!" He threw up his hands. "What else could I be? I have been shouldering the disgust of my own battle brothers for years now, all while my mind is eating itself. And now, after I nearly died, that is what gets them to remember who I was. They're patting me on the back like it was expected I'd try to get myself killed to earn my respect back."

"Do you really believe that's the whole truth, or have you run away with your own bitterness?" Roboute asked him softly.

"...What?"

"I will not sit here and tell you that you have not been dealt an unfair hand. In many aspects you have. Not all of your brothers like you, your reputation definitely has taken many hits. Moreover, your mind has been wounded, deeply. I do not think anyone truly understands how much it has hurt you."

He raised an eyebrow. "I detect a 'but', my lord."

"The whole chapter is not out to get you, Cato. I am not here to hang you out to dry. I don't pity you, I am worried for you. Both for your mind and how you have been handling this whole thing. You are not nearly as despised as you think you are, and your brothers are not congratulating you because they thought you needed to grovel, it's because you saved the life of an innocent baby and Ferrus's only son."

When Cato didn't respond, he continued.

"You know I am very proud of you. There is a war in your mind that you have been fighting alone for years. But I've never seen you falter in your duty. Never waver. You're in pain, but Melor is still alive and safe. You killed six Word Bearers and a terminator solo. Your brothers are proud of you too. It is all I have heard any of them talk about for the last week. They hail you as a hero, not a prodigal who redeemed himself."

Melor squirmed, and started making grabby hands at his cousin. Guilliman held out the little Primarch to his son, who took him hesitantly after a moment.

"Even he knows you did a good job."

"He's too young to know much of anything."

"I have met older men and women who know less." He shook his head. "You've done well, Cato."

Sicarius looked down at Melor, then up at his Primarch, lost for words. "Are you sure?"

"If I was displeased with I would tell you. You are doing just fine, and I wish to see you get better."

Cato nodded, turning the Primarch's words over in his head. It was the kind of encouragement he'd really only heard from you. From Guilliman it took on a whole new meaning. He supposed he had a lot to reevaluate then. Lord Guilliman was many things, but a liar was not one of them. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Are you doing alright, Cato?" You asked him, stroking his hair as he rested his head in your lap.

He thought for a moment, snuggling into your thighs. "Better than I have been."

#warhammer 40k #warhammer #adeptus astartes #space marines #ultramarines #space marine x reader #space marine x female reader #cato sicarius #cato sicarius x reader #cato sicarius x female reader #cato has ptsd #captain titus #bullying cato #roboute guilliman

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