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lozchi · 2 months

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KNOCKDOWN

Masterlist Pairing(s):Sukuna x F!Reader, Modern AU

Themes: Suggestive content, profanity, mild violence, slow burn, childhood friends to lovers, OOC, fluff, angst(ish)

Prologue: 1.7k words

The kindergarten playground was a battleground of tiny tempers and unfiltered emotions.

“THE GIRAFFE IS MINE! AHHHGHHHHH!”

And no one exemplified this more than Ryomen Sukuna.

Even as a youngster, Sukuna was a formidable presence. He constantly found himself in trouble, getting into conflicts with peers and receiving harsh rebukes from teachers who were unable to tame his unruly nature.

"I apologize for hitting Tanaka's balls, I will do it again…"He trails off.

"Sukuna!"

"Alright! I won't! Tsk, adults."

In the sandbox one day, Sukuna noticed two boys your age standing near you, whose names he didn't care to remember. Their pushing and teasing was causing you to cower in fear from their cruel words. You hastily use your arm to wipe away your tears and snot, wishing they'd go away.

“I juz wan’ play here! I was here first! Lemme be!” You yell.

“You're a girl! You can't tell us what to do!” Sukuna's usual urge for fights found a new purpose.

“I'm not a bad boy if I'm helping someone, heh.” He thinks to himself.

With a determined glare, Sukuna marched over, fists clenched. "Hey, you dummies!" he yelled, his voice carrying an authority that belied his age.

The bullies turned, sneers plastered on their faces. "What's it to you, poopy head?" one of them taunted.

Before the boy could react, Sukuna's fist collided with his nose causing a horrifying sound. The boy fell back, holding his face while blood streamed down. Sukuna dodged the swing from the other bully with quick reflexes. He responded by delivering a quick punch to the bully's abdomen, leaving him breathless. The bully bent over in half, struggling to breathe before falling to the ground.

“Mommy! Mommy! Help me!” The boys cried in unison.

"Had enough?" Sukuna spat, standing protectively in front of you as the bullies scrambled away in tears.

You looked up at your savior with wide, grateful eyes, wiping your tears away. Boy, was he in so much trouble that day.

“Ff-thank you, ‘K-Kuna.” You sobbed.

He shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "Just don't cry about it."

From that moment on, you were drawn to Sukuna like a magnet. At first, he found your constant presence irritating. You would trail behind him, mimicking his every step. If he ran, you ran; if he stopped, you stopped. When he sat on the swings, you’d sit beside him, your small legs dangling in the air. During snack time, you’d offer him your favorite treats, hoping to win his approval. Sukuna often rolled his eyes at your antics.

"Why are you always following me?" he grumbled one day as you trailed behind him.

"Because you’re my hero," you replied with a bright smile, holding out a piece of candy.

"Want some?"Sukuna's scowl softened just a fraction as he took the candy.

"Fine, but stop being so annoying."

He found himself looking forward to the treats you brought and the way you cheered for him after his fights.

You would defend him to the other kids, proclaiming proudly;

"Sukuna's the strongest! No one can beat him!"

Even when he found your declarations embarrassing, a part of him enjoyed the attention. Slowly, your loyalty began to chip away at his tough exterior. Without realizing it, Sukuna began to appreciate having you around.

The dynamic between you and Sukuna only deepened as you both entered high school. Sukuna’s reputation as a fierce fighter had followed him, and it wasn't long before other delinquent students sought to challenge him, either to prove themselves or settle old scores. You often found yourself waiting near the school gates or in the secluded corners where these fights typically occurred.

The aftermath was always the same: Sukuna standing victorious, his opponents nursing bruises and pride. You would rush to his side, your bag already prepared with a first aid kit.

"Hold still," you would command softly, dabbing at a cut on his cheek with antiseptic.

"I don't need your help," Sukuna would grumble, though he never pulled away.

"Stop being stubborn," you’d reply, focusing on cleaning his wounds. "If you keep this up, you’re going to have more scars than I can count."

Sometimes, it would be other delinquent students wanting to mess with each other, using Sukuna as their proving ground. But no matter how many tried, Sukuna remained undefeated. His skill and ferocity in battle were unmatched, and you were always there to patch him up afterward.

One evening, after a particularly brutal fight, you were carefully bandaging Sukuna’s knuckles.

"You really should find a less violent hobby," you teased, trying to lighten the mood.

He chuckled, wincing slightly as you tightened the bandage.

"And what would that be? Knitting? Horseback riding? Ooh, what about pottery?"

You smiled, shaking your head. "I just worry about you, that's all."

He looked at you, a rare softness in his eyes. "I know. Thanks.”

Once you turned eighteen, the news hit you like a freight train: Sukuna had to leave for another country. The weight of his departure was heavy, pressing down on your chest as you tried to process it. His last day arrived all too quickly, and you found yourselves standing in the empty school courtyard, the familiar surroundings now filled with a profound sense of finality.

"I can't believe you're leaving," you said, your voice shaky with emotion. "I'll miss you so much."

Sukuna's usual bravado was absent, replaced by a quiet resignation. He met your eyes, his own filled with a sadness.

"I don't really have a choice," he murmured, his tone uncharacteristically soft. "But you have to promise me something."

"Anything," you replied instantly, desperate to hold onto any part of him.

"Stay safe for me, got it?" His voice was firm, but you could hear the underlying plea.

"I will," you promised, your throat tightening as you fought back tears. "You too, Sukuna. Stay safe."

He gave a small nod, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than usual. "I mean it. Don't do anything stupid."

"I won't," you assured him, though you wished you could say more, do more to make him stay.

As he turned to leave, you felt an ache in your heart, a deep, gnawing sense of loss.

"Sukuna," you called out, your voice breaking slightly. "I'll miss you."

He paused, his back still turned to you. For a moment, it seemed like he might say something, but all he could manage was a low hum of acknowledgment. "Protect yourself for me," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

You watched him walk away, each step taking him further from you and deeper into an unknown future. As he disappeared from sight, you couldn't help but feel a pang of regret. He wished he had said it back, wished he had found the courage to tell you how much you meant to him. But for now, all he could do was carry the hope that one day, he would have the chance to make things right.

No way of contacting him, Sukuna gradually became a distant memory. The sharp, vivid images of your childhood together blurred as you got busier with your studies. The demands of school, extracurricular activities, and the push towards your future left little room for reminiscing. Each passing day added another layer of distance between you and the boy who had once been your closest friend.

Meanwhile, Sukuna was on a different path. He threw himself into intense training, honing his skills with a singular focus. His natural talent and relentless drive quickly propelled him to the top of the mixed martial arts world. As you buried yourself in textbooks and exams, Sukuna was making headlines, becoming a prodigal MMA fighter known for his unmatched ferocity and technique.

Years slipped by, and the memories of Sukuna became like old photographs, faded and tucked away in the back of your mind. Occasionally, something would trigger a fleeting recollection—a particular song, the scent of antiseptic from your first aid kit, or the distant sound of a playground. But these moments were rare and quickly overshadowed by the pressing concerns of the present.

Unbeknownst to you, Sukuna’s name began to rise in the sports world. Articles, interviews, and televised matches showcased his prowess, but in your bubble of academic pursuits, his fame went unnoticed. You had yet to discover the remarkable journey Sukuna had undertaken -- the one that had transformed him from the fierce protector of your childhood to a celebrated MMA prodigy.

Despite the cashflow and all the attention that came with his success, Sukuna felt a deep, gnawing emptiness. The trophies, accolades, and the roaring crowds failed to fill the void left by your absence. He would often find himself staring out at the arena from behind the scenes, lost in thought.

Sukuna imagined what it would be like to see you in the crowd. He could almost hear your voice cheering for him, a familiar sound that had been a constant during his childhood fights. He pictured you there, standing amidst a sea of faces, your eyes bright with pride as you shouted his name.

"YES! THAT'S SUKUNA! LET'S GO!" he would hear you say in his mind’s eye, your voice as clear and encouraging as it had been all those years ago.

He hoped that one day, you would see how far he had come, that you would recognize the man he had become and the battles he had fought. He longed for the moment when he could finally show you the success he had achieved and hear you say,

"I’m proud of you, Sukuna.”

But for now, those thoughts remained unspoken wishes he carried with him as he fought in the ring. Every success, every achievement was colored with the anticipation that one day you would be present to observe it, to witness his growth, and to take part in celebrating his achievements.

One day, though, the paths of your separate lives would cross again, and the faded memories would be brought back into sharp focus. But for now, you remained unaware, while Sukuna continued to conquer arenas far away, all the while imagining your cheers in his heart.

Taglist:

just put it under this post or any of the chapters I'll release. I would be posting polls or asking readers about certain things sometimes that would possibly affect the story in a minor way so stay tuned. :)

#sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #sukuna ryomen #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna ryomen x you #jjk x reader #jjk sukuna #jjk fanfic #what other tags do i put #ryomen x reader #ryomen x you #jjk fic

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minweber · 5 months

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Musings on Custodes: Aging and Generational Divide

How many living custodians who remember the Emperor in the flesh are there? The precise answer doesn't matter quite as much as the existence of the question.

Custodians got their shit rocked pretty hard during the War Within the Webway at the end of the Horus Heresy. As traditional for warhammer there is some numbers fuckery going on: it is unclear how many custodians there even was initially, the famous monicker of "The Ten Thousand" possibly being intentionally misleading, and there is no precise information about how many of them were committed to the Webway, and therefore what percentage of the total number did their losses there make, and what then were their losses during the Siege of Terra... But once again, the specifics aren't that important here. What's important is the idea that after the dust had settled, Horus lay slain and the Emperor entombed - Custodes stood as a pale shadow of their former might, their numbers seemingly reduced to a fraction of the original.

What became of these veterans then? It is presumed that by the 42nd millennium Custodes numbers were generally replenished (just in time to get their teeth massively kicked in at the Battle of the Lion's Gate) - though we also don't know to what extent. Do those few-hundreds-to-a-thousand original Custodians still stand among them? Custodians supposedly don't age, and no upper limit to their natural lifespans is known, but there is the whole The Eyes of the Emperor retirement plan for them. Custodians who have, after aeons of service, their reflexes slow down even by a ridiculous degree of a millisecond, supposedly lay down their armor and go out into the galaxy to play spies. So time does affect them? Or is it something else that eventually slows down their bodies? Just how universal is this process for them? Because surely if it's caused by passage of time and at least one of them has gone this road over the last ten thousand years, then most, if not all, of the old guard must either have done so too or be on their way out?

Whatever the answer, the implications for Adeptus Custodes dynamics as a group and organization are fascinating. Because what does it even mean to become a Custodian after the Emperor's "death"? The shame of the failure you never partook in? The hole where the maypole of your entire identity should be? The expectation of being one of humanity's last links to some glorious past which was over thousands of years before you were even born? The Emperor sought counsel of his custodians from time to time, and supposedly made them specifically so that they would be able to give it - do the "young ones" feel the pull of this duty they can never fulfill?

And there are different potential flavors of delicious tragedy here.

If there are none or next to none original guardians left, then it kinda uproots the whole image of Adeptus Custodes, doesn’t it? The mysterious golden demigods are just as lost as anyone else. They may be thousands of years old, but none of them were there. None of them spoke to him, none of them bear any sacral foundational truths of humanity, or even of just the Imperium. All of their deeds and even they themselves are a desperate attempt to recapture something lost, not a defiant effort to carry something forward.

And if the old guard remains as a sizeable minority, then there must be an unseen divide between them and the new generations, right? With the Emperor being so integral to their identity and purpose, surely there was something important that they gained from interacting with him? Can they now pass this something down? Is it even physically possible? Can you truly be a custodian without it? Imagine looking at the new generation of, essentially, your people and realizing that there is a critical piece of your group's identity that they, through no fault of their own, will always be missing. That something important has been irrevocably lost, and they will never even truly now that it had been there? That's chilling stuff. Any real-world analogies for it that I can think of feel like they would be in poor taste to bring up in a rant about warhammer lore. Do they - consciously or not - hold it against them? Do they separate themselves physically and organizationally? Can one who has never seen the living light of the Emperor lead those who have? Are there enough heroic deeds in the galaxy to make up for not being there in time?

The theme of degradation and things being lost to the passage of time is very prominent in warhammer lore. In 40k, the small cadre of characters who physically bridge the divide between 31st and 42nd millennium have always been awarded with a certain aura of awe, but Custodes get to enjoy this situation from the position of someone for whom time itself should never have been a problem. It doesn't really matter how many of the "original" custodians are left - what will forever hang above them is that there even are the "original" ones.

#musings on custodes #adeptus custodes #warhammer 40000

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mmriesoftvat · 9 months

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CHARACTER ANALYSIS: WANDERER VS CYNO.

i've talked extensively to people about my thoughts on this, so i'm going to preface this entire post with my OPINION that wanderer is playing around during this fight. he's incredibly strong and has hundreds of years of fighting experience over the other contestants. he was ordered to keep an eye on them, not to actually harm them. THAT SAID, "playing around" also doesn't mean not doing anything. he's clearly still fighting, but i think the difference is that he's enjoying himself more than he anticipated. and of course, there are contestants that brought him a decent enough challenge and even tested his skills. but ULTIMATELY wanderer was not throwing his full strength into the ring. he was taking it easy and holding himself back. please don't come at me.

that said, let's get on with it!

here we have our first screenshot. he's not touching layla, he merely is taking the diadem from her. it's a huge blink and you'll miss it moment, and i had to slow the video way down to capture this shot because of how fast he's moving. had he been more serious, wanderer would have at least done something more. this is the first hint we see that he's holding back/taking things semi easily. he's just taking it and going.

i really love this shot of her confusion. layla has no idea wtf just happened. wanderer is a zoomy boy, okay? very "hi bye!". i love it. she's heckin confused, probably didn't even see him.

oh but faruzan definitely saw him. now she's mad. it had just been between her and layla, and now EVERYONE'S there, all fighting for the diadem. competition just got more high stakes for her. go faruzan, get your crown.

THIS was the first moment i realized wanderer wasn't being serious. if he were actually competing, he probably wouldn't have slowed down/stopped to stare at faruzan. everyone else was in it to win. he's just holding out the diadem and. dare i say, even taunting her? hat guy you silly billy.

bonus dialog after he stole the diadem right out from layla's arms. again, zoomy and zippy boy.

look at he go.

this is the first time he's being targeted. notice how he's not attacking her back. he's attacking her device in self defense.

self. defense. though, i will admit that he does throw out some half assed blades later on, but for now, he's protecting himself.

so far, yet again, he's moving in self defense. i don't know for sure if he knew the others were laying in wait and purposely flew toward them. i feel like tighnari definitely planned on hitting him, but wanderer is flying at the moment, and is still moving fast. quick reflexes though, i'm impressed. wish i could be like that.

this is his expression to cyno's weapon being thrown in his direction. to me it looks focused, like he's thinking on the spot and less "i'm going to demolish this guy." wanderer is actively thinking while moving. either for strategy or to dodge, but i love the tiny detail in that his gaze is focused right on that staff, and he looked very in the zone. and of course in the next shot, he uses his own abilities to knock the staff away.

now cyno, on the other hand. cyno is also very focused. he's definitely not playing around. that expression, what little we can see of his eye, very much screams "i'm going to pummel you into the ground." he wants that card. he's here for the win and he's going to take it.

the fact he lands and immediately starts running tells me he's NOT going to hold back. he's throwing his all into this. i love the contrast between him and wanderer. wanderer seems more focused/thinking on the spot on how not to hurt them. whereas cyno is looking to win and wanderer is someone he can target. especially considering wanderer is still holding the diadem. to me it also is very telling how low to the ground cyno is. he's still hunched forward, that guy has speed on his side and he's using every bit of it to get to wanderer.

here is wanderer, readying himself to attack cyno. and again i say he's holding back. because in the next shot-

he's landing on cyno's staff.

i've already talked about and reblogged recently a previous post where i went into detail over how strong wanderer is. if he really wanted to, that staff would not have stopped him from kicking cyno's face. we know cyno is strong, he's incredibly strong. but wanderer is also hyper strong and can do things that i don't think cyno can. plus, it looks like, to me at least, that he didn't even aim for cyno's face. the staff came up to block cyno, and wanderer immediately landed on it. there are a lot of things he could have done to take cyno out, but DIDN'T. every time i think about this entire cutscene, this moment right here is the biggest giveaway that wanderer's not being wholly serious. he landed on the staff and stared down cyno, and then jumped off. cyno may be taking this fight serious, but wanderer is holding back.

wanderer DOES throw out an attack, but i feel like it's him knowing that cyno's also fast as hell and can dodge easily. going back to the beginning, he didn't hurt layla or faruzan because he didn't want to hurt them. since cyno's also very strong, i'm pretty sure wanderer was comfortable enough to throw something out, knowing cyno could handle it. in that same vein, i don't think he got that chance with tighnari earlier, because he was too busy dodging all those arrows. i digress.

wanderer attacked because he knew cyno could easily dodge.

like so. cyno's able to block the attack because cyno is a very skilled fighter. not that none of the other contestants aren't skilled, but wanderer also just stopped to stare at faruzan rather than attack her. he had every opportunity to throw his anemo at her and layla, but he's only doing it with cyno. probably because cyno is also very fast and quick on the reflexes. still, it's a cool scene, it's my favorite cutscene in the entire game.

i mean, look at the way cyno's sliding to dodge. guy's practically doing the splits. but no, more seriously, look at the expression on his face. he's just as focused and determined, though i still think they're both focused and determined for different reasons. like i said earlier, cyno wants that card, wanderer just wants to do his job and make it out without anyone getting seriously hurt.

again, wanderer being really fast and dodging cyno's attacks. he's still throwing out his anemo, but he also flies around to make sure cyno's paying attention first before attacking again.

it's hard to see since even with the video playing really slowly this is what i'm able to get. but cyno was able to block the attack. the fact that wanderer waited until he could tells me he was holding back. were he more serious, he wouldn't have waited. at least, i don't think.

cyno is running so fast here it looks like he's gliding. maybe wanderer is a little more serious at this point. here is an opponent who can match him in speed at the VERY least, if not strength. i would even wager to say he's impressed. he's used to being the lone wanderer, hating the world around him and belittling everyone for being weaker than him. but here comes cyno who can match him in terms of speed and agility. who WOULDN'T be impressed by that? so maybe wanderer is a little more serious about who he's up against, especially considering they've been fighting each other more than anyone else in the competition fought each other. in this last round, at least. doesn't mean overall wanderer is completely serious over the whole competition.

another act of self defense. though i think in this case he didn't exactly have a choice. cyno caught him off guard. wanderer didn't have time to dodge or launch a counter attack -- cyno was too quick for him. no choice but to block the attack.

i feel like in this moment, it looks like wanderer wants to keep fighting cyno. the stare down is really intense, and it's intimidating when you see that cyno's surrounded by electro. the guy is ready to destroy something. i feel like, at least for the briefest of seconds, they both forgot about the competition and were more interested in fighting each other. but kaveh was attached to faruzan's device and flying in really fast.

bonus, i love that layla and faruzan have just been. standing around the whole time. i don't know where tighnari went. probably looking for another angle to shoot wanderer with.

just because wanderer is distracted by a flying kaveh, doesn't mean cyno is. more proof that wanderer isn't completely serious. why else would he turn his back on an opponent? cyno's not distracted, he's gonna get that diadem and win. he's so determined.

kaveh isn't even a threat. he's flying right by everything, probably too panicked and confused to let go of faruzan's device. but wanderer is reaching out anyway to spin him around. which, to me is the whole point: he may have had some enjoyment and flying around, but ultimately, the diadem was not his to take and the competition wasn't his to win. cause if he wanted to win or cared at all, he would've just taken the diadem to the podium himself. which wasn't what he was ordered to do but that's beside the point. the entire fight was nothing more than idle time wasted (and some unspoken bonding with cyno, i'm convinced of it.)

he's actively spinning kaveh around, though i think the device kaveh is still holding is helping. i don't think wanderer really intended to hurt anyone, he's just moving them around, toying with all of them.

cyno's still coming for the diadem. he wants it. but wanderer purposely holds it out. maybe he planned for it? because cyno succeeds in knocking it out of wanderer's hands. it goes flying up, leaving it open for kaveh to use his toolbox to grab it.

which of course, the force sent kaveh tumbling head over heels right to the podium. had wanderer not grabbed him and redirected him, wouldn't have happened.

the rest of the scene is kaveh basically winning the competition. but my ultimate conclusion is that wanderer was holding back. he didn't start attacking the other contestants until cyno came along, because cyno is just as terrifying as he is. i feel like wanderer enjoyed the fight, and would have continued had kaveh not shown up with the device, which provided a perfect opportunity for wanderer to redirect him and send him flying to the finish line.

wanderer was in the competition because of orders, and didn't NEED to fight. he could have continued to toy with everyone, but cyno brought out a different kind of focus in him. i'd like to think he enjoyed that fight, but he was definitely holding back. there were moments where wanderer could have kicked cyno in the face or launched him, but he didn't. and the only reason he attacked was in part because he knew cyno could dodge, and in part because he was keeping cyno distracted long enough for kaveh to come flying in.

it's another testiment to wanderer's strength and even character development. it's one of the reasons he's my favorite character, because while he's still the loner and an asshole at times, he does show his respect toward people in his own way.

#( CHARACTER ANALYSIS. )#( WANDERER VS. CYNO. )#this is my opinion #i love this fight though #i love how strong they both are #it was a really interesting and fun cutscene that showcased both their abilities #i wanna see more stuff like this in the future #long post #i mean it's definitely long

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itstheoneshot · 2 years

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Kinktober Day 19

Threesome - Ten / YangYang

!dom Ten / !sub YangYang

“Baby Yangyang,” Ten murmurs, “You‘ve gone quiet, is something the matter?”

You turn your head in the direction of the younger male, sitting in the chair by his desk as you slide your panties down your legs. You then turn back to the older of the three of you and smile at him, pleased with yourself for getting the younger so worked up.

“I think the sweet boy wants something,” You giggle, “Don’t you, Yangyang?”

He makes eye contact with you, his brows furrowed in a frustrated scowl, and you hear Ten laugh from behind you.

“Of course I do,” He mumbles, “You’re the one who just stripped for us, are you gonna fuck me yet?”

You are a little taken aback by his demands, and so is Ten, who interrupts before you are able to speak.

“I don’t think either of you should be giving orders,” Ten chuckles, “Do I need to remind you who even coordinated our little meetup?”

Of course he doesn’t. You remember it vividly. You were mid-fuck with Ten in the bathroom at a house party when he suggested it to you.

“I’ve seen the way that you look at him,” Ten stated, “He’s your type, and he’s oh so fun to boss around.”

Alas, Ten never lets you make a decision, instead ordering you and Yangyang to undress, allowing you both to want the other but not to do anything about it.

“I think you should blow him, doll,” Ten suggests, “You look so pretty on your knees, and I think the baby would enjoy it.”

You nod as you move to kneel in front of him. You are so obedient, following every instruction that Ten gives you as if it were your life purpose to serve him. Ten follows you over, standing beside you with his fingers combing through your hair as you take Yangyang’s cock in your hand to position it at the right angle to close your mouth over the tip.

Yangyang gasps, his hips reflexively moving forward at the feeling as you lower your head down. Ten murmurs something beside you, but you pay no notice, too distracted by the cock in your mouth, the tip hitting the back of your throat.

It isn’t until you stop to breathe that you see that Yangyang is servicing Ten, too. Ten stands close to him, and Yangyang much like you have his, he has Ten’s cock in his mouth, happily blowing him with an ease that tells you it is a favourite pastime of his.

You gag with each ministration, but are urged on as each moan that leaves Yangyang’s mouth is more beautiful than the last, more whiny, more impatient, drawled and garbled as he continues to suck off the older of the three of you.

“Enough,” Ten moans, “And you stop too, doll.”

You apprehensively slow down, releasing Yangyang’s cock with a pop of your mouth to look up at the two of them. Yangyang too is slow to release the elder, clearly enjoying himself and not wanting to stop.

“Are you wet, sweetheart?” Ten asks softly, kneeling down beside you.

He places one hand on your shoulder and he takes his other hand to your core, spreading your lips to feel the glistening wetness between them. Of course you are turned on, it is not even a question, and you find yourself grinding into Ten’s fingers, hoping and praying that he will do what he does best, and that is making you feel so fucking good.

“Ten,” Yangyang whines just as you let out a moan, “Come on, don’t leave me waiting…”

Ten whips his head around to face the boy, a devilish grin on his face as his fingers find a steady rhythm to thrust in and out of you. You lean forward to press soft kisses to his neck, trying your hardest not to completely fall apart.

“Doll,” Ten addresses you, “Do you think you’ve got what it takes to have both of us at once? I think Yangyang is getting impatient.”

Your stomach ties in knots at the idea, of taking not one but two cocks simultaneously. You are not sure how they will fit, Ten is very big, and Yangyang is well-endowed too, but you are here for it, you want the pain and the stretch and the imminent pleasure. You want to be used, be taken from, be filled by them both, so you reply in the only way that you can.

“Yes,” You nod, “I can take it, I want it, please.”

———

Kinktober Masterlist!

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just-a-silly-little-whumper · 7 months

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Rouse

Masterpost | Read on Ao3

A mission goes slightly awry. Nathan tries to get Renata out in one piece.

For BTHB: Trying to Wake Them Up. (And that's my second bingo!)

Contains: Fire, unconsciousness, falling, minor exhaustion, complex sibling relationships

~~~

The world smelled of ash and smoke. It filled his nostrils even as he tried to shut it out and focus on the scent of foul blood. The source of it was close, but so was the heat, threatening to char and scorch him if he wasn’t quick. And Nathan could be quick, but apparently some people couldn’t.

Damn Renata. He could be a mile away by now if she wasn’t so godsdamned stupid.

A wave of his hand had the fractured door in front of him fully crumbling, so he didn’t have to hesitate as he dashed into the next room. Annoyance and relief warred within him at the sight of his Blood-Sister, prone on the floor, blood oozing sluggishly from a wound on her temple. Tamping down on the urge to roll his eyes, he crossed the space in two quick strides and knelt down next to her, insistently shaking her shoulder.

“You idiot, get up. Can’t you see we have to go?” His words came out in a low hiss of sheer irritation. A beam creaked somewhere above them, and though Nathan didn’t flinch, it did set him on edge. “Renata! Wake up!”

But though she groaned, she didn’t awaken. Whatever had hit her must have hit her hard. Or maybe she was just being difficult on purpose. He could see it going either way with her.

“Gods- fine. But you’re paying me back for this.”

She wasn’t exactly heavy, and he wasn’t exactly weak. But that didn’t make it easy to heave her over his shoulder and stagger to his feet. If she wasn’t so limp, maybe it wouldn’t have been as difficult, but she didn’t afford him that courtesy. As it was, it took a moment, one they arguably didn’t have, for him to get her stable, and then he was moving again.

The smoke grew thicker with every moment, but it wasn’t bad enough yet to obscure the window in the nearby hallway. Getting to it was the main issue. The space was too thin to avoid the raging fire without extreme care, given how the flames climbed angrily up the walls and sparks rained down to the floor, and with Renata’s weight on his shoulder, he had much less leeway than he would have if he was alone.

Nothing he couldn’t handle. It was just the last thing he wanted to deal with. “You better give me a godsdamned blood ruby for all the trouble I’m going through—”

Renata didn’t respond to his quiet grumblings, but he wasn’t really talking for her sake. It was just nice to have something in the air other than smoke as he crept through the hallway, holding her close so her body wouldn’t get too close to the flames. It was a difficult tightrope to walk, moving quickly while avoiding the raging fire, but he had been treading more difficult ground for years. While this was far from easy, it wasn’t the most dangerous thing he had done by a mile.

That didn’t stop him from getting too close to a wall and feeling his shoulder start to sear, though.

A yell of pain bubbled up in his throat, but he bit it back. A show of weakness would do nothing to help him, and could potentially alert any enemies that might still be lurking. He reflexively tightened his grip on Renata and lurched forward, towards the window that was almost in reach.

They were on the third floor. It didn’t matter. Using his already-injured shoulder as a brace, he shoved his way through the glass and out into the open air. For a split second his stomach swooped as they plummeted, but he focused his magic and slowed their descent. The impact still made him see stars, and would have knocked the wind out of him if he needed to breathe. After a moment he righted himself, and a quick check confirmed he didn’t have any broken bones, even if he might be a walking bruise later. Renata seemed to be fine, too; her face twitched a bit, which means she was still alive, and there weren’t any obvious new wounds. He’d gladly take it.

It took him a few moments to stagger back to his feet, and several more to get Renata back onto his shoulder. The roar of the fire behind him was loud in his ears, a reminder that there was still danger he couldn’t ignore. As soon as he was steady on his feet with Renata in his grasp he took off towards the treeline. There was a river nearby; if he could cross it, they would be much safer.

(Not safe. They were never safe. But safer, at least.)

His muscles burned like the fire he left behind as he tore through the woods. The gnarled roots and overgrown brush would have tripped up anyone else, but Nathan had plenty of experience navigating such territory. The wind carried him as he ran, not letting up for a moment until he was at the rushing water. Even then he didn’t hesitate or break his stride, merely pushed off the riverbank and flew through the air for a moment before skidding to a stop on the other side.

Relief and exhaustion washed over him simultaneously, and he allowed himself to sink down to the soft earth beneath him. The adrenaline that had fueled him was now fading, letting him feel more properly the ache in his muscles and the sear of his burned shoulder. But he could deal with that. The blazing fire was safely behind him. Despite all of the hardship, the mission had been a success.

Just one thing left to take care of.

Renata groaned softly as he laid her down. He couldn’t help but scowl a bit as he shook her. “Hey, asshole. Naptime’s over. Wake up already.”

Her eyes fluttered. Nathan felt— something. Relief? Exasperation? It didn’t matter, because she was waking up, and he didn’t have to spend so much mental energy worrying about her. “Finally. I was starting to think something was actually wrong.”

At first her only response was a groan. Then her eyes fully opened and focused on him. “Nathan? What happened?”

“I just saved your life. No need to thank me.” He smirked down at her as she started to try to sit up, earning a scowl from her.

“You— I was fine. I had it handled.”

“Clearly you did. Passing out in the middle of a blazing mansion is a brilliant strategy; I’ll have to try it sometime.”

“Well maybe you should consider sticking to the plan and taking out your assigned targets before you come criticizing me about what happens when I have to clean up your mistakes!”

Gods, he hated her sometimes. Every part of him wanted to keep going, keep feeding the fire. Instead he forced himself to stand. “Well. What’s done is done. The mission’s complete, I got you out.” Her teeth flashed as her scowl grew; he just grinned wider as he held out a hand. “We should get back. Father will be waiting.”

For a moment he thought she would shrug him off. But then she sighed, long and deep, and took his offered hand to pull herself upright. “Fine. Let’s go.”

If she leaned on him a little bit, then no one had to know. If he let her despite the way the burn on his shoulder flared with pain, then no one had to know that, either.

#blood of the coven #silly writes #whump #whump writing #nathan park oc #renata blackwood oc #fire #unconsciousness #exhaustion #bad things happen bingo #bthb

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the-wild-thistle · 2 years

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Ooooookay, one person asked for it so here we go. This gay little show brainrot has finally got to me. I initially wrote about Curt's reactions, but I think Owen's are interesting as well, perhaps even more interesting.

So in the Torture Tango, Owen (as the DMA) is fully ready to kill Curt. In the end, I don't know if missing was purposeful or not, that's something that could go either way. Either he has a change of heart after this, or he never really wants to kill Curt. Let me explain.

When he first reveals his identity as the Deadliest Man Alive, Owen kills the informant. But not Curt or Tatiana. This was probably to slow them down and hit Curt where it mattered, but there is one question with this. If I were part of a deadly organization and the person I hated most showed up to try to stop me, the logical thing to do would be to kill them. Right? Like, logically, that is the best thing to do. So assuming Owen is evil or totally dedicated to Chimera, that is what he would do. But he doesn't.

When he says he knows which one Curt would choose, honestly, I don't know what he meant. It could go either way, but I think he knew that Curt would go after him. When he leaves, he doesn't head to a place in particular. It seems like he leaves just so Curt would go after him. Why? If I were Chimera, I would want Owen to go protect the facility, or you know, kill Curt, but Owen doesn't do either. Why give Curt the chance to escape or fight back?

The whole scene in One Step Ahead is Curt chasing after him and trying to stop him. They fight, both of them attacking and defending during the sword fight and such. Neither of them actually pulls out their guns, though they both have their guns with them (as shown by the end of the scene). This was definitely done for dramatic effect, but nevertheless, it is interesting. If we look at it from a character standpoint, both of them are giving the other a chance to escape because neither of them really wants to kill the other.

The staircase scene is where it gets fun. Okay, let's start at the beginning. (I've watched this scene too many times)

So they start out pointing guns at each other, though neither shoots, they just talk.

Owen moves first when he says "perhaps you've destroyed that island facility." He's no longer pointing his gun at Curt, though Curt is pointing his at Owen. He retrains his gun on Curt as he says "you'll never catch up to us" and Curt then lowers his gun and this part is where it gets really interesting in both parts. We know now, after watching the show, Curt's gun is loaded. And it would be safe to assume that each of them assumed that the other's gun was loaded. Interesting.

[We're going to ignore the parts where they're gesturing with their guns because that's probably not a specific acting choice, but rather just a natural reflex in how people use their hands when they talk]

From Curt's point of view, Owen is probably about to kill him, but he doesn't really care. [There are a few moments where Owen isn't pointing his gun, but, again, natural gesturing, and it's pretty evident that he's the one with the intent and upper hand]. It's an acceptance, I think, unlike with what happened in the Torture Tango, where he's afraid to die. He isn't afraid to die by Owen's hand.

But Owen hasn't even loaded the gun! Like it's not loaded for this entire scene. (I know this was probably done for dramatic effect because they always do that in movies, but still!). He was pointing the gun the entire time and couldn't have killed Curt with it at that moment. It takes him until toward the end of the scene for him to actually load the gun. Owen knew or would have assumed that Curt's gun was loaded the entire time, yet he didn't think to load his own gun, something that was definitely not a mistake, seeing how highly trained Owen was. He lured Curt out here, fought with him, for what, to point an unloaded gun at him? Maybe not the best way to kill the person you supposedly hate the most.

We all know when he loads the gun, and Curt does too, which is interesting because Curt doesn't react any differently. He still isn't afraid to die because it's Owen holding the gun. A part of him still feels guilty, I think, and a part of him still cares too much about Owen. It actually seems like he gets braver because he actually moves toward Owen up the stairs. It is also interesting that Owen doesn't move his hand or re-aim the gun. He hesitates when Curt asks him if he's ready to share their secret with the world and you can see him readjusting his grip on the gun before he says "that secret died the night you left me for dead" and retrains the gun. Curt doesn't care at all, he doesn't even react, he just turns and walks down the stairs and this is the point where he decides. This is the point when Curt comes to terms with the fact that there's no going back.

It's sad, really, that this is what he has to do, because, from Curt's viewpoint, Owen can't be saved. He's pointing a loaded gun at Curt, probably moments away from firing. Owen has killed over a thousand people, he's part of an evil organization trying to destroy the world. The most logical thing to do would be to stop him. So Curt does.

Here's the really sad part. When Owen says "What are you doing," I think it's his way of begging Curt to stop, without actually begging because he's too proud for that. He sounds almost scared when he says "killing me won't take the system offline." There's also a sort of acceptance with that because he's realized that he could have prevented this moment several times already by killing Curt, but he couldn't.

Conclusion? Well, Owen never really wanted to kill Curt, and at least he couldn't and knew that. Curt is afraid to die, but not afraid to die by Owen's hand. In the end, Owen's emotions won over his logic and Curt's logic won over his emotions.

Ah, tragedies. You break my heart.

#spies are forever #tin can bros #curt mega #owen carvour #curtwen

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wafflebloggies · 2 years

Text

11. springing from your burning hand

back - next Their hands met.

Almost at once Antonio felt Mark try to flinch away, in sudden doubt or just sheer instinct. In an impulsive reflex, he held on, gripping, catching Mark’s other hand in his own and closing the loop. Mark’s palms were torn and cut, so many more points of contact, so many more broken places for Antonio to reach in and feel, pulling on the golden thread of Mother’s light within Mark and drawing it out like an unravelling skein.

Just like before, it wanted to come. In a way that had little to do with its own purpose, the glow had more affinity for him than it could ever establish with Mark’s body, that hostile and struggling vessel that had tried so hard to reject it even as it weakened, an outraged alien kingdom that had been fighting it from the start. It naturally wanted- to the mindless unknowing extent that it could want- to spread out into Antonio’s responsive light, glow into glow, like coming home.

And when- or if- it knew that it was caught, it was already too late.

There was no gentle subtraction, this time. Antonio kept his palms pressed to Mark’s, feeling the pull become a struggle become a flood, locking his fingers around Mark’s knuckles in a tight grip. He felt the tendons in Mark’s hands slack and tense under his skin, felt the bones and fizzling nerve-endings blaze with the glow as it was dragged from the body it had fed on for so long.

Past the point of discomfort, past the point of pain. Antonio could feel Mark’s blood move, his heart, his breath, every flaw and twist of tissue in his fragile frame. Mark was struggling, but Antonio was beyond being able to feel it in any normal sense, in the form and motion of body and limb. He felt cells, nerves, muscle fibre and bone, saw them not in themselves but the shapes they made in the glow. Mark was an etching of incredible complexity, carved from rushing gold.

Antonio kept going, aware that even as his own body screamed there was a strange new kind of relief in this single-minded act. In the simplicity of following his own decision, of knowing exactly what he was doing, and most of all knowing why.

Now there was a desperation to the light, as if it really did in some capacity have a mind with which to realise that it was being pulled completely from its host, that what was happening was out of the normal way of things- was wrong. It didn’t matter much to Antonio either way. He could sense an end to the skein, that every shred of the Muse’s infection in Mark was linked and that he had the chain, literally, in his hands. Against this, it was as if the pain and the bursting blazing heat in his head and his palms was happening to somebody else, another person entirely, and his single-minded goal was the only thing in the world that counted. Made to be dogged, as stubborn in his own way as Mark in his, he would not stop for something as irrelevant as pain.

The last of the infection fought the hardest, scrabbling and clawing tooth and nail, a feral thing dragged from its last hideaway. Antonio felt it snake through his palms, through every shrieking capillary, whip out like the end of a broken hawser and scourge into him with furious molten heat.

With a final, tremendous shock, his hands broke contact with Mark’s. The jolt stuttered through him from his fingers to the seam of his face. He felt crowded, a terrible hot scrambling squirrelling everywhere under his skin, as if he was a suitcase packed two times over with live rats. His hands were pitch-black to the knuckles, throbbing, racing threads of ink pulsing up past his wrists. As he looked down at them, a nonsense of Braille dots spattered across the ground, and he felt heavy rivulets running down his chin, through his beard, down his neck. With an effort, he raised his heavy eyes to Mark’s face.

Mark’s nose was bleeding. As Antonio watched, he put his hand to it in a slow, dreaming way, and stared at the colour on his fingers, a bright, rich red. He looked entirely bewildered.

“Just… just pinch and… lean… forwards,” Antonio managed, and then a burning black tide rolled up his throat, and he choked. There was too much, there was no way he could hold it all. The comforting light had become a vicious captive that filled his body like a livid supernova, fighting for escape. He clamped his hands over his mouth, and his nose brimmed and began to run black over his knuckles, dripping to the floor.

He heaved, yielding to a terrible pressure, and his face split. Blinded, he felt rather than heard a dull, punchy splash like a bucket of thick liquid hitting the ground all at once, smacking wetly into the dry concrete in one heavy, splattering mass. He tried to open his eyes- either- any- couldn’t. With his last impulse he groped faintly outward, and then his sightless world spun and twisted on its axis, and he blacked out for the first time in his life.

What have you done, Antonio?

What have you done?

You’ve

B e e n

B A D.

Antonio woke with a start. A gentle breeze was blowing, fresh and a little warm on the wetness on his neck, his mouth. He didn’t have any idea how long he’d been lying still, and when he moved a little he felt stickiness, resistance against the bare surface of his arm. There was a pain somewhere, thudding and low, and exploring through the scrambled morass of his senses he slowly located it. His face hurt- ached, like a cracked tooth, and it didn’t really signify which one.

Carefully, he opened his human eyes.

The door at the end of the Egress was open. The flat, caged lights picked out a flight of concrete steps beyond, leading up. The breeze was stealing down through the gap, stirring and lifting the stale air of the hallway in playful little spurts as if it was a curious living thing, swinging the door slowly back and forth.

Antonio sat up. The back of his shirt resisted as he pulled away from the ground, as if he’d been lying in syrup. He had been sprawled in a pool of black goop, surprisingly wide, spread out around him in a blasted halo. The glossy, uneven surface of it trembled, but only from his own movement. He knew instinctively that it was inert- dead, if you wanted to put it like that- that it had not survived the purge. He brought up an arm, gingerly, and saw with some relief that it was roughly the right colour again, that his fingers no longer resembled charred twigs and his broad freckled forearms were normal under the smears and splotches of black slurry. He closed one eye, then the other, and found it went dark, which was hopeful. Most of his human face was functioning as intended, at least.

He was alone. A quiet, subtle, unutterably cold new feeling crept through his clammy back and through his spine, crawling to the top of his head. As he stood, his legs protested as if they didn’t know what shape to be, and were both very offended at having to be any shape at all. He took a long time, walking the very little way to the door and up the steps, leaving black prints and a stringing, crazy ink-trail along the wall as he keeled into it and pushed away from it with his buzzing hands. He was dizzy, and the touch of warm August evening air filtering down from above pulled him towards it as if it might steady him, warm the ice in his chest.

He had never been alone before. From the moment he’d first found himself within his body, himself, a thing with a mind piloting it and a purpose fed into it, he had never felt alone like this, with a void yawning behind, ahead, inside. He stopped in the doorway, the breeze pulling him forward, the blank orphaned terror in his spine dragging him back.

It was almost dark, and the sky in every direction was a vast wash of red and purple and blue, billows of tie-dye clouds brightening as they sprawled in a thick blanket towards the sunset, a deep, sinking band of gold. Antonio took a few halting steps before looking back, not particularly surprised to see a squat purposeless bunker half-overgrown by scrub, a canvas for trash and graffiti, a nothing-structure that looked like it might have been an electricity substation or generator block or a dozen anonymous things that people might pass every day and not think of once. The stairs he’d climbed were a black well. Even as he watched, the breeze teased at the featureless particle-board door, nibbling the wide dark gap slowly down to a thin dark line.

Lights glimmered from the highway, beyond a built-up bank of waste grass, a parking lot scattered with a few lonely vehicles. A short strip of stores on the other side of the lot were mostly open, a small mosaic of lit windows, flat cinder brick and wet gravel, a bright scarlet sign that read HARMACY. There was a walk of maybe twenty yards, between puddles that blazed like pools of red-blue fire from the sky, and a bus-stop, marooned under a single yellow streetlight.

In all of this, there was only one part of it, one sight that meant anything to Antonio at all. Relief flooded through him, breaking his paralysis, and he stumbled forwards.

Facing the little mall, there was a short, dented length of safety barrier with a curved top, curbing the lot from the highway and the hummock of waste grass. Mark was sitting on the barrier, his backpack in his lap, watching the sun set.

It was impossible for Antonio to articulate how much this meant, to even string together the thought within himself. Mark had stayed. Mark had waited, with a bus stop and a highway, friendly lights and a HARMACY to run to. Mark had waited, here, for him.

There was something in his hands, something thin and flimsy and creased, and as Antonio approached he stirred and tucked it quickly back into the bag’s slim front pocket, but not before Antonio saw the crumpled front of the greetings-card with its faded lines of text, red and white. I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU EVERYDAY I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU

Mark didn’t move as Antonio bumped gently into the barrier with his shins, like a Roomba short on directions, and found it with his unsteady hands, leaning heavily against the battered metal. Mark glanced sideways at him, and Antonio caught the bright shift of his eyes behind his lenses, which always looked faintly blue no matter the hue of the light they reflected.

“I didn’t think…” He paused, looking away. Across the lot, a clerk had come out of a flat door in the blank side of the HARMACY and was standing under the awning, vaping. She was looking across at them through a pale cloud of moisture that made it impossible to read her face, and even through the depths of his slow smothering panic Antonio’s keen sense of passing for normal tugged at him as he wondered what the two of them looked like to her, washed up here on the barrier like two victims of a shipwreck; Mark a grimy and dishevelled catastrophe with his nose still bleeding quietly into the front of his sweater in a great heart-red stain, himself apparently the loser of a fight with a defective photocopier.

“I didn’t know,” Mark corrected himself, with pedantic emphasis, “if you were going to wake up.”

“That’s okay,” said Antonio, cheerfully. “Neither did I.”

Then the enormity of what he’d done hit him fully all over again, twice as heavy and bitter cold, and he started to shake like a leaf. He leaned forwards, blotting out the fiery sky and the HARMACY and the vague shape of the watching clerk with his hot, trembling hands.

“Oh, Mark.” He shuddered. “I- I- I’m kind of struggling here, buddy. Mother’s… Mother’s gonna be so mad at me.”

There was a long pause. Antonio was so caught up in his own little whirlpool of rising black dread that the touch of Mark’s hand on his shoulder would have been startling enough even if it hadn’t been only the third time in their entire acquaintance that Mark had ever touched him willingly, and the first time without any conceivable reason for it, or need.

“Hey,” said Mark, drily. “Could be worse.”

#muse arg #dftm #don't feed the muse #mark mayhew #antonio geist #alex bale #my writing #the cynical critic

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crystalelemental · 1 year

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Sync Pair Retrospective - Thunderbolt Red

UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGH

I would love to know what they were thinking. Look, gacha is not unaccustomed to powercreep. An unfortunate reality is that people don’t actually like being challenged. Not really. They like feeling resistance, but not legitimate challenge. So any time power scales up on the opponent, there is a reflexive jerk toward needing more power behind your tools. In competitive modes, your tools are the same as your opponents, so it’s an endless cycle of garbage spewing into its own mouth. Masters avoids this a bit, so powercreep, while significant, has been a lot tamer. But there are still situations where you hit maximum. Anni Lillie’s trainer move is still a maximum. You can’t get better than perfect offensive buffs in one turn. Aura Cynthia was the maximum in defensive profile; +6 defenses turn 1 and Double Potion MPR effectively cannot be beaten. Ash was a maximum, or at least I hope, given the absurd level of overkill on that Buddy move that no one needs. But SST Red is also an absolute maximum. Specifically, the maximum number of tools you can shove into a single sync pair.

Terrain with extension. Max Moves. No penalty AoE 2-gauge spam that debuffs defenses and ignores passives that deny damage. He always crits every attack. He has passive recovery under terrain. He is a tech, so he skirts the usual issue of no-penalty AoE Strikers where his EX still matters. His grid offers Piercing Gaze to never miss, and Staggering 4 on Thundershock for his Gauntlet performance. He gets 230% sync damage. He’s a fast ramp almost by himself with Max Moves. He can solo literally every stage. This is not an exaggeration; he is the only pair that can solo every single Legendary Arena stage. I don’t consider solos a typically relevant point when it comes to viability, but all of them? He can solo on-type CS. I would not be surprised if he could solo off-type CS. He and Ash are the only two who successfully beat 1000 strength in High Score. Meta changes and new modes exist for him to laugh at. Even at 1/5, using him off-type can be significant damage and tremendous benefits, while on-type he outperforms basically every pair you could bring with how high the damage is after one turn of setup. He is, by design, literally unstoppable.

And it is so fucking boriiiiiing. UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGH

What do you offer to the man who has everything? What is the purpose of teambuilding at this point? What is there to even talk about? He’s still de facto the best sync pair in the game. 3/5 EX SST Red may as well just win the match by default at this point. Even off-region matches with the 5x modifier don’t really slow him down.

Masters is a game designed around triple battles. It is a game designed around the structure of a damage dealer, a support, and either a technical ability to further pump damage, or a secondary damage source. Through consideration of strengths and weaknesses, you are meant to design a team composition that allows you to secure victory by supporting the damage of a striker, and ensuring the survival of a support. The game is at its best when concocting teams with relevant synergy.

So what is the point of playing the game when you have a maxed out SST Red? Why bother? Is it any wonder that in the months following anniversary, a bunch of players kept calling for “harder content” because the game was “too easy?” Of course it was! You paid for the win button, bro! It’s easy because you paid for it to be easy, and now you’re complaining it’s too easy because there’s no longer resistance! This is the breaking of balance! You don’t want challenge, but without resistance you start to feel like there’s no point. Red makes it feel like there’s no point. He’s been doing it for a year!

I have nothing to say to or about Red. There’s nothing to be said. If you pulled him, hopefully you kept him 1/5 for utility. Failing that, hopefully you’re at least the type that enjoys being wildly overpowered. Because nothing in this game’s history has been as annoying as seeing everyone cap this guy out and immediately get annoyed that things weren’t “challenging.” What the hell did you expect to happen, man? You did that shit to yourself.

#sync pair retrospective #thunderbolt red #sst red

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bajisbabe · 3 years

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[author’s note] I rewrote this post THREE times...

# DON’T KNOW WHY I STILL TRY, SHE WONDERS WHY

“I don’t trust nobody, not even her.”

they accidentally hit you | Yandere!Mikey, Ran, Wakasa

warnings: accidental violence, brief mention of actual violence, implied kidnap, yandere, Mikey kicking reader, Ran hitting reader, Wakasa kicking reader.

anon said: “Request for a Yandere ran, Mickey and Wakasa where they accidentally hit you? Like they accidentally slap or kicked u too hard for any reason”

song: trust nobody, love nobody the same by sagun (feat. shiloh dynasty)

— is probably beating tf out of someone who thought they could get between you two; maybe someone who came to rescue you or tried to help you escape.

— he is about to end them with that legendary kick of his, but his foot catches your jaw because you thought it would be a great idea to jump in front of whoever Mikey is beefing with in a pathetic attempt to save their miserable life.

— and Mikey is able to slow the kick just enough so that you don’t get the full force, but you still get hit as it was far too late for him to stop when you suddenly jump in front of him like that.

— and you go flying.

— like you’re literally knocked off of your fucking feet.

— and he watches your body crumple on the floor as you land.

— you let out a lil’ yelp as you hit the ground.

— suddenly, he forgets all about the loser he’s beaten bloody and runs over to check on you.

— he kneels over you, tugging your limp body into his lap.

— he smooths back your hair, rubbing his thumbs over your temples as he softly calls your name.

— and when you don’t respond, he gets panicked and begins calling your name louder and louder until you answer with a groggy, “what?”

— he gets so angry at himself that he has to take it out on something, or rather someone.

— so he moves as though he is going to go back to kicking ass, but you weakly tug at his wrist and beg him not to.

— and he sees how weak and vulnerable you are at the moment, and how you’re begging him so sweetly for someone else’s life.

— he hesitates, but in the end, he gives up and leaves that person alone. even though he has already given them the beating of a lifetime.

— and he does his best to help you get somewhere safe where you can be treated without alerting the authorities of course.

— he feels really guilty about it and keeps apologizing.

— and if you ask him not to go after that person again, in this moment, when the guilt is eating him alive, he won’t.

— but only if you ask him now, while he still feels like shit about how things ended up.

— he’s not as smart as people give him credit for.

— he really is quite a brute.

— he swings on kids with bricks and batons in parking lots for fun.

— he is most likely testing out his new weapon, whatever it may be.

— maybe a brand new shiny, steel bat that’s sole purpose is to beat in the faces of anyone who tries to take you away from him.

— he had it custom made to ensure that it’s got the right weight to it.

— and he is just swinging it about when you happen to pop up out of nowhere.

— maybe you had heard all the swooshing and just wanted to see what was up.

— but you happen to come too close and Ran doesn’t even see you, having way too much fun testing out his new weapon.

— and Ran is just swinging, swinging, swinging.

— and then he turns and you’re right fucking there. but it’s too late to stop it.

— luckily enough for you, he is able to lift his hand just enough so that his fist hits you rather than the bat.

— but it still hurts.

— you’re not necessarily knocked off your feet, but you get hit and become dizzy.

— your legs give out and you fall to your knees, cheek aching.

— he immediately collapses to kneel in front of you, hands hovering in front of you.

— he’s too afraid to touch you. he thinks he might hurt you again.

— “sorry.” he blurts, mouth dry.

— this means a lot because Ran never apologizes.

— but he feels so fucking sorry.

— your eyes are glossy, your lower lip pulled between your teeth as you fight back tears.

— I don’t blame you. I KNOW that shit hurt 🤕

— “I’m sorry,” he blurts again. “Can I—is it okay if I—uhm, what do you want me to…?”

— He can’t figure out what to do or how to help you.

— he feels like shit, and he thinks you’re gonna hate him even more now.

— you just sniffle, taking a deep breath as you blink back tears.

— “can I… Is it okay if I…?” His hands jolt as though he’s trying to stop himself from touching you.

— he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable. He doesn’t want to see you scared, or see you flinch.

— and you don’t really have much of a choice because he might have broken something in your face and you need some kind of help, so you take him up on his unsaid offer.

— you nod softly, swallowing a sob as your cheek aches painfully.

— he slowly tugs you into his arms, soothing his large hands over your back.

— he cups your face gently in his hands and tilts your face to get a better look.

— your eyes are stinging as he asks you where exactly it hurts.

— “Sorry,” he murmurs again. “I’ll get Rindou to check on you,” he says. “He’s good with medical shit.”

— actually thinks you look rather nice when crying but won’t mention it because he can read the room.

— coddles you and calls you all kinds of nicknames.

— “baby, I’m sorry.” / “it won’t happen again, sweetheart.” / “I didn’t mean to, honey.”

— sits there while Rindou patches you up, holding your hand (if you let him) and telling you that you’re doing so good whenever you clutch his hand hard or when you squeeze your eyes shut in pain.

— promises to buy you whatever you want to fix it.

— even if you insist that you don’t want anything, he’ll still get you something.

— probably still tells you that he’s sorry under his breath.

— he is so pressed about the situation that he doesn’t even use the shiny, steel bat he bought.

— it’s expensive and custom made, and he’s not gonna use it at all solely because he almost hit you with it.

— he thought you were someone else.

— when he heard someone creeping out of the hideout, he assumed it was an outsider who stumbled across the place and was trying to escape.

— and his reflexes are fast.

— so without thinking, he clocks you upside the head from behind.

— he most likely noticed that it was you he was about to hit but by then, it was too late to stop.

— but he doesn’t even try to hold back or slow the punch at all.

— he lets you take it full force.

— you are quite literally knocked off your fucking feet.

— and when you hit the ground, you’re gasping for air because you’re winded thanks to the impact of the fall.

— and he just peers over you, watching you with that resting bitch face of his.

— he doesn’t even apologize.

— he quietly asks you where you were going, knowing damn well you can’t respond because you cannot breathe.

— and he doesn’t help either.

— he just watches you sputter for air.

— your ribs could be broken.

— and if you get upset and scream about how he could have hurt you, he’ll just shrug and say that he pulled the kick so that you wouldn’t get hurt as bad.

— liar. 😔

— if you need any kind of patching up, he will help.

— but he will probably have something backhanded to say about how if you didn’t try to escape then this wouldn’t have happened.

— is a lil’ insensitive.

— your body is probably sore and aching and he doesn’t even care.

— might purposefully run his hands over the place where he knows it’ll hurt most just to watch your pretty face contort with subtle pain.

— might even take his fingers and dig them into the sensitive skin that suffered from the impact just to see if you’ll yell or cry.

— he finds you interesting and wants to see you make as many expressions as possible.

— expressions of pain are not excluded.

— would be a lil’ hurt if you flinched away from him after the whole ordeal.

— but he isn’t stupid, he could understand why you’d fear him. he just can’t find it in himself to care.

— not that he would intentionally hurt you.

— but if it happens, if happens 🤷🏾‍♀️

— might feel guilty if you show that you’re genuinely upset.

— if you want him to stop poking and prodding at your bruises, you’re gonna have to cry.

— he might go easy on you then, but that’s a might, not a will.

#yandere tokyo revengers x reader #yandere tokyorev #yandere tokyo revengers #yandere mikey headcannons #yandere mikey x reader #yandere imaushi x reader #yandere imaushi wakasa #yandere ran x reader #yandere ran haitani #yandere haitani #tw yandere #cw violence #cw yandere #cw kidnapping #yandere manjirou sano x reader #yandere manjiro x reader #tw kidnap

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daryl-dixon-daydreams · 3 years

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Words: 6,188 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria, pre-Negan + flashbacks in other eras Warnings: language, fear and anxiety, mention of fear of heights Summary: Y/N and Daryl head out on the run for the requested medical supplies. Things are tense, but possibly about to get worse... This part is written in Daryl's POV!

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* * *

“I ain’t waitin’. I got a whiff of him and I gotta go before it disappears.”

“Daryl, are you sure about this?” Carol pressed him, creases from worry between her eyebrows. “Are you sure you’ve really thought this through?”

“What is there to think through? If he finds her again, he’ll kill her. And I ain’t waitin’ around for that to happen.” The archer was a blur of activity, gathering his gear and shoving it into his pack.

“I think you need to talk to her about this,” Carol insisted, relinquishing her hold on his poncho somewhat unwillingly as Daryl pulled it from her hands.

He shook his head. “Nah. Ya know she’ll want to be there and I can’t risk that…” he trailed off. “I can’t risk—can’t risk that.”

A thick silence stretched for a moment and Carol wrung her hands. “Well, what are you going to tell her?”

He paused, his hands on the clasp of his pack. “I ain’t tellin’ her anythin’. I’ll leave before its light tomorrow. By the time everyone is up, I’ll be gone.”

“What am I supposed to tell her then? When she inevitably asks?” Carol pressed him. “You want me to lie to her too?”

“I ain’t lyin’,” Daryl snapped. “‘M just not—not tellin’ her everythin’. ‘M ending this so she can move on.”

Carol’s jaw tensed. “It feels like a lie.”

“Just tell her I went north. To see what I could see. Lookin’ for supplies,” he drawled, setting his pack and crossbow on the ground beside his bed. “I don’t know.”

Carol sighed heavily and shook her head as he straightened up. “I don’t think this is—”

“Look, tell her whatever ya want. Just wait until ‘m gone. This is happenin’. It’ll be done. S’gonna be over with. For good.”

She shook her head and gave him a long look before crossing his cell and gently clasping his shoulder. “Be careful. I mean it,” she said, surrendering to the fact that there would be no changing his mind. He nodded, pulling his bottom lip in between his teeth for a moment.

“I will.”

Carol gave him one last look full of anxiety and left him.

* * *

I hardly slept. Maybe caught 20 minutes here and 15 minutes there. Anxiety about the run—that’s all it was. At least, that’s what I kept tellin’ myself. Wanderin’ into a hospital was about the dumbest shit we could do. They always promised to be loaded with unexpected bullshit and floods of undead assholes. But lyin’ flat on my back in the dark, I knew deep down it had a helluva lot more to do with her than it had to do with the run. I was tryin’ to remember the last time I’d spent more than ten minutes alone with her and it left me with a feelin’ like somebody had dropped a damn lead weight onto my chest. I turned over in bed in an attempt to throw it off, but it still sat there on my lungs. I knew exactly when we’d last been alone for longer than a few minutes. Of course I fuckin’ knew. It was burned into my goddamn memory.

But it wasn’t doin’ me a lick of good to think on it so I pushed it away and waited for the clock beside me to read 5:15 before I climbed out of bed. My gear was all waitin’ ready, except for pickin’ up a gun on the way out. I half-expected to run into her in the armory, but it was dark and empty when I grabbed a handgun and some ammo. It felt like a lonely walk to Aaron’s, up the empty street, dew heavy on the grass, and my bootsteps echoing loudly off the dark rows’a houses. I never feel right in here… with the square little lawns and lights on by the front doors. It just felt fake, like somebody had built paper houses and was plannin’ to light ‘em up to burn any minute. I couldn’t feel settled. I just felt… lost. Outta place. Like I didn’t belong.

I’d gotten rid of that feelin’ once… My mind drifted back to her like it always did. It was like I didn’t have no damn control over my own mind. She’d been the one who’d made me feel like I belonged. But now? Fuck. I’m doin’ it again. Focus, dumbass.

She wasn’t waitin’ by my bike either, so I rode up to the gate. As the lookout platform came into view, I caught sight of her climbing down, followed by Gabriel. Her pack was slung on her back, a shotgun hanging at her side and her favorite pistol in a holster on her thigh. I found myself chewing the inside of my cheek. Nerves. Anxiety. This was gonna be a long fuckin’ day.

“I’ve got the gate,” Gabriel said, heading for the latch. She wandered over and I felt a jolt when she met my eyes. I nudged my nose up in a nod, but she just looked back at me with that same stony expression. Unreadable. It always seemed like I never saw her smile anymore. Maybe she did, just not around me. I got that blank look or a glare that I probably deserved…

“Were ya on watch?” I asked, curious why she wouldn’ta gotten rid of her shift in favor of sleep, knowing we’d be heading out on a run early.

“No,” she said simply. No extra info. Typical. Why waste more on me when one word would do? She didn’t owe me nothin’. And she knew it. I swallowed my other questions and leaned forward on my bike so she could climb on. I felt her settle in behind me and glanced over my shoulder at her. She caught my eyes for a brief moment before looking away, down toward the ground. That was typical too. It was like she just couldn’t look at me. Felt like somebody twisted a blade in my chest every time she dodged me like that. And yet I couldn’t get enough of her, even if she was purposely a giant pain in the ass most of the damn time… I still felt like she was a mirage in a desert. A mouthful of cool water in a drought. Food for a starvin’ man.

Gabriel was waiting with the gate open, so I revved the bike to life again. Her arms wrapped around my waist to hold on and for a second I thought I felt her cheek press against the back of my shoulder, but I knew I must have imagined it. My heart was racing as we pulled out. I was more anxious than I had been all night. The thoughts rushing through my head moved so fast I couldn’t even focus on any of them.

Gabriel yelled at us to be safe as we moved through, kickin’ dust up that left a glowing red cloud behind from the reflection of the taillights. The ride to the city was smooth. We made good time, luckily only passing lone walkers or small herds that were easy to avoid. Around the curves, for a brief moment, she’d hold tighter to me and lean into the turns like I’d taught her in what felt like another fuckin’ lifetime. Each corner I could feel every individual fingertip pressing into my waist or stomach. It was always followed by a sudden wash of heat like somebody had shoved me in a shower with the temperature all the way up. I couldn’t control it. Didn’t matter how hard I tried to ignore the feelin’ of being so damn close against each other…

I slowed down as we neared the hospital. Cars sat rusting in gridlocked traffic, tires long gone, frozen in time—same place they were when everythin’ shut the fuck down. I slowed my bike to roll over some debris and hit a chunk of concrete a little harder than I meant to. Her arms tightened around me reflexively at the jolt before loosening again the next second. My heart jolted at the same time. That feeling… of her clinging onto me for safety—but fuck. Let’s not make it out to be more than it is, dumbass. I turned toward my left shoulder. “Sorry,” I murmured. She didn’t say anything back, just shifted in her place behind me, puttin’ an inch more space back between us. The hospital came into view ahead, tall over everything else on the block.

She tapped my arm and I turned so I could hear her over the engine. “We should park. Sound of the bike,” she said. I knew what she was thinkin’. Any walkers or people anywhere around would hear us. I turned down a side street and parked in a loading dock bay. She climbed off about as damn fast as she could. Kicking the kickstand out and swinging my leg over, she was already walking back toward the corner of the building to look down the street.

“Hold up,” I called after her. I still had to get my gear off the back. She either didn’t hear me or didn’t give a shit and I found myself gritting my teeth. But when I rushed around the corner, I nearly collided with her. She did wait. She was leaned up against the brick, her shotgun in her hands, staring ahead at the looming building.

She straightened up as I stopped beside her and we started windin’ our way down the last couple blocks, keepin’ to the shadows of the buildings, stayin’ in cover as best we could. Even so, I couldn’t help glancin’ up at the endless windows, too many high points. All it would take is one asshole with a rifle and a scope... My hands started to sweat as I gripped my crossbow. I glanced at her, but she was as stony-faced as ever. “C’mon,” I said, quickening my stride. “I wanna get the hell off this street.”

I heard her let out a small scoff behind me. “Yeah, you’re the only one worried about being out here,” she murmured. My teeth clenched again but I did my best to ignore it. There was no point gettin’ riled up this early in the day. We still had a lot of fuckin’ work to do. We reached a set of double doors on the side of the hospital, but one glance inside showed they were well barricaded. I stood there rubbing a hand over the stubble on my face. “S’try the south door,” I drawled. To my surprise, she didn’t argue. But that side was a fuckin’ bust too. “Shit,” I spat out. There was a tall cabinet blocking the entrance.

“Good call,” she said sarcastically.

I shot her a glare. And this time when I bit my cheek, I tasted blood. “Ya got a better fuckin’ idea? Huh?” I challenged her.

She rolled her eyes, studying the door for a moment. There was a large glass pane above it that was broken out and I saw her eyes lock in on it. “Boost me up there,” she said, inclining her chin to indicate the window.

Did she want to go in alone? Well, that sure as shit wasn’t fuckin’ happenin’. “Like hell,” I growled back. She rolled her eyes again.

“Just boost me through and I’ll get the door open. I’ll let you in.”

Now it was my turn to scoff. “Ya gonna move that cabinet? By yerself?” I asked skeptically. The muscle in her jaw tensed.

“I don’t have to move it far. Just enough to let you squeeze in. And you can help from the outside.”

I pulled my bottom lip in between my teeth. I didn’t like the idea. I paced a tight circle, thinkin’, as she shifted impatiently beside me. “What if ya get in there and there are walkers? Huh? We can’t see shit down the hall.”

“I’ll be quiet. Come on. We haven’t got all fucking day and we’re sitting ducks out here. Unless you’ve come up with something better—”

I didn’t like it, but she was right. Shit. “Fine,” I interrupted. She leaned her shotgun up against the wall as I set my back against the door, fingers locked together and hands low at my bent knee. “C’mon. Gimme yer foot.”

She seemed to hesitate and I wondered if she was having second thoughts, but the next moment she stepped close in front of me and her hands came to my shoulders. “Ready?” I asked. Her face was maybe six inches from mine, her hands light. I started to feel warm again, a flush of heat across the back of my neck that started spillin’ into my chest. I could see every fleck of color in her eyes, the upturned curve of her eyelashes, that little scar on her chin... Fuck. Focus.

“Ready.” She planted her boot in my hands and I boosted her up so she could grab the window edge. The tinkling of glass dropping in was all I could hear for a moment, and then her weight disappeared from my hands. Spinning around, I watched her pull herself through onto the top of the cabinet. She stayed perched there for a moment, glancin’ behind her, scoutin’ the hallway, before she dropped to her feet lightly. She made it look easy. Graceful.

I couldn’t stand still, constantly shifting my weight. I watched her face tighten as she wedged her shoulder into the cabinet, using all her weight, and it started to move at an angle away from the door. I pushed in with my shoulder from the outside and we finally had enough space for me to slip through. I passed her shotgun through first before turnin’ sideways and slidin’ in. It was dark and completely silent except for the sound of our own breathin’. It felt stuffy inside, and I could vaguely smell somethin’ sharp like animal piss and a sickeningly sweet smell. Death. Decay. I paused to draw the string on my crossbow back, cocking it ready to fire, a bolt nestled in the flight groove.

She pulled her flashlight out from the side pocket of her pack and clicked it on, shining it partially up the hallway ahead. “Jesus…” Her boots crunched over broken glass. She adjusted the shoulder strap of her shotgun, her eyes fixed down the hall, following the moving beam of her light. “This place is a fucking wreck,” she whispered. In her distraction, her tone lacked the usual hostility or sarcasm.

“Somethin’ went down since we were last here,” I agreed. There was a lot more debris and furniture toppled over and strewn about. A lot of obstacles to a clean getaway if we had to make one. “Let’s just get this done and get the hell out.”

“What a unique idea…” she remarked over her shoulder. There it was. Damn sarcasm was back.

I couldn’t help rolling my eyes and movin’ past her so I was in the lead. I knew it would annoy her, but I secretly wanted to be the one in the line of fire if somethin’ was crooked. I headed for the stairwell, pullin’ my own flashlight out and shinin’ it inside before I tried the door. It looked clear. “Upper floors are more likely to have shit left. Let’s go.”

We moved in silence. I could feel her ghosting behind me the whole way, almost mimicking my movements. This was the first time the two of us had been alone on a run since… since I dun even know when. But despite it being so goddamn long, we weren’t out of step. Once we started movin’ it was like no damn time had passed. We fell right back into our old rhythm. I knew her and she knew me. We worked well together when she put aside her need to argue with everythin’ I said. It still felt like we each knew what the other was thinkin’. Not that I expected this run would magically make working together bearable again for good, or solve anything, but at least we could if we had to. I also now was realizin’ this whole thing was probably orchestrated by Rick. Did Denise really need the supplies? Sure. But did it have to be Y/N and I gettin’ ‘em? Alone? Fuck no. I dunno exactly what he was hopin’ for but I’m pretty sure he’ll be disappointed…

Moving steadily upwards, we had most of the supplies on the list, plus plenty of extra finds, but I was growing more and more uneasy as we went on. We hadn’t run into a single fucking walker yet, and to me that meant they were probably herded up in a massive hoard somewhere. It felt like a matter of time before we found them or they found us. I could sense Y/N’s tension risin’ again too. She was more fidgety, more careful about each step she took. I found myself frequently sweeping my eyes back behind us to make sure nothin’ was lurking just outta the flashlight beams. There were the usual signs of walkers nearby; smears of blood on the floor and walls, that fuckin’ smell ya could never get outta yer nose, even chunks of flesh from the rottin’ fuckers. But we still hadn’t seen one, and I was fuckin’ worried.

“Almost got everything,” Y/N whispered to me, shoving a couple more bottles into her pack. “We just need to find the CPAP machine,” she murmured, staring down at the list. “I don’t have a fucking clue what the hell that looks like.” She glanced over at me, one of her eyebrows quirked in a question and I realized she was waitin’ for some kinda response.

“What? Yer lookin’ at me? I ain’t got a goddamn clue what the hell that even is,” I said gruffly. Shit. I saw it. Just for a second, but one corner of her lips twitched up in a smile and I swear there was a spark in her eyes—like the ones I used to see in her all the time. My heart jumped and I tried my best to ignore it. She seemed to turn away, hidin’ her face right as I was puzzlin’ over it.

“Right… well, let’s try down the hall. There’s probably another supply closet at the other end,” she said, nudging her head toward the darkness ahead.

We made our way cautiously. I pushed into the lead again and was surprised when she didn’t argue. I tried every door handle but most of ‘em just led to empty or trashed patient rooms. I caught her frozen in the doorway of one that had a massive bloodstain on the floor and spatter partially up the walls. Her eyes were wide and vacant, and I wondered what she was reliving. “Hey,” I said, just over her shoulder. She seemed to pull out of it abruptly and she turned away, moving on like nothin’ had happened. I let her go ahead, mainly so I could keep an eye on her for a minute and make sure she still had her head in the game, but I didn’t need to worry. Not about that anyway. She’d always been tough. She wasn’t shaken by shit easily. I knew that. And yet I still had this drive to want to protect her, even though she didn’t need it from me. And she definitely didn’t want it from me.

“Here,” she said suddenly, slinging her gun back on her shoulder and more fully opening the door to a small supply closet. There was hardly enough room for her to stand inside, so I posted up just behind her and strained my eyes and ears for anythin’. “It’s all electronic stuff,” she whispered, entirely focused at the task at hand. Her hands floated from one device to the next, illuminated by her flashlight. She was looking for some label or model number or somethin’ to tell her what they were. She bent down and grabbed some scattered papers from among the boxes on the floor. Swearing under her breath she held one up to the flashlight. “Of course the cover and all the useful shit in the front is torn off,” she muttered. She was bending down to grab another handful when there was some sudden, deep noise on the floor above us.

My heart seemed to stall out for a moment and she straightened up and froze, her eyes lifted toward the ceiling, lips partially parted. The sound seemed to reverberate through the building. I could feel it beneath my feet. It resonated through the walls. After a moment, I was looking at her and she glanced over and met my eyes, her eyebrows a little furrowed with worry.

“What the fuck was that?” she asked in a harsh whisper. I only shook my head. She gulped and refocused, shakin’ it off, focusing back on the papers. She was flipping page after page, scanning them as fast as she could.

I started to hear some more noises above us and then eventually spilling toward the other end of the hall. My grip on my crossbow tightened. “We need to move,” I said, keeping my voice low.

She was still intensely focused on the manual in her hands. “Just gimme a minute…” she said vaguely.

I shifted, turning more toward the far end of the hallway, straining my hearing. There was more clattering above us. “We might not have another damn minute.”

“Just—hold on—”

Fuck. I stood frozen for a moment as a herd of walkers started to spill out from the stairwell at the other end of the hallway and start toward us. “We ain’t got a minute, Y/N!” I urged in a harsh whisper. She didn’t seem to hear me.

There were more walkers than I could count. They hadn’t spotted us yet but I had to move fast, so I did the only damn thing I could think of and pushed her forward into the closet, pressing in after her and shutting the door as quietly as I could. I instinctively clicked my flashlight off and hurried to grab hers and do the same, plunging the two of us into darkness in that small space.

“Daryl, what the hell?!” she snapped at me. She’d been so focused she was completely oblivious to the mass of dead wandering our way. The goddamn closet was so small I had no choice but to be pressed into her… My heart started to pound and I think it had more to do with her against me than the undead assholes outside. I was sure she’d be able to feel it and prayed she’d just think it was adrenaline or somethin’. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

I shoved my hand over her mouth, all my patience gone. Did she really think I’d shoved her in a closet for the hell of it? “For once in yer goddamn life just shut up!” I growled in a low voice. She seemed to tense against me but in the quiet the sounds of the walkers outside the door were now easily heard above our ragged breathin’ and they were growing louder every second. I still had one hand over her mouth and the other clenching my crossbow at my side. She shifted against me and pulled my hand away. I could hear and feel her breathin’ pick up pace. I planted my palm on the wall behind her, next to her head, very aware of the growin’ heat pooling between the two of us where we were pressed together. The air felt suffocatin’. I started to worry the walkers outside the door would be able to hear my breathin’ I was so nervous. I wanted to shift, move away from her like I’m sure she wanted… I wanted to change positions and get my bow up, but it was impossible.

She didn’t seem to know where to put her arms within the tight, dark space. I couldn’t blame her. I was leaned in against her, sorta over her even. I felt her hand accidentally brush my arm and my body jolted a little at the contact, like some reflex I didn’t know I had. My teeth ground together. After that she seemed to settle away from me, into the wall behind her.

We had to just stay there, fuckin’ frozen, hardly room to breathe while the hoard passed by. Every once and a while, a body would thump hard against the door and I’d feel her flinch. I could feel sweat dripping down my neck and beading up on my face, my hair sticking to it. We were so close I could feel her breath against my skin when she faced toward me. I felt the rhythm of her breathin’. And I couldn’t ignore the fact that in that tiny ass closet, the only thing I could smell was the faint scent of her shampoo. I tried hard not to notice, but I’d be lyin’ if I said I didn’t try to put some name to the smell. Lavender? Not quite. Maybe more like rose? I dunno. And despite the possible death lurking just outside, I found it hard to focus on anythin' other than the feeling of her against me.

It felt like it took hours for the hoard to pass, but it was probably only ten minutes. But after the sounds drifted away we were still left with a big fuckin’ problem. They had to go somewhere, and my best guess was that they were travelin’ down.

It was so dark in there I couldn’t even tell if my fuckin’ eyes were open or closed, and it seemed to be makin’ it hard to think… Or maybe the angle of her one hip pressed into me was—fuck. Get it together, man… I fumbled for and clicked on my flashlight, findin' the two of us both wincin' at the sudden glare, noses almost touchin'. She was lookin’ up at me, her lips softly parted, her expression only full of concern for once, that little worry line she always gets near her eyebrow.

We both stayed like for a second. I guess just struck by actually seein’ how close we were in the sudden light, until finally she tore her eyes away and turned her head.

I tried to clear my throat, worried my voice was gonna come out soundin' strained or somethin’. “Uhh… sounded like they were goin’—”

“—down. Yeah,” she finished.

My eyes traced the angle of her jawline as she kept her face turned away from me. I heard the paper manual crinkle in her hand and groped for the doorknob behind me. “Yeah,” I agreed quietly. “So, we got a problem about gettin’ out.” My hand finally landed on the doorknob and I turned it and slowly opened the door on the hall, checking both directions carefully but also feelin’ like if I didn’t put some damn space between the two of us again I was about to explode. It looked clear and I stepped out. Glancin’ back, she still seemed frozen, up against the wall, her face turned away toward her shoulder so I couldn’t really get a read on her. “Hey. What is it?” I prompted her.

“Hmm?” She seemed to snap back to herself. “N—nothing…” She went back to searching the manual in her hand, like nothin’ had fuckin’ happened. Just one goddamn time I’d like to know what the fuck is goin’ on inside her head… But I ain’t got no right to that. She’s made that pretty fuckin’ clear.

It wasn’t the right manual or the right machine. But she went through two more until she found it. “Got it,” she announced, waving the paper at me before shoving it into her already full duffel bag. She seized a small machine from the shelf and started trying to rearrange items to make it fit in her pack.

“I got room,” I said, still nervously checkin’ over my shoulder. I thought I could hear the hoard moving below us, maybe two floors down.

“It’s fine. I can make it fit,” she said, jostling more stuff in her bag.

I rolled my eyes and grabbed the damn thing from her, slinging my crossbow strap over my shoulder. “Ya’d really rather split yer pack at the seams than take any fuckin’ help from me,” I murmured. I didn’t wait for an answer. I didn’t need one…

She stepped out of the closet and I caught her wiping her forearm across her forehead. It left a smear of dirt near her hairline. I had to pull myself back to the present. “So, how are we getting out of here?” she asked, adjusting her pack and the duffel bag strap on her shoulder.

I glanced at her, knowing she wasn’t gonna like my idea.

She rolled her eyes. “Well, you’ve obviously got something. Just get on with it.”

“Fire escape,” I said.

I watched the muscle in her jaw twitch as he jaw clenched. “Fuckin’ great…”

“Unless ya got somethin’ else—”

“You know I don’t,” she snapped back at me. She wiped a hand across her forehead again, swiping away fresh drops of sweat. “It’s—” She cut herself off. “Let’s just go,” she sighed, defeated.

I looked at her for a second more, trying to gauge just how freaked out she was, but it didn’t seem to matter. We didn’t have any other options.

“Let’s go,” she snapped again. “Before I change my mind about being able to handle this.”

“It ain’t—”

She squeezed her eyes shut and I watched her body tense. “I swear to god, Dixon, if you say ‘It ain’t that bad’ or ‘It ain’t that high’ right now, I will lose my shit and attract every fucking walker in this goddamn building. I don’t even give a fuck.” Her jaw muscle twitched.

I couldn’t help letting out a sigh that was more of a growl than anything but then I turned and headed for the window a couple doors down that I’d noticed was busted out. Leaning through, I scanned the outside of the building for a fire escape. Nothing on that side.

“It’s probably around the other side. Let’s try the end of the hall,” she suggested. Her boots stayed rooted to the floor and I glanced at her again. She caught my eyes and must have read the concern on my face.

“I’m fine. You’re the last person I need worrying about me,” she growled.

Fuck. She could be infuriating… I found my hand clenching and unclenching a few times before I followed her back out of the room.

She was right. There was a fire escape down that side. I grabbed a piece of metal off the floor and straightened up. “Ya ready?” I asked one more time. “They might hear this glass break so we gotta fuckin’ move.” I thought her hands were a bit shaky.

“Just do it,” she said. And this time, I could hear the quiver in her voice.

I smashed the window and knocked out the glass before pullin' myself through. The metal grates rattled under my boots and she looked suddenly sick as she approached the window sill. I hesitated a second before reaching a hand out to help her through.

“I’m fine,” she said. She didn’t look fine, but she gripped the ledge and climbed out. “Oh, fuck. Fuck…” she muttered as her feet landed on the platform. She was keeping her eyes fixed straight out. Even just the metal grates at th prison used to freak her out, and that was one floor.

I wanted to comfort her but… I wasn’t dumb enough to think it’d help or that she wanted me to, so instead I just started down the stairs at a good pace. She followed stiffly behind me, gripping onto the railing with white knuckles and falling behind.

Every once and a while I’d glance back and she looked like she was about to be sick, but she was still following. We hit a snag as we reached the third-floor platform. A large part of it had rusted and fallen away, leaving a gaping hole we would have to edge around to reach the next set of stairs.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” I heard her behind me and when I looked back her eyes were wide and round and she was clutching onto the railing like it was a lifeline.

“S’fine. I’ll cross first. Just keep over—”

“Oh, really, Daryl? I should keep over to the side? You mean I should stay away from the huge fucking hole in the goddamn floor?” It kept drawing her eyes and I’d see her rip them back up and away, reeling.

I knew that was mostly coming from the fact that she was fuckin’ terrified, but every harsh word from her still stung. “Fine. Clearly, yer good,” I spat back. “Ya don’t need me and ya don’t give a shit and yer fine. I fuckin’ got it.” So much for trying to calm her down. I edged past the hole in the metal grating and went down the next set of stairs. Finally, I just had to push down the ladder, climb down, and we’d be on solid ground again. But when I looked back up, she was still frozen where she had been, on the far side of the platform. I watched her for another minute, waiting to see if she’d move. I knew she wasn’t gonna ask for help, not from me, but she obviously needed it and tough shit, I’m the only damn person here. I rubbed a hand across the back of my neck, anxious to even try again, and climbed back up. I edged past the rusted-out hole and stopped next to her. “Just gimme yer hand.” She didn’t loosen her grip on the railing, and her eyes landed on my face. “S’fine. Just for two seconds, lemme fuckin’ help ya.”

Her chest was heaving with fearful breaths and I guess the idea of tryin’ to cross along that edge alone was worse than puttin’ her hand in mine. Part of me still thought she’d take the heights over me, but she didn’t… She pried her hand off the railing and placed it into mine. I—I can’t say my heart didn’t jump when my fingers closed around it. The motorcycle. The fuckin’ closet. Now this. We’d hardly been within six feet of each other for years and now all this in one day… I felt dizzy. It ain’t like Rick could have predicted these things would happen. He sure as shit couldn’t command a hoard to force us into each other in a tiny closet… but he must have been hopin’ for somethin’ by sendin’ us out here. Was it gonna work on her? I fuckin’ doubt it.

As we stepped along the edge of the edge of the platform, she held her breath. She always seemed like nothing in this fucked up world scared her anymore, nothing phased her. Half the time it almost seemed like she didn’t give a shit if she died. But this? Heights? This still scared her on some level she couldn't reason away.

But we made it across just fine. She was gripping onto me so tightly I thought she might have bruised the bones in my damn hand. And as we climbed down the next set of stairs, long past the danger, she was still holding onto me. But just as quickly as I realized it, she slipped her hand out and stiffened next to me again, fixing her eyes away toward the railing, which she grabbed onto again desperately.

We made it down the ladder, dropping onto the concrete and making a run back to my bike, slippin' from cover to cover, packs heavy and weighing us down. I was thinking how batshit crazy it was that we’d just done a hospital run and hadn’t had to kill a single walker AND managed to get all the damn supplies... when we rounded the last corner and a string of curses left her mouth.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. What the fuck?!” She knelt down next to my bike and as I looked, my stomach dropped.

“Son of a fuckin' bitch.” Both tires on my motorcycle were slashed. Ruined. Fuck.

We were stranded in the city without a runnin’ vehicle and somebody knew we were here.

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl x y/n #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles

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aemonds-sapphire · 3 years

Text

Slow Down — Hawks x Reader (Smut)

Summary: Hawks was known as “the man who’s too fast for his own good”. Unfortunately, he lived up to that title in nearly every aspect of his life. Even during sex. So when he asked for your help, you just couldn’t say no.

Warnings: NSFW. Needy!Hawks (hints of sub!Hawks AND dom!Hawks). Premature ejaculation. Edging. Orgasm denial. Masturbation. Overstimulation. Vaginal fingering. Blowjob. Breathplay. Cumplay.

Word count: 2.6k

“You need to relax, Hawks.”

The muscles on his toned thighs quivered lightly before loosening up under your palms. Beads of sweat pooled along his brow line and heaving bare chest. His golden eyes would settle anywhere but on you.

You two had been at this for only five minutes, but doubt started brewing inside you as to whether or not he’d last much longer than this.

As the young hero visibly calmed down, you decided it was time to resume resume what you had been asked to do: help pro hero number two Hawks from busting his load too quickly.

Your fingers curled around his cock once more, gaining a hiss from him as his hips lifted from the couch.

He was extremely responsive to your every touch, and while that might do wonders to anyone’s ego, it would all be over too soon if caution wasn’t exercised.

See, Hawks would often joke around with “the man who’s too fast for his own good” title that had been given to him. But the joke would fall flat now that he had realized his performance in bed was hindered.

A few more slow tentative pumps along his cock and you saw him balling his fists.

“Hawks... you need to look at me while I do this.”

An exasperated groan. “I can’t.”

“You have to,” you insisted, rubbing your thumb across his leaking tip. “Otherwise, you won’t make much progress.”

“I’ll fucking cum if I look...” he rasped through gritted teeth.

His scarlet wings twitched momentarily as you leaned in to place a butterfly kiss on the tip, gathering a few drops of precum on your lips as you did so.

“I wanna...” Hawks’ deep voice suddenly emerged. “I wanna fuck your mouth.”

You licked your lips and tasted him for the first time in a while. In all honesty, you yourself weren’t sure of what you’d call whatever this was. Friends with benefits was an overkill, but calling him just your friend didn’t fit either.

So you remained stuck in this limbo.

“Look at me first,” you told him, tightening your grip around him. “Keigo!”

The young man’s eyes finally locked with yours at the mention of his real name, and you seized the moment to drag your tongue along the underside of his cock.

“Fuck... you’re the best at this... your tongue...” he started off well, but his eyes quickly fluttered shut as one hand reached out to grip your chin tightly.

You yanked away from his, chuckling at his failed attempt at asserting dominance. “Flattery will get you nowhere, bird boy. You were the one who asked for my help, so do as I say.”

You had gone as far as to look up a few methods to extend his endurance, and this was the one you ended up choosing for convenience purposes. Hawks could just easily drop by your place for a quick session.

And even though the extent of your sexual experience with Hawks was limited to a few making out sessions, some blowjobs, and him eating you out from time to time, you knew from the get go that this cock wouldn’t last long inside a pussy.

But it was never your issue; at least he never made it to be, until he asked for your help, since it proved to be quite damaging to his male ego.

He was growing impatient by the minute, but you didn’t waver, even tough the growing damp spot in your panties served as a reminder of how badly you wanted to heed is request and just suck him off right then and there.

“You’re a meanie,” he pouted as he glared at the hand pumping him. “Fuck...”

Your lips curled into a devious smile. “You’re doing great, pretty bird.”

Praising Hawks was definitely the way to his heart — and apparently to his dick as it twitched under your palm.

Seeing that he was enduring your touch without breaking eye contact, you brought your lips to close around the head of his cock; his hips immediately jolted upwards, catching you off guard as he let out a sigh of pure bliss once he was halfway buried inside your mouth.

You promptly raked your teeth across the sensitive skin, which had him sliding out at lightning speed.

“Are you serious?” You scolded his boldness.

A boyish smile curled his lips. “100%.”

You smacked his thigh. Hawks and his damn percentages.

“No teeth!” he then protested, his beautiful features twisted into a deep frown.

“Then behave.”

He merely nodded, eyeing you eagerly as you wrapped your lips around him once again. The hand you had on his thigh felt him tense up, but he was definitely getting better at controlling his instinctive reflexes. You decided to take it up a notch and stare directly into his eyes as your lips parted to take more of him. Just as you’d expected, he bucked his hips into you, but this time you let him set the pace.

“Deeper... you can take more than that,” he said in between moans, pressing his thumb on your chin to have you open your mouth wider to take his thick cock.

You decided to indulge him for a while, testing his limit. Slowly, you allowed him to guide you all the way down on him with thumb now caressing your skin as his other hand clasped around your nape to keep you in place.

Thankfully, your breathing was trained enough to have him balls deep and grazing your throat without taking a toll on you. Your nose grazed the base of his cock briefly, and you swallowed.

Hard.

“Fuck-fuck-fuuuck!” he growled, wrapping his fingers around your neck to feel the faint bulge; his hips rising from the couch to make sure he remained buried deep inside you.

That was your cue. You instantly had both hands on his thighs and pulled away, earning a disappointed cry from him.

“Fuck no! I was not even close!” Hhe whined childishly, his back slumping into the couch in defeat.

You arched an eyebrow, noticing a string of saliva dangling between your owner lip and his tip. “Yes, you were. Stop trying to dom me and just let me help.”

It was in his nature, you figured. He had been raised by the commission to be one step ahead and not let anyone take advantage of him, so you weren’t at all surprised that this translated to his intimate side as well. But for someone who was so used to being told what to do and taking orders, Hawks sucked at doing so even when it was in his best interest.

He huffed in annoyance, but remained silent.

You glared at his cock momentarily, not being able to keep your pussy from clenching. This man was annoyingly pretty. Even his long and hard cock was pretty, having a slight curve to it and a nice and round bulbous head. Your eyes then shifted to his full balls, and you brought your fingers to fondle each one carefully, drawing delicious moans from him.

“You gonna keep staring or are you gonna suck it?”

You offered a teasing smile. “You shouldn’t make demands when I have you in my hand. Literally.”

Hawks’ eyes widened slightly. “Just let me cum.”

“You sure?”

He nodded before motioning you to shift closer with his index finger. “C’mere...”

Your panties were fully soaked by now, and as much as you wanted to resist him, it was getting harder to pull away from having him coming undone because of you.

Slowly, your tongue darted out to give his tip a short lick, but this time you let his cock slide all the way in without letting go of his balls.

He stuttered incoherently. “S-Slow... go—go... slow...”

You twirled your tongue across the protruding veins, letting his shaft reach your throat easily, strings of precum mixed with your saliva began pooling around the corners on your mouth and soon started dripping down your chin. Not wanting to go overboard, you stilled, not even daring to swallow.

His hands were gripping the edge of the couch so tightly that his knuckled were turning white; it was rather obvious that he was fighting off his impending orgasm with determination.

But as soon as you started swallowing around him, allowing your throat to ripple along his cock, Hawks’ mouth fell open in a profound growl.

“I’m... I’m gonna...” his wings were stretched all the way up to the ceiling, his long red feathers vibrating rhythmically with each roll from his hips.

Yes, he was going to.

His hips jerked in a broken rhythm as he attempted to fuck your mouth, nearing his orgasm rapidly. Once he started panting heavily and his moans became ragged, you slid off his cock.

“FUCK!” Hawks yelled in sheer frustration as his hips were left bucking against nothing but cool air.

You sat back, admiring how annoyed you’d left him yet again. It was always fun to tease him like that. He wasn’t used to not having things go his way, so you made it your mission to humble him down every once in a while.

The young hero groaned through gritted teeth, burying his face in his hands. “This is evil!”

“Deep breaths,” you chose to ignore his remark, placing your hands on his quivering thighs. “Calm down, Keigo...”

His entire body was shaking from the pent up tension. He might be a pro hero, but he was still human after all; even though he wasn’t used to being edged and overstimulated, you had to admit he was doing quite well.

Except for the strangled sobs that erupted from his throat and the few tears that slid down his flushed cheeks.

“Just... let.... me... no more....” he pleaded sheepishly, wrapping his own hand around his cock and pumping it a few times in desperation.

“Keigo... deep breaths,” you said, unhooking his fingers away from him.

He shook his head, eyes closed shut. “No... let me cum... please...”

“Hands off your cock,” you told him, placing them on the edge of the couch. “Don’t touch it. You need to cool off.”

This side of him proved to be unexpectedly alluring and empowering. Having a pro hero squirming and begging and completely desperate for release was something that you didn’t know you needed to witness.

A few long minutes rolled by.

Hawks’ breathing became more even and his beautiful face was no longer contorting from the pain of having his orgasm denied for the first time ever.

Your hands caressed his relaxed thighs with every ounce of affection you could muster. “See? You did so good, baby...”

Hawks brushed sweat-damp locks of golden hair away from his forehead, his eyes fixed on yours. “This hurts... real bad...”

His hard and veiny cock was slapped flat against his lower abdomen, precum still dripping from the tip.

“I think it’s time for you to cum,” you suggested with an understanding smile.

“You think?” Hawks chuckled sarcastically, his voice filled with annoyance.

Not wanting to summon a very angry Hawks, you massaged his sack for a few seconds, enjoying how his cock twitched with each stroke.

“Go on. Fuck my mouth.”

As soon as those words left your mouth, he lunged forward to grip his cock and have his hand grasp the back of your head.

His predatory instinct finally took over. “Open.”

You promptly complied, and he wasted no time shoving his cock inside you.

“Wider,” he grunted, forcing your chin down with his thumb. This sudden shift in his demeanor caused you to struggle to taking in all of it while trying to control your breathing through your nose.

Big mistake.

Hawks quickly caught on to what you were attempting to do, and he pinched your nose with his index finger and thumb.

“Told you,” he growled in satisfaction, watching you swallow his entire cock. “Deeper.”

Your eyes were stinging with tears from and you felt your swollen clit throb as he kept himself lodged in your throat. His other hand wrapped around your throat once again.

“Swallow.”

Your vision began to blur, but you told yourself to relax even though you struggled to breathe.

You swallowed once before he finally let go of your nose, fully enjoying how you were gasping around him and feeling his cock swelling up your neck through his fingers. You had tried breath play with him once, but this time it felt rougher an aroused you far more. He wasn’t usually this hungry, but then again you had never taunted him this much.

His hips rose at a fast pace as he fucked your mouth mercilessly, grunting and praising you. You weren’t able to keep the drool from spilling out and down your chin with each thrust.

“Touch yourself.”

You looked up in surprise, but readily slid one hand downwards and shoved it inside your panties, so you could finally relieve some of the tension that had built up in your swollen clit.

A low moan rippled through you throat as you rubbed yourself.

“Do that again... do...” he panted, completely lost in pleasure as his wings quivered around him steadily.

Sliding one finger inside your drenched pussy, you started fingering yourself, eyes fluttering shut from the overwhelming sensation.

“I’m gonna... fuck....”

Your other hand was gripping his thigh to keep yourself stable, and as he quickened the pace, you found out that he was defying your gag reflex.

“You gonna swallow all of it...” he grunted with a final jerk of his hips, burying himself so deep inside you that your nose was fully pressed against the base of his cock.

Tears streamed down your face as hot sprays of cum started spurting down your throat, and you struggled to keep it all down, the excess mixing up with your saliva and dripping from your mouth.

Hawks let out an animalistic growl as he emptied himself inside you, and you found yourself facing yourself with two fingers, riding after your on high as he massaged your throat.

“So pretty...” he panted, pulling his cock out and pressing your head to rest on his thigh. “Wanna cum, too?”

You nodded tiredly, feeling your spit running down the side of his thigh, but you just couldn’t help from keeping your mouth open as you gasped in pleasure.

“C’mere.” He ended up saying, helping you to get on your feet and to sit on his lap. “I’ll do that.”

He brushed his thumb across your chin to wipe off the mixture of cum and spit and brought it to his lips to taste it.

“Good?” You smiled in surprise.

He flashed you his trademark wide grin. “Amazing. Now, let me help.”

You welcomed his invitation, and lowered your head to rest on his shoulder, his hot body fully pressed against yours.

Two long fingers slipped inside your pussy and he started fingering you rapidly, making sure his palm rubbed your swollen clit. It didn’t take you long to get washed over in your own orgasm. It probably had something to do with how good he was with his fingers, but also because you had managed to edge yourself from edging him. How ironic.

Hawks planted a kiss on your forehead, enveloping both of you with his large wings. “That was quick. Maybe you need some help too, eh?”

A low chuckled rumbled in your chest. “Don’t flatter yourself, Keigo. It was like 70% built up tension from edging you.”

“Just 30% from my fingers?” He feigned hurt.

You paused for a few seconds. “Maybe 20%?”

“And the other 10%?”

“From my fingers,” you shot sticking out your tongue to him teasingly.

He clicked his tongue. “So my fingers are better than yours. Noted.”

“That was not what I meant!” You laughed, not at all surprised by his deduction.

“Math never lies,” he winked adoringly.

Yes. You were definitely going to stick around to help him with this.

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ragingbookdragon · 3 years

Text

Bring On The Wonder, We Got It All Wrong, We Pushed Us Down Deep In Our Souls, So Hang On

Batsis x Ghost-Maker One-Shot

Word Count: 2.6K Warnings: Explicit Language, Angst

Author's Note: This is a direct continuation of this piece right here that everyone got mad at me for because I made it angsty :) Enjoy! -Thorne

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

“Will you slow down?” Bruce complained, reaching her in a few steps. “Your ankle is sprained and you’re going to—”

She turned on him, slapping his hand away from where it was reaching for her. “I don’t wanna look or talk to you or anybody else right now.” She spat. “Take the hostages to GCPD and leave me the fuck alone.”

“He wasn’t going to kill you.” Bruce said and she scowled.

“It doesn’t matter what he was or wasn’t going to do.” She pointed to herself. “I thought he was going to. That’s what matters to me.” She turned and took a step, though her leg faltered, and she went to her knees, reaching to hold her ankle. “Fuck,” she hissed. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

“(Y/N),” he murmured, bending down beside her and she reached up, yanking the cowl off.

“Everything hurts,” she cried, anger and pain lacing her voice. “My back hurts. My chest hurts. Everything fucking hurts.” She reached up to wipe the blood still leaking from her busted nose and split eyebrow. “And I’m bleeding.” (Y/N) licked her lips, feeling the sting from the broken skin of her bottom one.

Bruce’s hand went to his utility belt, unclipping one of the pockets, and he pulled out a rag; he gently raised it to her eyebrow, dabbing at the blood as he quietly stated, “Your eyebrow’s already in hemostasis. Though it’s going to need stitches.” His hand briefly stilled near her swollen eye, then he continued to her nose where he gently held it.

She whimpered, trying to recoil but he held on. “That hurts.”

“You need to stop the bleeding,” he advised, then grabbed her hand and placed it over his, forcing her to take it.

“What are you doing?”

Bruce didn’t answer her, one arm curling under her knees, the other her back and he hefted her up into his arms. “I’ll take you back to your penthouse.”

(Y/N) wanted to cry, and she was helpless to stop the tears that gathered in her eyes; she turned, burying her face in the plate of her brother’s shoulder pad, breathing deeply to keep her sobs at bay.

“I don’t know what’s going to come after this,” he explained softly, careful to take even steps to avoid jostling her. “But I know that you’re the only one who gets to choose what happens between you and him.” He rested his chin on her head. “And if you choose to take a leave for a while, then I’ll support that.”

She let out a shuddering breath. “I just want to crawl in a hole.”

“Want me to get my shovel and dig you one?”

A watery laugh passed her lips, though it dissolved into a sob and with her free hand, she reached over and grabbed Bruce’s opposite shoulder, squeezing tightly as she shook against him.

He inhaled deeply, catching Ghost-Maker from the corner of his eye leading the hostages out. “We’re going to be okay, (Y/N).”

***

Turns out that the leave of absence seemed like the best choice for her, and she’d hunkered down in a safe-house about three hundred miles outside of the state on the edges of the McIntyre Wild Area in Pennsylvania. Bruce and she had bought it years ago as a last-ditch effort if they needed to get out of Gotham and it’d taken the two of them, plus Clark to clear it out and build. Half of the time was having Clark laugh at the two siblings and call them “city-slickers trying to be country folk” as he watched them struggle to tame the land.

But in the end, it had been effective, and they’d built a rather cozy safe-house that looked inconspicuously like Ma and Pa Kent’s home in Smallville. It was stocked with everything they needed, a built-in basement for safe measures. She was alone and secure in the small cabin and that’s how she wanted to be. Since leaving some few days ago, she’d messaged each nephew and niece telling them that while she loved them dearly, she needed to be alone for some time and that she’d be back as soon as she could be.

They’d flooded her phone with messages and concerns, but she’d left the device in her penthouse before leaving, resting assured that Bruce would explain in her absence. She felt like a failure and more so, weak for leaving her brother with the job of explaining, but the last thing she wanted to do was explain the situation herself.

She sat on the couch in front of the fireplace, gazing absentmindedly as the flames cast light that flickered around the darkened room. The entire room was open, living room and fireplace in the center, bedroom in one corner, kitchen in the other, a closed bathroom in another. It all smelled like pine. Fresh air and the ingraining scent of pine. But it’s what she needed. Gotham City overwhelmed the olfactory senses with blood and smog and on especially bad days, the rotting scent of fish and death. Everyone needed a break from it at some point in their life; to remember how to breathe in air that wasn’t contaminated.

The only thing she didn’t like was how quiet it was. (Y/N) was used to the distant sounds of traffic, gunshots, and sirens. Here it was the sound of her breathing and the wind whistling through the trees, wildlife scratching and hunting away in the underbrush. She swore she could hear her blood flowing through her brain. If there was any consolation, it did help to hone the senses on what she wanted to hear. And what she didn’t want to hear was knocking at the front door.

Quietly she rose from the couch and walked to the side of her bed, grabbing the loaded twelve gauge; she cocked it and stepped up to the door, warning, “If you’re not park rangers, I suggest you leave now. I’m armed and I will shoot you.”

A muffled chuckle sounded from the other side. “Well, that’s not the way I figured you’d greet me.”

“Oh, so you were expecting the shotgun blast then?” she answered aiming at the door and she pulled the trigger, blasting a large hole in the center of the wooden door. (Y/N) waited until the smoke cleared before she walked up and bent down, peeking through to see him flat on the ground, unharmed, reflexive as ever.

“Damn,” she griped. “I really thought I was going to beat you that time, K.”

Ghost-Maker cocked his head up and she was sure he was glaring at her from beneath the mask. “You crazy—”

“Bitch?” (Y/N) finished. “Tell me about it.” She set the gun next to the door and stood up, flipping the lock before pulling it open. “What do you want.”

“Well, I was coming to see you,” he said, picking himself off the ground; dusting himself off, he added, “You wouldn’t answer me.”

“Huh, I wonder why?” (Y/N) questioned, pressing her finger to her chin in mock thought, then her face lit up and she exclaimed, “Maybe it was because you tried to kill me a week ago!”

“I wasn’t going to kill you.” He griped. “You know I wasn’t going to.”

“Noted. What do you want?”

“To talk.”

“I have nothing to say to you and if you’re smart, you’ll leave before I decide to reload the gun.”

Ghost-Maker sighed, gazing at her. “I was using Kyusho Jitsu to slow you down until Bruce arrived.”

(Y/N) wanted to scream, but she kept her voice level. “And that somehow justifies splitting both lips, one eyebrow, busting my nose, and throwing me into an electric fence?”

“…No,” he murmured. “No, it doesn’t.” He looked at her. “But I was concerned that if I didn’t make it look like we were really trying to kill one another, Riddler was going to kill the hostages.”

She merely stared at him for a long moment. “You know, I used to think I knew when you were telling the truth, but now that I really think about it, I don’t know when you’re lying to me either.”

He stood to his full height, jaw tightening as he said, “I’m many things, but I’m not a liar, (Y/N). And I’d never lie to you.”

“I don’t believe you,” she shot back, face pinching as she finished with, “And you can sleep outside.”

She shut the door and turned around, walking to the bed in the corner and he looked through the hole in the middle. “You know I can just come inside if I want?”

(Y/N) laughed, stripping the shorts and long shirt she had on before climbing into the bed. “You take one step in here and I’ll cut your penis off and nail it to your forehead.”

“Hmm…have it your way,” he decided, turning around and she had as she tried, she couldn’t block out the sound of him setting up his blanket and bedding on the porch.

Hopefully, he’d be gone in the morning.

***

A crack of thunder startled her awake and she sat up in the bed, looking out the window to see the rain beating down. Her eyes drifted to the hole in the door and for a moment, she wanted to get up and see if he was okay, but she felt a bolt of irritation flash through her and she huffed, flopping back down into the bed, yanking the covers over her head.

She laid there for a few minutes, listening to the thunder clap above her, the lightning illuminating the room ever other moment, then she groaned, cursing herself for being a good person deep, deep down. (Y/N) threw the covers off her and rolled out of the bed, hurrying to the door. Pulling it open, she couldn’t help but smile at the man curled up in his thoroughly soaked blanket.

“Come inside.” He said nothing in return, and she sighed, kicking him in the stomach. “I know you’re awake, K. Get in here.”

“I thought you didn’t want me inside,” he retorted, yet to pull the blanket off his head.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes. “I don’t. But I’d be a terrible person if I let you get pneumonia.”

“You know you can’t catch that from rain, right? It’s caused by—”

“Fine. Stay out here for all I care,” she interrupted, starting to close the door and he sat up, scrambling for the inside.

“Wait!” She smirked and he craned his neck up at her to scowl. “You did that on purpose.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” (Y/N) retorted, cracking the door open more so he could get inside. He sat against the door when she closed it and she leaned against the door frame, watching the water drip down his soaked body.

“Want a change of clothes?” she asked. “Bruce left some behind the last time he was here.”

“Thank you,” he said, and she walked over to the dresser, pulling out a pair of boxers and an undershirt.

She turned, seeing him yanking off his shirt and pants, then tossed the clothes to him. “Here.”

He caught them. “I’m not wearing his boxers.”

“They’re new, jack-ass.” (Y/N) snorted, looking away so he could dress himself, then she glanced back. “Feel better?”

“I feel less cold,” he retorted, walking around the fireplace to toss another couple logs inside. “You’re letting the fire die out.”

She rolled her eyes and wandered into the kitchen, returning with a clean rag. “You’d be less cold if you took the mask off and toweled your hair.”

He looked up at her, watching, waiting, and since he didn’t stop her from reaching behind him, she untied the knot at the base of his skull, pulling the damp fabric away.

(Y/N) wiped the water from his face, softly brushing over his cheeks, then to his eyebrows, and when she was satisfied, she placed the towel on his head, and gently massaged his scalp, letting the towel soak up all the rainwater.

When she was done, she tossed it aside and sank onto the brick wraparound with a heavy sigh, eyes drifting to the wall. Ghost-Maker collapsed against her legs, resting his head back on her thighs; unconsciously, (Y/N)’s hands went to his hair, stroking the brown tresses.

After a few minutes, he murmured, “I apologize for not telling you the plan.”

Her hands stilled for a moment before continuing their ministrations. “I accept your apology.” She scratched his scalp. “Sorry for what I said.”

“It didn’t hurt my feelings,” he shrugged, and she tugged his hair.

“Yes, it did.” He tipped his head back, gazing at her. “Parade it around all you want but we both know you’re not immune to having your feelings hurt.”

Ghost-Maker searched her eyes. “You truly thought I was going to kill you?”

“Yes,” (Y/N) answered. “Everything was happening so quickly. I didn’t have time to think about what fighting style you were using on me. All I knew was that you weren’t pulling punches and it didn’t feel like a plan to me.”

She stared at him. “And I was scared of you.”

“Are you scared of me now?” he questioned, and she inhaled then exhaled.

“No.” He seemed relieved, but it was short lived as she added, “But I don’t trust you anymore. And I don’t know how long it’s going to be before I do again.”

He looked away. “I see.” Nothing was said for a moment, and he pulled from her, standing to his feet. “It’s late. We should rest.”

(Y/N) stood and started making her way to the bed when she realized he was going too. “Uh, what are you doing?”

“Going to bed?” Ghost-Maker offered, and she cocked a brow.

“Try again, K.” She pointed to the couch. “Go.”

His face pinched and he turned, but she caught his hand and he stopped, glancing back at her. (Y/N), against the better judgement in her head and the obvious discomfort between the two of them, stepped up to him and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her forehead to the middle of his chest.

He seemed to freeze at the sudden action, even if it’d been one, they’d done many times, but he recovered, one arm wrapping around her waist, the other around the back of her neck. His cheek brushed her temple and her grip shifted, hands coming up to press flat against his shoulders; with the warmth stinging the corners of her eyes, she dug her nails into his back as if it were the one thing keeping her from breaking down.

She wanted to say it. Wanted to tell him how angry she was. How hurt. How much loathing was built up inside of her, but nothing would come out.

“I know,” Ghost-Maker murmured against her hair. “I know what you’re thinking, (Y/N), and I know.” He pulled back, hand slipping from her neck to cup her cheek; he pressed his forehead to hers and assured quietly, “I know.”

(Y/N)’s eyes slipped shut and she let out a shaky breath. “Tomorrow,” she whispered, and he nodded.

“Tomorrow.” He let her go and watched as she unsteadily headed for the bed, collapsing onto the mattress; she tugged the blankets over her head, and he frowned as he saw her frame start to shake beneath them. Pulling the blanket off the couch, he laid down and watched her for some time. Waiting until she stopped shaking and slipped off into sleep so he himself could sleep too.

320 notes · View notes

bestruction · 4 years

Text

Falling in love with a marleyan pt.2

N/A: It was really hard to write for Eren because of all of his background. That’s why I’m insecure about this one. I hope you can enjoy

You can read the part 1 here

- Eren Jaeger

After the war that started in Marley because of the failure of the founding titan's mission, the government sent marleyan nurses to the hospital of the Liberio District. Since many people had died on the battlefield, it would take some time for the eldian medical unit to fully recover.

You were one of them.

It wasn't your first time taking care of war survivors, but putting your feet inside the district's central hospital and seeing all those poor souls made your heart sink in your chest. The atmosphere was heavy, especially since the other nurses who were with you saw no reason to care for and treat eldians.

What was the purpose of the war? This? More blood and hatred?

You were in charge of caring for the patients in ward B. After a long day cleaning your patients' psychological and physical wounds, you felt relief when you reached the last one.

"Mr. Kruger" was what the chart said and notes below about his amnesia, left eye, and leg.

"Good night, Mr. Kruger"

"Good night, nurse"

"You can call me by my name," You said, pointing to the badge on your chest. "We're going to see each other a lot from now on"

He looked at your face and then at your arm, noticing the lack of the armband.

"You are marleyan" he stated

"Yes, I am" You pulled up a stool to sit "Have you had any pain in your left eye or in your leg?"

"No, nurs-" he interrupted himself and looked at your badge before completing the sentence with your name.

"That's good. Please look at my index finger"

You moved your finger from side to side to test his reflexes.

“I'll need to change the bandages on your leg to make sure it is healing well, and the next week, we will look at your eye ”

He nodded, and you bent down to undo the bandages wrapped around the man's leg. To your surprise, there were no scars or even stitch marks.

"You must have an incredible body, Mr. Kruger" you exclaimed, touching his knee looking for any signs of injury "It's almost as if it's regenerating"

"It would be incredible if that were possible"

"Yes of course! It's just my imagination"

Carefully, you bandaged his leg again. Since he said that he would feel better even if he didn't need to. Of all your patients that day, the man with the long brown hair seemed to have something different about him. He was not in paranoia or outlined any kind of stress, but probably thanks to his amnesia.

You helped him sit down, undress for the bath, sit in the wheelchair, and waited at the door until he was finished to help him get dressed again.

That was your first night with Eren Kruger, one very similar to that of the other patients.

The week dragged on at the Central Hospital of Liberio. In the afternoon, it was time to take the most mentally stable patients for a walk around, and as the days passed and repeated, the more you watched Kruger.

Even during the afternoon hours, he did not walk around like the rest. Unlike other patients with amnesia, he didn't even try to search for a loved one or recover some memory. He was unusual, and you were curious.

Every day, you went to his room to perform the same procedure.

"Good night, Mr. Kruger" You greeted him after entering his room, and he responded by saying your name.

"You look tired"

"Is that your way of telling me that I've been prettier?"

You placed his dinner tray on the small, simple table there and sat next to him on the bed.

"No, just tired, but still beautiful"

You smiled at him more than you would like.

"I will test your reflexes as usual and then I will assist you in the shower as usual"

He was always your last patience. He was the best in health and with whom you talked the most.

"Aren't you going to let me see your eye yet?" You asked, helping him to take off his coat.

"You said it wasn’t necessary since I didn’t feel pain"

You shrugged. He probably didn't want to show it because of vanity.

"It is a pity. I really like the color ”

"Why you say that?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm an eldian, but unlike other nurses, you don't seem to be disgusted by your work"

"Why would I, Mr. Kruger?" You asked, unbuttoning the last button on his shirt "I'm sure the blood runs here" You said, placing a hand on his chest "It's the same one that runs here" and completed placing his hand on your chest "We are the same ”

You didn't notice, but Eren Kruger frowned before pulling your hand away abruptly. At that moment, you thought you were over the line. A silence fell over the two of you after such a simple sentence. That was how the night ended, with you two in silence.

Honestly, Eren Kruger had not been offended by your words but intimidated. The last thing he expected to hear from a marleyan was something like that. Eren was intimidated by your kindness.

Kruger was not just your patient. After that few months, he was your friend as well. It was not easy for you to establish a relationship with the other nurses. The marleyan who came with you avoided you because they saw the way you treated the eldians. The eldian nurses did not know what to expect from you, so they kept their distance. He was the only person you could talk to. After what happened, you were afraid that you had ruined things between you. So in an attempt to apologize, the next day, you took a chessboard to entertain him. It was a simple thing, but it was what the hospital protocol allowed.

When Eren saw you enter the bedroom door carrying the dinner as usual and a box, he thanked you for the poor lighting, or maybe you'd have noticed the blush that appeared on his cheeks when he heard you saying "Good night"

He answered you, but he did not look you in the eye. You left the tray of food on the bed and dragged the wooden table in the room to the front of him.

"I thought we could play a little bit" You suggested showing the box.

"It would be a great idea"

You set up the board on the table after dinner, and in silence, you started playing. You were surprised at how strategist the man in front of you proved to be and even more when he won the game.

“I bet you were a great soldier in the war. Why no one comes after you?"

He remained silent, and you sighed.

“I know I made you uncomfortable yesterday, but it was not my intention, Mr. Kruger. I hope you can forgive me ”

Eren looked at you and blinked a few times.

"You didn't ... You didn't do anything wrong" He ran a hand through his hair "I didn't expect to find someone like you in a place like this"

"Well, I didn't expect to find someone like you either"

The silence fell over you two again, but this time in a cozy way.

"Let me prepare you for your bath"

You took off his coat, unbuttoned his shirt, helped him remove his pants, and sit in the wheelchair before taking you to the bathroom.

Everything as on other days, just like with the other patients. So why did your heartbeat so fast against your chest?

"Good night, Mr. Kruger," You said about to leave the room.

"Eren"

"Hm?"

"Please call me Eren"

"Yes...Good night, Eren"

Your foolish heart was beating so fast that you could barely sleep through the night. The blood hit the walls, reverberating his name in your head, and the same happened with the eldian lying in his bed meters from you.

Time passed quietly, with the two of you talking during the afternoon outings and his daily checks. Eren loved those moments. Being with you brought back a part of him that he thought he lost some time ago.

You made that place without colors, the closest thing he could call home.

You liked how things were between you, but you were afraid.

Nothing good would come from a relationship that shouldn't exist, and you would be sent back to your city soon. So there was nothing to do about it. You thought Eren Kruger would become a good memory, and maybe he would have if you hadn't noticed him handing a letter to Falco.

The moment you saw him hand the paper over to the boy, it all made sense. So he didn't try to find out who he was because he already knew, but why stay in the hospital? Why pretend amnesia? Why send a letter if he didn't seem to want to come back?

When you went to take his dinner that night, you were nervous. How to start a conversation like this? Should you even bring it up?

"Are you okay?" He asked, taking you out of your daydreams

"Yes, just thinking about something"

"About what?" He asked, taking a tablespoon to his mouth

You swallowed hard and, without further ado, asked:

"You don't really have amnesia, do you?" Eren stopped the spoon in his mouth and waited for you to continue. “I saw you handing a letter to that boy, Falco. You wouldn’t send letters if you didn’t remember who you are ”

He put the silverware on a plate and stared at you.

"And what are you going to do about it?"

"What I'm going to do…? What do you think I'm going to do? Tell the hospital board? ” You sat next to him “It hurts me that you lose faith in our friendship for so little. I would never do that, Eren. If you don't want to go back… ”You took his hand in yours“ You must have your reasons. I just don't want you to have to lie to me ”

"I wish I didn't have to lie to you, too"

He intertwined your fingers with his own and patted the back of your hand briefly. You were close enough for your legs to touch each other.

Eren raised his free hand to your chin and lifted it towards his face. The months of tension between the two of you succumbed to a calm, slow, almost frightened kiss.

"Sorry. I shouldn't… ”

Eren stumbled over the words. He didn't want to force himself on you.

You knew how wrong it was. Ethically and logically, but none of that seemed to matter. So, you kissed him back.

"I want to kiss you too, Eren" You whispered between the kiss

Eren smiled without breaking the contact. How long had he been since he smiled like that?

The kiss started a spark that turned into a fire of desire. None of you dared to stop or even wanted to. Eren kissed you as if it were the first and last time as if he was afraid to let you go. His hands went down to your back, undoing the apron knot, and yours did the same with the shirt buttons. You removed the usual coat he was wearing and right after the shirt. He pulled you into his lap, squeezing your waist. You had to hold back a groan as you felt his erection against your clothed core.

Eren put his hands on the front buttons of your dress and looked at your eyes carefully. Those jade eyes were looking for your permission. You kissed him again, touched by his concern, and got up from his lap.

You undid the buttons on your dress and took off your underwear, leaving you naked. That was the consent he was looking for.

"You're..." He searched for words looking at your face, at your body "Beautiful"

This time, you saw him blush. Eren had never seen a naked woman, more than that, he was sure he had never met a woman like you.

He undid his belt, and you helped him take off his pants before accepting the invitation to return to his lap. To be honest, he didn't quite know what to do, and if you think he was flushed before, you should have seen his face lying on your shoulder when he said:

"I don't know what to do exactly ..."

So you took one of his hands and guided it to the middle of your legs.

"Here" He pressed his finger above your clit "Move your finger in circles"

He did as you said, and he had to restrain himself not to cum at the exact moment you moaned.

"Keep...Agh...Doing it, Eren"

Eren felt an adrenaline rush up his spine and his cock throb when he heard you say his name like that. He wanted more. See more, learn your reactions, and listen to you say his name like this more often.

That night left a mark on you two forever. There was no turning back. Not because of sex, but because you fell in love with Eren, and he fell in love with you long before that.

Thinking about the afterward was something you avoided, but when your period didn't come a second time. You knew it was necessary.

You planned to apply for permanent leave to work as a nurse in the Liberio District and somehow get Eren out of the hospital. You could live in a more remote part of the district without attracting attention and, if necessary, would use one of the eldian armbands. That way, you would only be more of a couple among many. After all, the government would not bother to investigate the life of a nurse.

You were happy despite everything, but that was until you told him.

"Are you ... What?"

"I’m pregnant"

"Is it mine?"

You opened your eyes wide when you heard the question.

"Excuse me? What are you trying to say? ” You controlled yourself not to raise the voice “Of course it’s yours” You completed feeling a lump forming in your throat.

“That wasn’t part of the plan,” He said more to himself than you“You were not part of the plan” Eren rested his hands on his knees and lowered his head.

You wanted to cry. Not for him, but for trusting him, for making plans for the two of you.

“So this is how it will be? God ... I'm such an idiot ”

Eren looked at your figure with slumped shoulders and closed countenance. He hated himself for causing your smile to end. He hated himself for being not the man you deserved and needed, but he wouldn't leave you by yourself.

Even though he couldn't be that man.

"Don’t go out of hospital tonight" He said breaking the silence. "Under no circumstances go to the speech today"

"What? Why?"

"Promise me you won't, please"

"Eren, you are not making sense"

"Please" He begged you seriously

"Okay"

He told you to wait on the hospital terrace. He would come to pick you up, and once again, you trusted him.

It was difficult to watch the confusion that happened in the hospital. Countless wounded and killed. You never forgot the horror stuck in those people's eyes, and doing nothing to help make you feel guilty.

Is that why he told you not to go? If so, how did he know what was going to happen? Why did he know?

You were about to come down to help when a short-haired woman appeared on the terrace saying your name. If you were confused before by not knowing what was going on, now even more.

"Who are you?"

"Eren asked me to pick you up"

"He told me he would come"

She held out her hand with a tender face that you couldn't decipher.

“You will understand everything. Now come on, we don’t have much time to reach others ”

The wind was blowing hard on the terrace. You thought about refusing, going down, and helping the patients. At that time, you were no longer sure if you knew who Eren Kruger, the father of your child, was. You wouldn't know if it was for fear of what could happen if you stayed or for the love you felt for Eren, but you accepted her hand.

You climbed on the airship with that woman. The pairs of eyes there were looking at you with as much curiosity as you to them. You hated the feeling of being the only one in the dark, the only one not knowing what was going on.

"We'd better keep an eye on her"

"She doesn't know anything" You heard Eren say without looking at you "She wasn't part of the plan"

"No? So why did you ask to pick her up? ” Asked the man without taking his eyes off you

"She’s pregnant with my child"

All the heads in the room turned to you.

"It seems that conspiring was not the only thing he did during that time"

You had so many questions, but there was no time for any of them right now.

Finding out that Eren Kruger was actually Eren Jaeger was like a punch in the gut. The army agreed to accommodate you, and in return, Eren would be imprisoned since he could leave if he wanted to. The woman who came to pick you up on the terrace answered all your questions and explained the current situation. You didn't know what to say, just that you needed to talk to him.

It took a while, but after so much insisting, the survey corps commander agreed to let the two of you talk under her supervision.

Eren was sitting on the bed when you stopped in front of the cell with Hange at your side. He didn't look at you, and he didn't think he could do it too.

"Eren?" You called him, putting your face between the bars "What does all this mean?" You asked even though he knew the answer "You lied to me"

You didn't want to cry, but how could you not? Especially being more sensitive because of the pregnancy.

"Eren ... why?" A sob cut you off “Now I don't know who you are, I can't go home, and is that all you have to say? Nothing? Eren! ” You hit the bars causing a loud bang.

“Try to stay calm. You can't be exasperated because of the baby, ”said Hange, touching your shoulder.

Eren got up from the bed and went to you. You looked deep into his green eyes, now understanding why he never let you take off the bandages, why he didn't have scars.

“I didn't lie about everything” He rested his forehead over yours on the bars “I know this is hard to believe right now, but I'm not going to leave you by yourself. That’s why I asked Mikasa to pick you up ”

For an instant, you saw the Eren who spent his days in the hospital there in front of you. He wiped away your tears and whispered an apology accompanied by your name before kissing your forehead and apologizing again.

It was unfair how your heart sped at the mere touch of him. Foolish heart.

Falling in love and having a child never crossed Eren's mind when he went to Marley. He didn't feel like he deserved you and even less your love. Several times he wanted to tell you everything, but how?

Hange looked at her watch and said that the time was over. Eren took your cheeks in his hands and whispered looking into your eyes.

“I wasn't lying when I said I loved you. I love you"

Hange took you back to your room and asked if you would accept that she questioned you about your time with Eren. She had waited until the moment she judged it right due to your pregnancy. As a way to repay all her kindness you accepted.

Eren could have said he wouldn't leave you alone, but while you were telling what happened during that time in a country you didn't know, in a room that wasn't yours and pregnant with a man you weren't sure you knew more about, you felt more alone than ever.

#Eren Yaegar #eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yaeger x reader #eren yaeger imagine #eren x y/n #reiner x reader #reiner braun x reader #reiner x y/n #reiner imagine #reiner headcanons #eren headcanons #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyojin x reader #aot x reader #aot x you #aot imagines

484 notes · View notes

hb-writes · 3 years

Text

You’ve Always Been Naive

Summary: It’s 1925 in the Little Lady Blinder universe. After an epic row, Tommy allows Clara to stay more regularly on Watery Lane with a few conditions, one of which is a mid-week meeting at the Midland Hotel to check in.

Characters: Tommy Shelby & Clara (Shelby!Sister)

Content Warnings: canon-typical content, angst, (underage) drug use (requested by anon)

Tommy glanced up from his whiskey sour as his sister stepped up to the table, her face a deliberately neutral façade as she set a ledger down in front of him, a week's worth of academic work stuffed inside the front cover.

"Lizzie said you'll need that for tomorrow," Clara offered as she extracted the papers, placing them on top and pushing the pile towards him. "And here are the assignments you've asked for. If that's all, I have plans, so…"

Tommy watched her determination waver a bit as he raised a brow, her confidence retreating the longer she stood planted in front of him, the first she'd been directly in his presence for a little over a week.

A meeting at the Midland Hotel had been Tommy's idea. Clara had accepted the summons, accepted the hotel as a sort of neutral territory though it was in no way impartial. The hotel was Tommy's home more days than it wasn't, filled with a staff as loyal to his payment as the staff of Arrow House, loyal like the staff of the company, but the Midland's staff didn't know Clara Shelby as well as the others. They didn't have their claws in her, couldn't appeal to her on Tommy's behalf like the others did, like little Charlie did, or Ada, so when Tommy requested the midweek meeting as a condition of his allowing her to stay on the lane far more often than she did under his roof, Clara felt she had little option but to agree.

Tommy barely glanced at the things she'd set on the table, more interested in the fact that Clara hadn't yet found her seat, still standing across from him bundled in all the cloth that had protected her from the stinging wind and chill on the walk over, almost as if she was convinced the coat and scarf and gloves would protect her from him too.

"Take a seat."

"I already said I—"

"You're going to make a scene?"

Both of Tommy's eyebrows rose with the question, the words almost a dare, or perhaps better likened to a threat, and Clara glanced about the room only to determine that the Midland wasn't the proper place for a shouting match with her brother. Scheduling the meeting there was meant to keep the two of them in check, but Clara knew Tommy would show no hesitation in raising his voice back should she choose to make a go of it, settling her firmly in the place where he thought she belonged with a mere line or two.

Clara's cheeks warmed at the mere thought.

"That's what I thought." Tommy shifted, sitting up straighter in his chair, eyeing its empty match across the table. "Take a seat."

Clara remained in her spot, pulling her eyes from him as she forced her finger into the opening between her coat sleeve and glove to expose the delicate watch set on her wrist.

Lizzie's handwriting in her diary had marked her down to be at the Midland with Tommy from 6:00 to 7:00, but she's made herself quarter of an hour late by a bit of purposeful dawdling at the office followed by a bit of nervous pacing out front of the hotel that had left her with chilled toes and wind-chapped cheeks.

"I really can't see why I need to. You've seen I'm alive and well—" Clara gestured to the book and papers. "—You have the ledger, have proof I've been doing as I've been told, and I'm certain you've already gotten reports off of—"

"Take a seat."

Tommy finished his drink, the ice clattering against the glass as he set it on the table, all of the force that wasn't there in his voice focused into the gesture before he pulled the papers closer, thumbing through her work though he cared little to see the grades or completeness. He had little concern that Clara wouldn't hold up that end of the deal, her motivations in that arena extending beyond any guidelines he could set for her.

And anyway, Tommy already knew she'd been towing the line. He didn’t need the completed packet of school assignments to know she was following his rules. He didn’t need this encounter to know she was alright either, his curiosity on the matter fulfilled well enough through reports from Lizzie and Ada and Frances and Michael, his confidence bolstered by the lack of contact from the school. Even Finn’s first words to him in every meeting over the last week and a half had been about their sister.

People usually told him things, always had, seemed to give him what he needed in that respect without him having to ask after it, but Tommy didn’t always trust the word of the world. There were some things he preferred to see for himself, some questions he needed to hear the answer to while seeing the reaction on her face before she got the chance to put her clever words in the way.

Something about the power of the impending fourth request to take a seat, and the knowledge that it wouldn’t be as much of a request as it was an order coming from Tommy’s lips, helped Clara to lower herself into the chair across from her brother. She kept quiet while Tommy thumbed through her work, slipping the gloves from her hands and settling them on the table though she allowed herself to shed nothing more as she sat on the edge of the seat, her back straight, every muscle in her feeling taut and strained while she waited.

“You’ve been busy.”

Clara nodded. She had been busy, and she was quite certain her brother was at fault for that, accepting her being out from under his roof, but not out from under his thumb, ensuring she had more than enough to keep her busy, keeping her so occupied once she held up her end that all she wanted was her bed.

The worst part was Clara knew it. She knew this wasn’t really the freedom she was after, the distance she’d said she needed, but she couldn’t help herself when it came to meeting expectations. Clara was losing either way, but the fact that she kept trying bothered her brother, that she knew. That she’d rather adhere to his rule and work herself to death than live under his roof and play that game unsettled him.

People listened to Thomas Shelby for many reasons—because of his influence or his threats, because they hadn’t a choice. He imagined his siblings fell into the last category, left without much of a choice, but he’d always imagined the girls were a bit different. His brothers filed in line like the soldiers they were, but the girls weren’t soldiers. The girls had always seemed to be tied to him and his words in some other way, some sort of different understanding falling between the three of them, but with Clara especially. The understanding didn't seem to be there any longer though, replaced with the same soldiering that he'd seen with his brothers.

“I’ve been doing as I was told,” Clara offered.

“And what were you told?”

Clara huffed, settling back in the chair, her shoulders slumping at his question, something about him making her repeat it for him doing the work that his tone alone couldn’t.

Clara fixed her gaze out the windows in the front as the waiter approached the table.

"Anything for the young lady, Mr. Shelby?"

"Tea," he said, not pulling his eyes from his sister, her annoyance at the order he placed on her behalf clear in the twitch of her face though she stayed quiet until the man stepped away.

"I'm not staying, Tommy. I told you I have plans."

He tilted his watch face to check the time. “Not until seven.”

Clara seemed to accept that seeing as she didn’t fight him, settling a bit further into the chair, shifting her gaze out the window once again.

“So, back to doing as you’re told, then.”

Tommy raised his eyebrows, blinking at her long and slow though she’d met his gaze for only a short moment before turning her attention elsewhere, to watch people coming in through the front door.

“School assignments, exams, the company, Sunday dinners. Your meetings...and all of it’s up to par, Tommy. I’m—”

“And what about this?”

Clara stilled as he set the blue vial on the table, her pulse picking up as he left it there and sunk back into his own chair.

"Tommy!" she hissed, nearly reaching out her hand to knock it from the table, to remove it from such a clear view, but no one was watching them.

Tommy scoffed, leaning forward and closing the vial in his hand before pointing a finger at his sister. "I told you if there was any fucking nonsense, I'd bring you right back home."

"I am home," she answered. "Can't get more like home than Watery Lane."

Tommy's snort was so quiet Clara didn't even catch it and he nodded, leaning his chin on his hand as he sat back, his finger idly rubbing his jaw as he considered her. "You think you're clever."

"I am clever," Clara answered, unwinding the scarf from her neck, her eyes diverted as she focused on the meticulous folding of the fabric before she set the bundle on top of her gloves. "You've always said."

Tommy shook his head, the second snort almost leading to a smile before he cleared his throat, shifting his position again and rooting around for his cigarettes before he spoke.

"I'm not in the mood for it, Clara. You've been asking questions about things you have no business with and it stops now."

Tommy caught her eye roll as he lit the cigarette, couldn't miss it really, the way the gesture took over her whole expression, her whole body really, and he wondered whether she'd done it on purpose or if it was just a reflex.

Clara was inclined to do far more than roll her eyes at him, a whole queue of arguments settled at the leading edge of her tongue, every part of her except her lips prepared to fight him because everyone else was allowed a bit of snow for the simple fun of it, but Clara had a feeling voicing that argument wouldn't do well in the end. It would only serve to tell him what he somehow didn't yet know, that she hadn't simply asked her questions, that she'd also tried it for herself.

It had just been the one time, to quell some curiosity, a small indulgence, and even if it had helped her stay alert to get done what she'd needed to get done, Clara wasn't keen to try it again. Tommy had no need of knowing it, so she swallowed her arguments, swallowed her pride and distaste for the double standards that ruled her life.

"Fine, Thomas. I've heard you. You want me to stop asking questions. And Michael and Finn are loyal to you, not me. It's all understood, nothing for you to waste your precious time worrying over." She was sitting up straight in the chair once again, perched on the edge and eager to be out the door before the tea came. "Is there anything else?" she asked. "As I said, I do have other plans."

Tommy pinched the bridge of his nose, releasing an exhale before tapping the ash at the end of his cigarette into the tray between them and holding her gaze.

“You’ve never tried it, then?”

Clara opened her mouth and Tommy let out a hollow laugh before she could answer, the cigarette pointed in her direction once again.

“And don’t you fucking lie to me, Clara.”

His gaze was unblinking and Clara held onto it as long as she could manage, not even allowing herself to breathe for several moments as she stared back at him, a familiar strain falling between the two of them.

Clara allowed herself a small intake of breath, attempted to take in a little air before she'd find herself gasping for it, attempted to extend the standoff a bit longer, but her resolve crumbled with the exhale, Tommy's attack coming before she'd even finished the breath.

“You’re going back to Arrow—”

“No, I'm not. It was just the one—”

Tommy's laugh cut her off, set a silence between them as he took a drag off the cigarette. “If you believe that, you’re just being naive, always have—”

“Excuse me?”

“You're clever, but you’ve always been naive,” Tommy said. “And all you’ve done this evening is show me that that is still the case.” He cleared some ash into the tray.

“If the work’s too much, you cut out the fun with the boys. It’s something you kids don’t seem to understand.” He set his finger down into the pile, jabbing the folder of school assignments and the ledger with each word. “The business comes first.”

Clara scoffed, the force of it so gentle it was barely noticeable, and she glanced at her watch. “It’s five after,” she said, scooping her gloves and scarf into her arms as she stood, pushing her chair back in place.

Tommy nodded. “I want you at the house on Sunday…to see Charlie. We can finish this then."

"There’s nothing to finish," she answered, setting her gaze away from him as she wrapped the cloth around her neck and pulled her gloves from the table, fitting one hand inside. "See you Sunday."

Clara took a step away as she worked the other glove over her fingers and Tommy caught her elbow, his hold far more gentle than any of the words he'd tossed at her during their meeting, more gentle than his stares or the mock laughter.

A wetness grew in Clara's eyes and she stayed faced away from him for a moment as she tried to resolve the tears, swallowing hard, her arm going limp as Tommy's grip shifted, sliding down her arm to clasp her wrist.

Enough. That's what his hand on her wrist meant, a gesture Clara and Charlie used to ask for the end of any bit of play that had gone a bit too far, a signal that communicated when it was too much, a gesture Clara knew Tommy had been deliberate in choosing.

"Clara, I mean it. No more snow, alright? If something were to happen, I…"

His words sent a searing lump into her throat, that combined with the touch sending her mind down into a spiral of guilt and shame, and as much as Clara hated Tommy for his role in it, for having the power to do it, she hated herself just as well for succumbing to it, even more for ever stepping out of line to begin with, disappointed with herself and her choices even though everyone else did it.

Clara cursed her brother and his temperamental provision of care, the sparse deliverance of love, and his double standards, and then she’d cursed herself, cursed the expectations and rules she’d set on herself and everything about the relationship that existed between them. Clara pulled her hand loose, tugging her glove the rest of the way into place before she took a deep breath, her back still to her brother as she bid him farewell.

"I'll see you Sunday, Thomas."

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Little Lady Blinder (Peaky Blinders) Masterlist

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #shelby sister #shelby!sister #tommy shelby #clara shelby #little lady blinder #500 follower celebration #hb.writes angst #wednesday update

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