#you could do fluff or hurt/comfort or whump | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

specialgradefckr · 1 month

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Heatwave: Day 7

tw: explicit content, mentions of past abuse. 6k+ words. Toji/Reader. beta!reader, alpha!toji. hurt/comfort, whump, fluff, toji is kinda pathetic. top!toji, size kink, surprisingly soft sex, extremely domestic.

Prompt: Not everyone has secondary genders, but those who do are considered less than human.

You find him on the streets. A lonely stray, beaten and bruised.

Hair all mussed up, face dirtied, a scar on his lip too poorly healed to be anything but a punishment.

He’s on the floor, propped against the wall in some filthy, dingy alleyway. Covered in dirt, himself.

Eyes half-closed and slowly flitting over his surroundings, like he’s tired but expecting to get hit the instant he tries to sleep.

It’s not uncommon for parents to throw out an alpha or omega teenager as soon as they turn eighteen, if they even waited that long.

Many hospitals didn’t do secondary gender confirmation for minors because the parents would just… leave. Most orphanages were filled primarily with newly-presented alpha and omega teenagers.

And those were the lucky ones. Unlucky alphas and omegas got into worse places. Much worse places. A lot of them stayed around even after adulthood, because what other way was there to work for a living?

Even if they tried to pretend to be a beta, their heat or rut would give them away. Betas didn’t need to go on leave for a week every month or so. Health insurance didn’t cover suppressants if you were registered as a beta, and only betas could get jobs that provided health insurance.

And betas didn’t have the innate urge to mate like omegas or alphas did. Didn’t have the same sense of possession, loyalty, the addiction to their partner’s scent and pheromones that made abandonment impossible.

What they did have was money. All the money, power, and prestige in the world was in the hands of betas.

And if you were an alpha or omega, the best you could do was use your secondary sex to provide the rest of society with entertainment, and maybe get a meal somehow along the way. If you were young and pretty, you might get to live a decent life as some rich beta’s pet.

The stray in the alleyway is a lot older than eighteen. He looks like he’s been eaten alive. Chewed up and spat out once he lost his flavor.

You step up to him and he doesn’t even react to the noise. He’s just sitting there, against the wall, eyes half-lidded and glazed over like he’s waiting to die but still can’t quite sit back and accept it just yet.

That’s the worst part about it all, probably. Because when he was born, he would have looked like a beta, like any other ordinary kid.

Probably to parents who were happy to have him. He might have even had a good life, a happy childhood, a life full of love with a real future in front of him. Until he presented.

He’s a stray, not a wild animal. He had a home, once. Knew what it was like to have a warm bed and a full belly every night. A place to come back to. People who loved him.

A life. A real life, with dreams and aspiration like any normal person – all yanked out from under him in an instant.

An alpha, it looks like. You bend down, sitting on your heels in front of him, waiting for him to notice you. His eyes are narrow, and it’s hard to tell the color –

And then he looks up at you, and you see it. Dark and muddled but the color’s still there. Emerald glittering at you, pick me up, a treasure obscured so only you can see it.

When you reach your hand out, it’s gently, as if not to startle. He just eyes you, wryly, as if he’s too exhausted to be curious about what you’ll do.

You smile. “Hey, stranger.”

Eyes close. Not a threat. “Mmm.”

“Need a hand?”

“If you’re offerin…” He lets his head fall to the side. Not worth the effort to watch you. Some beta lady with a soft heart.

You don’t smell like anything much, not to his burned-out nose, but he can feel your warmth when you lean in closer.

“You got a name?”

Once upon a time, he did. A big name, real important-like, one you might even recognize. Now? Now he’s got nothing.

“Toji,” He gives you, before letting out a hiss as you pull on his bruised hand.

“Sorry,” You murmur, “Let me help you up. Here, like this…”

An arm wraps around his shoulders, tugs him up. It’s impressive that you try at all – Toji heaves his tired, agonized muscles into holding himself up, stumbling along with your support.

You’re doing a pretty good job as a crutch, but there’s no way you can stand his weight for long.

That’s fine. You don’t need to. All he needs is a few days off the streets.

Looks like his luck hasn’t run out completely. Not yet.

When you help him in through the doorway, closing it behind you, he slips his shoes off and sets them beside the door, right where yours are.

A stray, not a wild animal. He’s been in homes before, maybe even recently. Just not one he could call his own.

It hurts to think. Almost hurts to look at him, but there’s something achingly handsome about his face.

That half-sly, half-defeated look he’s always got. Those lowered brows and hooded eyes, the cut on his lip that should be mean but just looks scrappy.

He’s an alpha and he’s built like it, but there’s still an unmistakable proudness to his features. A well-defined jawline, strong chin, eyes sharp and fierce.

You’re a little embarrassed at the state of your home. Even in the best of times, you hated doing dishes, and you hadn’t exactly been expecting company. Still, it’s nothing to be terribly ashamed of, even if you apologize for the mess. He doesn’t seem to mind.

“You want to go to a clinic?” You’ve got some pills in hand – some over-the-counter generics, he’s sure – and a glass of water to go with it. “I can take you, don’t worry about the bill.”

Aren’t you just a doll? “Nah. I’ll be fine. Had worse.”

He can see it, too, transparently, how his words pull at your heartstrings. If he plays this right maybe he can get a whole week. Maybe two.

Toji’s always been the gambling sort. You look like a good bet.

“Well…” You think to yourself for a moment, “I think I have a shirt that would fit you, but not much else. I have a bathrobe, too, if you want to take a shower.”

A shower would be perfect, especially if he was going to fuck his way into your good graces. Beta ladies love alpha cock.

“Mhm.” He hums, following you to the hallway and waiting patiently for you to gesture him into the bathroom.

You hand him a robe – probably large enough for him, but extremely fluffy – and a shirt that would probably be a little small on him, but far too large to be a woman’s.

“I, uh, I don’t have separate stuff for guests – feel free to use my shampoo, conditioner, body wash, whatever, I buy it in bulk anyways.” How nice of you to offer.

He was going to anyways, of course. As sexy as the whole wounded filthy beast thing was, women didn’t like letting a dirty guy sleep in their bed.

Even if you were annoyed by it, it’d be a while before that pissed you enough to kick him to the curb. When you did, that wouldn’t be what did it.

A quick once-over confirms he’s pretty bruised and beaten up, but no broken bones. A few cuts here and there that have already stopped bleeding. Every muscle in his body is screaming for him to lie down, hard enough that he almost passes out in the shower, but other than that, he’s all right.

There’s bandaids beneath the sink. It’s more than he usually gets.

When he comes out, clad in the robe and nothing else, he’s kind of ready to collapse.

But what kind of man whore would he be if he didn’t at least give you a glance at the goods? He saunters into your living room, sliding into a plush chair beside the couch you’re currently on.

Your eyes widen gratifyingly at the sight of him, glancing away for a moment in an attempt to stay casual. It’s a little cute, but hopefully you’re not some kind of prude; that’d make things significantly harder.

“Did you find everything okay?” You say, and he notices for the first time a cat curled up next to you as you stroke it gently. It’s bright white and long-haired.

He nods. You notice his gaze, and smile.

“This is Catoru! He’s a huge diva and he loves attention.” A white tail curls around your arm as you pet, swaying gently.

Great. Competition. “Any roommates?” He asks.

To his relief, you shake your head. “I have a guest bedroom, though, you’re free to stay there for as long as you need.”

As long as you need. He’s heard that one before.

It’s all right, though. You’re just a naïve, sheltered beta; you’ve probably never even met someone who would take advantage of your kindness to the absolute fullest extent.

Toji supposes he should be honored to pop your cherry. Right now, he’s not anything but exhausted.

You set a cup of tea in front of him, “You want a snack? I have some protein bars – ”

Sounds perfect, “If you don’t mind.”

He scarfs down everything you offer him, sighing in relief when you bring him a couple more. Sips at the tea, requests a cup of water, drowns several of them before he’s really dead on his feet.

Ah. Clean. Some food in him, some water. This is what heaven must be like.

“My room is just across the hall,” You smile, “I leave my door cracked so Catoru doesn’t freak out. Just let me know if you need anything.”

And Toji feels your smile, all the way deep into his tired bones. Can’t wait to gnaw on it, suck at it, devour every last bit of it until there’s nothing left. He’s always had shit luck but it looks like it hasn’t abandoned him just yet.

He thanks you. The cat at your side winks open an eye to look at him, bright blue and startling against his white fur.

He’s left the door open a crack, just in case you’re bolder than you appear.

One of the particularly shit things about being an alpha or an omega is the pack behavior crap. They weren’t meant to be alone, especially while they slept. Made them nervous.

Some kind of pack-bonding stuff. It was hard to sleep without someone next to him. Made him antsy, twitchy, whenever he did sleep he woke up after an hour or so.

Meant a lot of sleepless, painful nights at the Zenin complex. He’d taking to sprinting around the complex, push ups, squats, whatever he could do to exhaust himself so much that he could just lie down and pass out until one of his cousins kicked him awake.

It usually bought him only a few hours, but combined with his alpha genes it meant he grew up built; lean and mean and strong enough to take hits that would kill lesser men.

Lucky him. After they kicked him out he was approached by some tall, scrawny looking omega called Shiu who had a job or two for a strong man with nothing to lose. Money he could blow on food or gambling while he went from one hookup to the next.

He hadn’t heard from Shiu since the last job. Not surprising, since it went worse than expected. In retrospect, if you hadn’t found him in that alley, someone elsewould have.

The thought doesn’t bother him much. Had to end sometime. Every dog has his day, and for a mangy mutt like him, he’d already gotten way more than he deserved. Even life on the streets was better than living with the fucks he shared blood ties with.

Still, as long as he’s in the game, he’s pushing his luck. If he can get you to fuck him, you’ll let him stick around longer, and he’ll get a full night of sleep.

There’s a noise at the door and his excitement rises a touch. He didn’t think you’d be willing to do it this early –

A gentle weight on the bed. Too gentle.

For fuck’s sake!

“Hey, Catoru,” He grumbles, “You’re lucky I even remember a guy’s name. Don’t make a habit of it.”

Catoru, of course, simply curls up next to him, obnoxiously close. His fur is impossibly soft. He should have been named Cloud or Snow or something.

Toji reaches, stroking the bundle of warmth and softness with short, lazy movements. His hands are rough, calloused, but it doesn’t seem to bother the cat any. He just snuggles up and purrs. It soothes his instincts to a degree he finds utterly uncomfortable.

God, fuck, he hadn’t been competition for the cat. The cat was taking pity on him.

Normally he wasn’t so picky about where the pity came from. He was way more popular with the ladies but there was a guy here and there who wanted to try him out.

Those were usually much shorter affairs, though. Women were way better. Took a certain kind of guy to want to fuck an alpha male. A lot of them got off on making him their ‘bitch’, fucking him hard and rough because he had to take it for a place to sleep.

He had enough of that shit at the Zenin complex. This is worlds better.

It’s too good for trash like him, but he’ll take it as long as it lasts.

He wakes up a few times in the middle of the night, but that’s normal enough. The cat’s insufferable, but he’s warm, and soft, and cuddly, which he’s never seen before.

It helps, until the traitor wanders off into your room, probably to snuggle until he decides to wake you up for food.

Bastard. Toji watches him stalk into your room like he owns this whole damn place. Probably jumping right into your arms.

He wonders where the shirt is from. An ex-lover? A male relative? It doesn’t smell like anyone else, but it would probably have belonged to a beta.

You’re living alone, though, which is enough for him. He’s gotten plenty of beta ladies to sleep with him despite having other lovers currently, that’s not a problem.

It’s not like he has to worry about your lover showing up and beating the shit out of him (or you) either – little perks of being an alpha. As long as you paid the bills and wanted him around, that was enough.

There’s a little part of him that always takes an intense pleasure at the thought. Protecting his mate and all that garbage.

Doesn’t matter. He’s just hanging on for now.

You’re not sure what food your guest would like, but it’s a good excuse to cook a big breakfast for him and you.

Lord knows, the poor man had an appetite, so you doubt even your mediocre cooking would go to waste. It’s a little embarrassing to have dishes still in the sink, but you’ll do them all at once after you’ve eaten. For sure this time.

Besides, not a lot of ways you could screw up eggs, French toast, bacon, all that stuff. It’s a few minutes of shuffling through things, putting down pans and containers, before you’re ready to get cooking.

You open the fridge, and it hits you. Eugh. Something’s gone off.

Living alone, it happens sometimes. You buy something then forget to eat it before it goes bad. But your fridge is pretty full already…

You look through the shelves, the cases, trying to find what’s gone bad. It’s weird, it’s like the rotten smell just hits you at random times, you can’t seem to find where it’s coming from.

There’s a sudden warmth behind you, like a wall of muscle, as Toji leans over your shoulder, lazily scanning the fridge. He takes one sniff, then reaches deep past a couple jars of condiments and a stick of butter to pull out some cheese.

It’s a soft Havarti, sliced, and you can see the green creeping through it. Bleh.

Toji rolls his eyes as he opens the package up, “It’s cheese, you can eat around it – ”

Oh hell no. You snatch it back and toss it in the trash. The way he’s eyeing it fills you with incredulity.

“It’s not like – it’s not parmesan or whatever fancy cheese that gets mold on it. We can just get more next time.”

“Mmmhmm.” He nods.

He wouldn’t dig through your trash, right? Right??

“Seriously, thank you for picking it out. I was looking for whatever smelled so off.”

Toji was absolutely planning on digging through your trash. Hell if he’d let good food go to waste, but your house, your rules.

“Really? What are you, nose blind?” Beta, he remembers. Not a great sense of smell.

Toji’s always had a great nose. His shitty uncles would hide rotting food around the backyard, and if he was lucky, he could get to it before it was all eaten by bugs or animals.

His cousins would play with him sometimes. Bloodhound. He can still feel the makeshift collar and leash of rope wrapped around his neck. Promises of extra food or clothes if he hunted down a misplaced possession of theirs.

What a chump he was. Took him years to stop falling for it. Ancient history. He watches you shrug.

“Guess so.” Your hand comes up to him, and he doesn’t flinch, but the strike never lands.

Instead, he feels fingers, ruffling through his hair. Softer than usual, since you made him use your fancy shower crap. You have to reach up to get to his head, and you look silly, all stretched like that, but it feels like something in his chest is stretching alongside you.

“I appreciate it.” He almost whines when your hand goes away. “Thanks, Toji.”

That shitty name doesn’t sound so bad coming from your voice. “Anytime.” The words come out softer than he expected them to.

Toji watches for about five minutes while you get ready before he quietly stalks up to the stove and starts the heat on one of the pans. God, he loved some good bacon.

Was a good day when he could snatch some from the family breakfast, even if he got beat for it. Most of the women he stayed with weren’t really the cooking type.

You don’t seem that domestic, either, but with all the food in your fridge it’s obvious you’re trying. You give him a look while you whisk together some eggs, sugar – French toast, he thinks.

“I can get the bacon,” He mutters, waiting for the pan to heat up so he can start laying strips down. “You take the other side.”

“Oh. Oh, sure!” You brighten, smiling at him – what, you’re feeding him for free, but you’re happy he’s helping?

You’re a good person, he supposes. Really good, down to the core, in a way none of those Zenin fucks ever were.

The normal, upstanding sort who went to their jobs and lived their lives without ever knowing what omega brothels were or how alphas were treated as expendable muscle.

You live in a completely different world, one that has barely, briefly intersected his. But he’ll greedily gulp down every breath of fresh air he can get here, even if that means ruining it. Not like he’s ever done anything else.

It’s funny, living with you. The funniest part is that it doesn’t seem to stop. It takes him some time to realize that you really meant what you said – as long as you need.

What a chump. A bleeding heart. He’s chomping at the bit to eat it all up.

He learns that you’re a teacher – a professor – at a nearby community college. The pay can’t be that good but the hours are easy, and you don’t need a car – you’re living in some nearby campus-sponsored housing as a part of your employment package. There’s grocery stores close enough to walk to, and a bus for when you need it.

You teach math, or some other nerdy shit. It’s hard not to zone out when you start explaining in depth, especially since you get that excited look in your eyes, and your voice just flows out of you like you’re on a roll.

Before you leave for classes you make yourself a coffee, and you make him one, too. It’s funny, having someone hand him a warm drink without him paying for it first. Funny, seeing you smile and say good morning at the start of the day.

Usually he tried to slink around, stay out of sight unless he knew he could turn things into sex, but you’re not expecting that so he just… lingers.

He used to peek through cracked doors or barely high enough windows to watch TV. Darting out of the way whenever someone glanced outside.

They locked him out, sometimes, like an unruly dog. Can’t have some ugly alpha mutt dirtying their doorways, pissing on the carpet or some shit.

Now, you hand him the remote and show him the channels before you leave.

He watches whatever, until you come home and he bears through your dumb TV shows (Sorcerers? Cursed spirits? Who watches this shit?) and nags you afterwards about your favorite characters, jokes and laughs about them and the plot.

So he catches up when you’re at work, too, just so he can tell you how dumb this Satoru dude is.

God, the guy’s hair is so stupid. And he’s got next to no fashion sense, Toji can already tell (never mind that he is not, by any stretch of the imagination, a stylish man). What a damn tool. Why the hell do you like this stupid beanpole so much?

He tries not to think about why your preferences bother him so much. No use thinking about stuff he can’t change.

The kids are fun, though. Megumi’s smart, even if he’s a bit rough around the edges, Yuji’s too nice for his own good, Nobara is a riot. The Sukuna guy looks like he’s gonna be a blast.

Maybe the show isn't completely irredeemable. You don’t seem to mind his slander of one of your favorite characters, giggling, teasing him, arguing playfully.

It’s fun. It’s fun, and weird, the kind of conversation he’s never had before. Mostly he flirts with women – he does with you, but you brush it off or it flies right over your head – and half-threatens guys. Or he rolls over like a dog to get what he wants.

Doesn’t get to tease people much unless he’s planning on killing them, so it’s a nice change of pace.

He hasn’t gotten his ass handed to him since before you took him in, too. Gets to eat three times a day, or more, even, when you remember to get snacks. He doesn’t ask you but when you see them start to go missing, you start to buy more, ask him what kind he likes best, and it makes him feel funny things.

Lots of things you do make him feel funny. The dumb smiles, for one. The warm meals and carefully made drinks, tea or coffee with cream but no sugar, even though you like yours half-diabetic.

You hate doing dishes, he learns, and quietly he starts picking it up himself. And there’s that smile you make, when you come back home, that look of delighted surprise on your face when the kitchen’s all clean. It’s painfully gratifying.

Same with the litter box for the stupid beast. You’re supposed to change it every day, but you sort of scrape by every other day – with his sensitive nose, he finds it easier to just scoop it every day.

He’s not even trying to help you. Barely sees why you don’t like to do it – Toji’s never minded getting his hands dirty.

He’s been filth his whole life. What’s a little more? This was pristine, compared to sleeping out in the dirt. Compared to getting pissed on, having knives or garbage thrown at him, bruised and bloodied face rubbed in the floor while somebody held him down.

It goes on for so long he wonders if he’s going to lose his edge, starts doing laps around your apartment block. One day you casually hand him a card and ask him to come with you – you’ve gotten a household membership at a local gym.

You don’t visit as often as you should (your words, not his). But you must have noticed him, seen him.

He goes during the day, having nothing better to do, and knowing it’s best to stay in shape for whatever work he may be able to scrounge up someday. He goes to the gym and it’s as weird as living with you.

Punching things, lifting things, stretching and running without his muscles screaming in agony from start to finish, without adrenaline fueling his every motion.

He goes until he’s tired and other folks at the gym give him looks, but they don’t want to fuck him or beat him up. A couple guys glance at him and whoop when he does a deadlift, and he’s really not sure why.

But it’s fun. It’s worth his time. It feels fucking amazing after – he’s all tired out but in a good way, a nice soreness that goes down to his bones and makes him look forward to the hot meal waiting for him at home.

He’s started to cook some, too. Wordlessly helping out alongside you, and then silently prepping things while you’re out.

You hate doing dishes anyways, and it feels good to see how grateful you are to come home to food and a clean home. He doesn’t mind doing it. Doesn’t mind doing any of it, when you look at him like that.

There’s a bit of cleaning to do usually, thanks to some white furry bastard leaving his hair everywhere.

The fuckin cat. What’s with that stupid thing?

He’s never had a pet before, obviously, even scrapped with a few mutts on the streets sometimes digging through the trash.

Once or twice he’d fucked someone who had a pet, and usually it growled at him, if it didn’t cower or ignore him completely. Just alpha shit.

Catoru (god, was he named after that guy in the show?) has a fucking crush on him or some shit. Fucking weirdo.

He walks up to him, rubbing against his leg, purring and meowing to be pet. Likes to be held, too, chirps happily when Toji lifts him up. Lounging in his arms like a little prince-beast he is. Making a home of Toji’s lap whenever he’s on the couch, meowing indignantly whenever he so much a shifts.

The cat meows constantly when you’re gone and Toji wondered at first if you forgot to feed the damn nuisance. But no, you’d never do that to your BABY. Stupid cat.

(God damn. He’s jealous of the fucking cat.)

Nah, the thing is meowing for attention. Wants it bad. Wants his soft pretty fur to get pet, and doesn’t care if it’s some dirty alpha whore doing it.

Eh. Takes one to know one. You did say Catoru was an attention whore.

If he’s got a few treats on hand, if he indulges the stupid animal just to keep it from whining… well, whatever.

And then his rut is coming up. Not surprising, since he’s healthy again and fucking lives with you, all domestic-like and shit, like you’re his mate. If anything, he’s surprised it took this long.

Normally when he feels his rut coming up he just finds the first broad he can. He’s got a handsome enough face, a more than impressive form, all he needs is a warm and willing partner.

He doesn’t usually have a problem finding an adventurous beta lady all excited to take a big alpha cock – it’s what comes after that get dicey.

You can’t knot betas, even in the midst of his rut he’s not dumb enough to try it. But his dick is big and he’s been with enough women to know that’s not actually a good thing, at least, not the night after all the “fun”. And ruts last a few days.

His dick’s been bothering him for a while, too, even before his rut. You’re just so fucking hot all the time, so nice to him, so smiley and friendly and you laugh and make jokes with him and shit.

It’s just so easy. He thinks he should feel bad about it, about using you like this, but you’re so utterly unbothered he starts to wonder who’s really winning.

You’re so fucking smart, you and your classes and your routines and your crafts and hobbies and projects. You notice details and act all considerate and shit. Pet him on the head even though he’s taller. Makes him all gooey on the inside and shit.

Blue balls fucking suck when you’re an alpha, and the cock doesn’t help. It’s a disgusting thing, big and swollen and aching, something his cousins and uncles jeered at.

A humiliating handicap that sent him humping and rutting against things like an animal, helpless to do anything but whine and moan and maybe lash out when they tossed rocks or shit at him.

One of his younger cousins liked to kick him in the dick, and another thought of a fun little game where they tied a rope between his legs, and, well –

Shit’s in the past, now. His cock works fine, he’s lucky enough for that. Made him strong, in a way. All those hits, anything could put him on his ass, and he’d get right back up.

It taught him that no comfort was coming, no mate, no home, no warmth, he had to curl up and bear through it, find a way to fuck it out and to not to expect anything but malice on the way out.

It’s not like he’s ashamed of it.

Shame is for people who have the luxury of pride. Toji knows what he is, what he's good for.

But a deep, tiny, stupid part of him is quaking in fear at the thought of rejection. A larger part of him, the practical side, doesn’t want to piss you off and get tossed out.

It’s nice here, too nice, he’s got to keep it going as long as he can, even though he knows your endless patience will run out on him someday.

You’ll look at him and see him for the garbage he is. An alpha, a beast, a dirty animal you’ve taken into your home and fed and pampered until he wouldn’t go away anymore. Garbage to toss out on the street, where he belongs.

One day even the image of you smiling at him will be a distant memory of the days when he had it good.

Toji’s gonna lose his fucking mind at this rate.

It’s not like he’s ugly. He knows he’s not ugly. He could accept maybe that he’s not your type, but from the way you have to avert your gaze whenever he walks around post-shower with a towel around his waist, you’re not at all indifferent to his body.

So why the hell won’t you fuck him?

He’s made it pretty obvious that he’s available. Not shy in his body at all. He’s grateful to you, always obedient, never denying any of your request. He’s an alpha, and you know that, you must know that, what he’s good for.

You won’t even ask. Won’t make any kind of mood, send out any signal.

He starts to wonder if you’ve got a partner waiting for you somewhere after all, just far away, and something terrible twists in his chest.

But he’s never had any patience for mixed signals. And this is going to happen no matter what he does, so he might as well say it.

“I’m going into rut,” He says, just to put it out there.

Right away, he sees your body language, little scent indicators that even betas give off. Flustered. Aroused?

“Oh – oh, well. Is there anything I can do to help? To make it easier, I mean…” You trail off, but he doesn’t give you time to be mortified by your own words.

“Unless you want to have sex with me, not much. Just let me get some food and water to wait it out in my bedroom with.”

Honestly, more than he was used to back at the compound. Nothing beat a good fuck, though. And it doesn’t help that you’re pretty attractive, too.

“Oh. Uhm.” He holds back a chuckle at your expression. Too cute. “I – I thought alphas and betas couldn’t really…”

“Oh yeah, you can’t knot a beta,” Toji shrugs, “But having someone with you is the most important part. None of the other betas I fucked have complained.” He was good for one thing, at least.

You look like you want to sink into the ground. “Do you – do you have someone – ”

He raises a brow at you, “If I did, they were a pretty shit partner, yeah? You were the one who dragged me out of that alley.”

“Well, that was just – ” You pause, and god, what he would do to find out what was going on in that little head of yours, “Basic compassion, you know?”

This time, he does laugh. “For an alpha?”

“Well, yeah! You’re human too, right?” You both know that’s not how it works. “And – and still. It’s not like you would have died, right? I was just helping you out.”

He gives you a wry smile. “Right. Anyways, there’s no one else. You’re all I’ve got.”

Oh, he knows what he’s saying. What he’s doing. He’s done it a million times before, but he’s never quite wanted it to work this bad.

Usually women fuck him and then they pity him. You haven’t fucked him yet, and you’re pitying him more than anyone ever has in his entire life.

A better man might be bothered by that. Toji? He can’t get enough.

Watching you stumble for words and stammer and avoid his gaze like prey. It strokes every last instinct he has and then some. He swears he can hear your heart racing, and his knot is starting to pulse in time with it.

There’s a whiff in the air. Tickling his senses. You’re a beta, and it’s faint, but he grins to himself over your stammered answer.

Jackpot.

You’re not as shy as he thought you’d be, is his first thought, when he takes you to bed.

You’re smaller than him – most people are – and delicate, breakable, he’s got to be careful. Normally he tries to feel a woman out, see if they like it hard and fast and he can go rough, but somehow, for all his desperate urges, his alpha instincts lock him up when he’s looking down at you.

It’s weird, how strong it is. How compelling. How much he wants to go along with it.

He’s got to do right by you. Treat you nice, make you feel good. Can’t fuck this up when it’s the very first time.

There’s a reason alphas are stereotyped as aggressive, and it’s biting at him now, pulsing in between his legs so painfully he thinks he could die, but Toji’s been on the verge of death before and that doesn’t scare him.

You looking at him with fear in your eyes? Flinching away or crying out? That’s fucking terrifying.

So he kisses you on the lips, works his hands down your body, against your shoulders like a massage. Enough that he can touch you hard but still be tender, still be good to you like every fiber of his being is screaming for him to be.

He’s never been this gentle in his life. Toji is all muscle, all lean performance like a panther, built to kill, but he’s so careful with you, touches ghosting along your skin until you’re humming and pressing back into him.

Taking a large, calloused hand in your own and bracing it over your breast with a bashful look.

And shit, when has he ever laughed during sex? You whine back at him, meeting his eyes as he squeezes and nips – not even hard enough to leave a mark – and something deep inside him trills at how it makes you squirm. How it makes you smell.

He kisses you again. God, he could kiss you forever. The taste of your tongue on his is the best thing he’s ever tried –

But he knows, when he spreads your legs, it’s about to be the second best.

Your hands bury themselves in hair that’s now soft and well-conditioned.

He feels like a beast, licking between your legs, drinking in your moans and wails as he laves over your clit. He feels like he could devour you forever and not be full. Like he’s going to start drooling any time he ever smells you.

A trained dog, with you clasping his hair like a short leash that he never wants you to let go of. You took him in, you fed him and kept him and cared for him, and now he’s yours.

Since he’s yours, you have to have him. It’s only right, only fair.

He makes you cum once on his tongue, then he fingers you, spreading you open with care and diligence, like any loyal hound would.

Your cunt is the purpose of his existence, the vessel for the knot that throbs agonizingly between his legs, and his pain is the evidence of his complete and utter devotion.

When you cum around four of his fingers, he pulls himself up to rub his cock against you. Spreading your slickness carefully along him. You’re not an omega, but he’s made you wet, his spit and your cum slick against him as he spreads it on himself.

Toji doesn’t think he’d mind being your dog. The thought comes to him as he buries himself deep inside you.

It feels like nothing he’s ever had before, like he’s melting, like the whole world disintegrates until all he’s got left is the wet heat of your cunt sucking him it.

He’d gladly be on collar and leash for you. Be your bloodhound, hunt down anything you wanted. Kill, bite, attack, heel.

He’d learn all your commands and jump to obey them like a trained animal. As long as you’d have him. As long as you’ll let him in.

His knot pulses and throbs just outside your entrance. He doesn’t mind if you can’t let him, in, if you never do, as long as he gets to feel this warmth.

Your arms reaching around him, holding him against you. Little noises you make while he drives into you with religious precision, hitting the best spot. Reaching with his thumb to rub over your clit. Kissing your lips, your cheek, your neck as you babble and moan when you get close.

He cums when you do. Nothing feels better than knowing he made you feel good. Every fiber of his body – muscled, powerful, built to rip and crush, kill and fuck – it trembles at the sight of you. Shivering at a bone-deep pleasure that dissipates throughout his entire form.

Alpha instincts scream at him to dig his teeth into your neck. Soft, unmarked, bared for him. It sings to him. He’s never wanted anything more.

But you’re a beta, and it would hurt you. So he lays kisses where he wants to bite. Suckles gently while you laugh at how it tickles, and smiles and kisses your lips like he can devour the sound of your joy, eat it, keep it inside himself like a light that never goes out.

You hold onto him, too. Like he’s something precious, like you want him here with you. He falls asleep like that, half-buried inside you, head buried between your breasts. He’s bigger than you, but he buries himself inside you, hides away in this cavern of warmth and softness like nothing he’s ever known.

He waits for you to pull away, but you don’t. You never do. He wakes up with you still against him, still snuggling up – the annoying bastard of a cat curled up at both your feet.

Maybe… Toji knows he’s living garbage, disposable, good for a fight or a fuck and then to be thrown away.

But he’d been good to you, hadn’t he? You liked him, for some reason he can’t understand.

Maybe – maybe if he can do just this one part good enough –

Maybe you’ll keep him, anyways.

#jjk #jjk toji #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji fushigro x reader #omegaverse #alpha!toji #beta!reader #omegaverse au #lemon #toji smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut

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buddierecs · 3 months

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amnesia buddie fics

this list has different rated fics, so please look at the rating make sure to kudos/comment on these amazing works :)

i'll feel you forget me like i used to feel you breathe by: turningthepages "just another hollywood amnesia story the fandom probably didn't need but lived in my head rent free for too long." word count: 128k rating: mature important tags: married!buddie, car accidents, hurt/comfort, family feels, insecure!evan buckley, future fic buy back the secrets by: allyasavedtheday "after getting hurt on a call, buck wakes up thinking it's 2018. aka buck can't remember who eddie is but he's pretty sure everyone's lying when they say they're "just friends." word count: 18k rating: teen and up important tags: hurt/comfort, oblivious!eddie diaz, friends to lovers, love confessions you've got the antidote by: hattalove "in which buck is a little high, and shirts are difficult." word count: 4.2k rating: teen and up important tags: anaesthesia, pining, fluff, getting together i think i belong to you (hope you feel the same) by: ran "the one where eddie wakes up from the shooting only to think he was hurt in a certain 7.1 earthquake years prior and learns to appreciate the life he's created for himself since then." word count: 41k rating: teen and up important tags: ptsd, therapy, falling in love, hurt/comfort, angst, love confessions, post-shooting (s4e14) house of forgotten memories by: not1_2write "eddie decides to take a risk. he's a grown man. he can ask Buck out on a date. what could possibly go wrong? three weeks later, clutching a comatose buck's hand and waiting for him to wake up from a traumatic brain injury, eddie gets his answer." word count: 35k rating: teen and up important tags: coma, hurt/comfort, angst, hurt!evan buckley, team as family, getting together, family feels, whump, mutual pining forget-me-nots by: withmeornotatall "eddie wakes up from the ambush, not in the deserts of afghanistan, but the deserts of los angeles and finds out he's missing eight years of his life. somehow, that's worse than falling from the sky and three gunshot wounds." word count: 13k rating: general audience important tags: established relationship, hurt/comfort, internalised homophobia, fluff, angst, team as family what do i say (to make me exist?) by: cuddlyobrien "buck gets hurt at chim & maddie’s wedding, earning some temporary amnesia and thinks he was marrying eddie. the doctor advises they let him believe it. eddie is stressed from day one" word count: 27k rating: explicit important tags: fake dating, mutual pining, post season 6, anal sex, blow jobs, riding come back to me by: jayjay__884 "an accident at the job lands buck in hospital after falling through a 4-story building. his loved ones are by his bedside when buck is placed in an induced coma to help his recovery in hopes he will eventually wake up." word count: 191k rating: explicit important tags: married!buddie, soft!buddie, hurt/comfort, fluff, eventual smut, coma, falling in love, parenthood something that i missed by: foxwatson "the one where buck and eddie get together the night before a shift - and the next day, an accident erases eddie's memory of the last 24 hours." word count: 8.5k rating: teen and up important tags: idiots to lovers, angst, getting together, first kiss your memories feels like home to me by: goforeddie "in which eddie loses about eight year of his life and things are… heavily different than he last remember." word count: 29k rating: mature important tags: married!buddie, angst, girl dads!buddie, fluff, eventual smut remember to remember me by: daffi_990_ao3 "buck and eddie finally get together only for lightning to strike a few days later, leaving buck with no memories of them ever becoming a couple." word count: 31k rating: explicit important tags: getting together, fluff, emotional hurt/comfort, angst, boys in love, anal sex, blow jobs, riding, dirty talk

#buck x eddie #buck x eddie fic #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie fic #911 abc #911 show #911 fandom #buddie fics #buddie fic rec #911 fic rec #evan buck buckley #buck x eddie fanfics #buck x eddie smut #buddie recommendations #buddie smut #buddie recs

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sinisterexaggerator · 4 months

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Hancock x F!Reader [ A03 ]

Summary: You are important to John Hancock; there is a radstorm brewing. As a skilled and reformed scavver, you’re after a part for a decommissioned lounger—it belongs to Doc Amari’s famed Memory Den.

Hancock's tense; he should have gone with you, but it’s not too late to search you out. He would be glad to have you home safe in his arms, only things don’t always go as planned, nor do you go unpunished for your negligence.

Explicit: NSFW / 18+ for PWP, PiV sex, fingering, cunnilingus, dirty talk, whump / hurt and comfort, angst, gun violence, light bondage, praise, light sub/dom undertones, edging, use of chems, alcohol, foul language, and canon-typical violence and behavior. Other worthy mentions include fluff, romance, a worried and protective Hancock, and love confessions.

Notes: I am normally a Star Wars writer. This is my first time writing for Hancock, and my first fic for the Fallout fandom. I see Hancock as multifaceted, which I am having fun exploring. I have many ideas, but one fic can only contain so much! I used a few lines of dialogue from the game because they stuck with me T__T. I will also most likely try my hand at Nick Valentine at some point, (and maybe even Coop), but this ghoul stole my heart.

6.8k+

Feedback appreciated. Like? Reblog! <3 Requests accepted!

Eyes as black as tar pits searched the ground at his feet, though no answers would present themselves, the cold, grimy filth of the Commonwealth something he could relate to on an atomic level. Flecks of barren soil and bits of detritus vaulted upward in a stagnate aggregate of dust, cavalier leather boots—having seen better days—leaving a swirl of varied particulates in their wake.

Hancock paced, the Mayor of Goodneighbor impatient as a hungry mole rat, the man left to stalk before the door that led to the Financial District. A dreary, dark green pall signaled to anyone with brains that there was a storm looming on the horizon, and yet you had not returned.

“Where the hell is she?” a raspy voice asked its sparse audience, two ghouls dedicated to his cause doubling as bodyguards, though if he felt safe anywhere, it was here among his brethren. Besides, it wasn’t his safety he was worried about, it was yours, and he wasn’t afraid to convey his feelings to the whole of town.

“Startin’ to get antsy. Gotta hand it to her, she’s got me sweatin’ like a whore in church over this. Hope she’s havin’ fun at my expense.”

Scavenging was lucrative, or it could be if you managed to score the right loot. You had to know where to look, or where not to look; danger was always in the cards. It was a game Hancock didn’t like to play, and especially not now, not when lightning streaked the sky, rain clouds pregnant with radiation threatening to burst open like a feral’s head looking down the muzzle of a sawed-off shotgun.

He knew what it was like to be forced to scour the bare bones of buildings, filching anything that was ripe for the picking. A single find could feed a man for weeks, and places like Goodneighbor just didn’t just build themselves. People needed things. Lucky for them, Hancock was able to provide. It was his one claim to fame—his rep was solid—but he didn’t look down on you for being one to scout for buried treasure.

“She’ll turn up,” one of his companions offered. It was a piteous attempt to console him, Hancock all but ignoring his dismissive comment. He felt his concern was obvious, yet his bedfellows were none of their business. Either way, he brushed it off like a decent man instead of snapping like he wanted to—the guy’d done nothing wrong.

Thunderclaps echoed through town, the first of many droplets pelting his marred face, the ghoul’s faithful tricorn not doing much in the way of shielding him from the dirtied water that had begun to trickle down onto its weathered surface.

He rued allowing you to go out on this wild-mongrel chase to begin with, not to say that you weren’t capable. What he might say is that you’re too good for this world, too good for him, but that hadn’t stopped him from falling head over heels.

You weren’t anti-social like most of your kind; you had a good heart, gave paying customers fair deals, and somehow you had kept the ruins from tarnishing your cheerful outlook; you sported a chipper disposition even at the worst of times.

In other words, you were his little ray of sunshine; Hancock had no qualms with telling you that to your face. And things as precious as you were to him? They needed protecting. It was becoming more obvious by the minute that he should have done the job himself.

“If this is her definition of ‘fast,’ we’re going to need to have a little chat to clear a few things up. Should have fucking gone with her, don’t know what I was thinking,” fried vocal cords scratched out, words tinged with worry as he made his way to the reinforced slab of steel that was Goodneighbor’s single entry point, not counting the alley behind Rexford.

“Maybe you weren’t thinkin’ at all, John…” that little voice inside his head nagged at him, reminding himself at every turn of the ways he’d failed, this on the verge of being one of them.

“Want us to look?” the other rejoined, aware you had been sent out on a job to find a replacement circuit board for Doctor Amari, as one of the memory lounger’s had been marked out of service. The doc would pay you well; everyone’s gotta eke a living somehow. Hers was made by sellin’ a man’s own memories back to him, and yours was made by sellin’ spare parts.

Didn’t mean he couldn’t have skipped out on his Mayoral duties for one evening, Hancock mentally scolding himself, his sentiments leading him toward the need to kick his own ass.

Quick, adept and clever, he had no doubt you could pull it off, but you were used to traveling in a group, used to back up and a lookout. You had willingly ditched your crew and settled here for him, making Goodneighbor more or less your permanent home. He couldn’t help but feel like he was ultimately responsible for you and your well-being—so far, so good. He’d be damned if anything happened to you on his watch.

The coming radstorm was starting to sound like a stampede of angry Brahmin. Not even those of his ilk should be out in this mess. Technically immortal, sure, but not immune to accumulating all that bad stuff brewing in the atmosphere; he was comfy right where he was, but not without his lady by his side.

Their self-elected leader ignored the question, reaching into the confines of his red frock coat to unveil the firepower hidden just out of sight. His break-action, double-barreled 12-gauge had most of its stock removed for easy concealment; he knew better than to step foot outside Goodneighbor without packing heat.

“No, you might say this is a personal problem. Not to say she wouldn’t make a damn fine Ghoul,” he stated with deadly calm, kicking the door open with reckless abandon despite his unflappable demeanor, not caring what awaited him on the other side.

“I’m going with you, ain’t safe,” words spoken over harsh winds, a breeze not in the least bit refreshing having descended upon the Commonwealth as Hancock slipped out into the mounting tumult, both men following close behind. Truthfully, he was grateful for their loyalty.

“Suit yourself, but don’t go gettin’ yourself killed. Would defeat the purpose of a search and rescue, ya feel me?”

A question not needing a response, he ventured forward, running headfirst into the growing tempest, chaos reigning overhead in the form of a blinding light show.

Hancock called out for you, yelling your name over the deafening commotion that was going to get worse before it got better, not about to go home empty-handed, even if it took the whole damn rest of the night. He hoped you were smart enough to know when to quit, or that you’d taken those Mentats he’d stuffed in your pocket on the way out.

“Get back here, scavver!”

Footfalls echoed in the dark, brisk in pace, inky, depthless eyes narrowing as the ghoul searched out the source. He had taken no more than half a dozen steps before he was forced to witness you at a full-fledged run, two burly raiders belting out insults and expletives hot on your trail.

It all seemed to happen in slow motion, but he was stone-cold sober, time standing still as you dove into Hancock’s open arms.

“There’s my girl,” the scoundrel purred into your ear, sinewy limbs enshrouding you as the sound of gunfire and discarded ammo casings nearly went unnoticed. Hancock let his own weapon fall to the ground to accommodate you, your pursuers dispatched like the trash they were. The members of the Neighborhood Watch who had accompanied him outside the walls made short work of both men; they deserved a drink and some chems on his dime.

“John,” you breathed out, smiling up at him, eyes sparkling with mirth as you held up that piece of scrap you were so proud of. His name off your tongue was musical, a warm sensation spreading through him like wildfire, better than drugs—it was a high he would never come down from.

“I—I got the part,” you spoke softly, your tepid breath tickling the remnants of a disfigured ear.

Hancock almost shivered.

But oh, no. He wasn’t about to let you off that easy, not when he’d felt that pang of anxiety and the sickening feeling in his gut like someone had shanked him with his own knife. He held you back by the shoulders, breaking your embrace, his face taking on a displeased, stern shade.

“What’s wrong with you, huh? Makin' me all kinds of nervous. Scarin’ me half to death. And some might say I don’t look too far off.” He breathed in nice and slow, exhaling through exposed nasal cavities, Hancock emitting a sigh to emphasize his disappointment. “Can’t be doin’ things like that, or you’re liable to give this old ghoul a—”

“—Sunshine?” His heart sank, as if the universe was out to prove he had every right to worry, Hancock’s attention inexplicably drawn to the red staining your fingers—it neared the color of his coat. You only now seemed to notice, that radiant light swept from your beaming face as you acknowledged the presence of your own blood on your hands; no wonder it had been so hard to take those last few steps.

“I didn’t mean to,” you whispered, eyes blown wide as you apologized for upsetting him. You would collapse into a heap, the adrenaline that had carried you home seeming to dissipate all at once—at least your fight-or-flight response had done its duty.

---

“Move over, out of the way. I ain’t askin’ twice,” Hancock seethed, the distraught man’s threat to bowl over anyone who stood in his way not to be taken lightly, though his tone was traitorously even and his despondency well-masked. He stormed the Old State House, ascending the spiral staircase to the second floor, carrying your limp body to a tattered red couch.

Refuse and empty Jet inhalers, along with half-drunk bottles of alcohol and boxes of Mentats, were all swept aside, Hancock throwing open cabinet doors and dislodging drawers in his haste.

“Oh, you’re really in it now, aren’t you, sister? Just had to make a few extra caps!” he chided, the ghoul’s husky voice rising in volume as he took to another part of the room.

Having not yet succumbed to blood loss, you were barely cognizant as you fought to stay awake, your beloved Mayor nothing more than a blur of motion and splotches of red as he systematically searched every nook and cranny for the syringe that would save your life.

“Hang on, dollface, you’re not dying today. Not if I have anything to say about it—and you know how much I love to run my mouth.” Hancock spoke to reassure you and himself, filling the silence with something other than the curses he wanted to dish out every which way to the wind. You couldn’t help but to smile again despite your predicament, eyelids drooping as you thought about the idea of sleep.

“There you are,” he growled, your vision starting to glaze over, though you were aware Hancock had come back to your side. His scarred, yet deceptively handsome face hovered inches above your own; it was an acquired taste you had no trouble in accepting.

“This is gonna hurt, but it’s better than the alternative,” he provided in short warning, withered fingers fumbling to unbutton your top, exposing first your sternum, your ribs, and then your belly.

“Shit, they got you good,” Hancock grumbled, your hand rising to cradle his jaw as he had peeled back the flaps of fabric to inspect the wound in your side. You were surprisingly calm, thinking that if today was your last day on Earth, at least you had been blessed to experience his company.

“I’m glad it’s you here with me,” your voice, meek and mild, declared. Hancock hesitated for one precious second, caught off guard, but pleasantly so.

“Don’t go gettin’ sentimental on me! Ain’t like these are your final moments or nothin’,” he assured, an audible tremble causing his words to waver, voice rising in pitch. He went on to stab you without ceremony, the needlepoint of a stimpak and its revitalizing medicine at once injecting itself into your damaged flesh and pulsing through your bloodstream.

You moaned in pain, hips arching as you lifted slightly up off the cushions before you settled once more, allowing yourself to finally relax as Hancock watched the regenerative process take hold, much to his relief.

---

You awoke, finding yourself supine atop a mattress, with Hancock crossed legged on the floor beside you. He had brought it down from upstairs, wanting you to have somewhere more comfortable to recover; the drifters weren’t using it, but he was sure he could scrounge another one up should the need arise.

The door was shut, the rest of the room empty, the man teetering off the edge of a high he wished he could prolong; he had pumped himself full of all those things that made him feel better. Riddled with guilt, he had imbibed both chems and alcohol, his body slightly swaying from left to right as he could not sit entirely still, yet he was too far off in his own head to notice you had come back to him.

You shifted, realizing he had draped his frock across your body to act as a temporary blanket. This simple gesture caused a flutter behind sore ribs, biceps activating so that you might push up and rest on the flat of your palms.

John was idle, near-dead to the world, eyes closed as he kept up that gentle rocking, back and forth, as if lost in music or in deep meditation. You only desired to watch him, studying the intricate, striated patterns of his ravaged flesh, gazing over the hollow of his once human nose, and admiring his sullied, foppish tunic that was a part of his infamous ensemble.

While some might consider him a monster, he was a being of light. He had superficial, obvious flaws, but he was no more guilty of sin than anyone else in this day and age. He was a beautiful soul, inside and out, and your opinion was the only one that mattered to you. Hancock always tried to do the right thing—it’s what drew you to him—even if that meant taking out a few loose ends.

Your heart stirred, natural chemical processes taking hold that would prompt you to touch him, your hormones dictating that you wanted this man carnally.

The ghoul’s eyes bolted open as you shuffled forward on your behind; you set his coat aside almost reverently, folding your legs like his, knees brushing as you leaned forward to kiss his wiry lips. Soft flesh against textured skin, rough in comparison, felt no less wonderful, Hancock groaning out a throaty sound of appreciation as he slowly shut his eyes again.

That was all the encouragement you needed, pressing closer, crawling onto Hancock’s lap as his hands found the meat of your ass to give it a squeeze. “Someone’s feelin’ better…” he quipped, allowing himself to lie back on the floor. His smile was lackadaisical and content, his touch roving to your thighs as he gazed up at you, noting you were tugging off your already unbuttoned top to reveal your shapely breasts.

“How’d a guy like me get so damn lucky…” he drawled, Hancock’s normally assertive way of speaking temporarily replaced by a calming cadence—it was dreamy—his indolent tone arousing your most base instincts.

You didn’t answer at first, thinking you’re the one who’s lucky. You had wanted and needed a change of pace, not happy with the way your business partners were operating, willing to bring death to others in order to get what scrap they could. You only took things from the ruins, or from those who deserved to be robbed, the idea of senseless violence proliferating thanks to people like your ragtag group something you decided you couldn’t live with.

You’d come to Goodneighbor looking for work; Hancock had been willing to give you a chance, and you didn’t disappoint. After a few heady conversations and risqué flirtations at the Third Rail, you had wound up in his arms—a place you found yourself never wanting to leave.

“I could ask you the same question,” you finally muttered, grazing his mouth, kisses repeating, small pecks placed from one side to the other in a physical show of adoration. The ghoul laughed a wry, salacious little laugh, head turning to allow for this impromptu bout of affection, stretching one arm out behind his head to act as a pillow as he relished the attention.

Then, his smile faded, the chem’s effects lingering like background radiation, less intense than before—the high lasted mere minutes if that, his faculties gradually returning. The hand left free gingerly touched your side, just below where he had administered the stimpak hours earlier. Concern was apparent in glistening eyes, so dark and lovely, starry pupils reflecting the faint luminescence of his surroundings.

“Not lettin’ you out of my sight again,” he promised, every shred of levity fleeing to be replaced by austerity, low, somber notes causing a visceral reaction as the onset of something warm and fuzzy spread throughout your core.

“Bein’ out here with me? Means you don’t gotta work, but I should have had your back, sunshine. Ain’t got no excuse.”

“You can have me on my back,” you playfully retorted, the simple suggestion unleashing a purr from the bowels of the ghoul’s throat. The idea of being a kept woman pleased you, but you were more interested in pleasing him.

“You better watch your mouth, or I can’t be held responsible for all those things I’m going to do to you,” Hancock countered. He talked big game, but he was still feelin’ shook. He didn’t want to risk getting too frisky on the off chance your body needed more time to heal; you were only human, after all.

“I’m shaking in my boots,” you simpered. Hancock was quick to snark back.

“I know that’s a lie, ‘cause you’re not wearing any.”

You gasped as Hancock flipped you without warning, pinning both your wrists to either side of your head. He drank in the smooth, supple flesh of your curves, hungry eyes making damn sure to get their fill.

He couldn’t stop himself, exploring the swell of a perfect tit, Hancock’s mouth becoming newly acquainted with the sensitive flesh of your nipple. He flicked its pert tip with the point of his tongue; you brazenly rolled your hips as you tried to contain the lewd sound that threatened to escape you.

“I double dog dare you, ” you tempted, not in the least bit afraid of what he might have in store.

Hancock didn’t take the bait.

“Don’t want to hurt you, love, but let’s say I give it to you nice and slow… Or as slow as I can give it; hard to keep promises, lookin’ the way you do,” he argued, ruined lips applying pressure as he began to suck, his growing erection gently grinding into the meat of your thigh.

“You won’t hurt me.” You shuddered as he pulled back, gazing into murky, otherworldly eyes, their glow hypnotizing. You half-assed a struggle, wanting to pull your hands free if only to touch him, Hancock chuckling mildly at your efforts.

“Don’t be so sure, ‘cause I got a hankerin’ for human,” his voice dropped emphatically lower, toying with you, his dire inflection sending tingles down your spine. Coming from a ghoul, most people would run the other way, but you knew from experience, Hancock had a twisted sense of humor—it was something you loved about him.

“Eat me,” you jeered, snapping your teeth playfully like some creature that roamed the wasteland, Hancock pulling his head back just enough to satisfy you, as if he had a nose to bite off to begin with.

“That’s the plan, sister,” he snickered, finally releasing his grip on your arms.

You took the opportunity to take hold of Hancock’s already tousled vest, guiding him down to meet your lips. Your fingers busied themselves with its unbuttoning as the ghoul had his hands full, cradling the plump, healthy tissue of your blushing cheeks in the crooks of his palms.

Hancock fed a grating moan into your mouth before asking a pointless question he already knew the answer to, not one to miss out on a chance to have his ego stroked. “Somethin’ about me.. turnin' you on? Don’t know why you’d go for this ugly mug,” he conceded, fishing for a compliment.

“You. You turn me on,” you whined plaintively, “everything about you,” you confessed, furling your tongue around his, willing him to shut his trap long enough for you to kiss him properly. He aided in the undressing, whipping his sash off in one fell swoop, an idea blossoming only to come into fruition shortly thereafter.

“That why you’re actin’ so desperate for me?” Hancock laced that bit of ragged flag around both your wrists, constricting them once more, his own arm extending to tauten its hold. He wouldn’t give you the chance to kiss him the way you wanted to, cinching its loose ends around the legs of the coffee table just behind your head, giving it a good tug to make sure you couldn’t break free.

In reality, it would have been easy to wiggle loose, but he knew you were the type to play along.

“What are you doing?” you asked, feigning alarm. The ghoul only grinned a shit-eating grin, crawling backward across your lap to adjust to a better position for his next course of action.

“Makin’ sure you can’t skip out on me,” he said matter of fact, a mischievous lilt to his voice, “gonna have to punish you for all that worryin’ you made me do.”

“But, Hancock—” you protested, realizing he was barring you from the one thing you wanted—full access to his person, unable to grope and caress all those parts of him you were so eager to touch and kiss.

“—Hmm?” he hummed, the bastard having the nerve to stand. He left you in a recumbent position with hands tied, unable to do anything but gaze up at the seductive set of motions he was now subjecting you to.

The ghoul painstakingly unfastened the remainder of his buttons, wizened digits fondling each in turn, his manner suggesting something that for now would remain unspoken. Then, Hancock shrugged his vest off, allowing his arms to hang as the garment dropped silkily to the floor. It was followed by a festooned shirt, leaving the man bare chested and amused; he wasn’t sure you had blinked even once.

“Like what you see?” he asked lazily, tracing a line across his gaunt pecs toward his navel with the curl of a finger, black eyes glinting impishly at the sight of you jostling your wrists as you failed to liberate yourself.

“Yes,” you breathed out shamelessly, unable to deny the effect his little striptease had on you. This in and of itself was torture, finding his brand of punishment entirely unfair.

“Good,” Hancock crooned, doing the unthinkable as he vanished from view. He even went so far as to walk beyond your peripheral vision. Instead, you were reduced to listening out for him, the ghoul shuffling around somewhere behind you.

“John,” you whined, sitting up and scooting back against the coffee table the best you could. You endeavored to crane your neck, hearing the clink of glass preceding other innocuous sounds, the gentle thud of Hancock’s boots echoing across the rotting floorboards as he made his way back around.

“You can say my name all you want to, princess, but it ain’t gonna change a damn thing,” Hancock stressed, words clawing their way out of cracked pipes as he nudged your knees apart with his foot; he knelt between your legs, a dispenser of Jet in one hand, and a dose of Rad-X in the other. “Open wide,” he instructed.

You should have known what he’d been after, the drug-addicted ghoul popping the lone anti-radiation capsule inside his mouth after dispensing a heavy spray of the illicit substance into his lungs; its potency was limited in his case, but you were easily susceptible to its high.

You gratefully obeyed, wanting any excuse to be close to him, Hancock’s silver tongue molesting you as easily as it had persuaded you to listen. He deposited the pill into your mouth, kissing you deeply, your beloved Mayor giving you a shotgun of thick, odorous chems without so much as a single protest on your part.

Your heart thrummed, Jet leeching its way into your bloodstream to trigger a bodily response via your nervous system. In the meantime, you had almost forgotten to swallow your dose of Rad-X, Hancock prompting you by trailing the full length of your throat with a single, sallow finger.

He massaged it down, feeling for the activation of those muscles that would help ferry it along, his thoughts drifting to the memory of his cock once upon a time being slopped on by the wet whorl of your tongue. His prick had throbbed almost painfully, sequestered snugly inside your zealous gullet, the powerful suction of your hollow cheeks threatening to wrench his soul from his body, or it sure as hell had felt that way.

He was drawn back to the present moment by the look in your eyes, your pupils dilating to rival the circumference of dinner plates. You gazed at the man before you; Hancock pulled back the edge of your bottom lip, exposing your gumline, the ghoul snaking another of his fingers inside your partially open mouth.

The slender extremity would bypass your blunt teeth, saturating itself in your saliva. Even in this state, you had the wherewithal to pucker up, intaking that explorative digit to the knuckle, your plush maw behaving like a deluxe pre-war vacuum cleaner.

The ghoul shuddered, though keeping his cool intact, lost in the depths of your unwavering stare. He slowly slipped back out, releasing your lip for it to snap gently back into place, Hancock satisfied with the knowledge you had swallowed the pill.

“Look at you, bein’ such a good girl for me,” Hancock praised, speaking in a low, sultry whisper. You did not reply, your desire for the man at its all-time high, that warmth in your belly having spread to complement the unparalleled ache of your loins.

“Hancock,” you whimpered, once more tugging at the cloth that bound you. You felt delirious with longing, your heart racing as you saw stars, euphoria overtaking all of your senses. You pushed forward, halted partway by that fucking flag that had you fettered like some common criminal, too blazed to even think about squirming loose.

“Please,” you begged, lips reaching for his. Hancock evaded you, trailing a divot devoid of cartilage across your sateen cheek, directing it toward your lovely, intact nose.

“Please, what, sister?” he ruthlessly teased, watching as your tongue tried to skirt his teeth; its vertex barely met its goal. Still, Hancock would return the gesture with a sweep of his own, flitting his against yours, inhaling deeply the scent of Jet off your breath as he was suddenly consumed by an almost feral need to taste your neediness—it was nearly palpable.

“Please.. touch you? Please kiss you? Please.. fuck your pretty little hole?” he asked in a derisive tone, though his movements were languid, Hancock in no rush to oblige you, even as his veiny hands glided over every inch of your sleek skin.

“Is that what my little ray of sunshine wants?” the ghoul taunted, moving to unbutton the clasp at the top of your pants, then pinching the pull of your zipper, teeth parting to reveal clean cotton. You were nearly embarrassed by how damp your panties were, the chems only making your arousal ten times worse; Hancock wasn’t helping matters, a lecherous moan reaching your ears as the man slid back and realigned himself, bending forward to bury his face in the moist outline staining your skivvies.

“Shit, you’re so fucking wet—” he marveled breezily, “—is it all for me?” Hancock rasped, nipping you through the fabric, a desiccated finger tucking itself into its elastic hem. Hancock dragged it down just far enough to expose your sweet-smelling sex, the ghoul’s tongue slithering easily between slick folds.

You inhaled a disjointed gasp for breath, voice cracking as you cried out in ecstasy, Hancock having barely swiped your thrumming clit. That alone was almost too much, your hips bucking beneath him of their own volition as you pleaded with him to keep his promise.

“Don’t tease,” you sighed, naked breasts rising and falling with every labored breath. Hancock’s eyes traveled up your fine as fuck body before meeting your gaze, a twisted hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his ghoulish mouth.

“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” he snickered, fingers grasping the entirety of your waistband to help you shimmy off your bottom layer of clothes. Your hips wriggled all too desperately, overjoyed to finally be free of their constraints.

“But that’s not fair!” you entreated, unabashedly spreading your legs in the hopes of providing him a suitable meal, ready and willing to be devoured if you could only convince him to take the plunge.

“And why not?” he asked in all seriousness, nuzzling into the lush flesh of your labia as his silky tongue entombed itself, gathering your moist heat from its source. He dipped back out to your chagrin—you had inhaled sharply in preparation only to be left disappointed—Hancock licking a stripe to the cusp of your throbbing bud.

“Because I’ll die,” you replied, overexaggerating, writhing in bliss, albeit temporary; Hancock seemed out to drive you mad, retracting once more to glance back up at you, reedy lips downturned in a disapproving frown.

“No, you won’t,” he asserted, voice taking on a sobering, sincere quality; even if you were being hyperbolic, after the events that had just transpired, Hancock didn’t find it funny, resolving to dine on you good and proper, as if it would be the thing to save your life.

“I—” You were cut off mid-thought, lightning crashing thunderously outside, the ghoul introducing two coarse fingers into your clenching cunt as the radstorm raged on. Hancock’s neck sank low as you arched your hips, the flat of a thick tongue bringing you toward rapture as he succinctly lapped your clit in delicious combination, playing you like some Old World violin.

“Aren’t you glad you’re trapped in here with me instead of out there cookin’ alive?” Hancock asked offhand, digits curling to find the seat of your pleasure, warm, wet muscle dancing slow, precise circles across your sensitive nerves. You halfheartedly yanked at your bindings once more, wishing for nothing more than to ravish him like a woman starved, deprived of sustenance.

“Yes, yes— please, just like that,” you answered, urging him on, the man encouraged to keep at it, long, languorous strokes titillating you toward release.

Then, he simply stopped, fingers glossy upon exit, Hancock sucking your slick clean off with a scarecrow smile, tilting his head like a curious animal as you bemoaned your plight, left to suffer on the edge of an orgasm.

“Relax, I ain’t through with you yet,” Hancock remarked, lifting himself up to a seated position on his knees. You whined indignantly, made to watch as he unbuckled and unzipped his own pants.

The rogue stood completely, giving you another show, kicking one boot off after the other before slinking out of the rest of his clothes.

You took a moment to admire him, skin pockmarked with scars, deep pits of tissue missing where cells had inevitably healed all too quickly, John a mosaic of gnarled, misshapen flesh and keloid. Yet he was so handsome, charming, and cavalier, the man leaving nothing on but his tricornered hat, returning to his previous enterprise by way of interring his roiling tongue into your aching center.

“Oh, John,” you murmured, voice hushed, the man’s thumb working itself concentrically atop your little pearl.

For once, he was quiet, his strokes inside you meticulous, the nearly silent room filled with a plethora of obscene sounds as he feasted on you like a Yao guai over a fresh kill. Just a little attention was all it took, nails digging into the palms of your tied hands as you twisted beneath him, vocalizing loud enough you were sure the whole State House would hear.

A shiver rocked you to your core, riding out your climax for as long as you could stand it. You were unable to push Hancock’s head back even if you wanted to, the ghoul finding a new way to punish you, continuing to stimulate your already oversensitive clit.

“Hancock, please—” you begged him under different circumstances, the ball of your foot gingerly pushing against his blatant hard-on. The ghoul finally let up just enough to chortle dryly, obviously nonplussed.

“Done already? Thought we were just gettin’ this party started,” he flouted, sitting up properly, probing fingers caressing the curve of your slit as they trailed upward, ghosting over your navel to tweak your nipple. They didn’t stop there, reaching just behind you to nab a cigarette off the edge of the coffee table, your expression giving away your confusion as he struck a match to ignite the end.

“No, John— you’re supposed to fuck me!” you berated, another devious little chuckle let loose from wilted lips. The ghoul inhaled a deep drag of nicotine laced with radiation, though the amount contained therein was so trivial he didn’t bat a lash—not that he had any.

He gazed at you through a thin veil of smoke exuded from eroded nasal passages—a short burst of pressure from his lungs propelling it outward—a freakish sight to some, but you had grown accustomed to it.

“So, that is what you want,” Hancock digressed, snubbing the end of his cig on the floor after a few more laggard puffs. The Jet was wearing off, Hancock having already sobered completely, its side effects leaving you feeling used-up and exhausted. Hancock had forgotten what it felt like to come down from such an intense high; you pouted pathetically up at him.

“Baby,” you whined, immediately capturing Hancock's attention. He dropped the act, eyes softening around the edges, colorless voids somehow the most expressive you had ever seen them.

“What is it, sunshine? Feelin’ all right? Need somethin’ to take the edge off?” he asked gently, concern present in his tone, the ghoul finally being kind enough to reach over your head to free you from your bindings.

“I need you,” you implored, your speech sounding childishly irritable, tired, heavy arms lifting to wrap themselves around John’s neck; you couldn’t help yourself, having been prohibited from touching him for what felt like hours, when in reality it had only been a short length of time.

“I’m all yours,” Hancock vowed, whisking a stray strand of your hair away. A soft kiss was pressed into even softer lips; the man was two sides of the same coin, like night and day. Part of you prayed you would never cross him, his temper volatile, like an active volcano lying dormant until such a time the right conditions were met, inevitably causing an eruption.

But he was also kind, genuine, and a good person, only wanting to make the Commonwealth a better place; he held within him a righteous anger, and for good reason, determined to stick by him through thick and thin.

"Nice and slow?" you asked, bringing the conversation full circle, ushering the ghoul down on top of you as you laid back, gazing up with heavy-lidded eyes. He searched your face, as if double-checking for something, needing to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that nothing was wrong—you were only sulking.

“You got it, sister,” Hancock replied coyly, the fullness of a finger returning to you as he tested the waters; you were still so unbelievably wet. It was a stark contrast to the dry, desolate landscape that stretched for miles just beyond his little town, the ghoul humming in gratitude as you kissed him once again.

You wasted no time, slipping your hand between the depression of your bodies where hip meets hip, his weight a warm, inviting presence that comforted you like nothing else. Your fingers toyed with his variegated shaft, thumbing a bead of loosed pre-cum to moisten its tip; Hancock moaned lustfully as he buried himself deeper into the column of your throat, teeth raking tender flesh, barely withholding the intention to bite.

“I’m thinkin’ you must be the single best thing to ever happen to me,” Hancock confessed in a dulcet whisper, voice quavering with emotion as you carefully escorted his cock inside you, one delicious inch at a time. Jagged breaths found their way into your ear, distorted, ribbed flesh, more than adequate in length and girth, stretching you open, a subdued sound of longing and relief birthed from parted lips.

“I love you,” you blurted out, unable to keep your feelings at bay, any and all movements ceasing before they had wholly begun.

You had closed your eyes; they fluttered open, fear wheedling its way inside your heart as Hancock gazed at you in silence. You cursed yourself, having never before expressed such a sentiment out loud, unsure how the man would take it, or if he even felt remotely the same—all signs pointed to yes, but you refused to be presumptuous.

Then, he pushed up into your tight cunt with one slow, smooth stroke of his cock along your anterior walls, stimulating your G-spot. Pleasure radiated through you as you emitted a stilted breath, Hancock cradling your cheek, resting his forehead against yours to stare penetratingly into your eyes.

“Took you to be smarter than this, but I feel like I’ve been waiting my whole life to hear you say that,” he breathed against your lips, slipping a motile tongue into your mouth, wanting to desperately deepen your connection.

You readily accepted, your own tongue writhing and contracting in unison with his, heart beating fervently behind a wall of blood and bone. Your fingers clawed and grasped at his narrow shoulders and the tendinous flesh of his back, exploring every inch of your ghoulish lover, from head to jutting hipbone.

Hancock drove his cock into you, back and forth, keeping a steady, equal rhythm like the beat of a drum. “Why now?” he asked, voice tempered, each pump of his thick prick inside you unhurried and sensuous.

“Nearly dying may have had something to do with it,” you jested in-between indecent, muted moans, Hancock’s deliberate pace driving you toward orgasm. The arm not supporting his weight curled tightly around you. He clutched you to his chest, and you wrapped your thighs around his waif thin waist in return.

“Mmn.. that it?” Spindly fingers moved to grip the back of your head, digging into tufts of your hair; your back bowed to support you in joining with him more fully, Hancock massaging your scalp as he massaged your insides, debauch, rich sounds filling both your ears.

“And because I have nothing to lose,” you reluctantly answered, breath picking up speed as you pushed back against firm, rawboned pectorals with the palm of your hand; you had the intention of arranging yourself at just the right angle to please— a simple slant of your hips would make things all too easy.

Within moments, you came, pinpricks of light overwhelming your senses. You were elated, as if your consciousness had been overtaken by a nebulous cloud of love and electromagnetic radiation, a soul set adrift in a swirling haze of thoughts, feelings and emotions that would amalgamate into something beautiful—it caused you to cry out a sound of intense, heartfelt bliss.

Your mind went blank, only registering that John had simultaneously shared in the experience. It would take you both a moment to calm.

Then, you squeezed Hancock tightly between your legs, a signal for him to not withdraw, but to stay awhile, the tension in your body settling as you laid back down.

“That’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart.” Hancock would smother you with his scant weight, caressing the point of your chin, his thumb snaking across your bottom lip. He gave a faint exhalation of breath, the concave outline of his nasal cavity grazing the convex shape of your nose; it tickled.

“Nothing to lose but each other.”

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skyloftian-nutcase · 11 days

Text

After a month of Whump, it’s gonna be Fluff Time!!

Hello! This is Fluffvember, a month long event of pure fluff and comfort! This was originally an idea made by @/kjpurplepineapple, to follow a month of whump (whumptober) with a month of fluff, and I loved it so much I’ve just carried it on for the last two years. :) Figured I’d make some prompts so we could all have fun together.

RULES:

The prompts are listed in a numerical order, but they are not tied to any given day. Do whatever prompt on whatever day you like! If prompt #1 appeals to you but you don’t have time to get it done by November 1, do it any day of the month. :) You are also more than welcome to just stick to the order listed.

Writing/art can be pure unadulterated fluff, calm slice of life moments, easygoing reading… it can even be hurt/comfort! As long as the comfort heavily outweighs the hurt, all warm, fuzzy vibes are welcome. ❤️ The point of this event is to share nice vibes, both to our characters and each other. :)

You don’t have to tag me if you don’t want to, but it would be fun if you tag your writing/art with #fluffvember so I and others who want to indulge in comfort/fuzzy vibes can find it!

Without further ado, here are the prompts! Pick a theme/word prompts or a quote, or both!

Snow // “I’m stealing your blanket”

Blanket fort // “Come back to bed”

Nature walk // “I’m sorry, when did we step in paradise??”

Hot spring // “This hits the spot”

Apple picking // “Oh my gosh, you do not know how to cook”

Windy day // “Come closer, I can’t hear—ahhh too close, too close!”

Massage // “I didn’t know you could sing”

Bird watching // “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Homecoming // “I missed you”

Accommodating // “I’ve got you”

Teaching/learning // “It’s tradition”

Dog/cat/pet // “I can die happy now”

Friendly competition // “You’re going to love this”

In the rain // “Let me help you”

In the firelight/candlelight // “I love you”

Hug // “This isn’t a negotiation, friend”

Favorite book/story // “I wanted to share this with you”

Music // “I learned this from my parents”

Family time // “We’re very blessed”

Coming of age // “I’m so proud of you”

The Reluctant Softie // “UGH FINE I’LL DO IT”

Teddy bear/animal plushie // “Give [insert] a kiss for me”

Self care // “Thank you for believing in me”

Cuddle pile // “You’re not gonna let go, are you?”

Washing someone’s hair // “I can stay with you”

Infodumping // “I love hearing you talk about this”

Gift giving // “This made me think of you”

Inside joke // “I definitely missed something, didn’t I?”

Accidental acquisition // “Uh… whose kid is this?”

Cooking as a love language // “Do you like it?”

#Fluffvember #Fluffvember 2024 #writing #I hope y’all have fun with me :)#Even I probably won’t do all of them LOL let’s be real #BUT it’ll be fun! :D #Please reblog so those who are interested can see it :)

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imabeautifulbutterfly · 6 months

Note

Hello friend! I'm in love with your writing!!! 😍😍😍😍😍

Idk if your requests are still open but I'd like to request something if you don't mind!

I LOVED the hurt/comfort/whump fic you did for Hunter. Could you possibly do something like that for Tech x Reader?

Maybe Tech and the reader are on a mission together or maybe they've crash landed somewhere or something. The reader is badly hurt and Tech has to take care of her and treat her wounds and save her and comfort her in his own special Tech way 😂😍

Oh @arctrooper69 what can I say? I mean ... I think a thank you is just not enough. You have made my day with this request, so I took my time to give it the proper respect it deserves. I hope you like it. If it wasn't exactly what you were looking for I do apologize.

Please note that you are always welcome to send in requests. As this is a special request, it will be stored in my One Shots & Mini Series Master List.

The story got a little away from at 1400+ words, but I hope it's close to what you wanted.

And who doesn't love Tech. I love this adorable nerdy man.

Love oo,

His Promise

Warnings: Snow, injury, blood, explosions, crash, grief, fear, anxiety, hurt, fluff, near death, feelings of being a burden, getting in the way, I think that's it. If I miss any, please let me know.

Please note the explanation of Snow, Tech gives, was taken from the National Snow and Ice Data Centre.

AO3 Link | OS & MS Master List | Main Master List

The wind was picking up, as the snow piled down and was doing everything in its power to keep you and Tech from being rescued. You looked at the snow as it came down in sheets outside the entrance of the cavern he found, mesmerized by its beauty.

“It’s beautiful and so calming …” you said slowly, your body already weakened from your injury and loss of blood.

“What are you talking about?” Tech did his best not to let the slowness of your breathing or even the breathless way you were speaking affect him. His anxiety was already high, and his fear of losing you was nearing his breaking point.

“The snow…” you kept watching the soft flakes float down as they gently landed on the ground, piling on top of one another, almost as though they were unable to survive without the comfort of those around them.

Tech glanced up to see the blizzard which prevented you both from leaving. As he watched the speed of the wind, he calculated it would’ve been nearly impossible for Hunter to bring the ship close to them. As he looked at the used bandages already soaked through with your blood his fear only grew. You needed immediate medical attention, more than he could provide at the moment, or it would mean certain death for you to be out here any longer.

Frankly, he couldn’t stop picturing the way you lunged forward as the ship crashed. He was helpless to watch you, as your body fell forward against the console, as a piece of the console broke off and jabbed you in your abdomen. It all happened too fast and somehow in slow motion. He could still hear your scream piercing his ear as he pulled you off the console.

He tried to stop the bleeding right away, however when he went to look for the med kit, he realized only too late that it had fallen out of the shuttle when the engine and the side compartment blew. All he had left were his emergency bandages and gauze and they weren’t nearly enough.

At that moment, he couldn’t care less about how beautiful the snow was or how calming the blizzard looked from inside a cavern, that he only had to find because that piece of osik shuttle decided to have a fuel leak, catching on fire.

Within seconds he had needed to drag you out of the relatively warm and safe shelter you both had, grabbing what supplies he could before the ship blew up. Thankfully, he had been able to send a message to Hunter when the shuttle crashed initially. So it was only a matter of time before the Marauder showed up, but …

His eyes fell back to the bundle of used gauze, his anxiety climbing as he knew you needed more first aid than he could provide at the moment. You needed the Marauder, you needed his med kit that he carefully stocked and kept safe on board the Marauder. At this point in time, he didn’t care about any kriffing snow.

“Snow is an accumulation of packed ice crystals. The condition of the packed crystals determines a variety of attributes, such as colour, temperature and water equivalent. As weather conditions change, the packed ice crystals can change as well, and this affects the characteristics of snow.”

You chuckled at his ability to pull forth information like it was nothing. Unfortunately the chuckle turned to coughing. Only causing you to dribble more blood out of your mouth, you wiped away what you could. He didn’t need to see that, “Tech …” you coughed again, “turn off your brain for two seconds, don’t think and just look. Just watch.”

He pulled the heater closer towards you, “Stop talking and try and warm up.”

“Tech…” you held his hand, “just look.”

His eyes drifted up your body, till he locked eyes with you. They were pleading for him to listen and to just have him appreciate what you found mesmerizing. He tried to follow your advice, focusing on the snow, but all his mind kept drifting back to was this blizzard that was preventing you from getting the medical attention you needed, so desperately.

He shook his head focusing back on your abdomen, trying to stop the bleeding. Trying his best to keep you with him.

“Tech,” you gripped his wrist “… stop …”

“No.”

His tone was firm and full of anger, why did he agree to let you come with him? If he used his brain instead of allowing his feelings for you to dictate his actions, you wouldn’t have been here. You wouldn’t have gotten hurt. Why did you always insist on following him? Why didn’t you just stay behind on Pabu? Simply because you wanted to see the galaxy, and he was excited to show it to you? It was his fault you were here. It was his fault you were in danger. It was his fault he … was going to lose you.

“Tech …” you squeezed his wrist. He removed your hand from his wrist, placing it off to the side as he focused on your wound. He didn’t deserve your touch, he didn’t deserve to have you comfort him. It was his fault you both crashed on this force forsaken planet.

There was nothing you could do as you watched Tech pull away.

From the moment you met him on Pabu, the way he worked with Phee as he helped rescue the villagers when the rogue wave was rushing towards the island, and the way he helped make everything more ‘efficient,’ you couldn’t help but fall in love with him. You wanted to learn from him, to listen to him go on with regards to anything and everything. Only problem was you never had the courage to actually utter the words you were dying to. Phee told you time and time again, ‘later’ was never a guarantee, and now as you lay on the cold floor of the cavern you were in, bleeding out of your abdomen, you realized how little time there was left.

Tears welled up in your eyes, as you realized you needed to unburden yourself. You needed to tell him what had been pressing on your heart before you didn’t have the strength to, it didn’t help that you were feeling weaker with each passing second. Also didn’t help that you could tell he was angry, actually a more accurate description would be infuriated, more than likely at you.

“I’m sorry.” You offered the only apology you could. “I’m sorry I’m such a burden, even now.” You took in a shuddering breath as Tech stopped moving his hands for two seconds as he focused on your face. “I’m sorry for always pestering you to teach me,” you offered, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry for not listening,” a tear slid down your cheek, “I’m sorry for putting you in this position. To have to feel responsible for someone like me.”

He shook his head, his teeth clenched as his anger, grief, fear, and sadness overwhelmed him completely in that moment. He pulled off his helmet and placed it beside him.

“Stop.” It was his only command.

“Please, I …” you coughed again, trying to not cough on him. “I just want … I need to …”

He cut off your speech as his hand cupped your cheek, “Cyar’ika …” tears welled up in his eyes, “you were … are never a burden.” He couldn’t believe that’s what you thought of him… that’s what you believed he felt for you. He shook his head again as he pressed his forehead to yours. “I have loved every second we have spent together. I made a point to record every moment with you, because they were more precious to me than breathing.”

You held on to his bicep, keeping him close as tears streamed down your cheek, “Tech … I … I don’t want to go… I want … I want to stay here with you…”

“You’re not going anywhere. I just got you …” his tears landed on your cheeks, mixing with your own, “you’ll be okay. I promise.”

“Hold me… please… just hold me until…I can’t feel your arms anymore.”

“I’ll hold you longer than that,” Tech pulled you into his arms, lifting you off the ground as he felt your body grow weaker. Your eyes were closed, your body was growing pale. He was so focused on you, he didn’t hear the voices calling out to him, at least not until he felt Hunter’s hand on his shoulder. He didn’t wait, there were no more seconds to lose. He rushed towards the Marauder with you in his arms, he wasn’t going to lose you. He promised. He was going to bring you back.

AO3 Link | OS & MS Master List | Main Master List

Tag list:

@liadamerondjarin @badbatch-simp24@spicymcnuggies@lady-ren @firstofficerwiggles @darkangel4121 @discofern @kavecika @monako-jinn-stories @ladykatakuri @avathebestx @theroguesully @furyhellfire66 @carodealmeida @ciramaris @sprout-fics @twinkofthedink @dindjarin-mandalorian @ulchabhangorm @tortor-mcgee @vodika-vibes @clonethirstingisreal

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rookthorne · 1 year

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⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫

After an eternity of being held against your will, and just as long having been forced to watch your alpha suffer at the hands of the wicked, an opportunity arose. An opportunity so rare, so unique, that it would never be offered again. It was time to escape, and it was time to bathe the halls in their blood — never again would you be held by the bars of a cell, not if he could stop it.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — Alpha!Winter Soldier x Pet!Omega!F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 2.0k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 — Angst, whump, gore, background character death (graphic), DARK THEMES, fluff, omegaverse, Protective!Winter Soldier is an understatement

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 — I am on a new kick, sue me.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒔 — Where Is Your God Now by Rok Nardin — Ambush by Trevor Morris — Darkness of Light by Secession Studios

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 — @allcapsbingo 𝗜𝟱 — Hydra Base — Masterlist

𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄'𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Ragged clothes rubbed against your sensitive, raw skin, and you whimpered in your throat – the sound barely making it past your lips as they hauled you to the cells deep within the base.

For years you had been kept as a pet, as a thing for the Soldat to expend his anger and fury, for him to toy and play with, some meek prey. Merely an omega for an alpha to claim; one of the deadliest.

That’s what they imagined you to be, at least.

When that bank vault of a cell door slammed behind you and the guards disappeared, gleeful at the idea of you being beaten or attacked to within an inch of your life, you blinked rapidly in the darkness to find the occupant, who, ordinally, would have made your blood run cold.

Not now.

Not when he was still in his black tactical suit, beaten and bloodied, head lolling on the wall as he looked up at you. There was a ghost of an expression in his eyes – blank with malice and a predatory glint. The mask that covered the lower half of his face was splattered with a manner of fluids that made your stomach turn.

He didn’t recognise you, and your blood ran cold at the implication. You slowly showed your hands; steel grey eyes watched every inch of movement. “Soldat,” you whispered, and he blinked twice.

The stench of exhaustion was bitter on your senses, burning your sinuses, and an overwhelming urge to calm, to comfort, overcame you. You ventured closer, feet silent over the damp cement of his cell.

“Soldat,” you repeated. “Alpha, come home.”

He looked closer at you, expression drawn and tight, until a glimpse of recognition softened his features and he launched to his feet. “Malyutka–you are hurt,” he rasped, and his hands – one metal, one bloodied flesh – immediately brushed against your sides and over your sore ribs. “Oh, my little one, where else? Tell me.”

You pointed at your knee and your head. “H-Hit me, there. And I dun’ wan’ do as they said-” A loud hiccuped sob interrupted your explanation. Soldat’s cold thumb brushed your cheek and a growl made his chest rumble, a sound that soothed you. “They–” His hands guided yours to his chest holster.

“Breathe,” he reminded gently, encouraging you wordlessly to take from him – take what you needed. You gripped the straps and leant into his warmth, leeching the comfort.

“They- They hurt me,” you whimpered.

“Come,” he murmured, and he slowly guided you towards his cot. It was a glorified stretch of canvas between affixed metal poles, and the singular blanket was threadbare, but you went willingly.

The metal groaned in protest as he sat down, back against the wall, and he pulled you close, gesturing at his lap. “Come here. Sit.”

Without protest, you straddled his lap, your bare thighs rubbing against the rough canvas of his pants and leather straps of his weapon holsters. “Alpha,” you murmured, tucking your nose into his neck.

Soldat’s hand cupped the back of your neck in a firm hold, a low growl still in his throat. “They will pay,” he snarled, and for the first time, a thrill of fear coiled around your already rapidly beating heart. “Do not worry, little one–I will make them pay.”

You blinked through tears and murmured into his neck, “How–? We are stuck.”

He shook his head and he held your waist. You pulled back from his neck to stare into his eyes, only there was a crinkle in the corner of one; a deadly smirk hidden by the muzzle. “Not any longer, malyutka. They think with how I have completed my missions that I do not need to be wiped as often–I have not seen that chair in three days.”

Gasping sharply, you gripped the holsters in your filthy hands. “What–?”

“I have been taken all through the base. They think I am nothing but a mere shell–I can get us out.” The words made a torrent of ice cascade into your stomach, and he sensed it. “I need to get you out. I need to take care of you, little one. You are my omega, my dragotsennyy.”

“Where will we go?” you quietly asked, staring into those steely eyes. “Where will we be safe, alpha?”

“I will find you a safe haven,” he promised, and he brought your forehead to his. You could feel his breath through the slits of his mask and you matched his rhythm. “You will be safe–never set foot in a cell again, be hurt again.” His hand pushed your face back into his neck and you nuzzled there, breathing deep and taking in the scent of protective alpha.

“Trust you, alpha,” you mumbled, and he hummed in response.

It could have been hours later, or days, when he suddenly moved; hair tickled your cheek with his whip-like focus. “We need to move. Now,” he rushed, placing you on your feet.

“But–”

He shook his head and pulled you to the wall next to the door, shielding you with his bulk. “You must stay behind me at all times.” Resting a hand on his belt, you nodded just as the cell door opened with a loud creak.

“Well, I can’t see a body-” Gurgling and sputtering cut the guard’s words short, and you realised, horrorstruck, that your alpha’s metal hand was covered in blood, clutching what was the guard’s windpipe.

Blood sprayed the walls and the guard slumped to the floor with wide eyes, choking on his own blood with a rattling gargle. The radio on his belt went wild with chatter and screams of containment breach.

“Move,” Soldat commanded, and you followed behind him, hand still on his lower back. “I will take you to the-” More guards crowded the corridors – all of them carried guns and other weapons, all of them looked ready to kill.

“Malyutka, hide.” Hands shoved you to the side and into a metal locker before slamming the door. There was a commotion and shouts for weapons to be lowered before chaos broke loose.

Bullets sprayed the wall next to you and you screamed, instinctively ducking and covering your head as they peppered the cement and metal by your legs – they weren’t shooting to kill, you thought.

Grunts and yells of pain filled your ears but you didn’t hear a single thing from your alpha, not even a shout, when all of the gunfire ceased. The door suddenly opened and you were bathed in light. “Are you hit?” Soldat asked gruffly, his face covered in blood. “Did they get you?”

You shook your head timidly. “No–I am fine.”

His hand grabbed your arm and he pulled you out of the locker. The floor was a river of blood and the walls were covered with trails of crimson – a stark contrast to the clinical white you were used to.

“There is a window of time between the next wave,” Soldat explained, leading you down a service corridor by some boilers. “Here.” He shoved you in front of him as he plied the drywall away with his bare hands, revealing a dumbwaiter. “Get in. This leads to the surface, straight to the truck bay. Hide in the closest locker, I will find you.”

“What about you–”

“Do not argue, little one, I need you safe. Go,” he rushed, pushing you into the dumbwaiter. “I will find you, do not worry.”

Before you could argue, the dumbwaiter began to move and the last you saw of your Soldat was the back of his head as he turned and ran back down the corridor. The contraption shuddered and groaned as it moved, and you guessed it was ancient.

Moments later it came to a shaky stop and revealed the expansive truck bay. Heavy footfalls and more shouts were echoing off the walls and through to the outside world – a pack of guards ran close by the dumbwaiter as you squeaked in fear.

In the chaos, they did not see you and you breathed a sigh of relief. Slowly, you eased your sore body out of the cramped space and looked around, desperately searching for the locker your alpha had commanded you to hide in, when you spotted it – hidden in a nook of the wall and next to some kind of electrical equipment.

It was a tight fit, but you pushed yourself into the space and you waited, breath shaky and stomach curdling in fear. “Please be safe,” you whispered to the stale air. “I need you.”

You could hear guards yelling and screaming; heavy footsteps of armoured men ran by you and crashed into the many doors that led off the bay. Gunfire echoed even through the thick walls and whenever one of the doors swung open, you caught a whiff of iron laced with pure, unbridled terror, and underneath it all, the gunpowder, leather scent of your alpha.

He was close.

The seconds, minutes, hours ticked by, but you remained, still as stone in your hiding place, when you heard the thump of boots and squelch of wet leather by the dumbwaiter. Whoever it was reeked of iron and it smothered their natural scent. “Malyutka, ty tam?”

Before you thought better of it, you burst through the door of the locker and came face to face with your alpha, who was covered in blood and ash – the black mask that covered the lower half of his face was gone, too. You gasped and covered your mouth in shock. “I- I didn’t know it was you!”

“Spokoynyy, little one,” he soothed, “I know you are scared, it is alright.” You took a deep breath as he looked around the bay. There was an emergency shower in the corner. “Come, we will get rid of their scent and we will run, we need to get out of here.” He stalked towards the cubicle and glanced over his shoulder at the door he must have come out of. “I did not leave a single one alive, but that does not mean they did not call for more.”

“I don’t want to stay here,” you whispered, looking over your own shoulder at the trail of blood behind you both.

The water of the shower was freezing and your teeth chattered through the worst of it, but your alpha stayed close, manifesting an outfit from nowhere to dry and clothe you with.

As you rubbed your arms for warmth, he stood in the shower cubicle and scrubbed at his body until the water circling the drain turned from red, to pink, to clear. Once he dried himself, he dressed in similar clothes to his tactical suit, but more discreet – covering his arm and hiding his bulk with the loose fit.

You couldn’t help but smile as he grabbed your hand and pulled you towards a black car, windows as dark as the paint, and he pulled open the passenger door. The interior was clean and sleek, and he slid into the driver’s seat.

The seat belt was a foreign sensation across your chest as you buckled in at his insistence. “Where are you taking us?”

“I know of a man that owes them,” he gestured to the base. “Well, he owed them something. It is not known of my defection, so, he will be of use.”

Nodding slowly, you glanced around the car, happy to feel the bonds of your captors fade by the moment.

Soldat paused suddenly, his fingers that were playing with colourful wires freezing as he looked at you, his eyes bright. “You are happy.” With his mask gone, you could see his nostrils flaring as he greedily scented the air for your sweet, content scent; one that truly never saw the light of day in that cell. “Takoy krasivyy aromat, i mne nravitsya videt' tebya schastlivym, malyutka.”

You reached for his forearm and squeezed. “We are free,” you said quietly, careful to watch his eyes to see the fondness there, of what he only held for you. “And I have you, alpha.”

malyutka = little one dragotsennyy = precious ty tam = are you there takoy krasivyy aromat, i mne nravitsya videt' tebya schastlivym = such a beautiful scent, and I love seeing you happy

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #allcapsbingo2023 #rookthorne's works

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pygmi-cygni · 2 months

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STOP DOING THIS IN INJURY FICS!!

Bleeding:

Blood is warm. if blood is cold, you're really fucking feverish or the person is dead. it's only sticky after it coagulates.

It smells! like iron, obv, but very metallic. heavy blood loss has a really potent smell, someone will notice.

Unless in a state of shock or fight-flight mode, a character will know they're bleeding. stop with the 'i didn't even feel it' yeah you did. drowsiness, confusion, pale complexion, nausea, clumsiness, and memory loss are symptoms to include.

blood flow ebbs. sometimes it's really gushin', other times it's a trickle. could be the same wound at different points.

it's slow. use this to your advantage! more sad writer times hehehe.

Stab wounds:

I have been mildly impaled with rebar on an occasion, so let me explain from experience. being stabbed is bizarre af. your body is soft. you can squish it, feel it jiggle when you move. whatever just stabbed you? not jiggly. it feels stiff and numb after the pain fades. often, stab wounds lead to nerve damage. hands, arms, feet, neck, all have more motor nerve clusters than the torso. fingers may go numb or useless if a tendon is nicked.

also, bleeding takes FOREVER to stop, as mentioned above.

if the wound has an exit wound, like a bullet clean through or a spear through the whole limb, DONT REMOVE THE OBJECT. character will die. leave it, bandage around it. could be a good opportunity for some touchy touchy :)

whump writers - good opportunity for caretaker angst and fluff w/ trying to manhandle whumpee into a good position to access both sites

Concussion:

despite the amnesia and confusion, people ain't that articulate. even if they're mumbling about how much they love (person) - if that's ur trope - or a secret, it's gonna make no sense. garbled nonsense, no full sentences, just a coupla words here and there.

if the concussion is mild, they're gonna feel fine. until....bam! out like a light. kinda funny to witness, but also a good time for some caretaking fluff.

Fever:

you die at 106F (40.5C). no 'oh no his fever is 107F!! ahhh!" no his fever is 0F because he's fucking dead. you lose consciousness around 103, sometimes less if it's a child. brain damage occurs at over 104.

ACTUAL SYMPTOMS:

sluggishness

inability to speak clearly

feeling chilly/shivering

nausea

pain

delirium

symptoms increase as fever rises. slow build that secret sickness! feverish people can be irritable, maybe a bit of sass followed by some hurt/comfort. never hurt anybody.

fevers are a big deal! bad shit can happen! milk that till its dry (chill out) and get some good hurt/comfort whumpee shit.

keep writing u sadistic nerds xox love you

#whump writing #hurt/comfort #fever #sickness #injuries #writing tips #correct medical scenarios

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ultraintrovertedgryffindor · 1 year

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𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝

thanks to everyone who liked the first part, i appreciate y'all🥰

Summary: You and Osferth are in love, but neither of you know the feelings are reciprocated.

Warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI), heavy angst, idiots in love (emphasis on idiots), Osferth being a manwhore and insecure (and Finan being his wingman), canon divergence (baby monk will NOT die), whump, PTSD references, hurt/comfort, fluff (promise), fingering, oral (f!receiving), and cockwarming (if you squint)

word count | 6.2k🤙🏻

part 1 | part 2

It had been a long, long time since Osferth rescued you.

Months had passed, a year almost having gone by, your past soon becoming somewhat of a distant memory. With the help and support of your newfound friends, you were able to live life to the fullest. Of course, you still had moments when you were back in that horrid little village, but your mind slowly started to figure out that you weren’t in constant danger anymore.

Due to Uhtred’s decisions that you couldn’t really understand, you all had moved on from Coccham, traveling north to Rumcofa where it was always cold. It wasn’t all that bad, you did prefer the cold to the blazing heat when all you could do was strip down, and even that wouldn’t be enough. So the cold was a nice change.

You finally had your own little house, in a more secluded part of this new town, which you appreciated but was fearful of all the same. A part of you, a big part actually, just wanted to stay with Osferth.

It was soon after your realization that you were in love with Osferth, is when he inexplicably started to pull away.

You didn’t understand it. Based on his interactions with you, you thought he might’ve felt the same. He started to spend less and less time with you, opting that beginning to train with Finan again was better for you, considering your swift progress with the sword. And Finan had forgiven you pretty quickly after your accidental outburst, finding out that he was more understanding than you originally thought. But you wanted Osferth to train you. You wanted his smiles of pride, not Finan’s. You wanted his hands on your body when having to demonstrate the correct combat posture. You just wanted Osferth.

The night you watched Osferth enter his own house with a lady on his arm, your heart broke into pieces.

All this time you had been hopeful he’d see you the way you see him, but seeing this display just confirmed your fears. And the worst of it was, that you were still in love with him. Even when he never made for you, even if he ignored you sometimes, even if he preferred the company of ladies with loose morals, you were still helplessly in love with him.

It was inevitable, but your mind started to go to the darkest places. Did he never see you this way? Did he find you undesirable? Was it because of your past? Did the things that were done to you make him disgusted? Has he ever seen you as whole?

You thought back to the night he gave you his cross, fiddling with the silver absentmindedly. He used to always wear the cross, why would he give something so special to you if you weren’t in fact, special to him. So, what changed? Why was he never around anymore? Did you do something to make him this way? And if so, what could you do to earn his forgiveness?

It’s not like you could’ve known why Osferth retreated from you. He didn’t really understand it himself. The two of you were…perfect. You were so incredibly important to him. He loved you, that much was true. That’s why he couldn’t burden you with the knowledge of how incredibly difficult it was for Osferth to be around you without desiring you. Carnally.

It felt like all his thoughts, night and day, were about you. How you’d look beneath him, what sounds he could elicit from you with his fingers, his tongue, his cock. He hated feeling this way. He hated that he felt no better than your former master, using you for his own pleasure whether you agreed or not. Of course, Osferth wasn’t actually doing these horrible things. But he thought of you, especially in the throws of his ecstasy, whether it was by his own hand or a woman of the night’s cunny. He was ashamed how often he needed to bed a woman, just to be rid of the aching feeling inside him whenever he gazed upon you.

Osferth could tell how confused and hurt you were by his actions, his arms becoming a safe haven of sorts. But he didn’t know if he could control his thoughts or actions in your presence, which is why he removed himself all together.

Osferth often thought what would happen if he came onto you like he’s so craved. He couldn’t possibly imagine you reciprocating his affections, so he thought of the worst case scenarios. You scream and cry, pushing him away and saying you never wanted to see him again. He thought of you being terrified to be anywhere near him. He thought of you seeing him as no better than her former master, and the idea often brought him to tears. So he decided, he’d rather you feel betrayed than scared by him. You could hate him, but he would rather die than have you scared of him.

So he continued to bed other women, pleading out your name when he reached his end, much to the dismay of these women. It wasn’t like he was doing this to hurt you, it was quite the opposite, he didn’t even realize he was hurting you until Finan talked to him one night. “You know she’s in love with you, right?”

Osferth blanched, his eyes widening at the mere idea that you could feel the same way about him. “What are you on about, Finan?” He asked, trying to make sure he heard him correctly.

“You’re mad if you can’t see it, mate. She’s obsessed with you, much like you’re obsessed with her. Can’t believe you’re still dancing around each other.”

Osferth blushed, much to the enjoyment of Finan. “I’m not…obsessed.” He almost laughed at himself with how clearly that was a lie.

“Thou shalt not lie, baby monk.” Finan teased, eliciting an eye roll from the younger man. “I don’t know what you’re so afraid of. Clearly, it can’t be rejection.”

“I don’t want her to be frightened of me.” Osferth admitted, making Finan furrow his brows.

“Why would she be frightened of ya?” He asked, concern etched into his features.

“Because I’m…I'm a sinful man, despite my best efforts. I’m so full of lust, it’s hard to even think.”

“You would force yourself on her?”

“No! Of course not! I’d sooner plunge my own sword into my heart.”

“And we know that. Everyone who knows you, knows that, baby monk. You’re scared of yourself for thoughts you can’t control. But you can control your actions. Just because you have bad thoughts doesn’t make you a bad person, especially if you’re appalled by these thoughts. Your mind just likes to fuck with ya.” Finan watched as Osferth pondered this, a pang of annoyance rippling through his body. “Talk to her tomorrow. If you don’t, I’ll kick your shins in.”

There wasn’t much room to argue after that.

The next morning, Osferth woke up with a sense of hopefulness, a shy smile decorating his face as he saw the run rise. His conversation with Finan really gave him some clarity, and he was terrified still, but he decided he didn’t want to live with regret. But first, he needed to gain your trust back and he just hoped you’d give him another chance.

Osferth fussed with his appearance for a moment before heading to your house, his pulse thrumming beneath his skin, his heart beating in tandem. He didn’t stop his pace, afraid if he slowed down he’d stop altogether. But when he saw you were already outside your house, sitting in a rocking chair reading a book, Osferth froze. He was always so stunned by your beauty, even doing the most mundane things like simply reading. God, he was so in love.

Osferth winced when a twig snapped beneath his feet, alerting you of his presence, watching as your head jerked up and made eye contact with him. “Osferth…” You whispered, barely audible but just enough for him to hear, and he swore his heart skipped a beat. The sound of your voice, it was like a weight lifted off his shoulders.

“My lady…” Osferth replied breathlessly, his voice wavering with emotion. “I was wondering if I could join you?”

“You want to read with me?” You asked in slight amusement, making him blush.

“I just meant, if you’d do me the honor of allowing me to be in your company?”

You frowned. “Why now, when you haven’t wanted my company for some time?”

Osferth took a cautious step towards you, continuing when you didn’t shy away, sitting on your porch at your feet, looking up at you with the most remorseful expression he could manage. “I’ll tell you everything, my lady. But first, I just wish to tell you my absence had nothing to do with you. I’ve been…dealing with my own troubles. But every day I’ve been away from you, my life has been awful. I’ve missed you…so, so much.”

Unwanted tears sprung to your eyes, the pure emotion in his voice making your heart swell. “I’ve missed you, Osferth.” You bit your lip when your voice wavered, but it only caused him to gently take ahold of your hand. He still sat by your feet, looking up at you like you strung up the moon and stars in the sky, practically resting his cheek against your knee, the sight eliciting an inappropriate thought to cross your mind.

“I wish to tell you much more. The most important thing I need to tell you is…” Osferth exhaled a shaky breath, “is that I’m in-”

Screams echoed sharply throughout the village, Finan calling Osferth’s name, interrupting his confession and causing the two of you to stand on high alert. “Osferth?” you asked, frightened.

“Take your sword and stay hidden, alright? Promise me.” Osferth spoke sternly, looking into your eyes with such intensity that you agreed without hesitancy, following his instructions to the best of your ability.

A group of soldiers waltzed into the town, looking like they were on a mission, their swords already drawn. It took naught but a few moments for a fight to break out, blades clashing together and fists being thrown. They were separating Danes from Christians, killing any Danes, men, women, and children. You couldn’t just stand there and watch, you had to do something.

You had been in very few fights, especially fights like these, but your morals gave you little choice. When you saw a soldier strike a child to the ground, about to push his blade into their little neck, you struck first. Blood dripped down your blade, onto your hands, as you pushed your sword into the back of the soldier, the sound of the flesh being pierced making you gag. But you saved the child, bringing them back to their parents before moving on to help the next resident of Rumcofa.

If Osferth had the time, he would have been pissed. He told you not to get involved, yet you were. But he couldn’t blame you for that, in fact, it was nice to have another helping hand. He was good at multitasking, he thought, fighting off two burly men while making sure you weren’t in danger. Osferth was lucky, it followed him around, to being able to join Uhtred and his men to finding you in this lifetime, he figured he was the luckiest man around. But a person’s luck has to run out sometime.

Osferth exhaled a sharp breath as an excruciating pain resonated through his body, his mouth filling with blood as he fell to the cold ground. He heard screams, your screams, and suddenly he wasn’t thinking about the pain.

You shrieked as you watched the brute of a man shove his blade into Osferth’s side, his form crumpling to the ground. Rage overwhelmed you, and you didn’t think as you charged forwards. You couldn’t know what you even planned on doing but it didn’t matter. You felt like you had been stabbed yourself and all that was on your mind was getting revenge. And despite all your training, and the few soldiers you managed to get the best off, your mind was in the worst place, going on pure adrenaline with no thought behind your attacks. It wasn’t that surprising when the man knocked you out, stealing the sword from your hands and hitting your temple with its pommel, plunging your world into darkness.

All Osferth could do was watch in a panic as you fought to defend him, calling out your name as the attacker knocked you down, your eyes rolling back as you stopped moving.

Finan was sprinting to Osferth, but he yelled at him to make sure you were okay first, your well being more important to him than anything. And after a few moments, Finan deemed you alright, getting his wife to look after you for now as he kneeled beside Osferth with tears in his eyes. As Osferth felt his best friend’s arms around him, his fear and panic washed over him, drowning him. “Oh my God, oh my God, I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die!” He cried, holding on tightly to Finan.

“No, no, baby monk. You’re okay, you’re gonna be okay. I won’t let you die.” Finan sobbed, screaming for help.

Osferth whispered your name, gaining Finan’s attention back. “She’s okay?”

“Yes, yes, she’s alright.”

“Tell her,” He choked, “tell her how much I loved her. Tell her that she was the most important person in my life and that I’m sorry.”

“Tell her yourself, you daft prat. You’re gonna survive this, I promise.”

When you came to, your first thought and first word uttered was, “Osferth.”

The last thing you remembered was Osferth getting stabbed, and you running to his attacker to make sure he wasn’t stabbed again. Much use you were, you thought bitterly, you couldn’t even hold your own against this man for more than a minute. Pitiful. But that didn’t matter now, all that mattered was making sure he was alive.

You ignored all the pleas and urges from Finan’s wife and other healers taking care of you and rushed out of your room, trying to find your friends. Finally, your gaze met Finan’s, and he looked distraught. No, you thought, you wouldn’t believe it. But before you could even open your mouth to speak, Finance answered your silent question. “He’s alive…somehow.” The Irishman spoke in a broken voice, clearly just as affected as you were.

“Can I see him?”

Finan nodded solemnly. “He’s sleeping, and probably will be for a while, Ingrith tells me.”

As soon as you walked into the room, you had to hold in your gasp as you saw Osferth’s state. He was so pale, from blood loss and the cold, you’d think he was dead if you hadn’t been told otherwise. “When will he wake?”

“We don’t know…” He sighed, making your heart drop.

“But he will wake?”

“That’s our hope.”

But he didn’t wake, not for more than a few seconds at a time, muttering incoherent words before falling back asleep, not even when the surviving residents of Rumcofa had to relocate where it was more safe. You didn’t sleep, you didn’t eat; all your time was devoted to making sure Osferth’s heart was still beating, putting your ear to his chest multiple times every single day, praying to every god you could think of to just let him survive.

It was only a few days after settling in a more secure place that Osferth did finally awake.

You were at his bedside, as you often were, reading to him and holding his hand, thinking that your voice might stir him. You almost fell off your chair in shock when you suddenly felt his hand weakly squeeze yours. Your head snapped up and saw that his eyes were already on you. “Osferth…” You called out softly, letting your book fall by the wayside to move to sit next to him on the edge of the bed. “You’re awake. At last.” Tears filled your eyes, falling down your cheeks and landing on his hand that you were now holding tightly, afraid that he’d fall back into unconsciousness.

Osferth spoke your name so softly, his voice cracking and hoarse from not using it for so long. “I must be dead, for I see only an angel before me…”

You chuckled tearfully, bringing up his hand to kiss his knuckles. “No, you’re alive. You’re alive.” You repeated, mostly trying to convince yourself.

“How long have I been asleep?” He asked, looking around the room he was in and furrowed his brows. “Where are we?”

You froze, unsure of how much you should say. You didn’t want him to faint from shock, but you couldn't lie to him either. You could never lie to him. “We left Rumcofa several days ago, everyone who survived the attack. But Uhtred is off to fight another war for Edward. They all wanted to stay until you woke, but…”

Osferth nodded solemnly. “What use would a man on the brink of death be, yeah?”

“They’ll be mad with joy to hear of your recovery, I’m sure. Especially Finan, he wept for you badly.”

“And did you? Weep for me?”

Your face flushed with heat, avoiding his gaze and instead fixing your eyes on your conjoined hands. “Yes…” You whispered. “I’ve wept every day since you were wounded. But you’re better now, awake and healing up nicely. Ingrith told me you might wake as soon as the fever leaves your body,” You placed the back of your other hand to his forehead, warm but not too warm, “and you feel fine now. Before, your skin was hot to the touch-” Osferth grabbed your wrist as you moved to pull away, eliciting a gasp from you. “O-Osferth?”

Osferth blinked, as if he suddenly realized what he was doing. “Sorry.” He stuttered, releasing your wrist.

“I’ll go get Ingrith.”

“No! No…please, just…I’d like to be alone with you for a moment longer. If that’s alright, my lady?”

You nodded, a bit too eagerly. “Of course. I’d love nothing more.”

And stay with him you did, up until you insisted you tell Ingrith and had her check on him. The wound was healing nicely, a deep red scar forming over the stab. It really was a miracle that he was alive, the blade barely missing the vital organs the body needs to function. You don’t know what you would've done if Osferth had died, the thought making your chest tighten uncomfortably, panic overriding your senses. But all you had to do to rid yourself of those feelings, was to simply look at Osferth, gaining his strength back more and more every day and starting to walk without help.

Almost two weeks went by until he started to train again, though very carefully. Seeing grow stronger didn’t help ease your nerves as much as you thought it would, you figured you’d keep him on bed rest forever if you had any say. It took Ingrith assuring you that he was practically fully healed for you to stop fretting over him like a concerned mother. But Osferth didn’t seem to mind it all that much, a soft amused smile gracing his features every time you asked if he was alright. His answer was always yes, and he even told you not to worry so much, trying to come across as nonchalant so it didn’t seem like he was completely affected by your concern.

Osferth never did get a chance to confess to you that day, the fight in Rumcofa having such unfortunate timing. Though, you never brought it up, the fact almost making his insecurities come back and suffocate him. But he trusted Finan, and even though he was an occasional prankster, he’d never try to give someone false hope.

Osferth tossed and turned one night, thinking about you and his suspended confession. It’s ridiculous, why couldn’t he have gotten the words out quicker, rather than prolong those simple words. He said it to you every day in his mind, the words coming out so easily and repeatedly. Ridiculous. This was ridiculous.

As soon as the thought appeared in his mind, Osferth jumped up from bed. He knew it was entirely inappropriate, thinking about coming to you in the middle of the night, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he told you how he felt. And to his utter surprise, when he opened his front door, there you were.

It was raining, the droplets of water pelting the roof of the timber home, the occasional thunder rumble making the frames vibrate. And there you were, a wet and shivering figure, your clothes melding to you like a second skin; Osferth could see your breath coming out in quick and shallow puffs. Even in the dark with naught but a lantern that he lit to light his way, he could see the tears in your eyes, only a keen eye would’ve been able to differentiate the rain from the tear drops. His face immediately fell in concern, and it only took him calling out your name softly for you to collapse in his arms.

Osferth quickly pulled you past the threshold of the doorframe, bringing you in from the cold and holding you tightly to him, the uncomfortable feeling of his dampening clothes the furthest thing from his mind. “My lady?” He spoke gently, like he was trying not to spook you, “What’s happened?” You mumbled words incoherently, your face pressed against his chest muffling what you were attempting to say. Osferth had to pull you off, not completely, just to look at your face. “What was that?”

“You were dead.” You cried, “You were killed and I couldn’t do anything but stand there and watch!”

“A dream…” He realized, sighing in sympathy and pulling you back onto his chest. “It’s okay, love. It’s okay. Here-” He took a hold of your hand, pressing the tips of your fingers to the pulse point in his neck, the blood flowing through his veins, the throbbing pushing at your fingertips minutely. “Do you feel? And you hear by heartbeat?”

“Mhm.” You sniffled, starting to calm down in the soothing cage of his arms.

“See? I’m okay. I’m not hurt anymore. I’m safe. We both are.”

“I’m sorry…” You hiccupped.

Osferth shook his head, cupping your jaw gently and forcing your eyes to his. “Hey, none of that. It’s not your fault. Understand me?” Reluctantly, you shook your head, wiping away your tears with your already damp hands. And you shivered, your body suddenly registering the cold. “Let’s get you warm, okay?”

And in a matter of minutes, Osferth had lit a fire in his hearth, the flames roaring to life and eliciting a sigh of relief from you as you saw in front of it on a pile of wool blankets he’d spread out for the two of you. “I didn’t mean to disturb you, Osferth, truly. It’s just…when my mind showed me such a vivid thing-”

“I understand completely, my lady. I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same in your place. Besides,” Osferth grunted softly as he plopped himself down beside you, your knees barely touching, “I was about to come see you myself.”

You furrowed your brows. “Why?” And suddenly, Osferth was that same scared boy he was before he met Uhtred. He hadn’t meant to be so brazen, but he wanted to ease your mind so badly, he didn’t think you’d ever ask why.

“Uh, um,” Osferth swallowed thickly, his body becoming much too warm for his liking, “just wanted to check on ya, is all.” Liar.

“Oh…” You seemed to say in an almost disappointed tone.

Osferth sighed. Ridiculous.

“Actually,” He almost winced, his body, one thinking this was a good idea, was suddenly betraying him. No, he thought, he wouldn’t repress his feelings any longer. “Do you remember our conversation before the fight in Rumcofa?”

Your face flushed with heat, an achy feeling spreading in your heart. “You said you missed me.” You smiled softly at the memory, but your brows furrowed. “But you were trying to tell me something else, weren’t you?” Osferth nodded nervously, running his hands up and down his thighs, his heart threatening to beat out of his chest. You playfully bumped his shoulder with your own, “Well?”

“I’minlovewithyou-” He gasped.

“What?” You almost squawked, his words jumbled and rushed, making entirely no sense to your ears.

But suddenly, Osferth grinned, a sigh of relief escaping his lips. He said it, finally. That’s all it took really, just to get it out there to make it more easy to say. Sure, it wasn’t the best way to go about it, but he did it. “I’m in love with you.” And this time, he didn’t rush. In fact, it was the most clear and precise you had ever heard him. He took his time saying the words this time, savoring them, just in case it was the last time he could.

“You’re…in love with me?” You were looking up at him with wide eyes, an adorable childlike awe displaying in your expression.

“Yes.” He smiled. “Completely and hopelessly. I…have been, for a while now. I wanted to tell you sooner but, ya know.” He gestured to his stab wound. You felt breathless, your throat constricting as you tried to fight back another bout of tears. But Osferth took it the wrong way. “I’m so sorry, my lady. I knew there was a high chance you’d be completely repulsed. That’s why I tried to stay away for so long because I didn’t want you scared of me like-”

“Osferth.” Responding to his name and your touch to his jaw, turning him to face you, he didn’t see one trace of disgust or fear in your eyes. “I could never be repulsed by you, or scared. Why would you ever think that?”

Osferth blushed a bright red, the flames from the hearth making his skin look an even darker red. “Since I’ve decided to be so honest tonight…you should know I also yearn for you, my lady. Your…touch. But I also want you to know it’s because I love you, not because I’m some…lecherous sinner. Although, I suppose I am that too.”

“Why would you think I’d be repulsed because you desire me so?”

“Well, because…because…uh.”

You closed your eyes in understanding, nodding slightly. “If you think I’d ever be able to compare you, sweet boy, to that monster, you’re sorely mistaken. You are nothing like him. Do you really think I would’ve kept close to you if you had been?”

“I suppose not. I just never wanted you to feel like I’m pressuring you into something you don’t want…”

“And that, my dear Osferth, is why I’m completely and hopelessly in love with you too.”

Osferth’s eyes widened. “R-Really?”

You smirked. “Shall I prove it to you?” You’ve never really kissed or been kissed, willingly at least, so as you leaned forward, you prayed that Osferth wouldn’t laugh as you softly pressed your lips against his.

It was unlike anything you had ever experienced, the aspect of your choice in the matter only amplifying the sensation. And for Osferth? It was hard to keep in the whimper that was so desperate to escape him, but you pulled away, all too soon. You opened your eyes to see Osferth’s was still closed, his lips chasing yours with a blissed out expression on his face. He whispered out your name so softly, you could scarcely hear it. He sounded so needy, it lit a fire in your belly, much like the one still blazing in the fireplace.

“I shan’t ask for more, if you do not wish to give more.”

“I do, though, want more. I fear I want much, much more.” Your expression had noticeably darkened, lust filled, and Osferth had never seen this of you before. It wasn’t a bad change, though he was apprehensive.

“Are…Are you sure, my lady? I don’t want you to regret this. I’d hate for you to regret this.”

“I find that I have no regrets with you, sweet Osferth. Just promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“You’ll stop if I ask?”

“I wouldn’t dare disobey you, my love.”

“Good,” You leaned forward to give him another kiss, a bit more forceful and more sure of yourself, “because if you do, I’ll kill you with the sword you gifted me, baby monk.” You teased, making him giggle, the purest sound you would ever hear in your lifetime, you were sure. And this time, when you each pressed your lips together, it was filled with an altogether different feeling, charged and motivated, the thought of something more promising if you continued fueling your actions. It probably was because of the fire, but your body warmed and warmed to the point you thought your clothes would melt off your body if you kept them on any longer. “Can you help me take these off?” You asked shyly, gesturing to your still damp clothing.

Osferth’s eyes widened comically, that ever present blush on his face warming your heart better than fire in the hearth next to you. “S-Sure.” He stuttered, carefully and delicately removing each article of clothing (after asking if you were sure a few more times) until you were down to your bare skin. “Have I ever told you how absolutely breathtaking you are?”

You giggled, slightly self conscious. “I don’t think so.”

Osferth gently slapped himself. “What an idiot I am, huh?”

“You will be if you don’t take off your clothes too.” And with that, it was almost at the speed of light that all Osferth’s clothes were thrown into a pile of the floor, mingling with yours. You inhaled a breath as your eyes traced his frame, his pale skin making his battle scars more prominent, but you found that they made him more handsome. You didn’t mind that he was doing the same to you. “I don’t know quite what to do now…” You whispered, gently taking his hand and kissing his knuckles. “Will you help me?”

“Of course.” He replied back shakily, moving closer to you until you sat side by side, your exposed skin rubbing up against his, causing you to shiver pleasantly. “We’ll take it slow. I don’t want to rush this, not with you.”

Osferth maneuvered you so that you were laying on your back, him resting beside you, propped up on one elbow, his other hand gently running up and down your torso. Gooseflesh rose along your skin as his calloused fingers marked a path across your body, from your jaw, down between the valley of your breasts, down your stomach to the tufts of wiry hair at the beginning of the apex of your thighs. “I have to ask again, love. Are you sure you want this? Want me?”

You could’ve whined, but you maintain your composure, however much was left. “With every iota of my soul.”

Osferth leaned down to kiss you passionately, that whine you had been holding in finally coming out when you felt his fingers dip in between you already silk folds. “So soft…” He hummed, trailing kisses down your neck to your breasts, covering one of your pebbled nipples with his tongue, eliciting a sharp gasp from you. You hadn’t realized how sensitive you were until now, his mouth sucking you in deeper as he slowly inched a finger inside you.

You moaned as he curled his finger, finding your sweet spot with inhuman ease. “Osferth…” You breathed, and he answered by gently tapping your sensitive nub with his thumb as he added another finger. “Osferth!”

“Do you want me to stop?” He asked immediately, causing you to chuckle wantonly, his eyes darkening as he felt your walls squeeze his fingers.

“No, heavens, no. Please, keep going.” You didn’t have to tell him twice, as he continued his ministrations with an added ferocity that had you aching your back of the blankets, moaning and bucking into his hand. A strange sensation that you couldn’t quite put into words seemed to keep building and building in the pit of your stomach, your eyes rolling back each time a deep pang of pleasure resonated through you. And as Osferth kissed you roughly and added a third finger inside you, the building sensation spilled over; like a fire doused with gasoline, you ignited, flames licking you from the inside out as you rode out the glowing waves of ecstasy with little care how loud you became.

And when it was all over, Osferth was there to soothe your burns.

“Are you alright, my love?” He asked softly, running his hand along the inside of your spread thighs.

“More than alright.” You smiled in a haze.

As you looked down, you couldn’t help but notice Osferth’s hardened length. You were surprised how it grew in size, always a wonder how such could fit inside a woman’s body. You absentmindedly reached out to touch him, a soft huff escaping his lips as you ran your hand along the silky skin. “We don’t have to do anything else, if you aren’t ready. I’m perfectly content having given you the pleasure you so deserve.”

“I told you I wanted you, Osferth. I meant that. I want you. All of you.”

Osferth pulled your hand away, kissing it before moving to settle in between your legs, the tip of his length prodding at your inner thigh before he guided it to your entrance. “Just tell me if you want to stop, for any reason. Promise me.” You sealed your promise with a kiss, nodding to him and he nodded back before very slowly pushing himself inside you, the both of you letting out gasps at the feeling. “Oh Lord above…” He groaned, bottoming out and stilling, burying his face in the crook of your neck, giving you however long you needed to adjust, but you found you didn’t need much time.

You whined, trying to cant your hips to get some very needed friction, but Osferth was too heavy. “Please…”

“I’m afraid…if I move so soon, I will not be able to last for very long, my love.” He spoke, his voice and body shaking. “I want…I need this to last.”

“Hey,” you lifted his head, looking at him lovingly, the flames of the fire shining in his bright blue eyes, “this will not be the first and last time we make love.”

“You don’t know that. I fear danger lurks around every corner now. We aren’t promised tomorrow.”

You kissed him, trying to push all his worries away. “Then make love to me as many times as you can.”

“Please?” He whined.

“Please.”

You cried out loudly as Osferth began to thrust into you wildly, moaning just as loudly with you, his cock hitting you in just the right places, the loud slapping of wet skin making your cheeks flush with heat. Your walls squeezed him perfectly, almost sucking him in deeper. Every ridge and every vein you could feel drove you wild, that same sensation building in you yet again. If you weren’t in such a pleasured haze, you’d be worried who might be able to hear you and Osferth, just from your moans alone.

“Oh, God, love. Feels so good. You feel so good.” Osferth groaned, his cock twitching inside you. “Fuck, I’m gonna come.” And before you could reach another peak, he pulled out quickly, his warm spend shooting out of his tip, white streaks coating your stomach. “Oh, fuck, I’m sorry.” He moaned breathlessly, his blissed out expression the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

“You’re beautiful, Osferth.” You whispered, the borderline predatory look in his eyes making you shy.

“You almost came again.” He spoke apologetically.

You smiled. “It’s alright. You already took care of me once.”

“‘S not enough.” He growled, lowering his face to your weeping cunny and before you could ask what he was doing, the words were stolen from you as his tongue licked and sucked at your nub, your denied peak building back up rapidly at his talented mouth.

“Oh, Osferth…” You almost sobbed, overly sensitive but not enough that you wanted him to stop, and from the moans he released, it seemed he was taking as much pleasure from this as you were.

“Come for me, my love. Please.” He begged, his words and moans causing vibrations against your mound, the pleasure overwhelming and all encompassing, your peak spilling on his lips and tongue.

Osferth rested against your inner thigh, his hooded eyes watching your cunt quiver and spasm as you came down from your high, the urge to dive back in almost too overpowering. But he withheld, coming back up to lay at your side with a crooked grin. “Are you okay?”

“How many times have you asked me that tonight, do you think?” You teased, catching your breath and moving to lay on his chest, listening to the steadying beat of his heart.

“If you’re annoyed with how many times I asked? Then just enough.”

Needless to say, neither you or Osferth got much sleep that night.

By the time everyone else returned for Osferth, the pair of you were inseparable. Where you go, he goes, and vice versa. It didn’t take a genius to see how disgustingly in love the two of you were. And neither of you expected to get away without a little bit of teasing.

As Finan watched the two of you, his words escaped him before he could even stop himself.

“So, when’s the wedding?”

tags: @tssf-imagines, @little-diable, @fan-goddess, @hiraethrhapsody, @chainsawsangel, @lauraneedstochill, @greenowlfactif, @st-eve-barnes

thanks for the support😊

#the last kingdom #the last kingdom osferth #osferth the last kingdom #osferth #osferth x reader #osferth x fem!reader #osferth x f!reader #osferth smut #osferth imagine #osferth tlk #tlk osferth

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wise-tortoise · 10 months

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Hi! i’m new to chengxian. so i was wondering, do you have any recs please? preferably long one shots (10k+) and set in the original location (i don’t like modern aus mostly as they are based in the us or uk). sorry for all the stipulations!

HELLO ANON AND WELCOME TO CHENGXIAN!!

I am DELIGHTED to be a source of fic recs, and I have JUST the fics for you.

First of all, I highly recommend checking out the various ao3 collections of past chengxian events, such as Chengxian Happy Ending Fest, or Chengxian Minibang 2023, Chengxian Week 2020, Chengxian Week 2021 , Our Meeting is Inevitable or The Chengxian+ Collection, which are a goldmine of wonderful fics. I'm sure you'll have no trouble finding something to your taste among them!

Now, on to my personal recommendations, under the read more because this got LONG.

Based on what you said you'd prefer, the fic all my dreams have come and gone a half a million times by iri_vail sounds like something you'd enjoy. It's a lovely post-canon shuangjie reconciliation fic, 10k words, with wonderful art. There's frogs too!

consider rivers by Lirazel, 9k, canon divergence fic with no war that rewrote my brain chemistry. Jiang Cheng wants Wei Wuxian to marry Jiang Yanli: lots of yunmeng trio feels, lots and lots and lots of pining.

after the sun sets by Artemis1000, 12k words, it's an amazing fic set during sunshot campaign, lots of hurt/comfort, lots of love and understanding and softness between our two favorite miscommunicators.

electricity between both of us by zyprexd is an absolutely incredible series of two fics that make me go feral. Past w4ngxian, tentative shuangjie reconciliation with long overdue communication, lots of feelings aknowledged and accepted, Wei Wuxian introspection.

Turn Back, Dull Earth by groundwiremantaray, 8k, canon divergence, a whole lot of fluff (with a delightful twist). Though not a oneshot, if you like to read happy times with chengxian, this is absolutely the fic for you.

this love that I most fear by Runespoor, 25k words divided in three chapters, in which a coreless Jiang Cheng has to aknowledge Wei Wuxian as his bastard brother in order for him to become sect leader, with all the relative implications. An angsty delight!

Little Sesame by Rurtle, which is an absolute must read. In which the summoning ritual goes wrong and Wei Wuxian reincarnates into a dog. Shenanigans ensue.

born of waters like blood by Artemis1000 (same Artemis as before) which is one of my absolute favorite fics of all time. Chengxian baby made of resentment and lake waters! Chengxian being dads! An unspecified number of eyes!!!! This fic is a bit shorter than the others I've recced, but absolutely worth reading.

letters from inside the storm by serein, in which everyone has a very bad time (not me though, I enjoyed this IMMENSELY), double whump with a very tentative reconciliation.

if tomorrow would ever come... by Midori_99, 17k, a reincarnation fic in which Wei Wuxian after his death reincarnates into a playful little fox and, despite his best efforts, finds himself once again in Lotus Pier, beside Jiang Cheng (and, really, there's no better place for him to be). The good, GOOD, cathartic angst right here, good food for the soul.

If you'd like EVEN MORE chengxian fics, my bookmarks are open and the fics are all ready to receive lots of love (and of course, if you like, there's my fics too, but they're only open to registered users)

Alright, that's definitely not all the fics I would like to rec, but that's about all I can fit in a single post before it becomes too long.

I suggest of course that you check out other works by the authors I listed, as they are all incredibly talented (and I really really wish I could put more of them here but I tried to contain myself with word count and setting as per your request)

Thank you for the ask anon, I hope you'll enjoy your stay in the chengxian side of fandom and I wish you a wonderful day!!

#mdzs #chengxian #xiancheng #yunmeng shuangjie #cql #wei wuxian #jiang cheng #the untamed #anon ask

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virgo-dream · 4 months

Text

virgo-dream’s dreamling masterpost

In honour of @mr-sadman’s Dreaming Week 2024, I have compiled this masterpost of all my fics and fanart!

I highly recommend checking the Dreamling Week tag to see some of the amazing fanworks created by this fandom.

Happy Dreamling Week! ☁️✨

☁️ fanfiction ☁️

✨ one shots ✨

golden hour

rated G / 695 words / fluff

Hob had two favourite times during the day: dawn and dusk. Opposite in their purpose but equal in their beauty, dawn brought new life to restful spirits every morning, while dusk tucked them in gently every night. Hob loved the soft, lilac tones that shifted into golden, that faded into oranges, purples and deep blues, over and over again, marking the passage of never ending time.

Another thing he liked, dearly, was seeing Morpheus under the light of the golden hour.

metaphors

rated G / 2.5k words / idiots to lovers

the one where Dream is fucking dense and Hob is desperately in love.

the night of the storm

rated G / 2.6k+ words / hurt/comfort

across from the shadow figure sitting on his armchair, and offered the best smile he could muster. “…rough day? I feel like you’re not doing very well. Don’t ask me why.”

Are you not afraid, Hob Gadling?

or: Hob Gadling comes home to find the shadows need a shoulder to cry on.

freely given

rated G / 4k+ words / whump, hurt + comfort

Dream had no idea how he intended to help Hob. It was the right thing to do. He had stumbled into enough of Hob Gadling's nightmares to know for a fact that disease wasn't something he took lightly.

daisy chains

rated G / 589 words / tooth-rotting fluff, idiots in love

Hob tells him to use the door but doesn't mind when his friend just shows up uninvited because to Hob, Dream will always be welcome. Dream, on the other end, wants to know more about Hob, be a part of his life, even if it means spending more time in the Waking World. And then, like every good thing, the physicality starts small: a pat on the back, a hand on the shoulder.

or: they don't know it, but they're falling in love.

spring roll for your thoughts

rated G / 2.3k+ words / domestic fluff

Dream and Hob both need a moment to rest after a long day at work. They both find comfort eating reheated leftovers and daydreaming about the future.

the miracle of song

rated G / 1k+ words / christmas fic

Dream of The Endless has a long standing history with avoiding music since the loss of his only son, Orpheus. His relationship with Hob Gadling might make him change his mind.

A story about love, loss, bad karaoke and Christmas miracles.

one of their own

rated G / 3.6k+ words / queer themes, first kiss

Hob Gadling invites Dream to a meeting of the uni's queer clubs at the New Inn. Dream learns more about his own gender identity, and that he's very much in love with his best friend.

glitter glue and butterfly stickers

rated G / 1k+ words / dreamling parents, tooth-rotting fluff

Hob and Dream have been married for over 10 years and are raising a daughter together. After a long day working on his thesis, Hob receives a letter from his 7 year old daughter Lucy, detailing her thoughts on an article he’d written.

safety net: a bolt in the blue story

rated T / 3.1k words / fic of a fic, mutual pining (set in the universe of @valeriianz’s bolt in the blue)

Endless is in the middle of its first headline tour, and Dream has been doing his best to hold his own in the ever changing routine of touring. After one particularly intense concert, Dream finds himself extremely overwhelmed, and relies on the help of his trusted bass tech, Hob Gadling, to ground himself again. In the process, he finds that a few feelings have become impossible to ignore.

some mornings: a man of good fortune story

rated G / 1.1k+ words / domestic fluff, omegaverse (set in the universe of @softest-punk’s a man of good fortune)

Some mornings are easier than others, when one finds themselves in the state Dream is currently in. He remembers how mornings were when he was pregnant with Orpheus. As winter slowly approached their home by the sea, some mornings became harder than most for Hob.

A story of finding new purpose, switching roles and falling in love again and again. The moon is also there.

✨ multi-chapter ✨

when I wake up, there are only your eyes to greet mine (complete)

rated M / 14.2k+ words / victorian soldiers au

Five times Sergeant Robert Gadling woke up to Captain Morpheus Apeiron. One time Morpheus woke up to Hob.

A very unlucky battalion finds itself in the command of one Captain Morpheus Apeiron. He doesn't seem particularly worried with their survival, but mostly with ending the war as soon as possible. Sergeant Robert Gadling seems to be the only thing keeping all these young and inexperienced soldiers alive. After one particularly heated fight between them, Hob ends up discovering there is much more to his Captain than meets the eye, but is he seeing Morpheus as he truly is, or through the prism of his own desire?

may dream (incomplete)

rated M / 7.5k+ words posted / hurt/comfort

It's been 10 days since Dream of The Endless was rescued from Fawney Rig by one Hob Gadling, who takes it upon himself to see to Dream's recovery. While with Hob, Dream is provided with something he'd been missing even before his imprisonment: to be cared for.

☁️ fan art ☁️

he’s wearing the north face jacket

change or die magical girl

happy birthday dream sketch

thursday night at the drag bar

Halley’s Comet mini comic

come here often?

softest-punk’s witcher au fanart

avelera’s giving sanctuary fic cover

#dreaming week #dreamling week 2024 #Dreamling masterpost #fic masterpost #art masterpost #dreamling #the sandman #dream of the endless #morpheus #hob gadling #dream x hob #morpheus x hob

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life-at-hogwarts · 1 year

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Crucio (Ominis x GN! reader) HURT/COMFORT

Pairing: Ominis x reader

Warnings: whump, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, alcohol

Word count: 3.7k

Summary: When you get trapped in Salazar Slytherin’s room of torture, Ominis is forced to relive past trauma. Not being able to bear hearing the sound of your screams he insists on taking your place.

Authors note: This is the first fic I actually finished, hope you enjoy it. Might be a one shot, but I’m thinking about continuing the story.

Finally, Ominis turned around to face you. His expression softened, his mask melting away, revealing the hurricane of emotions he was struggling to hold back.

“Please let me do it. I’d rather take the pain that hear you scream. Believe me, you’ll never forget these kinds of screams. I can’t take hearing you suffer. Please, „ he pleaded. It was an impossible choice, but when you looked at him you knew what to do.

“Are you sure about this?”

“I’m sure. Not my first time, remember?”

---

“This is where she died. This is where we’ll die! I shouldn’t have listened to either of you!” Ominis cried out, his voice unusually shrill. While you were searching for comforting things to say, Sebastian, who had been studying the door finally broke his silence. “I’m sorry about your aunt, Ominis. But I know how to get us out of here. It’s going to be difficult,” he murmured absentmindedly. Unlike his friend, the tall brunette did not seem to be bothered by the situation at all, which could only mean he had already come up with a plan.

“What do you mean you know how to get us out of here?” you asked.

“Look around. Tortured faces on the door and ‘Crucio’ etched into the stone. My guess is if we cast the Cruciatus curse the door will open. That’s why Noctua died - she had no one to cast the curse on. Ominis has the most experience with this. He should cast it. You seem to be in Ominis’ favor. Will you ask him about this?”

Knowing how insensitive Sebastian could be, you agreed and carefully approached Ominis, who was still anxiously pacing on the other side of the room. Before you could say anything, he blurted out, “I overheard you and Sebastian, and I won’t do it. The Cruciatus curse is pure torture - I would know.”

“Sebastian told me a little of what happened when you were young. It sounded as if you had no choice,” you replied, hoping he wouldn’t mind his friend sharing this with you. You still vividly remembered how badly he reacted to finding out you knew about the Undercroft. To your surprise, this time he didn’t even mention it. If anything, he seemed glad that he didn’t have to explain it to you himself.

“One always has a choice. I’m as guilty as the worst of my family. Unforgivable curses won’t work unless you really mean them. I had to want to cause pain and for that I shall never forgive myself. That spell is the reason I have no family left,” he exclaimed frantically.

“You’re not a bad person, Ominis. I know you. You are good. What happened was not your fault, do you hear me? You have to forgive yourself.”

Ominis misty grey eyes filled with tears. “Please don’t make me do it. I can’t. I won’t,” he whimpered and covered his ears with his hands, as if to block out a noise only he could hear. “I don’t want to. Please don’t make me.”

Shocked by his reaction you immediately started apologizing. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t even have asked. We will figure out another way, I promise,” you assured him, softly placing your hand on his arm. Seeing him this upset rattled you, and you wanted nothing more than give him a hug, but he pulled away and sat down on the floor, cradling his head and rocking back and forth. Unsure what to do you looked at Sebastian for help. He gestured with his head to come to him. You felt awful leaving Ominis like this but obeyed his bidding.

“I’m guessing that’s a ‘no’ from Ominis. It’s up to us then. I can teach you Crucio or I can cast it on you.”

“You know how to cast Crucio? Why did you have me ask Ominis in the first place? You know how badly that spell messed him up!” you snapped at him, pointing at his friend who clearly was not doing well.

“I’m not sure I do. But I think I can cast it if I have to. It sure is a better option than dying in here,” Sebastian replied calmly. His composure was truly remarkable, and you were glad that at least one of you was keeping a cool head. Now it was your turn to do your part. You had already made the decision.

“Alright. But you must cast it. I could never bring myself to hurt you. I’m sorry.”

Sebastian nodded and you took a deep breath and closed your eyes, trying to brace yourself for what was coming next. When you opened them again the two of you exchanged a solemn look, and he pulled out his wand. Before he could open his mouth, Ominis had crossed the room, moving with the stealth and swiftness of a cat and grabbed Sebastian’s arm, forcing him to lower his wand.

“Cast it on me,” he demanded, his face an impenetrable mask.

“Ominis, no. He’ll cast it on me,” you protested but the blonde ignored you, standing his ground.

“Didn’t know you’re all so eager to be tortured,” Sebastian remarked dryly.

Finally, Ominis turned around to face you. His expression softened, his mask melting away, revealing the hurricane of emotions he was struggling to hold back. “Please let me do it. I’d rather take the pain that hear you scream. Believe me, you’ll never forget these kinds of screams. I can’t take hearing you suffer. Please, „ he pleaded. It was an impossible choice, but when you looked at him you knew what to do.

“Are you sure about this?”

“I’m sure. Not my first time, remember?”

You recalled what Sebastian had told you earlier regarding Ominis’ experience with the curse. The thought of his family torturing him as a child, made your blood boil with anger, and now he had to go through it again. Everything inside of you was screaming to take his place but you knew how stubborn he could be. You opened your mouth, ready to argue, but closed it again when you caught Sebastian quietly shaking his head to signal you that you should leave it alone. This way Ominis at least had some control over the situation. The tall brunette took the lead, by pointing his wand and preparing himself to cast the spell.

“Ready?” he asked, looking at Ominis grimly.

“I’m ready.”

Sebastian took a deep breath and his eyes darkened.

“Crucio.”

The second the spell hit him, Ominis groaned and doubled over in pain, his body twitching involuntarily as the curse shot through him in a bolt of cackling red light. The door seemed to feed off his pain, absorbing every single drop of it. You watched with tears in your eyes as he fell to his knees screaming out in agony. Ominis had been right. This was awful. The sounds he made vibrated through your entire body, making the hair on your neck stand up in terror. Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Stop it, Sebastian.” you screamed hysterically, your voice breaking but he shook his head again. The door was not open yet. Not knowing what to do you threw yourself on the floor next to Ominis and took his hand, hoping it would give him some sort of comfort. His screaming had died down to a mere whimpering, which for some reason was even worse. You fought the urge to hold your ears to block out the awful sounds coming from the boy on the ground and held his hand even tighter. At last, the door started to melt away, giving way to the room behind it and Sebastian stopped the spell.

Ominis was on his side, his misty eyes staring into nothingness. “Ominis?” you asked carefully but he didn’t react. Sebastian joined you and kneeled next to his other side, checking on his friend. “I’m sorry. Are you alright?” When this too was met with silence you exchanged a worried look with Sebastian. You had both heard the horror stories of people being driven mad by the curse. “Ominis. Say something.” After another 30 seconds that felt like an eternity, he opened his mouth and whispered, “I’m fine.” Slowly, he sat up and a small sob escaped your lips. He was a mess. His face was wet with tears, his hair disheveled and robes covered in dirt. “Don’t scare us like that,” Sebastian grumbled and roughly patted his friend’s shoulder, before getting up and glancing through the doorway. “You have to see this! We made it. We found Salazar Slytherin’s scriptorium.”

Still in shock, you watched Sebastian disappear into the other room, leaving you alone with Ominis. For a moment, you sat in silence, both trying to process what just happened. “Are you really alright?” you asked, even though you could already guess the answer. He most definitely did not look okay. In fact, you had never seen him in such a state before. He was there but not really present. The confident, sassy Slytherin you had gotten to know and love was gone, his body an empty shell. It was like he was trapped in his own dimension of hell, having to relive the torture he went through as a child. He flinched when your question brought him back to reality, then slowly turned his head to face you, “Not really. You?” “Not really.”

You fell into each other’s arms, desperately holding on to each other, trying to find comfort in the warmth of the embrace. You felt his body relax against yours and leaned into him, even more. A stifled sob escaped his mouth, and he buried his head in your shoulder. Following his example, you let your tears flow freely. The sound of his screams still rang in your ears. The sheer agony in his voice was the worst thing you’ve ever heard, and you couldn’t stop replaying it in your head. You needed him as much as he needed you. His arms wrapped around you, holding on to you as if you were the only thing keeping him from drowning.

You let your fingers run through his hair and pressed your face into his neck, inhaling the sweet scent of his shampoo. Your touch seemed to have a calming effect on him, his breathing slowed down and his grip on you weakened. “You’re okay,” you murmured over and over again, like a mantra, unsure if you were saying this to soothe him or yourself. Slowly, the chaos in your head started to ebb down. It was impossible to tell if you stayed like this for minutes or hours but neither of you was ready to let go. Finally, Ominis tightened his grip on you once more before breaking away.

For a moment you looked at each other in awkward silence, both unsure what to say after the intimate moment you had just shared. “Ominis…” you started but he interrupted you. “I don’t want to talk about it. For now, let’s focus on getting out of here.”

With one swift movement he got up and elegantly offered you his hand. A gentleman as always. Glad, that he seemed to be back to his old self again, you let him help you up. After dusting himself off, he took the lead and walked towards the entrance of the scriptorium, with you following close behind. All of a sudden, your gaze fell on the pile of bones in the corner, and you froze. “What’s wrong?” Ominis asked, his voice full of concern. “Your aunt. Her…remains are right behind you.” “Oh.” You guided his hand towards the spot so that he could see it with his wand, watching his face closely for his reaction but he remained expressionless. Then he quietly asked, “Would you mind giving me a minute alone?” It broke your heart how much pain he had to endure in one single night, and you squeezed his arm reassuringly before stepping through the doorway.

When you entered the scriptorium, you were greeted by Sebastian, who seemed to be completely oblivious to what just happened. “What is taking you guys so long? Come take a look at what I found. Slytherin’s spell book. I have only browsed but it looks promising. I think this could be the key to curing Anne.” His eyes sparkled with excitement when he showed you the old dusty tome with Slytherin’s initials on the front.

“That’s great news Sebastian,” you replied, forcing yourself to give him a smile. Of course, you were happy that there was new hope for curing Anne, but the price for this book had been high and Ominis was the one who had had to pay it. Sebastian didn’t notice and enthusiastically continued talking while he showed you around the scriptorium.

“This room is amazing. I could spend hours and hours rummaging through all of these books.”

“Yeah.”

“What’s with the sour face? Ominis is fine, isn’t he?” he grumpily asked, as he turned around to look for his friend, who was nowhere to be seen.

“No. And neither am I. I want to leave. You got what you came here for.” It wasn’t your way to be so cross with him, but you were still on edge and desperately wanted to get away from this place, that was practically vibrating with dark magic.

Sebastian looked at you with a mixture of confusion and defiance. “You can’t be serious? There is still so much to explore.” You let out a deep sigh and prepared to argue, when Ominis appeared at the foot of the stairs, joining in on the conversation. “I agree. Let’s get out of here.” His voice was calm and authoritative, leaving no room for debate. In one hand, he held his wand, the other was clutching a gigantic vase. You furrowed your brows in confusion before you realized what he had been doing while you and Sebastian had been talking. “Is that…?”

“I am going to take her with me. Give her a proper burial.”

Finally, understanding dawned in Sebastian’s face and he gave in, waiting for you to take the vase from Ominis before gesturing to follow him. The exit was hidden in an eerie looking statue of Salazar Slytherin’s face with a snake coming out of its mouth. Sebastian stepped forward and tapped the snake’s head with his wand, causing the statue to rotate and reveal a platform of sorts. “After you.” A few minutes later, when all of you were back in the Slytherin dungeon, Sebastian spoke up. “About your aunt Ominis -”

“Please, Sebastian. All I want is for you to swear never to engage in anything to do with dark magic ever again. You almost got us all killed tonight, with your stupid obsession with the scriptorium.”

“We are so close to curing Anne. I found Slytherin’s spell book in the scriptorium, and I think I saw something that could be useful….”

Ominis face crumpled with pain and disappointment. His best friend truly did not care about anything other than his search for a cure. He turned away from Sebastian, who was still rambling on about some spell he had found. When he noticed that Ominis wasn’t listening he snapped at him, “Why are you not happy for me? I thought you cared about my sister.”

After a long, tiring night, you’d had enough of his selfish behavior and stepped in.

„I know how important finding a cure for Anne is to you, but right now this is about Ominis. We put him through hell tonight, do you understand that? He has every right to be angry at you. You keep putting yourself before everyone else and completely ignore the wreckage you leave in your path.”

Sebastian glared at you, ready to retaliate. “Why isn’t he angry at you then? After all, you convinced him to go in there.”

“I’m sure he is, and he is right to be. Tonight was a mistake. Now take this and find a place to hide it for tonight. It’s the least you can do. Tomorrow we will decide what to do with it. I’m taking Ominis home.” You handed him the vase with Noctua’s remains and held his angry gaze.

“He can find his own way back to the dorms you know. He’s not helpless.”

“Of course he can. I just don’t want him to be alone right now.”

With that you turned around and demonstratively took Ominis hand, interlocking your fingers with his. “Let’s go.” You felt his surprise, but he went along with it and didn’t pull away. Usually, he hated it when people tried to help him in any sort of way, and you almost expected him to snap at you but tonight he was tame as a kitten, letting you lead him down the corridor, away from a fuming Sebastian. He too seemed to be too tired to argue. The sound of your steps echoed through the empty corridors as you walked in silence. When you stopped in front of the entrance of the Slytherin dorms, you waited for him to take charge and decide whether or not he wanted to invite you into their common room. He didn’t let go of your hand when he spoke the password and the gigantic snake revealed the door. After a few seconds of hesitation, he stepped forward, gently pulling you with him and you followed.

You had been here quite a few times with Sebastian, still the elegance and grandeur of the Slytherin common room never ceased to amaze you. The room was filled with eerie greenish light leaking from the windows showing the depths of the black lake. The only sound was the gentle cackle of wood being devoured by the flames. You followed Ominis, or rather let him guide you, to a sofa right in front of the big windows that faced the water. Only then did he let go of your hand and slumped into the soft pillows. You awkwardly waited a few moments before sitting down yourself. Ominis rubbed his face and sighed wearily, “I don’t need you to stand up for me.”

“I know. I just wanted to make it clear to him how wrong his behavior was tonight. I’m so sorry I dragged you into this. I should have never asked you to show us the entrance. This is my fault.”

“I appreciate that. I have already forgiven you. Everybody makes mistakes.”

You raised an eyebrow, knowing full well that Ominis was usually not one to hold back his anger when someone screwed up. His tongue was as sharp as his wits and not something to be messed with, as you knew from firsthand experience. Tonight, he was oddly calm, it was almost unsettling.

“Yeah, but mine almost got us killed.”

“You know me. I’m a thrill seeker,” he replied dryly, making you snort with laughter. Amused by this, Ominis too started giggling and you laughed even harder. It probably was the adrenaline, but you could not stop laughing, both of you cackling hysterically like maniacs. It took you some time to calm down, but the laughter had helped dissolve some of the stress and you felt a little better.

“Glad you have your sense of humor back. Seriously though, are you going to be okay?” you asked solemnly.

“Don’t worry about me.”

“Of course I worry about you, silly. You have been through a lot tonight.”

“Please don’t. I can’t…I can’t talk about it,” he whispered, and his entire body stiffened. Trying to hide how much this affected him he dug his nails into the palms of his trembling hands and avoided your gaze.

“That’s alright. Just know, if you do need to talk, I’m here for you,” you replied softly and placed a hand on his outstretched leg. By now you understood that physical touch had a calming effect on him. It was odd, since he was a very withdrawn person, not like Sebastian, who was rather touchy and comfortable with physical proximity. Ominis was a proper gentleman, always keeping his distance, never intruding your personal space. Yet tonight he really seemed to need the intimacy of human touch.

“There should be some firewhiskey in the globe behind us, would you mind getting it?”

“Are you trying to get me drunk?”

“I’m inviting you to join me for a nightcap.”

“Well, if you put it like that, how could I resist?” you chuckled and got up.

As promised, when you opened the globe, you found an almost full bottle of firewhiskey. You waved the bottle in the air letting the liquid slosh loudly against the glass, to let him know about your find and returned to the sofa, but it was empty. Ominis had made himself comfortable on the floor in front of it, resting his arms on the seat. Following his example, you sat down next to him on the soft carpet and handed him the bottle. He took a deep swig of the bronze liquid and passed it on to you. You took a small sip and coughed, quickly handing it back to Ominis. After another few sips he broke the silence.

“Why are you so kind to me?”

“Because I care about you. Is that so hard to believe?”

“Yes.”

Too tired to talk, you reached for his hand, and he took it. The way his fingers wrapped around yours ever so gently felt like the most natural thing in the world and you felt the urge to never let go of his hand again. For a while you sat in silence, quietly passing the whiskey back and forth, then Ominis spoke up again.

“You know why I like to sit here so much?” He paused for a moment to look at you, waiting for you to meet his gaze. For a moment you got lost in the reflection of the lake in his milky grey eyes. “Because I like the way, the water breaks the light. I can see light and shadow, you know? When I watch the lake, the light is dancing.”

“That sounds beautiful. Tell me about it.”

“It dances with the rhythm of the waves. It’s so soothing it’s like listening to a lullaby. Sometimes, when it’s stormy it gets really fast and erratic, it’s like I can see the thunderstorm.”

Slowly but surely the alcohol was taking effect and he was struggling to stay awake. He rested his head on your shoulder and asked, “Can we just sit here and watch them for a while?" already starting to slur his words a little.

“Ominis?”

“Mhm?”

“Never scare me like that again.”

Instead of answering he nestled his face into your neck and sighed. You rested your head on his and listened to his breathing slow down as he started to fall asleep, still not letting go of your hand. You smiled at his cute little snores before you too drifted off to sleep.

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buddierecs · 4 months

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hurt/comfort buddie fics.

all of these are general audience, teen and up or not rated (no smut) make sure to kudos/comment on these amazing works :)

a leaf falls on loneliness (highly recommend this fic!!) by: iimpossible_things "buck doesn’t think that if he were to say, “i’m in a bad place”, that anyone would turn him away. really, he doesn’t. the 118 has too many good, kind people for that. but every time he wants to open his mouth, to say something, to reach out to eddie or bobby or hen or chim, he hears eddie yelling, “you’re exhausting.” —you’re exhausting, you’re exhausting, you’re exhausting— so each day he does his job and he laughs and he jokes and he pretends he’s the care-free goofball he’s always been. And each day he packs away his bruises and his worries, takes them home to his empty loft with its quiet rooms, and licks his wounds in silence." word count: 11k important tags: angst, fluff, happy ending, orginal male character blue skies by: spaceprincessem "buck meets another savior baby and everything comes crashing down" word count: 36k important tags: my sisters keeper au, original characters, ptsd, nightmares, emotional whump, evan buckley break down, getting together and i'm not good at winning fights anymore by: spaceprincessem "five times buck needs to feel eddie's heartbeat and the one time eddie needs to feel his" word count: 24k important tags: 5+1 things, whump, protective!eddie diaz, getting together, soft boys in love, ptsd give your heart and soul to charity by: 42hrb "eddie dumps god, gets some more therapy, accepts parts of himself he was taught to hate, loves his best friend, and loves himself" word count: 12k important tags: emotional hurt/comfort, pov eddie diaz, character study, catholic guilt, therapy, pining, getting together i could find you darling, in any life by: justhockey "buck and eddie meet in afghanistan. it changes everything." word count: 27k important tags: diferent first meeting au, army!eddie diaz, navy seal!evan buckley, emotional infidelity, slow burn, hurt/comfort, love confessions catharsis by: rogerzsteven "it only takes one minor inconvenience for buck to have his long overdue breakdown" word count: 5.3k important tags: emotional hurt/comfort, mental/emotional breakdown, bobby nash as evan buckley parent, multiple pov stay by: soft_satan buck’s voice was soft and hesitant, but full of patience when he finally spoke again. “did I do something to upset you, chris? i can leave—” "no!” chris whirled on him, a complete shift from the standoffish vibe he had been giving a second ago. the tears he bravely held back finally broke free from his eyes, sliding down his rosy cheeks from behind his glasses. he shook his head vehemently, the yellow crayon falling to the table. “no, I’m not mad. please…” his words turned to whimpers, his lip trembling. “please don’t leave me too.” word count: 31k important tags: whump, angst, family feels, found family, getting together, team as family

habits by: whileyouresleeping "buck's not sure what's going on when eddie starts kissing him on the head after a rough call, only now it's a thing, and it's a thing buck would very much like to continue if he knew what it meant." word count: 4.9k important tags: tooth-rotting fluff, mild hurt/comfort stick with you by soft_satan "eddie licked his dry lips as he reached for his radio, trying to keep his movements slow and delicate to prevent any more damage to himself or buck. “diaz to captain nash.” “go for nash,” came bobby’s quick reply. “you two okay? where are you?” “we’re in a bit of a sticky situation here…” “we’re a shish kabob, cap!” buck chimed in. eddie rolled his eyes" word count: 5.9k important tags: impalements, whump, getting together, love confessions, hurt!buddie still by: brewsrosemilk "for the first time, buck longs for a bullet wound to treat. dirt to dig at. a door to break through. something. there’s nothing. “your guess was correct, diaz,” the bomb technician tells them, as he gestures to the orange circle. “you’re standing on a large sensor plate, wired to a detonator. It’s incredibly important that you don’t move. don’t shift. when you put your weight down, it was like cocking a gun - you take your weight off, this thing is powerful enough to take the entire house with it." word count: 9.3k important tags: near death experience, love confessions, happy ending, first kiss

be my baby (i'll look after you) by: youdrewstarsaroundmyscars118 "buck finally breaks down after fixing everyone but himself" word count: 1.5k important tags: nightmares, ptsd, panic attacks, pet names, cuddling, pre-relationship, almost love confession i was made for you by: youdrewstarsaroundmyscars118 "buck’s taking care of christopher while eddie is in texas when chris gets sick and has to get surgery." word count: 5.3k important tags: sick!christopher diaz, parent evan buckley, hospitals, bobby nash is evan buckley's parent, getting together, 118 crew as family i know you're hurting (but so am i) by: justhockey "eddie understands better than maybe anyone else ever could, how it feels to have everything unravel in the palm of your hands. he knows frustration - he knows fury. he’s painfully familiar with that burning rage that crackles in the tips of your fingers, that makes your skin hot and chest tight, and makes you want to punch anyone that dares to even look at you. but that doesn’t give chim the right to lay a damn hand on buck" word count: 3.7k important tags: ptsd, feelings realisation, protective!eddie diaz, communication, 5x04 coda of bikes and concussions by: datleggy "buck gets into an accident on his way to work in the morning, and before he can explain why he's late, he gets thoroughly chewed out and the rest of his day goes way downhill from there." word count: 7.6k important tags: injured!evan buckley, misunderstandings, father-son relationship (buck and bobby), team as family it's okay by: itsmylifekay "buck gets hurt on a call and doesn’t tell anyone." word count: 11k important tags: injury, dissociation, buck needs a hug love language by: whileyouresleeping "eddie's love language is acts of service, and buck doesn't totally get it." word count: 6.4k important tags: mild hurt/comfort, pining, fluff, friends to lovers don't go without me by: ingu "there was a snap, and a crack, and buck was suddenly weightless. the car, the tree, eddie, everything was falling. buck was falling. falling." word count: 31k important tags: major character injury, pining, team as family, whump, love confessions, getting together accidental (please check tw!!) by: rosefield "post lawsuit, buck accidentally cuts his arm. he decides that maybe not getting help is best for everyone." word count: 36k important tags: depression, suicide attempt, post-lawsuit, worried!eddie diaz, happy ending

check out the recs for mature rating hurt/comfort fics :) explicit rating hurt/comfort fics

#will definitely be doing a pt2 for this trope #911 fandom #911 show #911 abc #911 fox #buddie smut #buddie fic #evan buckley #book tropes #buck x eddie #buck x eddie fic #eddie diaz #hurt/comfort fics #hurt/comfort #ao3feed #ao3 link #ao3 #evan buck buckley

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masterjedilenawrites · 10 months

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Hi! How about a good old hurt/comfort whump type prompt like a "this is gonna hurt" or the more fluffy "hey, don't look at that. Look at me". Maybe with Boba Fett or Mando.

Din Djarin x Reader | 1.9k words

Content: Hurt/Comfort, detailed descriptions of pain and injuries, a lil fluff toward the end

Pain, unlike any you'd ever felt before, radiating from the point of impact throughout the rest of your body. That was all you could think about as you lay on the ground, blinking up at the stars and holding on to whatever may be left of your life.

Neither of you had seen the ambush coming, which made your efforts to fight against it that much more chaotic. Din was a trained and skilled fighter, and even he had been struggling. You, whose abilities paled in comparison, had stood no chance. You ran as soon as he told you to, and then within the blink of an eye, you found yourself flat on your back wondering whether death may be the better option.

It was impossible to tell how long you lay there... writhing, sweating, praying. You couldn't even scream, let alone comprehend the passage of time. Even one second of this pain was far too long. When he finally came, you swore you'd aged years.

"Stay with me..."

"Hang in there..."

He repeated himself over and over. Or perhaps your delirious mind was replaying his words over and over. You weren't sure how you suddenly ended up inside of a cave. You preferred the view with the stars, to be honest.

"Din," you croaked out through cracked lips.

You knew was around somewhere; you could feel him in the air that gently moved around you. But it was hard to tell if he was tending to you in any particular way as your whole body radiated. Pain, pressure, heat... it swirled in and out with your vision, your consciousness.

"This is gonna hurt," you heard him say at some point and it almost made you laugh. Hurt. You were well past hurt now, Djarin.

And then the pain got worse. Thank the stars you hadn't actually laughed.

Where before it felt like your body was expanding with hot, heavy air, now it was like an electric bolt was slithering from your leg across every other appendage. You could taste it. There were sparks in your eyes. Whatever Din was trying to do to help, it only seemed to be making it worse.

You must have blacked out. You were opening your eyes again but couldn't remember ever closing them. You felt weaker. The pain was still there, but it felt... hidden? Like someone had thrown a blanket over it, trying to hide it from sight. It was as if your body had decided it could no longer feel something that intense again.

You risked using what energy you had to lift your head. You wanted to see the damage, what all the fuss was about. It was your right leg, gnarled and twisted in a bloody mess. There was blood all over the ground surrounding you, definitely more than should be outside of your body. No wonder you felt so tired.

"What the hell..." you breathed out in shock.

Din was by your leg, alternating between work on some kind of split and adding stitches to keep the blood at bay. As soon as you moved, he immediately shifted over to get you to lay back down.

"Hey, don't look at that. Look at me."

You did, and there was something off about what you were seeing. Din's large brown eyes met yours, full of a sort of strained determination, a warrior's hope that if he just pushed a little more, a little harder, the fight would soon be won. His hair was matted to his head in a sheen of sweat, and flecks of blood - likely yours - highlighted one side of his jaw. It would have been a little hot in any other circumstances. You'd always wondered if he ever looked more haggard than the cool and collected beskar helmet ever let on...

And that's when it hit you. He didn't have his helmet on.

"I just have a few stitches left," he was saying, voice completely unfiltered. "And then I can tighten the splint and that should keep your leg stable enough to travel. The bone will take a long time to reset, but if we can make it to the ship, I can get you somewhere safe where you can heal in peace. I just need you to stay strong a little while longer."

You didn't hear a single word he said. He had a hand clasped under your neck, his thumb brushing soothingly just by your ear. His eyes were so beautiful. They pleaded with you to stay awake, to keep looking.

You were dreaming.

You must be dreaming.

You were unconscious, pulled into an unknown state of being where your mind conjured up pleasant, wonderful images to keep the pain at bay, to keep you alive and sane. That's all this was. Din would never remove his helmet, not even for you.

"Stay strong," he said, squeezing the back of your head just enough to be reassuring. "I promise I'll get you out of here."

Those beautiful brown eyes disappeared and you were faintly aware of the pain starting up again in your leg, but you didn't care. So what if it was a dream. Gods, what a thing to dream of. You clung to the image and let yourself drift away with it peacefully....

* * *

It was strange, all the different ways one could feel pain. Sometimes sharp, sometimes dull. Sometimes hot, sometimes cold.

The pain you felt when you woke again was definitely on the colder, number side, at least so long as you continued to lie still. It sucked, but it was a relief from what you'd endured before. Any movement that affected your general hip and leg areas, though, brought those sharp, prickly stings. So you did your best to limit your movements.

The view you had now was of the Razor Crest ceiling. You didn't remember the journey here at all. How had Din even managed? You shifted your hands a little. They were set at your sides and glided along familiar patterns of fabric, your own blankets. He had moved your cot out into the main hull, probably to better tend to you as needed.

Next, you tried testing your voice. You assumed Din would be up in the cockpit, trying to find a medical facility to take you to for better care. But something within you yearned to have him closer, to know you were not alone in this, that everything would be okay.

You could get out a few croaks, garbled groans that didn't resemble any known language. But that was all it took anyway. Din had been right there, just outside your field of vision. He came into view at your call.

He had his helmet on.

"Hey, it's okay, it's okay," he was quick to reassure. A gloved hand laid gently on your shoulder but it didn't squeeze, no fingers caressed.

So maybe you had dreaming after all.

You felt a little disappointed, but that quickly passed now that you simply had him here with you again.

He brought some water up to your lips and helped you drink from it. You winced a few times as you lifted your head and jostled your spine, and therefore your hips and leg. But it was worth getting some hydration and helping bring back your voice.

"What the hell even happened," you managed to string together some words after you finished and settled back down.

Din's helmet just shook slowly, like he couldn't even comprehend the events. "It was all my fault. I--"

"Don't you dare say you should've seen them coming," you warned, knowing how he got with things like this. "And I wasn't asking about the ambush. What the hell happened to my leg?"

"Speeder bike. Caught you right in your side, fractured your femur. Worst bone to break. You're stable now but you'll have a long recovery time."

"Lucky me," you sighed.

"You lost a lot of blood, too," he added.

"Well, at least I'm alive," you offered, mostly to be dramatic. But a cock of his helmet and you knew those words carried much more weight.

"Yeah," he agreed somberly. "It was bad. I was... worried, for a while."

You didn't know what to say to that. If anything, you wished you could be the one to come to his side and provide him with comfort and healing. This whole situation was messed up.

Din sat back down beside you and you did your best to shift your head and keep him in view. He had his hands resting on the edge of the cot and his helmet was trained on them in thought.

"Do you... remember anything?" he asked timidly after a few moments.

You immediately remembered his face. The line of stubble along his upper lip. How his hair curled slightly along his temple. Those big, beautiful brown eyes....

"Bits and pieces," you responded.

"Anything in particular?"

Now you were wondering if maybe it hadn't been a dream after all. He was acting like he didn't want to get caught for something.

"You really want me to revisit my trauma so soon, Djarin?" you teased.

"No, no, of course not," he quickly backpedaled and you both fell into an awkward silence for a minute.

You finally decided to pry a little further "...Why?"

"No reason."

"Hm." He wasn't giving you much to go off of. This was getting silly. "Well, come to think of it, I do remember something... odd..."

"Oh?"

His hand gripped the blanket anxiously next to you. You looked at his helmet and desperately wished you could see beyond it, to see how he felt so you could know what he wanted.

Oh but who were you kidding? You knew him well, just as he did you. You knew exactly what those eyes would be pleading for you to say, because you knew what was important to him. So you put him out of his misery.

"But you know, it's all so fuzzy. I was probably just hallucinating."

You slid your hand across to rest against his and gave it a short squeeze. He visibly relaxed and that made you just as happy as it would have been to hear him admit what had really happened.

"Okay, good. Um, I mean, that's... that's normal. You were in and out of it a lot."

Din let out a nervous breath but then gently twisted his hand around to hold yours properly.

"Were you really worried about me?" you asked.

He nodded his head slowly. "Yeah... yeah, I was."

You gave a comforting little smile and squeezed his hand again. "Well, thank you, for being there for me. And being here now."

"Of course. This is the way."

Normally you would've rolled your eyes at that, but now it was reassuring. Encouraging, even. In some ways, it symbolized a bond between you that you'd wondered would ever come. You'd been traveling together long enough, fighting together and dining together and making decisions together. Now you were helping each other live. He'd gotten you out of a firefight, pieced you back together, hefted you unconscious across a forest. And now he was staying, right here, right beside you, for no other reason than because he could.

And maybe, just maybe, he had given a little part of himself to you, too. Maybe on accident, sure, but meaningful nonetheless. You would hold that piece of him close to your heart, and keep it safe there for as long as you continued to live.

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#star wars #the mandalorian #mandalorian x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #one shot #hurt/comfort #fluff #pain #injuries

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hatelangdon · 1 year

Text

Fever

Pt 1, Pt 2 / 3k words.

(Franken!Kyle x Witch!Reader)

Hurt/comfort, & fluff, Slight angst (it's just me rambling about Kyle's mistreatment from the Coven)

(🚨 Warnings: Talks of Fever, Being sick, Vomiting (not in detail), seperation anxiety, Crying, Zoe and Madison being terrible caregivers so neglect, problems with eating and drinking🚨)

Summary: Kyle doesn't feel good, he hasn't for a while...but what he needs now is kindness, understanding, and care from someone who actually wants the best for him.

(A/N: We all just want Kyle to feel better, he's so sweet. You could honestly just read this one by itself, but if you want more lore I would look into the last 2 parts...I definitely got carried away so I understand if ya'll don't feel like reading all this but I TOLD YALL I LOVE WHUMP but Misty is back and Kyle is wearing silly straw glasses so how mad could you be? I would highly recommend that you listen to this song near the end of the story , it adds a layer of sentiment that I can't even describe. I hope you have all enjoyed this little series as much as i've enjoyed writing it <3)

Also, this is not proofread so there's probably errors, ya'll know the drill by now.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

When you returned with the broom and dustpan to clean the glass up, Kyle was laying in the bed twirling the ring around his pinky. He was so enamored by its beauty that he barely even noticed when you came back, until you started to sweep the glass off the floor.

He realized your presence and perked up, watching you with big eyes.

“H-help?” He started sitting up, but you gently pushed him back down onto the pillows.

"I got it Kyle. You need to rest, and I don't want you to accidentally step on something" You assured him.

Cordelia had taught him how to sweep since he basically became the coven’s butler after Zoe and Madison decided to bring him back from the dead. This always raised ethical concerns in your mind because…why would they do that?

Kyle must’ve had dreams of his own, he was in college, he had friends that cared about him, he had a life that he wanted to live. Now he was unable to communicate and in constant pain from the terrible stitch job that Madison and Zoe had used to put him back together. His body never felt like his own, and thats because it wasn't...fully; They had decided to stitch Kyle back together using the body parts of his fellow frat brothers, which caused a lot of issues for both his mental and physical health.

It was all wrong. He was wrongfully killed in a bus crash, by Madison's hand and then he was brought back to be Zoe and Madison's personal toy & used as "the help"

Bringing someone back from the dead after you killed them, just so you could have sex and make them clean your house and serve you drinks didn't seem morally correct or fair. Those two had played “build a boyfriend” with Kyle’s life and didn't even take care of him properly.

Kyle never once took his eyes off of you while you swept, he had always admired how pretty you were and how warm your heart was.

After all of the glass was cleaned up and disposed of, you sat on the side of the bed, gently taking your ring from Kyle's hand and putting it back on your finger

"I told you I would be back" you stroked his hand with your thumb, and he gave you a gentle, sleepy, smile.

“P-p-pretty” Kyle blinked at you, still smiling

“yeah, it is a pretty ring isn't it? I can get you one like it, would you like that Kyle?"

He took a minute, allowing himself to fully decipher your words, before nodding and placing a gentle hand on your cheek

“Y-you pretty.” He blinked hard, and nodded again to insure you knew what he was talking about.

You felt your face heat up and your heart flutter like it housed a butterfly garden,

“thank you Kyle. You are very kind.”

Your words only made his smile bigger.

You had moved yourself to the side of the bed, your back resting on the wall. Kyle balled himself next to you, resting his head on your lap.

You rubbed the side of his head with your thumb to let him know that you were with him, even as he slept. You could feel that he still had a fever....in fact he was burning up. Luckily, he was being taken care of and resting, maybe that was all that he needed.

Kyle only slept for an hour before all hell broke loose

You had stayed where you were, you didn't mind since Kyle was resting peacefully on your lap and no one really noticed that you hadn't come out of your room, it was still pretty early in the day.

You just sat there watching tv on your phone. Kyle had started to stir in your lap, his eyebrows furrowed like he was uncomfortable. He curled in on himself tighter, practically hugging his knees to his chest.

You ran your nails down his spine, hoping to comfort him a bit. His eyes suddenly opened and he sat up, looking panicked and tapping his chest desperately trying to convey something to you.

Your eyes widened, you were just as confused as he was

“Um- what's wrong? Are you choking?” You were very unsure “is it your stitches???”

Kyle’s eyes were tearing up and he started turning red, as he continued to try and show you what was wrong with him by patting his chest. He started gagging and you realized what the issue was, quickly.

“NO! NO! KYLE PLEASE DO NOT THROW UP ON MY BED” You practically sprung 4 feet off the bed and tackled the trashcan by your desk, luckily there was a bag in it. You rushed it over and put it in front of him.

“You’re okay Kyle, just let it up” you rubbed his back gently, as he dry heaved over the bin, sobbing. He didn’t understand why this was happening to him, why his stomach hurt so much, and why his throat burned. The muscle tension from him being bent over and heaving caused his stitches to pull on his skin, which made his experience much more painful.

You hated to see him this way, you didn’t think it would get this bad but he was clearly much sicker than you had anticipated, the sound of him being sick and his desperate cries broke your heart, but all you could do was stay there with him and talk him through it.

“I know it hurts Ky, I know. Just keep breathing. It’ll be over soon.” You pressed your lips to the back of his neck, rubbing on his shoulders.

You could tell he was finished when the heaving stopped and he was just crying with his head in the bin.

You took it away from him with your eyes closed tying up the bag, you’d deal with it later.

Kyle was back lying on the bed, curled up in fetal position while his body shook with sobs. He was exhausted and everything hurt.

“Ky, I know you don’t feel good. I’m sorry.” You were gentle with him, squeezing his hand “I’m gonna get you something to drink okay? You need to hydrate. It’ll help your throat.” you tried to sound encouraging, but he didn’t seem to care at all.

He turned to you, sniffling while his eyes still pooled with tears and his nose blushed in bright hue of strawberry rouge, he held his hand out expectantly.

You looked around confused at first, until you realized that he was eyeing your ring. He had remembered.

You smiled, and pushed it into his palm, closing his fingers around it and kissing the back of his hand.

You made your way down to the kitchen to get some water from the brita, you used some old water bottle you got from a school event, it was best to give Kyle a drink with a lid, because he was prone to suddenly jerking his body. You came back upstairs, where Kyle was staring at the wall completely worn out.

“I’m back, ky”

He just hummed, his eyes closed to keep the light out. You had noticed Kyle didn't like to drink water that much, he didn’t really know why he needed to, so Zoe and Madison would just give him Diet Coke and apple juice all day to keep him quiet. This was a habit you could have fixed, but you didn't feel like arguing and Kyle needed fluids and electrolytes in him immediately.

You opened your nightstand, You kept cherry flavored liquid iv in your top drawer because you were also prone to forgetting to hydrate. You poured the powder in, shaking it up so it would be dissolved.

You kneeled next to the bed, running your hands through Kyle’s hair, massaging his scalp.

“Here Kyle, sip it. I made it sweet for you, it’ll help you feel a bit better”

He nodded, sipping on the water bottle, he liked it enough to take it from your hands and try to drink from it himself, it took him 10 seconds before accidentally squirting himself in the face, flinching

"Careful, Kyle" you took it from him, and he grunted.

You looked around your room for a better straw for him to sip on, your eyes landed on your desk. You had a pair of those silly straw glasses, from your little cousin's birthday party. You looked between the glasses and Kyle's wet face and knew exactly what he needed.

You grabbed them and tapped Kyle on the shoulder so he would look up at you.

“I’m gonna put these on you, alright?”

Kyle was intrigued by the tubing, but he recognized that they were also glasses of some kind and allowed you to put them behind his ears.

You were careful putting the straw back into the cup, making sure he would be able to actually drink it.

“Okay Ky, these are very special glasses,” you showed him the part of the straw that went into his mouth and he just stared at you, tilting his head in confusion “You’re just gonna drink from it like a regular straw.”

You helped him put it in between his lips and he did as he was told, sucking on it like a normal straw. When he realized that the liquid was circling his eyes and coming all the way around the glasses, he immediately gave you a giddy smile thinking it was the coolest thing in the world.

He suddenly latched onto your waist from where you stood in front of him, hugging you close. His head rested on your chest while he happily sipped on his water. This took you by surprise, but all you did was pat his blonde head and return the favor by wrapping your arms around his back, giggling at the unanticipated declaration of love.

“Y/n care Kyle?” He took the straw out of his mouth, lifting his head to look you in the eyes.

You nodded, giving him a smile. You had never felt so much love and admiration for someone in such a little amount of time.

“Yes Kyle, I care about you very much. I will always value you and make sure you’re treated well from now on.”

He smiled, and went back to sipping his drink through his silly little glasses, still holding onto you.

All you wanted to do was keep him safe and comfortable in your arms but you still had other things to attend to, like breakfast for both of you…well brunch.

“Kyle,” You were careful with your movements as you wriggled your way out of his grip, you watched his entire face drop as he reached out for you once again wondering why you suddenly didn’t want to cuddle him. It took every ounce of your strength to not jump right back into the bed and hold him.

“I gotta make us some food, are you hungry?” You put your hands on the sides of his face.

“Hungry.” He repeated, nodding.

“Okay, I’m gonna make you something. Do you know what you want?”

“Mac n cheese.”

“Alright, I’ll make you some Mac and cheese.” You made your way to the door and Kyle tried to follow, holding his water and looking at you like a lost puppy.

“Ky, you can’t come. You’re sick honey.” You guided him back to the bed

“Cold. B-bored.” He whined, trying to pull you into the bed with him. If he wasn’t sick he probably would have been able to.

“No Kyle, I gotta go. I’ll only be gone a little while.”

That’s when the tears started, he was exhausted and these past couple of days had been really difficult for him. He felt like you weren’t listening to him, like you didn’t care.

“Oh no no no, Kyle please don’t cry my angel,” You sat with him, wiping his tears away “I know you don’t feel good and you want me to hold you, I promise I will come back. I know it’s hard for you to understand, but I would never lie to you Ky.”

He sniffled, he didn’t get it 100%, words always got fuzzy in his mind but as he studied your face, he realized the sincerity in your eyes.

“I think it will help if I make the room comfy for you, hm?” You got up and closed your black out curtains which helped take some strain off of Kyle’s eyes and dull his headache, you had twinkling fairy lights that added some warmth to the room.

Kyle looked around, seeing the change in scenery and almost instantly he felt calmer.

Autumn had just begun, Kyle always loved the change of the seasons, but autumn was his favorite. It was so cozy and pretty.

You set up your laptop on a pillow near him, turning on the first episode of “over the garden wall” and covering him back up with your weighted blanket.

He suddenly felt relieved of all the tension left in his body.

“Is this better?” You rubbed the bottom of his back and he nodded, sipping away on his drink.

He was so entranced by the show, that you were able to slip out without saying another word.

You went down into the kitchen where you were graced by the presence of Misty dancing to Fleetwood Mac and twirling around in her flowy clothes

“Good morning, darlin!” She took your hand and twirled you, “Can I interest you in some French toast? I think I made too much batter.”

Misty was by far your favorite sister in the coven, she was so kind and sympathetic, especially towards the vulnerable creatures of the world.

“oh Misty, you know that I love your French toast, but I gotta make a mac & cheese cup for Kyle so I’m probably gonna eat one too.” You tried to make your way over to the pantry, but Misty pulled you back towards her playfully.

“no, you both can eat my French toast it's better for ya, and I'll even put some strawberries and cream on top to sweeten the deal.”

You happily obliged and sat on one of the bar stools in front of the stove watching Misty do her thing.

“What’re you doing with Kyle, where’s Madison?”

You raised your eyebrows, “Well there was some conflict between the two of them so I decided it would be best if they took a pause- and Kyle is pretty sick, so I told him I’d take care of him.” While it wasn't technically a lie, it also wasn't the truth but you couldn't tell Misty that you had froze Madison in time and kept her in her room for the past 2 days.

“Aw that’s too bad, why didn’t you tell me the poor angel was sick? I made some elderberry gummies a couple of days ago.” She flipped the toast in the pan, “They do wonders for the immune system, we're coming up on cold and flu season. I'm gonna get ya’ll some, I'll be right back!” she skipped off to her room her golden locks bouncing behind her, “if you smell something burning, just take the pan off the heat!”

She came back with a mason jar, filled with dark purple star shaped gummies,

“these will help him get better faster, but you should probably take some too.”

You nodded, giving her a big smile “Thanks Misty, you're the kindest person I know.”

“Awww, you don't have to say that. I try to help out where I can. I've seen you do the same, don't think that big heart of yours goes unnoticed.” She gave you a wink as she plated up French toast for both Kyle and You.

“I’ll cut his up,” She grabbed a butter knife from the drawer, cutting the toast in tiny square pieces, “Now, you go take this up and make sure that boy is taken care of!” She handed both plates off to you and turned her little radio up louder, quietly humming the lyrics to herself while she cooked.

“You could be my silver spring Blue-green colors flashin' I would be your only dream Your shinin' autumn ocean crashin"

The music followed along as you made your way back up the spiral staircase, opening the door to your bedroom to see Kyle resting peacefully with his cheek smushed against your pillow, his eyes sleepily taking in the calm scenes of the show.

“Ky, Misty made us some French toast” you sing-songed.

He turned to you eyebrows furrowed. That wasn't what he asked for., you noticed his confused expression and took a seat on the bed right next to him.

“I know it's not what you asked for, but did you wanna try?” You asked encouragingly.

He could smell it, and he liked the smell, so he was willing to try. He opened his mouth for you to feed him and you stabbed a piece with your fork, placing it in.

He chewed it up, it was very sweet so he liked it and showed you by opening his mouth for another piece. If he wasn't sick, you wouldn't have babied him so much, but you could still feel the warmth of fever on his skin so you needed to coddle him for just a little bit more.

and after a few minutes and what felt like magic you had managed to feed Kyle and yourself with no mess, you placed your dishes on your desk you would worry about them later.

Kyle had felt much better, but he still wanted you all to himself.

“Y/n done?” He perked his head up and looked at you with his big puppy eyes,

“Yes Kyle, I’m all done with everything” You came right over and grabbed his hand, which caused him to smile, shyly.

“L-lay with Kyle..and-and watch p-p-pumpkin?” He pointed to the show, wanting you to enjoy it as much as he did even though you were the one who introduced it.

“Of course, Ky.”

And with that, you wrapped your body right around his, holding him close to your chest. Your fingers intertwined as both of your faces were illuminated by the warm orange lighting of the show. You didn’t know what to call your relationship, you didn’t know if Zoe would ever return, and you didn’t know if you would ever unfreeze Madison by your own will…but you did know one thing, You would love Kyle forever and no one else would ever be able to hurt him as long as there was breath in your body.

#american horror story #ahs coven #ahs fandom #ahs murder house #evan peters #franken kyle #tate langdon #kyle spencer #whump #whumpee #sickfic #hurt/comfort #american horror story coven #american horror murder house #ahs fanfic #evan peters x reader

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