#and I can imagine medical areas were hard for him to be around after that
Note
IT IS I, THE CUDDLE PILE ANON. OK OK I KNOW I SAID THAT WOLFFE WAS MY LAST REQUEST BUTTTTTTT I HAD 2 IDEAS AT LIKE 3 IN THE MORNING sooooo basically one about the 501st (+Ashoka) and how they’d comfort Rex when he’s down. And another one were the 501st (+Rex maybe anakin) comfort Ashoka when she’s down. THEY’RE SUCH GOOD BIG BROTHERS 😭 in return for these 2 ideas, I shall gift you with my love and weird quotes my friends have said: “all I wanted was a 10 piece McNugg, I got spiritual enlightenment” “I know I’m not the sharpest kid in the shed…wait” preferably separate fics pls (when it’s convenient for u, YOUR HEALTH COMES FIRST GO DRINK WATER YOU FABULOUS AUTHOR) hey that kinda rhymed ok I’m done 🙃
So sorry I'm late on the first prompt, but finally here we are!
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"Uh oh, someone messed up."
When Fives is the one to freeze in the middle of a conversation, that gains the attention of the scattered 501st troopers nearby. Said newly minted ARC had been in the middle of a rousing story when he noticed that one of the medics decided to join the rest of the "plebs" willingly.
And not only a medic, Kix was standing in the doorway with his arms crossed.
"Whatever it was, it wasn't me!" Kix raised an eyebrow as Fives lifted his hands, and gives an amused snort.
"For once it's not your fault. Any of you see Rex?"
"Avoiding you again?" Echo asked, looking up from the manuals he'd been idly reading. "Told him you were going to start getting angry."
"I'm past that, I told him I need to monitor his BSV recovery, and I can't do that if he insists on skirting the medbay. Now, since you all clearly don't have anything to do, I'm pulling rank and ordering you to hunt down Rex and bring him to me."
"But we just got our game going!" Hardcase cried in dismay, he and Dogma crouched over a board game they'd been gifted some time ago.
"Aw poor guy." Kix deadpanned, rolling his eyes. "Tell you what, the man who delivers Rex gets some of the treats Plo gave me."
"Seriously?" Hardcase finds the game suddenly not as important, even Dogma side-eyeing the medic along with the very quiet troopers around him.
Kix shook his head.
"The man who brings me Rex gets to have their own mini-stash."
The medic isn't sure he's seen any room empty so fast, shaking his head with a rare chuckle as he heads back to his beloved medbay. It's not the best look to send an entire battalion after their commanding officer, but at this point Kix was tired of the excuses and his concern for Rex's health was overriding his initial trepidation. The BSV and the lives it took in the bunker had sent a ripple of fear through quite a few men, not even able to bury their brothers who had to be burned to ensure no trace of the virus could remain. They were trained to fight against all sorts of enemies, but one that was naked to the eye and deadlier than any clanker was...uncomfortable to think about, and most medics didn't comment on an uptick of their fellow batchers reading up on viruses and how best to combat them. Kix didn't have too long before he received a message, gathering up his mobile kit before heading out and towards where Rex had been found.
"He's buried in his reports." Jesse had found Rex hiding in a communications room, and Kix just nods. "Want me to keep guard?"
"No, I have a task for you."
When the door to his current hideout opens, Rex wants to curse.
"So, are we done hiding?" There's a clunk on the console behind Rex as the medic's kit is set down, and the blonde just remains silent as he fills out another report. "I need you to look at me."
"I'm busy." The excuse falls flat, and Kix scoffs.
"Who isn't. Do I need to pull rank again, or will you let me do the bare minimum exam?"
"......."
Rex gives in after twenty minutes of silence, the captain grumbling under his breath as Kix descends on him. Despite not being pleased with Rex and his evasiveness, he takes care to keep most of Rex's attention him himself rather than his medical tools. Rex hadn't said it out loud, which to be fair he couldn't as to remain the face his men looked up to and trusted, but being subjected to more than a few nasty tests after being liberated from the BSV had not helped him recover from the fact he could have died without being able to save anyone, let alone himself. Medbay's hadn't been much to him before, but now Rex started going out of his way to catch Kix and the other medics outside of the room, reassuring them as always yet avoiding simple things like his recovery assessment.
"You have been recovering nicely." There's a very small slump of Rex's shoulders, but the medic says nothing as he packs up his kit. "I'll test the blood I took, but you're lucky."
"Like I've been saying, I feel fine." Kix raised an eyebrow, pausing to shoot the surprised commander a glare.
"Oh you are nowhere near fine, but I did promise to try and be nice right now. I order you to report to the barracks, you've been holing up away from everyone, and it shows."
"I have reports to fill out..." Rex winces at how weak his protest is, but doesn't get much of a chance to say more when the door opens once more to reveal Ahsoka. "Really?"
"Jesse says you can't ignore me asking you things." The togruta smiled, and Kix can see the tension visibly leaving Rex as the togruta crosses the small room with a smile.
"Jesse is a traitor." Rex grumbled, but Kix doesn't need to Force to see there was no malice in his words.
"Maybe, but he's right. You haven't seen come to our sabbac nights anymore, and not even Skyguy has seen you outside of shift. So, I'm asking you to come join us scrubs for the night!"
"I'm sorry scrubs?" Rex's eyebrows shot up as Kix failed to hide his snort of amusement, a small grin cracking his impassive face for the first time in ages. "Let me guess, Fives taught you that?"
"Mhm! Although judging by the two of you, it doesn't mean regular troops does it?" Ahsoka grumbled as Kix just barked out a laugh, Rex trembling in the effort to hold his own in. "I'm so getting back at him."
"As long as it doesn't involve personal injury, I'll help." Kix shook his head in amusement, watching Rex place his hand on Ahsoka's shoulder.
"I have a few ideas myself." He tries not to focus on the way the Jetti preens when he gets to his feet, shifting close to him as the trio head out and towards the barracks, listening to some of Rex's surprisingly good prank ideas to use later on.
No one kicks up a fuss when Rex finally joins them for the impromptu movie night Echo and Dogma had set up, just joking with him and laughing about the movie that was more a sound board than actually paid attention to. They all knew it was just background amusement, just happy to see their commander letting loose for the first time since the BSV and enjoying his men's company, leaving the bunker deep in his mind for another night.
#personal#star wars#clone wars#the clone wars#501st battalion#captain rex#ahsoka tano#clone medic kix#arc trooper fives#arc trooper echo#arc trooper jesse#clone trooper hardcase#clone trooper dogma#Rex needs more love <3#to me the BSV would have left its mark on him#Ahsoka too#and I can imagine medical areas were hard for him to be around after that#especially after grabbing Echo too later on#anon ask
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A Reason To Go On - Part 1
Stalker!Ghost x f!reader
TW: MDNI 18+, stalking & obsessive behaviour, dub/con, mental health issues
Authors note: this came about following a series of drabbles which I’ve put links to below which may be useful to read beforehand. Written in one sitting and not edited!
Drab 1 Drab 2 Drab 3 Drab 4 Drab 5
AO3 version where everything has been merged
Series Masterlist
Simon sat looking across the kitchen table at Price, both nursing barely touched glasses of bourbon. The surface was immaculately clean, having never been used since it was bought a few months ago. Like much of the items and furniture in the little flat he now called home. Price was looking at him, waiting for him to speak, and the silence was eating up the last of the air in the room.
“Is it really that bad, Simon?” Price prompted him, his tone serious and maddeningly sympathetic. He was always Simon now, Ghost was gone, dead and buried the way he should have stayed all those years ago. He hadn’t even touched a balaclava since he left, using a black medical mask instead when he felt the need.
“No, not really,” Simon shrugged, turning the glass on the table idly. He didn’t look up at his Captain, no that was wrong, his ex-Captain. “Been keeping myself busy reading, exercise, you know,” he finished dismissively.
“You’ve kept up with that therapist?” Price asked, knowing the answer was most likely going to be a negative.
“Sure,” Simon lied. He hadn’t been to any appointments with a therapist since his medical discharge, and he would rather… No, can’t finish that thought as that’s what got him into this mess in the first place. Chucked out on civvy street with a fat pension and nothing to do, no purpose to serve after all these years. At least Price had arranged the pension so he didn’t have to worry about his name getting into circulation, not with his past. The flat was rented under a pseudonym and paid for by some shady forces protection scheme. He didn’t need that catching up with him now.
“Look, I’m settled in and getting myself sorted. You don’t need to come all the way here and check on me,” Simon grumbled, not bothering to hide how much he resented Price these days. He hadn’t fought for him, hadn’t tried to keep him on the Taskforce when that shrink had stamped his file as unfit for duty. Anger issues, poor impulse control, danger to self and others. Price huffed and knocked back his drink. These visits always ended the same, full of regret and bitterness.
“Okay, son,” he said, getting up and looking around the barely furnished flat one last time. “I’ll let you be, but I’ll be back when I can. Why not think about what I said though, try and get a hobby, something to focus on.”
Price left soon after and Simon finished his glass before heading towards the spare bedroom, his office as he liked to think of it. He’d found his left a purpose, no thanks to Price. He had a reason to carry on now, and it meant everything to him. Flicking on the lightswitch the rows and rows of photographs on the wall were illuminated, all showing images of you at various times since he had first seen you.
With a smile he relaxed into the chair by the desk, looking up at the photos. You were his life now, he was dedicated to taking care of you. Since that first day he’d seen you he had dealt with your worthless ex-boyfriend, making sure the little shit stain never bothered you again, scared off several unworthy bastards in the pub you met your friends in, and put some small security cameras in the downstairs areas of you house so he could check on you from his laptop.
You were the focus of his every waking moment, and even when he slept now he pictured you in his dreams and woke hard and throbbing. At the start of this he had sworn to himself he would keep his distance, not let you know he existed so he didn’t burden you with his problems. But it was getting harder and harder not to sit and imagine what the touch of your hand would be like, you were a brave and kind soul, would you turn him away if he spoke to you?
That was why he had answered the note on your coffee table. The chance to make a connection to you was too great a temptation, and he let himself slip and grab the chance. This would be a slippery slope.
As midnight nears he makes his nightly pilgrimage to your house, his motorbike left at the end of your road before he walks closer, not wanting to disturb you with the noise. The footholds he made in your garden wall months ago allow him to quickly and quietly scale the wall, and he fishes out the key he copied for your back door, letting himself into your kitchen. He cocks his head and listens carefully making sure you aren’t moving around upstairs, and he hears nothing.
By now, he knows to look at the notepad on the table in the living room. There’s always a small note written there since he’d replied to the message you’d left all those weeks ago. Tonight, however, the pad is missing and he feels a pang in his heart. Why haven’t you left a note tonight? Has your tolerance for him dried up now? He feels a creeping fear, another loss looming in his future that he isn’t ready to cope with, not when he has already lost so much in the past.
He moves up the stairs, having memorised where to step and where to avoid so no creaks come from the wood. Your bedroom is at the top, and he has spent many hours sat in the hallway outside your bedroom door just to listen to the steady sound of your breathing. More than once you’ve gone to the bathroom and walked right past him, never bothering with putting on lights at night. He looks through the open doorway, a thin beam of light shining through the gap in the curtains and across your form under the bed covers.
Tonight though, your breathing sounds different, and he realises you aren’t asleep in the darkness. When you sit up, he freezes.
“You’re there, aren’t you?” you say to the darkened bedroom, absolutely certain you can hear soft breathing in the shadows by the door. You’re still not sure who or what you’re talking to, but you know that there is someone listening to you.
Simon remains calm. It's the first time you’ve spoken directly to him and he can’t quite process the fact that the object of his desires has come this close to actually perceiving him. Both the last thing in the world he wanted, and the one thing he has needed more than anything in his entire life. For several heartbeats he wrestles with himself deciding wether to answer you or not.
“Yeah, I’m here,” he finally answers, deep voice carrying around the room easily. He watches you carefully in the thin slither of light, sees your tiny flinch as you hear him and the involuntary swallow in your throat, but you don’t panic.
“Will you tell me why you’re here?” You ask, unable to hide the slight tremble in your voice. You’re so brave, his heart swells with pride at how you handle waking up to a strange man in your house, your very bedroom. You’d have made an amazing soldier.
“Just checkin’ you’re okay. I check on you a lot,” he admits.
“How long have you been doing this?” He can see a frown on your features, you’re trying to piece this all together now.
“Few months,” he answers with a shrug of his shoulders which draws your attention. You see the movement and realise just how large the shape in the shadows is, your eyes going wider in shock. His frame fills the doorway in width and height, and a tiny voice in your head tells you that you should be terrified, but you aren’t. If this man meant you harm you’d be dead already, months ago apparently. Instead he was getting into your house and doing the stuff that, and you feel your brain stutter at this thought, a boyfriend would do.
“Okay, and you’ve been doing more than that haven’t you? You’ve been following me around and helping me out haven’t you?”
“Yeah,” he replies.
“Why?”
“Wanna keep you safe, and happy,” he grunts with a frown, not wanting to dwell on that question.
“You could do that without breaking into my house, without hiding yourself from me.”
“I didn’t really want to bother you, I don’t need anyone to take care of me and it’s just easier this way,” he tells you, hearing how hollow his own words sound to his ears.
“Look, I really appreciate everything you’ve been doing, but this isn’t… normal,” you say, hugging your knees to your chest now as you settle into this off situation. Again, you tell yourself you should be screaming and calling the police but there is a sadness about this man that you can’t ignore. “Why don’t you come and sit with me and we can talk?”
“Wait,” comes his brusque reply, and your eyebrows raise. He steps back from the doorway and down the stairs, not nothing to mask his footsteps now, and returns with a scarf that was hanging at the bottom of the stairs in one hand. “Close your eyes,” he instructs, holding the scarf in one hand where you can see it.
“A blindfold. Why? Are you ugly?” you tease, the words hitting him like a bullet between the eyes and a smile forming across his face.
“Quite the opposite,” he replies, feeling warmth spread through his chest at such a poignant exchange of words. It's almost as though you knew…
You close your eyes. Listening carefully as you hear him moving closer, the faint rustling of fabric is just audible. A blindfold settles over your eyes, thick and heavy, blotting out anything you might have been able to see even in the darkness.
Then, and only then, do you feel the mattress dipping down a long way as he sits on the edge of the bed. Tentatively you lift one hand and blindly reach out to touch him, after a moment or two he takes your hand in his, warm fingers and a calloused palm encapsulating your own. On a whim, you pull, urging him to move closer to you. At first he resists, the bed shifts and for a moment you worry he is going to get up and leave, but you hold onto his hand and tug again. He relents and leans over towards you, and warm face rests against your shoulder, hair tickling your cheek, and you wrap your arms around huge shoulders.
It’s as though a dam breaks inside Simon, the moment you put your arms around him he melts against you, gently pushing you back against the mattress as he lies down beside you. One of his legs hooks over yours over the covers and his arm drapes over your stomach, pinning you into place as his face rests against the exposed skin at the crook of your neck.
You feel a hot rush of air leave his lungs, heating your neck, and a tiny groan tinged with such sadness escapes him. The sound plucks at your heart and you rub your cheek against his hair, encouraging him to nuzzle into you even further, as though we would climb into your chest if it were an option.
“What should I call you, now that we are finally talking? You already know my name,” you murmur.
“Ghost,” he replies, his lips tickling your skin as he speaks and a shiver runs down your spine.
“I thought you were a ghost to start with, so that’s appropriate,” you reply.
He grunts and touches his lips to your neck again, feeling you shudder again as he is draped over you. He tried a small kiss, his control evaporating by the second as you respond to him to readily, and when you sigh softly it vanishes. He kisses you desperately, moans accompanying every movement of his lips until his mouth is on yours, hot and needy. From the darkness of the blindfold you kiss him back, hands framing the face you cannot see and the weight of his body shifting until you are crushed into the mattress below you.
The bed covers are pulled away from you, cool air reaching through the thin fabric of the T-shirt you are wearing until his warmth settles against you, pushing your knees apart so his clothed erection presses against your crotch. He humps you through his clothes, a frantic and needy action as his kisses continue to burn your mouth with their ferocity.
Little moans and whines escape you as you let him drink his fill of you, the amount of passion he has for you like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. You hands trace over his shoulders, tracing firm muscle as he lifts your T-shirt and kisses down you body, stopping to grope roughly at your breasts before he kisses across your stomach to your underwear.
His mouth moves across the fabric, hot and hungry, pressing into your folds and causing arousal to flood through you. The wetness is unmissable as he grinds his face into you, fingers digging into your thighs. You hear a zip being undone.
“No, wait,” you try to slow him down by putting your hands on his chest but he is too far gone now, muttering praises and words of adoration like he is reciting a memorised prayer. Your underwear is pulled down roughly, stinging your legs as he drags it down carelessly and the tip of his erection is pressed against your dripping cunt before you have time to think again.
Simon presses into you, his head hanging from his shoulders loosely as he focuses on the sensation of your heat enveloping his cock. He shudders and pauses when he is halfway in, looking to your face and wishing he could see your eyes, but that would be too much for him and he knows it. Your mouth gapes open, back arched and you whimper when he slowly thrusts forward again.
“Fuck… your perfect,” he whispers, watching his length disappearing inside of you. “So perfect for me.” When he hilts himself in your cunt he leans down and kisses your neck again, hands gripping your shoulders so you are totally surrounded by his body, entirely surrounded and filled by him. Your arms are trapped between your chest and his, leaving you no way to move with his weight on top of you. He pulls his hips back, almost completely pulling out before slowly pushing back in, sparking intense pleasure as you feel his thickness stretching you open. Every vein and ridge of his cock can be felt, and when he bottoms out again he presses against your cervix and you whine at the sensation.
“Its okay,” he whispers, kissing your neck and nipping at your skin as he holds you tightly, not letting you move as you lay in total blindness while he slowly fucks you. “Everythings fine, this is so good, you feel so good.” His hips begin to snap against yours as he picks up the pace, the pleasure from each thrust bleeding into the next as he speeds up until you’re riding a never ending wave of electricity. The sounds of his skin on yours mix with his grunts and praises, creating a filthy symphony of sounds around you.
The pressure against your clit spurs your impending orgasm, and you rock your hips to chase the release, coaxing him to thrust harder into your aching hole.
“Gonna cum,” he starts to moan, “gonna cum in you.” He repeats it over and over, his voice cracking as he speaks, and the words push you over the edge. Your cunt grips and clenches onto his cock as you cum, crying out his name and with a harsh groan he pours himself into you.
His head falls into the crook of your neck as he catches his breath and after a while carefully pulls his softening cock out of you, making you wince.
“Shit, did I hurt you?” He asks, going still as he hovers over you.
“No it’s okay. You just have… large equipment,” you say weakly, and feel a kiss on your cheek.
“I’m sorry I didn’t, you know, ask about that first,” he says, frowning at himself as he lowers himself beside you on the bed. He’s meant to be protecting you not taking advantage of you, but it felt so good. He feels wetness on his cheeks and wipe his face with the back of his hand.
“It was intense,” you say, “but it’s fine, don’t worry.” You turn and press yourself into him, this large and solid man that you don’t know, but trust for no good reason. He stays a while longer until you fall asleep, but when you wake up with your morning alarm he is gone. The scarf is neatly folded up on the bedside table, a scrap of paper with a phone number written on it ontop with the words ‘if you need me’ written under them.
When you go downstairs he has even put out a mug and teabag by the kettle for you, locking the door as he had left.
Taglist @ghosts-cyphera @katamari-possum @kkaaaagt @n1ght4ngel
#stalker!ghost#tw stalking#cod modern warfare#cod mw22#cod mwii#cod mw2#simon ghost riley#ghost riley#ghost call of duty#call of duty ghost#ghost mw2#mw2 ghost#simon ghost riley x oc#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley cod#simon ghost riley call of duty#simon ghost riley fanfiction#ghost simon riley#simon ghost#simon riley#simon ghost riley smut#cod simon riley#simon ghost riley cod#simon ghost riley fanfic#simon ghost riley imagine#simon ghost riley x f!reader#simon ghost riley x female reader#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost x you
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Bucket Scene Analysis pt. 1
So I’m revisiting the Bucket Scene from Expiration Date, and I noticed some things. Spy’s feelings got really hurt, but the other Mercenaries didn’t mean to seriously upset him.
Let’s go over their POV first.
Engineer and Medic are doing more experiments on the teleporter, so they aren’t present for the bucket scene. They’ll be trying to figure out a way to stop the tumors for the next three days instead of accepting the team’s deaths.
Soldier is too dumb to understand what’s going on, and Pyro presumably isn’t aware enough of his surroundings.
Demoman comes from a family with really disturbing traditions; they let him live as an orphan and only revealed themselves after he killed his adoptive family in an explosion… Because he was showing his skill. He’s actually expected to lose his sight entirely like his parents. Out of anybody there who knows what’s happening, he’s the most unbothered by them dying because of that twisted heritage.
Sniper calls his parents every week, and I’m sure he’s told them/about to tell them what’s happening. But he also has a plan to kill everyone he meets, so even if he is bothered by the fact that he’ll die, he’s not going to make the others privy.
Heavy has been responsible for his three sisters and his mother since he was a child. Around them, he’d be a bit more open and accept their hand on his shoulder.. But not Spy. Around co-workers, Heavy’d rather think on what’s happening and be left to those thoughts. Besides that, he already provided a secluded cabin in Siberia for his family to keep them safe, so if he dies at work he’ll be at peace knowing they’re ok.
I very much get the vibe that Spy never puts his hand on the others like this, and that’s why Heavy hit him with that Side-eye Claire face.
Now Scout? He’s an interesting case because he’s about to humiliate Spy with the fake cards, but in terms of them dying in three days:
“Ve have three days to live!”
It’s subtle, but he looks like he might cry. Not in front of them, but still. And that tracks, because he and Spy are the most sensitive members of the team. You can look at Spy’s reaction behind Medic, and it becomes more obvious.
But Jeremy wasn’t raised by Spy.
He was raised by his mother [who’s doing her best] and seven older brothers who are terrible role models. I have no doubt that his brothers were involved in petty street crime and gangs when they were younger, even if some came to their senses as adults. And gangs are not well known for emotional stability.
Scout grew up around seven guys that wanted to be “hard” and ignored their emotional needs/daddy issues… As the youngest and the most sensitive one. I imagine that crying and showing that something is getting to you was met with mockery. And being labeled a weakling. So Scout did his best to stop showing that “weakness”.
Now he’s graduated from the criminal fights his brothers used to get into, and joined a group of mercenaries. Since he looked up to his brothers and grew up imbedded in their worldview, he seeks approval from the other Mercenaries in the same way. That’s why he chooses to mock Spy instead of asking for the last wishes. It makes him look unbothered and he can call Spy the weak one instead of being cruelly labeled himself.
But RED team doesn’t operate like Scout’s siblings or a gang. They’re all individuals that specialize in a certain area of mercenary work, who could leave for a different team or independent work if they weren’t happy on the team. [Provided they don’t release any information that the Administrator wants hidden, or rebel against her.]
So when Scout pranks Spy, they aren’t seeing his as a weakling; it’s not even crossing their minds. They’re smiling because Scout seems happy despite impending doom. And why shouldn’t they be glad that he’s having a good time of it? Beats being dejected and since he’s the youngest, they’re more worried about his well-being.
What’s interesting is that Heavy seems to sense that Spy is upset, because his smile noticeably fades when he looks up. But I still don’t think he realizes how much this prank and the teams’ indifference hurt Spy.
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Mercs x gn reader who’s blind? They’re not a fighter or something but they help around keeping the base in check or something, they have really good hearing.
Can tell the guys apart from their footsteps, even catching Spy off guard when they noticed him sneaking about.
One thing they want to familiarize with the Mercs are their face shapes. They may not see them with their eyes but they picture them to match their voices. GN Reader adores being around these noisy men.
TF2 Mercs with a blind reader (Most notably Spy..)
Warning: Brainless imbeciles
EDIT: I MISREAD THIS ASK IM SORRY THE BLIND READER IS A MERC AAAAAAA
Scout:
-He is wracked at first with the misinformation surrounding blindness. At first, he thinks your world is completely dark. Night-time type of darkness and you have no ways of seeing his shape whatsoever. Which might be half true for some of you, but imagine his awe when you look directly at him after being spoken to. You could hear this idiot nagging from a mile away.
- “Wait, so do you know i’m white?” “I’m blind, Scout. Not stupid.”
- He’s clearly been unsocialized to those with vision impairment. It shows in his borderline stupid behavior. Waves his bat in front of your face and then winces when you angrily grab it and yank it away from him. Thats when he discovers that blind people typically don’t enjoy that. Gee, you learn something new everyday!
- Runs really fast by you on the battlefield and your face follows the exact direction from where he came from to where he was going. He saw this for a split second and needless to say, he envies your heightened hearing. You had a mildly interested expression the entire time. As if trying to discern if that was an enemy scout or not. Hmm, no. It’s definitely your scout. Nobody else uses that pretentious ass expensive cologne from tuefort’s strip mall. You wanted to gag.
- You could hear him easier than any other merc. His footsteps were simply too evident and easy to identify due to the rhythmic fast-pace. Like an annoying fly buzzing past your ear. (In all honesty, you’re not too far off.) Scout gave himself away way too easily and it concerned you a bit.
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Soldier:
- “LOOK ME IN THE EYES WHEN I’M SPEAKING TO YOU, ROOKIE!” Soldier says confidently. You glare and say “Well I’d do that if I could see where your fucking eyes are.” aaaaand cue soldier’s immediate realization and instant guilt. These men seriously just speak out of their ass impulsively like babies.
- Bumps into you on accident in the hallway a few times and you certainly don’t need vision to know he opens his mouth in protest before immediately closing it and apologizing profusely for not being mindful enough toward your position. In fact this is beginning to happen a lot more than the other mercs for some reason.. The other ones EASILY move out of your way or make space politely. Yes, even Spy and Medic.
- You approach him one day; and you ask him if he might consider he has vision problems as well. Soldier quietly ponders the thought before audibly shrugging. You shake your head and ask him if he has any blurry vision, blind spots and whatnot. He mentions the top half of his eyes are pretty much dark. You blink for a second, then reach out to touch his head. Feeling something hard and metal.. You pull it off his head and he’s like “HOLY MOLY MARY MOTHER OF ROCKET JUMPING CHRIST! YOU FIXED MY BLINDNESS, PRIVATE! YOU MUST BE A DESCENDANT OF THE GOOD LORD JESUS!” Yes, it was his oversized helmet.
- You rub the bridge of your nose for a moment, utterly fucking tired and it’s not even ten yet.
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Demoman:
- SAME HAT! Sort of. Demoman is missing an eye, and his blind spot is annoying. You’ve both sort of unintentionally bonded over your poor eyes and after memorizing where his blind spot was, you make sure to walk up behind him in that exact area to startle him. Which usually results in both of you howling in laughter.
- You nervously ask demoman to be your eyes on the battlefield one day while anxiety is quite intense. Demoman shakes his head in irritation. “Ye do know I have horrible depth perception, everybody and der mother is movin at mach 10!?” and you respond “Great! We’re fucked.” You were indeed not fucked. Both of you managed to tough it out by ears alone. You make a great team and demoman is blessed to have you. You protect each other expertly.
- If you happen to have a white cane by any chance, prepare to do childish pretend sword battles with him during dinner time. Don’t worry, he’s using a broom. God knows that eyelander would actually try to kill you and everyone else in the room. Miss pauling is very displeased by your guys’ table manners.
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Engineer:
- You inspire him a bit. He was always a bit secretly doubtful of his own abilities after losing his hand in battle. It gave him a nagging insecurity that he’d fuck up in some way, or was no longer qualified due to his disability. You completely destroyed that insecure side of him. The way you effortlessly kill and complete your missions has made him feel better.
- You’re in his workshop one night, and you’ve memorized pretty much the entire layout of the room as this point. Minus maybe a few annoying bolts on the ground here and there that you dance over. You approach him and put your hands on his shoulder. Which he responds to by rubbing your left hand. “So uh, are you making some weird contraption that’ll fix my eyesight or something?” You ask as a joke.
- Engineer sounds offended by such a thing. “You don’t feel broken, do you? I’m not doing that.” He says sternly. “You’re not broken, Y/N. If you want I can make somethin’ partner but there’s nothing wrong with you and I don’t want you to feel that way. You’re no toy to be fixed so that everyone else is somehow comfortable! If ‘em boys are bothering you why I oughta—“
- You sigh in slight exasperation from the random dad rant but in the inside you’re thankful for his words. You hug him tightly in gratitude to shut him up and then feel a cold metal touch your arm. You look down, unable to discern the shape of the object. But it’s undoubtedly robotic-feeling. “Whats that?” You ask. Engineer pauses. Realizing he had taken his glove off. He realizes now’s a good time to remind you he’s on your side. He strokes you with his metal hand to soothe you. “Let’s just say we aren’t too different in some respects, sugar.” And his words is what makes you realize what it is.
- You drag the metal hand to your cheek and feel the cool claws against your skin. The thumb of the machinery rubs your chin.
————————————————————————-
Heavy:
- He figures out you’re blind right away and he genuinely doesn’t give a shit. He finds everybody equally annoying, like I said beforehand. You’ll notice as aforementioned he moves out of your way in the hallway however and aids you around the building whenever you ask him. He seems to care.
- He asks you how big he is from your perspective. You can answer that pretty confidently. The truth of the matter is that he’s the most recognizable due to his large body, rumbling voice, and massive footsteps. He nods and slightly smiles with reassurance. Good. Even those with eyesight problems know he’s dangerous. excellent. Just the way he likes it.
- Heavy fully trusts in your abilities and makes no attempts to help you in battle unless you ask. He’s seen you bash heads in one too many times without much thought and it’s safe to say they made a great call hiring you. Clearly you don’t let being blind affect your work whatsoever. In a weird sort of way, he feels oddly proud of you but won’t ever voice it outloud.
- You save him from a Spy and this causes a distant, disheveled look in his eyes as you run off and he stops whirling his gun. It isn’t often his kindness is rewarded like this. (Also now he’s wondering if he should ask Medic to give him supersonic hearing.)
———————————————————————-
Pyro:
- Pyro doesn’t realize you’re blind at all at first. It’s just not something they think much about when accessing new friends. His mind isn’t on scoping out their inherent “flaws” but rather scoping out how well you treat the others around you. Which is an odd thing for Pyro considering they’re quite content on vandalizing shit, disregarding people’s worldly positions and their feelings on it, and overall being an unforgiving nutcase who’d 100% bite off all the heads of their animal crackers and put them back in the box.
- Once they figure out you’re actually not here to cause damage, they seem to warm up fast. Pun intended. I think the moment they realize something’s wrong is when they silently point out a sniper around the corner with their pointer finger and you don’t even flinch. In their stead, Soldier audibly reminds you. This causes pyro to re-think how you might perceive some stuff.
- They begin to psychoanalyze you more out of habit. You seem to disregard a lot of certain visual stimuli in favor of sound. Without even asking you they figure out after a while that you’re blind and quickly adjust their behavior to better accommodate you. Instead of pointing at danger for example, they grab your hand and make you point at it… Which works, I mean. But he could just speak, y’know? It’s not like you can’t hear them better than anyone else over that gas mask.
- Pyro figures out how to convey signals to you without having to do the hard task of speaking. Two taps on your shoulder meant spy, one tap meant sentry around corner, and so on. Not only did this hide his intentions from the enemy team but helped you team up with them quickly.
————————————————————————
Sniper:
- Ugh.. Sniper is much like Scout in the sense that he has no clue how to respond to a blind person. He quickly assumes you’re inept at first and begins prioritizing your position on the battlefield more than anyone else. Shooting down key targets that get too close to you; or get in a quarrel with you. It’s flattering really but you can hold your own in a fight just fine. This is affecting your performance.
- You admittedly lose your mind and yell at him. But to be honest he had it coming with his stupid assumptions. Sniper doesn’t even complain nor move a muscle as you shout at him and storm off. He immediately feels regretful and tips his hat forward. Once again he’s lost another potential friend to his own behavior. “I was only trying to keep you alive.” He mutters to himself as he turns away. Unbeknownst to him, you heard it.
- Convinced, you sigh and walk back to him and run down the fact that you’re independent, and that you appreciated it but it’s important you complete things by yourself. Then you bitterly apologize for yelling at him. You could have swore you heard a soft “Sorry too…”
- This unexpected softness from a hard rough and tough guy like Sniper is what makes you reconsider him. He’s willing to fess up and apologize for having a bias. He just sucks at it. You forgive him hesitantly and you learn to not regret that later. Because he soon learns that you’re simply equal to all the other mercs and treats you as such.
———————————————————————-
Medic:
- Come on now, really? He already has his hands on your medical history the moment you walk through the door. He doesn’t skip a beat whenever idly scanning for things he should keep note of. Medic never even asks you if you’re blind. He simply acts as though he’s always known. Opening doors for you, directing you if you truly need it. Aggressively shoving the other mercs out of the way to make way for you so he doesn’t need to tend to BOTH your wounds.
- At first you suspected him to go crazy over time and check your eyesight curiously like a wet specimen in a jar. But his indifference is.. Slightly unnerving. You decide to enter his office and hesitantly remind him that you’re blind. Because you genuinely don’t know at this rate.
- “So..?” He asks. Rather rudely at that. You want to exhale loudly in anger so badly. Why was everyone in this fuckin’ place so mean?? Medic takes his glasses off and readjusts the position of his desk papers. “Should I act upon this more and enforce more adjustments?”
- “No—“ You say slowly. “I didn’t know you even knew. Normally you’d go crazy with curiosity whenever someone is even mildly different than you in an attempt to understand them.” You tell him. This causes him to sort of put his fist to his lips and snort. Holding back a laugh. “What? You think I haven’t met a blind person before? You’re forgetting i’m a doctor. Plus that just means we’re safer with you around. I’d rather not be backstabbed a thousand times each round anymore.”
- Agh.. That explains it. That yellow folder on the table with the blurry photo of your image also explains it.
—————————————————————————-
Spy:
- FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
- His poor pride is in pieces on the ground whenever you’re nearby. The other mercs can visibly see his fists clench into a ball and swear they see his eye twitch. Scout especially wonders if you’re going to be the one who finally blows his lid. Why? JUST WHY? Why can you hear him when nobody else can? He’s like a magician the way he disappears into the shadows. So why does it not affect you?
- He’s superior in every way and he knows it. So why is it whenever he’s lightly walking along the hallway to have a smoke break that you turn around and greet him? Truly, nobody else walks as gently and lightly as he does. His footwork to your ears is like a tiptoeing predator in the bushes the way he walks so slowly to achieve stealth. He freezes in place and grits his teeth everytime you do this… Then suppresses his own unholy wrath and stumbles away.
- .. You’re making him needlessly paranoid. He can’t work under these conditions. If you can sense him, then surely eventually the other team will? Congratulations on singlehandedly causing this old man work related silent panic attacks. His hair is falling out more than usual and he’s staring at himself in the mirror, with a dead gone expression. Staring into the void. He’s dissociating now.
- Tries to outsmart your own heightened senses in any way he can. The closest he’s gotten is maybe sneaking into your room while you were asleep to check your drawer and you woke up due to the sound of the drawer opening. After rolling around to face him, his cat-like eyes in the darkness disappeared as fast as they came in. WHOOOOSHHHhh went his cloak. You could even hear him tapping his watch in the process. Really, you didn’t understand how he was such a huge threat to the other team.
#tf2#team fortress 2#mod spy#spy x reader#medic x reader#demoman x reader#heavy x reader#tf2 x reader#tf2 x you#sniper x reader
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After reading the medic reader fic, I got this idea and just had to ask : can I request Ghost x male reader, who got kidnapped during a mission.
They were together on a patrol, everything was fine until all of the sudden a few enemy soldiers appeared, Ghost and reader were able to take them down until one of them pressed a knife against reader throat, telling Ghost to back off. He didn't want them to hurt his friend, so he just watched as they dragged reader away.
Immediately after getting back to the rest they organized a rescue mission, but the area where Reader could be held was really big and it took them a few days to finally narrow it down to a small, abandoned building.
Just imagine Ghost, covered in blood of their enemies, sitting on the ground with readers unconscious and beaten body, sobbing out that he loved him and that he was sorry for not being able to protect him, that he let them take him away and hurt him, torture him.
I NEED ANGST.
With a good ending ofc, slay bestie 😌💅
Loved this yet hated this emotionally. ANWYAYS ENJOY!
Can’t Afford Losing You
Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Male Reader
Summary: You get captured and Ghost doesn’t take it well, doing everything it takes to get you back.
Warnings: Blood, Violence, Angst, He’s crying, mentions of death.
Word count: 1734
The rain pounded down on the land. You shivered at the cold, gritting your teeth as you adjusted the hold on your rifle. Ghost was by your side, almost unphased by the weather. “You’re telling me you aren’t cold!?” You shuddered as you kept on walking. Why the hell did Price decide this was a great day to check the outskirts of the base for any enemies. “You’re just a little.. Overly reactive..” Ghost chuckled lowly, “I’m wet- freezing- cold! I better have some time to warm up when I’m back inside.” You growled.
Ghost was about to speak but heavy footsteps began to approach. “People are here..” You spoke quietly, trying to make out humanoid shapes through the heavy rain, Ghost nodded, lifting his gun. There was a thumping of footsteps all around the two of you.
You clicked your tongue, watching the men come into view, you had no hesitation firing, shedding the first blood as bodies dropped dead in front of you. Ghost had your back, firing at anyone who dared to reveal themselves out of bravery.
You were pulled forward by your wrist, a loud crack followed by your own yell. Your gun fell to the ground as you were pulled into a headlock, knife pressed against your throat. “Stand down!” Your opposer held the blade into your neck slightly, drawing a few drops of blood.
Ghost’s eyes widened, it all happened so fast, your wrist was broken and a knife was pressed to your throat. You groaned in pain, not daring to move. Ghost cursed loudly, taking a step towards you with his gun raised defensively.
“Put the gun down and your friend here may make it out alive.” The man holding you hostage spoke, you knew damn well he was smirking proudly. Ghost dropped his gun, eyes on you the whole time, “Let him go..” Ghost spoke, aware of the guns aimed at both of you. He didn’t wanna risk getting you shot, you were a valuable part of the team they couldn’t afford to lose.
“You’re a fool.”
A man came up behind Ghost, hitting him hard in the side of the head with the butt of his gun. “GHOST!” You yelled but soon enough you too were knocked out. The darkness clouding your vision as you went limp.
“We take this man, the other won’t give us anything so don’t bother, he’s lip sealed, this one though.. we have some hope.”
You were dragged away from the mess of dead bodies, you couldn’t fight, yet the fight seemed unfair, you were outnumbered from the start. Ghost laid still in the wreckage, rain still pondering down. They didn’t bother with him, assuming nature would take Ghost herself, while you were loaded up into the backseat of an armored car, the men didn’t bother strapping you in, only shifting you to tie your hands behind your back to prevent you from lashing out on them. And with what they would call a mission success, they drove off to god knows where, taking what they needed while leaving the nasty bloodbath all behind.
—--
Ghost groaned when he awoke, lifting himself off the ground. “Fucking-” He cursed, standing up, he rubbed his throbbing head in anger. “I need to get back.” Ghost groaned, quickly picking up your rifle and his own before heading back to base in a haste, he needed to get you back. He couldn’t lose you too.
Ghost swung the door open, being greeted with Soap who had a confused expression on, “You’re back early? Where is-” “Gather everyone for a rescue mission now, we don’t have time to waste, we’ve got to get him back, I need him back!” Ghost cut him off, clearly upset that you were taken from him and he didn’t do anything to prevent it. Ghost rubbed his face in anger, letting out a yell of frustration. “We’ll get him back mate, we need to work quickly” Soap patted him on the shoulder, “See you in the meeting room L.T” Soap nodded before quickly running out to gather the men.
—--
The team organized your rescue mission, working non-stop for the past twenty-four hours. Especially Ghost, who worked extra hard to get you back, listing multiple places where you could be held at. Eventually Soap and Gaz forced him to take a break, despite the protest Ghost had, They managed to get the masked man to get some sleep.
Ghost awoke to whispers around the table, groaning as Price patted him on the back, “Just in time Ghost. We pinpointed a place.” Price spoke, voice strong but you could tell he was breaking slowly at the seams, “A small warehouse a little south of here.. We need to take precautions. By sending out someone to take a look, we found that the place is heavily guarded, it’ll be the place we expect our man to be at.” Price pointed to a small circle on the map before looking at Ghost whose eyes spoke of the hellfire that sooned to rain.
“Then what are we waiting for?”
—--
You weren’t doing too great on your end. You were beaten, tortured and interrogated. Here you were, gashes and scratches bleeding freely without anything to stop the flow, wrists bound with new zipties after you tore out of you original ones and beat the shit out of your captors. Your knuckles were split and bloody and your face was beaten beyond recognition. You leaned back against the wall, heaving, trying to get some air in your lungs. Everything was numbing or throbbing, you couldn’t tell. “I’m gonna ask one more time.. What are your operations?” A man kneeled down to meet your eyes. “You.. will never fucking get it out of me you pathetic dog!” You spat at his feet, leaning back with a cocky grin.
That’s when the gunfire started, right when you were about to give into blood loss.
—---
Ghost launched himself out of the car in haste, ignoring his team’s calls to get him to wait. He couldn’t wait any longer, not when he knew you were at stake. He fired at anyone he saw as an enemy, the bullet piercing them before they could even lift their guns. If the others won’t come with him then he’ll walk with hell by his side, his only mission was to get you out alive.
Soon the team began to provide back up once Ghost rammed into the door, knocking it down with such force it fell off its hinges. “Split up! Soap with me!” Ghost commanded before walking into the building, not bothering to wait for any other arguments.
—---
You groaned, fighting to stay awake, you heard the gunshots, you heard your team, you heard Ghost. You just needed to stay awake, it was the best you could do in your bounded, weakened state. As soon as a bright light hit your eyes, you let out a sigh of relief, smiling, “You bastards.. What took you so long?” You laughed dryly as you were cut free of your handcuffs, you rubbed your very sore wrists, hissing at the pain in your broken one.
Ghost pulled you into a tight hug, his frame shaking, “I’m sorry I took too long” He cried, but your exhaustion got the best of you, passing out in Ghost’s arms before he was able to say anything else.
Ghost felt how you went limp in his arms, he practically yelled as he held you close to him, shaking you in hopes you just fell asleep, “No- no, no, no, no!” He sobbed, his voice broken as he kept on shaking you. “Stay with me please! I-I,,” Ghost sobbed into your bloodied uniform, “Please! I loved you..! Please stay with me, I can’t lose you, I can’t do this again! Fuck- Please!” He begged through his tears, his mask wet as hiccups, sobs, pleas and cries, left Ghost till his throat was sore.
Soap finally entered the room to his horror of finding you in Ghost’s arms unmoving. “We’ve got to get out of here!” Soap rushed over, trying to get Ghost up and away from your body, but he didn’t let go, as if he were to, you would cease to exist. It took a few moments to pry Ghost off of you so you could be safely transported back to the hospital. Ghost cried the entire time, staring at your unconscious body, he’d never know if you loved him back, or if you even heard his confession. His voice was hoarse so he didn't bother arguing or protesting at all.
He was lost without you.
—---
You pried your eyes open, groaning at how stiff and painful your body was. “Holy fuck..” You cursed, moving to sit up but a warm hand stopped you, carefully laying you back down. “Steady now.” Ghost spoke, eyes soft and tear stained. He wore a simple black shirt and some cargo pants, of course his signature mask still on. “Thought you died..” Ghost murmured sadly before settling down in a chair next to you. He held your hand in his own with the gentlest touch ever, as if you were the most fragile thing on earth. “Takes more than a little beating to kill me, yeah?” You snickered, Ghost’s eyes shut, his voice wavering as he spoke.
“Your heart stopped when we got you here.. You almost died..” Ghost cried softly, “I didn-” “I love you alright! I can’t lose you too, not again, I can’t-” Ghost broke down when he sighed. You needn’t say a thing, instead you pulled him into your arms, holding him close. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” He repeated over and over again as he clung onto you before pulling up his mask and taking you into a passionate kiss.
You were taken back but welcomed it with open arms, leaning into the short kiss.
“I love you too.. Simon.”
Ghost’s heart was full, complete and content, he needed you this entire time yet was too scared to tell.
You smiled as you pulled him into another comforting kiss, the tension in the room easing drastically.
….
“ABOUT DAMN TIME!” Soap yelled from outside, earning a few laughs from you and Ghost.
“I agree with that..” Ghost smile, pecking your lips once more.
“So do I get to see the pretty face?”
“... Maybe later love..”
#fanfic#fanfiction#ghost x male reader#male reader#simon ghost riley x male reader#ghost x reader#modern warefare 2#simon ghost riley angst#angst with a happy ending#angst#men crying#i don’t even have words
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Metal Arms and Short Skirts | Bucky Barnes [2.]
summary: waltzing in as the new head of the Avenger's medical division, impressing everyone, and... scaring Bucky with your incredibly short skirts. while bucky's having a hard time looking at his arm as anything other than a deadly weapon, you're more than happy to help him.
words: 4.3K
warnings; creepy men (+bucky fending them off) slight body dysphoria on buckys end
author note : HI I KNOW THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE UP LIKE & DAYS AGO... aib came out and ive been hyperfixaed on that and my brother got frostbite so wump wump was at the hospital on chrimis. i have mixed feelings on this chapter, but i hope you enjoy. and im still taking request.
READ ON AO3 | masterlist
Bucky wasn't going to pretend to be completely oblivious and say he wasn't finding every and any excuse to visit you. Whether it be a tear in his muscle or the sound of the metal whizzing sounding off, something bucky would have ignored with absolutely no thought. Bucky maintained a comfortable distance between you two, physically and emotionally, staying at arm's length. But something about today seemed to be different.
Bucky shifted nervously in his seat, he watched your stride around your lab. You finally got your own area after 2 weeks of staying at the compound. It almost put Tony's lab to shame, it was huge and decked out with technology far too advanced for bucky to even understand.
Today, You wore a black bustier that seemed to shape your form, thick and sturdy paneling sewn into the shirt, if that is what you can even call it. The neck hung low, low enough to leave very little to the imagination. Bucky practically had to tear his eyes away from your neckline when he first walked into the lab.
Bucky's excuse today was a deep cut on the side of Bucky's flesh bicep. Coming back from a quick and easy mission, but Clint needed to watch his arrows since one slit past bucky’s arm on the way to the actual enemy behind him. Bucky had a sneaky guess it was on purpose.
You gathered the plaster and made your way back to bucky, footsteps echoing as you walked. A sigh escaped your lips, but bucky only caught a small smile. “You know, bucky. You can't come in here every time you have a small cut.”
“Isn't that what you're being paid for?” bucky snarked back, watching your hands as they gently grabbed at his lower arm. Your touch was always so delicate, like you were going to break him rather than heal.
“Ha, ha.” you mocked. “I could have been making some ground-breaking discovery or invention before you walked in.”
Bucky's eyebrow quirked up eagerly. “Were you?”
A closed-mouthed hum escaped your lips. Your all too perfect pedicured hand wrapped the white bandage around bucky's arm, he was just watching your face as you worked. Couldn’t– wouldn't tear his eyes away.
“Not really, just researching some stuff about scarring and skin stuff,” you spoke, dumbing it down for bucky.
During bucky's visit, he’d always ask about everything, trying to catch up with the technology of the 21st century, or maybe just to hear your voice. He didn't understand half the things you spoke about, though he never mentioned it, but you figured it out soon enough and started to simplify it the best you could.
“Scarring?”
“Helen has some idea about how to better rid of scars.” your hand smoothed against his bicep as you finished, and your touch sent a good burn through him. Giving him a warm smile like you always did when you finished.
Bucky's eyes glanced down to his left shoulder for a moment, the ugly scarring that single-handedly destroyed most of his bodily confidence. The permanent mark of what Hydra did to him as they chopped it off and made him part machine. Bucky scoffed to cover up the obvious self-depreciation in his voice, “need a test subject?”
You flinched at his words, surprised, being taken aback by his response. Only then when you looked him up and down, settling on his clothes shoulder, your face fell and a sympathetic look flashed. It was covered by his tanktop but you knew what was under there, you'd seen the photos, you'd seen him.
You sat back down on your little rolly stool. “I'm surprised you’d suggest that, based on your history, I'd expect you to not be so keen on being poked and prodded.”
Memories flashed Hydra's methods at tearing his humanity, mind, and body apart, all those experiments. But they quickly subdued, how could bucky think of something so cruel when you stat right in front of him, which in bucky's opinion, is perfection.
“I think I'd be okay with it if it was you.” bucky said quietly, honestly– a confession even.
A fond smile rose to your face, one you quickly bit back. Narrow eyes met him when you tilted your head slightly, shying away. “Good to know you trust me.”
“Always.”
“But–” you sighed, “I'm going to have to decline, Bucky. For now, you'll have to live with what your shoulder looks like. Sorry.”
Bucky dramatically groaned, trying to mask the obvious pain and disappointment he actually felt. “You're killing me, doll.”
Your ears warmed at the nickname. Averting your eyes for a moment from shyness. You knew bucky despised the scarring that painted his left shoulder, the one that connected the man to metal. You could only lend him some comfort in the situation, no amount of medical technology right now could completely ease his worries.
“Bucky?”
His head perked up, a hum escaped his lips as he put all his attention on you.
“You wanna see something really cool?” you smirked.
Bucky noticed the slight smirk tugging at your lips, he could only react by biting back a smile of his own. “Sure, doll.”
You leaned down to the hem of your right pant leg, slowly hiking up the baggy jeans that hung low on your waist. Slowly revealing a large and messy scar on your kneecap, nothing as bad as bucky's many scars that littered his body. But something definitely bad happened for you to have that, even fully healed now.
“When I was a kid, I used to skate a lot.” you started, bucky's eyes bouched back up to your face. “I got on a gravel road and fell down and my knee landed right on a huge sharp rock and just logged itself right into my knee.”
You laughed looking back on the memory. “Hurt like hell for 14-year-old me and I had to get so many stitched, it was the worst.” a cheeky smile grew as you spoke through a laugh. “Especially for my dream of becoming a knee model.”
Bucky laughed with you as you dropped your pant leg, sitting back up to look at bucky. Bucky didn't say anything and hung his head low when a silence grew in the lab, only the sound of lab tech whizzing in the background. Bucky mostly just wanted to bask at this moment with you, letting himself enjoy the light-hearted nature of your conversations. The way you and he feel warm inside, lighter than ever.
You smacked your lips as you rose from your seat. Bucky's eyes begrudgingly followed you, “you have to learn to love every part of yourself, despite the bad memories. Because it makes you…”
Stopping in your place, turning to him as your eyes traveled up and down his body, the gesture weirdly didn’t make bucky cringe and crawl into himself the way most gazes did.
“... you.” you smiled again and bucky felt dizzy. “And I think you're pretty cool.”
You turned away to continue whatever you were doing. Bucky muttered your statement under his breath, loud enough for him to hear it again but quiet enough so you wouldn't.
Bucky rose from his place on the workbench, after many visits he practically claimed this spot. As it sat right in the middle of your lab. Despite everything inside of him wanting to stay near you and soak up your presence. He headed for the door.
“Thanks, doc,” Bucky called out.
“Anytime, bucky. I'll be here when you come in with another excuse to see me,” you spoke coyly. Bucky's eyes widened and warmth crept up to his face.
He sputters for words to save his pride, stumbling over his poor excuse of an explanation. “Maybe I just wanna see your cool outfits.” bucky's face scrunched up, cringing at his own pathetic words. He wondered what the 40s version of himself would say now, probably something sly and confident that’d knock you off your feet.
“Whatever you say, Mr. Barnes.”
“Bucky.” he corrected, again. But maybe it was just an excuse to linger longer at your door.
You smiled at him and repeated, “bucky.”
“You're going on a date with her.”
Bucky's eyes widened, his head snapping towards Natasha. “I’m what?”
A frustrated groan leaves Natasha's lips as she shifts in her uncomfy office seat. Half of the Avengers team sat in an office going over a mission coming up, but - like most things - it turned into them talking about anything but that, and successfully annoying the hell out of Steve.
“I set you up on a date with her.” Natasha spoke, referring to you. “I cannot keep watching you get beat up during missions just so you can see her, so you're going on a date.”
Bucky was dumbfounded, to say the least, lost for words as he stared at the woman in front of him. “Why would I go on a date with her?”
Over the past week or two, Bucky began to deny his fondness towards you when you interrupted a meeting to talk to Tony, or popped into the common rooms to talk about new tech, or how you practically strutted through the compound like you own the place.
or when you slowly build up bucky’s confidence without either or you realizing it.
Always in short skirts, or colorful and dramatic tops, and in heels or boots that echo loudly throughout the halls. Bucky denies the way his eyes drag along your figure, always lingering on your face longer than he needs to, the way if you look close enough, Bucky's eyes light up a little when you enter the room. Bucky denies it, but he can't fake it.
And Natasha clocked that quickly.
“the way you look at her tells me you want to,” Natasha spoke coyly. She always read bucky better than anyone else in the room— similar background and all. a defeated groan comes from bucky in return, followed by a slightly pouted lip. Natasha gives him a friendly slap on the shoulder
A scoff was heard from the other side of the table. “Is the cyborg cable of feelings?” Tony snarked, his head down looking at a sheet of paper. Chewing slightly at a pen.
“Ha. ha. Very funny.” Bucky mocked. “How do you even know she wants to go on a date with me? I can’t imagine she agreed to this?”
self-consciousness slowly crept up bucky's spine, he can’t face rejection if he denies, denies, and denies.
Natasha went to speak but Tony Stark does what he does best and interrupts her. With a hefty laugh coming up from his chest, he dropped the pen and papers down on the table. Leaning forward to face bucky. “Are you kidding me? You’re like a wet dream to her, always injured and part robot. Hits all of her boxes''
“I'm surprised she hasn’t mounted yo-”
“Okay Tony, I think that's enough talking.” Steve interrupted before he could finish his sentence. Tony’s comment earned a choked laugh from both Natasha and Sam.
“Anyways.” Natasha continued. “I know because she already agreed to it. Everything is already set up.”
Bucky rolls his eyes, hoping his hair covers his growing red ears. Steve spoke up, “Just give it a chance buck. You might enjoy it.” oh steve, hopeful as ever.
“I’m sure you'll enjoy it, it’s very much your style,” Natasha spoke, her infamous smirk growing on her face.
“That scares me.”
*****
Turns out Natasha was right, it is very much Bucky's style. Natasha had planned (with the help of Steve, because of-fucking-course) a date at a fancy, old-style diner, and every Saturday night they clear the floor and play some old music for some swing dancing. Just bucky’s style, he knows this was Steve’s idea. more than sure after years of watching plenty of girls swoon over Bucky with just one twirl and one short dance, Steve would think this is right up his alley. And it was.
Now Bucky stands outside a busy and bustling diner, upbeat 40s music echoing to the streets. Flowers in hand and a nice black collared shirt under a vintage jacket (it was from the museum and Steve name-dropped at least 12 times to get it back), waiting patiently for you to arrive. Bucky fiddled with his hands a little, his eyes kept darting to his watch— is he too early? When are you arriving? Bucky’s now convinced you wouldn’t show up. Because who would honestly want to go on a date with h–
“James!” a cheery voice broke through his very self-deprecating thoughts. Bucky turned around and swore his heart stopped beating, just for it to speed up even faster when his sights landed on you.
You wore the same boots that caught Wanda's eyes in the common room that quiet day. His eyes followed up your legs, past your thighs as he saw the dress you wore. It was stripped and sparkly, bucky would see the shine from down the street. It felt like you wore the entire rainbow and more as every stripe was painted differently. It was sleeveless and high-necked. And of course, very short.
An excited smile greeted him as you waved your hand. Your pace sped up as Bucky met you, he wondered how you didn't trip in those high heels constantly.
“Hi,” Bucky said, wanting to hit himself for how awkward he sounded.
“Sorry for being late, I didn't mean to make you wait.” you stood before him, and he noticed your makeup. You painted your lips with a darker shade than usual and you had little shiny gems glued around your eyes.
“Don’t worry about it, I just got here too,” Bucky spoke softly, bringing the flowers up to you. “For you.”
Your eyes instantly lit up at the sight, taking the bouquet from him “thank you! you didn't need to get these for me, James.”
Bucky's heart fluttered slightly at the name, it was rare for people to use his first name nowadays. You brought the flowers to your nose, smelling them with a blissful look on your face. Laughing to yourself.
“What's so funny?” the super-soldier asked.
“Oh no, it’s nothing.” you looked back down at the flower. “I don’t think anyone has ever gotten me flowers before.”
Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed, “really?”
“Mhmm.” you rocked back and forth on your heels, “thank you for being the first.”
You smiled warmly up at Bucky as you did so often, but the aura of everything made it so much more this time.
“Let's head in?” Bucky cocked his head towards the diner.
Nodding, “yes, please.” you threaded along, catching Bucky off guard when you swiftly grabbed ahold of his hand. Your fingers wrapped around his flesh hand, the warmth made Bucky feel funny in his stomach. Yeah, Bucky might have a crush on you.
You lead him into the diner, confident in your walk like usual. Your eyes spotted an empty seat and the both of you settled yourselves in a booth. You make quick eye contact and Bucky's mouth gaped like he's going to say something but is stopped when the waiter comes up. The waiter looks like she blends in with the scenery, with pinned-up hair and a bright red lip. She asks for your order and you both get water, and a milkshake.
“I can imagine why Natasha picked this place out of everything,” you say, eyes off into the distance, Bucky follows your gaze and sees the dance floor of people together with large smiles. “Though, I don't know how to dance.”
Bucky's lip quirks up slightly, “I can teach you.”
“Perfect, let’s go then.” your smile widely, and your already getting up, standing next to bucky's seat and holding a hand out. Bucky’s surprised by your sudden willingness but despite the nervousness in his stomach - he takes your hand.
Bucky may have been nervous standing outside the diner. May have been nervous as he greeted and met you outside. May have been nervous as you led him inside and watched you from across the table. But once he stepped out onto the swing floor, the soft sound of 40s music playing in the background. The sweet-talking James Buchanan – that seemed to flirt with every girl that met him – came back from the dead, and he had his arm around your waist in no time.
You noticed the sudden confidence and glint in his eyes suddenly, reaching up to grab his neck. Bucky held you at your waist, then he noticed the gold chain hung around your hips. His fingers grazed over them for a moment before they rested at the smallest part of your waist.
Your wide eyes met his and bucky swore for a moment, he couldn't breathe. “How was the mission?”
A groan escaped Bucky's mouth, playfully he rolled his eyes. Trying to sound annoyed, but his smile said otherwise. “Oh god, I don't wanna talk about work.”
Bucky’s hands stayed planted on your waist. You smiled as you continued to sway together along to the soft jazz in the background. You tugged nervously at your lip, “you know, I was getting worried when I heard you guys weren’t getting back on time.”
“You worry about me?” Bucky was stunned, an unfamiliar warmth shot through him as you averted your gaze. He took one hand to pull at your chin, so you were looking at him. Your mouth gaped open for a moment and your brain studdered before you just shrugged in response, a slight nod.
The familiar sound of the music speeding up, the upbeat sound of Harry James filled Bucky’s ears and for a moment Bucky was in the 40s again with a girl in his arms ready to be shipped out to war. A sentimental smile grew on his face.
“You ready to learn how to dance.” Bucky beamed down at you and before you could even respond, Bucky pushed your body away from him abruptly. Just to grab your hand before you could fall, twirling you around and back close to his chest.
It all happened so fast and you yelped once your back hit his chest. His arm wrapped across your body and held your hand. You breathed and smiled widely. “I might step on your toes.
“I can handle it, doll.”
******
A few songs later and a couple of toes crushed, followed by a slew of apologies from you. You and Bucky ended up breathing heavily and slightly sweaty from dancing. Bucky swung you around like you weighed nothing - which to him - you probably did. Lots of music ranging from the 40s to 60s played throughout the diner, to which Bucky snarks at the fact he didn’t recognize the songs, always followed by light laughter.
The dancing came to a slow, but you two remained on the floor still. It was getting late and you hadn’t even eaten yet and most couples and groups of friends had gone back to their seats. You swayed comfortably in Bucky's arms still, your head laid on his chest listening to the soft beat of his heartbeat.
Bucky Barnes is a more than qualified trained assassin with heightened senses. He's very aware of his surroundings at all times, so when he notices the man peering at your thighs and ass, his eyes narrow toward the man. A glimpse of the winter soldier showed, but the creep didn't seem to pay any attention to Bucky's gaze.
Every so politely, Bucky attempted to tug at your dress without it seeming like he was trying to grope you. Also, swiftly and smoothly twirling you around so the man's gaze would be fixed on bucky's broad shoulders. Effectively protecting you from perverted stares as his body towards over you.
You noticed the way Bucky's body stiffened when he spun you, looking up at him once again. “You okay?”
Bucky nodded and gave you a reassuring squeeze around your waist. “Let’s head back? I'm hungry.”
You agreed quickly and grabbed Bucky's hand, pulling him off the dance floor and guiding him back to the table where your two drinks sat warm now. You slid into the booth with a large exhale, sitting across from Bucky. The waiter decked out in 40s apparel and took your orders, your food coming in no time. It was a poor excuse for dinner per se, only ordering fries and cheese curds to simply snack on.
“You make a good dance partner.” Bucky mutters, mouth muffled with fries.
“Chew.”
Buckys recoils in embarrassment and covers his mouth, face tinted red from dancing. He swallows and lowers his hand. “sorry.”
“Thank you.” you sigh, pushing your food away from you. “You did most of the work, but I'd like to keep practicing.”
Bucky stopped, and looked at you as you stared intently into him. Bucky flustered mix.
“Are you gonna keep blushing or accept my offer on a second date.” you shoot back and Bucky feels the air leave his lungs. His ears are definitely burning red.
“I'm not bushing? What are you talking about? This is me worn out from all the dancing.`` Bucky plays dumb, throwing a fry into the basket between the two of you. Slowly pulling out his billfold from his jeans.
Your eyes roll dramatically, as a scoff escapes your lips. “Yeah, okay. Super soldier.”
Bucky narrows his eye’s toward you, a grin plastered on his face. “I'd love to go on a second date.”
You bite back a grin. “Ready?” you asked, bucky puts down the money to pay and nodded. Bucky gives you a boyish smile that you'd only recognized from old war photos. It warms you to the core, leaving you flustered. He grabs at your hand as you let him drag you out of the diner, a secure arm around your waist.
The light breeze of new york hit both of you, your hands instantly going up to your arms to warm yourself. Bucky notices all too quickly and instantly wraps his jacket around you.
“Oh, thank you. Are you cold?” you ask, seemingly genuinely worried.
“Doll.” he stares down at you, and bucky speaks like the answer is obvious, which– it kinda is. “I hiked through Siberia in less.”
“Whatever.” you scoff and roll your eyes, tugging the jacket closer around your body. the corners of your mouth slowly creeping up.
The faint scent of bucky comes off of it, sandalwood and pine mostly. You're used to the smell when he's not coming into your lab sweaty or bloody from missions and workouts. A comfortable silence falls between the two of you, filtered out by the busy city around you.
“So… I’ll see you tomorrow?” you speak awkwardly, unsure of where to go from here.
“Yep, tomorrow.” Bucky strings on the word, are also awkward.
You could cut the tension with a knife.
“Or…” your voice raises a few octaves as you turn on your heels to face him, barely a foot between the two of you.
Bucky's eyebrow quirks up, “Or?”
“Or you could come back to my very, very nice and cozy apartment that isn't full of agents and superhumans.”
You flashed your best and greatest grin toward Bucky, and the way you were looking at him made Bucky want to crumble beneath his knees. You shouldn't have this effect on him, his heart tugged towards you in a weird, mysterious way that Bucky wasn't familiar with yet. He wasn't going to lie and say it didn’t stress him out a tiny bit.
Bucky let out a heavy, pained exhale and stepped a little closer to you. “Not tonight, doll. sorry.”
“It's okay.” your face dropped slightly, but then you looked up at him and a flash of something came across your feature and soon a smirk was replaced. “Then let me have this.”
“What–?”
Bucky was cut off by your warm hands cupping his face and lips as he received the most gentle kiss he's ever had the pleasure of experiencing. Initial shock ran through his body at the suddenness, and just as he accepted the feeling and went to melt into the kiss— you pulled away. Bucky felt so cold without you against him, he hated feeling cold.
“Wait, no.” he eagerly grabbed your face to pull you back in. Bucky didn't care if he sounded needy, because he did need this. noticing a glimpse of your more than satisfied grin before he shut his eyes and let himself feel your touch.
It was like you were meant for bucky, the perfect puzzle piece as your lips molded against each other. Slow and passionate, his hand ghosted above your waist before he pulled you full against his body. If it wasn't for your wedged heels, Bucky wasn't sure if you'd even reach his lips with the way you stood on your toes.
Pulling away, Bucky felt dizzy, like he was drunk off of you. He swears he saw stars in your eyes, the street lights reflecting off your irises. Soft laughter came from you, you bowed your head as bucky stared at you. Practically mesmerized.
To you, Bucky looked like he was in some sort of shock. Which wouldn’t be too far from the truth, which scared you slightly.
“Everything okay? Did I do something wrong?” you asked innocently, a pang of worry laced your tone.
Bucky frantically shook his head, “no, no– god no. just not used to that.”
“That?”
“I mean.” Bucky thought for a moment, collecting his mind. “Being kissed. I've always been the one to initiate.”
You smiled sweetly, seeing hints of a flustered, young boyish version of Bucky. One that he, and everyone else swore was long gone. You had always thought otherwise, and tonight proves you right.
“I hope it wasn’t too jarring for you.” you nervously chuckled.
“It was perfect.”
_
tag list;@matchat3a @sebsgirl71479 @heavenswrld @ivywasmaroon
#bucky x reader#bucky fic#bucky barnes x reader#james bucky barnes#bucky imagine#bucky barnes#bucky fluff#the winter soldier#sebastian stan#seb stan
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Love fantasy
Masterlist
It all started as a normal cycle, he swears on his spark that it was an innocent and normal cycle.
"I interfaced with one of the humans".
Until it wasn't.
No bot can verify the fact but all are equally flabbergasted at the statement, humans are still a novelty aboard, it has been only a few earth years since they arrived to the starship and while friendships and primitive market of products are normal to see nowadays it still doesn't stop one or two glass cubes from shattering against the floor of Swerve's or the high grade that has gone down the wrong pipe by the mere words formed by Fizzle's vox.
No bot asked, no one even knew, no one really noticed him gone from the ship or when he came back but now they all have their attention at him even when he simply said it to the bot next to him, but gossiping, no matter species, is a big deal among sentient beings.
"You're lying"
"No!", almost sensing the others receptor audials over him he can only try to cover his EMF as close to his frame as possible, spoiler coiled near to his armor in a display of nervousness, "it was- it was out of this world, okay? And- and then she was-"
"It was a human femme?!"
Again, some were at their seats end, some again chocking on their drinks, others feeling their fans activate, everybot has seen for themselves how soft humans are, and even heard from the same humans that some are most soft than others.
Human femmes- er, woman and alike, were supposed to be the peak of softness, even human primitive communication devices (porn and magazines) said so!
"Primus dammit- do you want everybot to hear about it?", oh yes, please say more was something resonating among the processors of the most curious in the theme and the most deviant of them that had also thought of some organic colleagues in such a way, of course, Fizzle didn't had to know, and in some way it was his fault to talk about such a thing like a sparkling sharing secrets in a public area when the Lost Light was so big.
"Okay, okay, go on, what did she do?", there was silence, one that preceded the proton storm while Fizzle's spoiler raised back again in excitement to remember the exchange.
"...she played with my wires and with my spark"
If the two bots didn't know they were being eavesdropped before now they knew after a few bots cracked their glasses full of energon at the mere mention of the interface related activity, making they almost scape even when some bots wanted to keep hearing and asked them to come back, because it was the discovery of the century, well, almost, but it was still of great interest nonetheless for most of them!
"Wow, that was crazy, huh, Roddy?", Drift tries to ignore the other bots still remaining in the bar and their obnoxiously loud fans, hardly covering the growing charge on their EMF and now heated frames trying to seem as undisturbed as possible.
Even Rodimus, who stops as hard as he can his cooling fans, servos being negated of the littlest possibility to even shake at how hard his spark is pulsing, "Uhum".
First of the questions running around his processor is who was it? Fizzle doesn't even have any game going on or perceived by his optics to be able to drag along another mech on his habsuit, let alone a human that knows nothing about interfacing, which get to the next question running wild in circles around his processor: can a human do sparkplay? The idea is impossible but it doesn't stop his imagination where, in fact, it seems more than possible with those little hands and fingers running wild on a bot's spark chamber, he remembers the humans being taught cybetronian medic techniques, how they were so focused in healing illness and it isn't so hard to change the purposes of the delicate and sometimes rough way those little hands made their way around a spark and all the sensitive wiring around.
He ask to himself if the human Fizzle was talking about were to be, by any chance, you.
And he negates it, scratches it, deletes as far as he can any trace of the mere idea of it because it will break his spark in million pieces would be improper in everyway.
It is also improper to remember it when he is next to you while you read a datapad about once living creatures of Cybertron, little finger moving the page once in a while in your hunger for more information that gets his optics focused on the way your eyes move along the light and the glyphs on the screen.
Will your curiosity also extent to other possibilities? He has seen you go "woah" and "ahh" over simple things like the subtle communication between frames with wings and spoilers or the fair quantity of differences of one frame to the other, the image of your face looking with interest whatever you're reading and how you take notes on your personal datapad, little fingers moving along and pressing different places in the sensible screen while showing your obvious interest, your possible awe over his bared spark in front of you.
It's almost too easy, he only needs to change a few things, his open spark chamber is now the source of light reflecting on your eyes, a perfect miniature mirror of your actions as your fingers touch the sensible glass cover of his spark, he can almost feel the electricity driving away to your body to his waiting spark that welcomes it with a tremor as hard as lightning that spreads to his whole frame in electric pleasure, wires tensing at the movement around and all the pressure, trying to make give accomodations to every little electric pulses your body can send to his most sensible component.
"Roddy"
It's way too real, way too hard, and it gets worse when your fingers get replaced with your soft looking lips and tongue, lapping above the connections before sliding to his tensed wires, making a wet trail to his spark while he debates internally in his own fantasy, he is supposed to concentrate, to not come undone or look because he is sure it would be JUST. SO. HOT.
"Rods"
It doesn't even end there, he can hear your voice along it, processor and cooling fans working overtime while he can only focus on the possibility, on the maybe that lingers above, it only takes so little to have you kiss with tongue his spark and he can't take it-
"Rodimus!" Oh, now, that's his designation, the fantasy is shattered in pieces and he soon realizes one of his digits is above his spark chamber, you are looking at him, maybe confused, obviously worried, it's enough to make him let go of the digit between his dentae and feeling his spike depressurize- "why are you so hot?", nevermind.
"... I'm hot?...", a wicked grin blended with happiness is forming on his faceplate as his words trail on slowly, almost as he is tasting it.
"I mean", you correct yourself, you really didn't need to, "heat is coming from your body, are you going flames on again? Are we under attack again?"
"What? Nah, just...", daydreaming about impossibilities, about a weak porn, like humans call it, without basis, heated romance and passion he isn't even sure you share with him, impossibilities that drag his bleeding spark over every movement and word of yours that he clings on with greedy servos, it's so embarrassing and he is sure he'll offline by pure mortification if you ever get a word about his attraction to you just to be faced by any degree of disgust coming from you, "it's getting cold in here, wouldn't want you to freeze those little fingers to dead", he doesn't even offer his servo but it is almost a natural response when he sees you approaching him with fear on your steps by any possibility of being another normal day aboard the Lost Light, he doesn't even stop and let's you settle on his lap like the security protocols indicated.
Fear washes away quickly when you register his words, there is curiosity on your eyes, looking between him and your hands, before finally look at him in the optics again, "Oh, didn't know you heard about the effects of excessive cold on the most distant phalanges, I mean, it's something that only happens while in extreme freezing conditions in harsh environments or controlled ones in closed lab experiments-"
Rodimus really didn't get what you were talking or the whole deal you were explaining to him, but seeing you feel secure next to him, taking seat above him showing the full confidence and trust you put on him while your hands move to explain your point, putting the warm palm against his armor from time to time.
"Everything you touch is bound to fail anyway", harsh words pang among his memory archives while he touches a side of yours to prevent a fall, but he silenced it, preferring the sound of your voice that now was about something called homeostasis.
He wouldn't trade this moment for anything, not when he offers you a digit and you hold it immediately, well, maybe a kiss if you could be generous enough, but he will get there soon, he hopes so.
.
I totally offer this one to @archie-sunshine and @pinkanonwrites by their glorious work of overheating and teasing Rodimus, I love it to the moon and back to hear about one of my faves even when he is mentally unstable and runs hot most of the time, it's his own charm, specially their newest works that relate to Roddy so much.
#reader insert#x reader#tf mtmte#transformers x reader#transformers#transformers idw#transformers x human reader#tf rodimus#rodimus x human reader#rodimus x reader#idw rodimus#rodimus prime#valveplug#sparkplay
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Lavender - Ch. 46
You and Joel find out the Fireflies' plan for Ellie. A continuation of Lavender Ch. 1-45 found on Tumblr here.
Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader
Warnings: Canon-typical violence. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only
Length: 5.3K
Your whole body hurt. It reminded you of when you got thrown from your neighbor’s horse and broke your arm when you were a child. Everything was sore and raw and everything felt ever so slightly wrong. Like something central to you was misaligned.
“Take it easy,” there was a man’s voice, one you didn’t recognize. You ignored him, shooting up and looking around. He kept his distance, his hands up in front of him. He kept his voice low, gentle. “You’re OK, not going to hurt you…”
“Where…” you looked around.
“You’re at a hospital in Salt Lake City,” he said, hands still up. “With the Fireflies. We found you a few hours ago. Sorry for the cold welcome but I don’t think they were expecting you to actually show up…”
Your head spun a bit as you shifted. You were on a gurney, the room dim.
“Joel?” You asked. “Ellie? Are they…”
“They’re fine,” he said, lowering his hands slowly. “Joel is still out but he should be fine, we’re getting things prepped for Ellie right now so we can start our work.”
You nodded and rubbed your temples.
“Looks like you’ve been through the mill,” he smiled a little and sat next to you.
“Yeah, just a bit,” you laughed a little. “It’s a hell scape out there…”
“Marlene said that you were a doctor?” He asked, looking you over. “That you’d been doing research in Boston about a possible cure?”
“Well, not a cure,” you said, looking around the room again and spotting your bag in a corner. You slid down from the gurney and went to get it, needing to hold onto the wall for a moment to keep from falling over. But you got the bag and went back to the gurney, setting the bag on top of it. You dug all the way to the bottom, finding your piles of notes. “But a treatment. Something that can be administered immediately after a bite that will slow the progression of cordyceps. If you can amputate the effected area or surgically remove the cordyceps from the tissue, it never reaches the brain and takes over. It’s not perfect and I haven’t done any kind of live trials but it could mean that a bite is no longer a death sentence…”
“This is incredible,” he was flipping through pages of your work, skimming over it. “Just imagine, with the information we can get from Ellie combined with your research…”
“I take it you’re a doctor then?” You asked, putting your hands in the back pockets of your jeans.
“Oh, of course, I’m sorry,” he shook his head and smiled before holding his hand out. “I’m Dr. Jerry Anderson, I’ve been leading the Fireflies’ research into finding a cure. Marlene mentioned you to me when she made it out here. She’d hoped you’d show up at some point but gave up hope about a month back. She was pretty upset, said she thought your work showed a lot of promise…”
“Well glad to know someone missed something about me,” you said wryly. He laughed a little. “So I guess we’ll be working together then? Or I can at least give you my notes, I know our plan isn’t to stay here forever but I obviously want to help…”
“Of course, of course,” he nodded, going back to your notes. “We are talking about the single most important medical achievement of mankind here, I’d hope you’d want to be involved!”
You laughed once and nodded, looking over his arm at your work.
“I just don’t want to put too much strain on Joel and Ellie,” you said. “They’ve been through a lot. Especially her. There’s a place we want to make it back to, settle for a while. She deserves that, all she’s known is the QZ, she deserves better than that…”
His jaw clenched for a moment before he spoke again.
“I have a daughter, not much older than Ellie,” he said, looking down at you. “I’d do anything to make life better for her. But it’s… hard. Knowing that they’re going through something awful, especially when it isn’t their fault.”
“It really is,” you sighed. “That girl went through so much just to get here. More than any one person should ever go through… Of course a cure is important, it’s the most important thing we could do and I know she wants to do whatever she can for it but I want her to have a chance to be a kid. That’s important, too. Maybe not to the whole world but it’s important.”
“At least you can know that, whatever happens, it was done to save everyone,” he said. “It’s worth some sacrifice if it saves everyone.”
There was a knock at the door and a nurse leaned her head in.
“Doctor?” She said. “We’re about ready for you…”
“Thanks,” he smiled tightly at her before turning back to you, handing you your notes. “We can talk more later, see if we can find the best applications for your research with what I think we have in Ellie…”
“Are you running tests on her?” You frowned. “Can I see her?”
“Not the best time,” he said. “We’re trying to keep the environment contained at the moment. We can talk later…”
“I’d really like to see her though,” you cut him off. “She’s got to be scared, she’s never been in a place like this and…”
“Just…” he paused. “Just think about what all we’re going to be able to do with what we’re making here. How many people we’re going to save. We’ll talk in a bit, OK?”
“But…” You protested, trying to follow him, but he stepped around a large, armed man on his way out and the man pressed you back into the room. You stepped back from him on instinct, his tall, broad body blocking you from getting to the door. He had a rifle in his hands. You swallowed, looking up at him. “I just have a few questions…”
You went to duck around him but he cut you off.
“Dr. Anderson wants you to stay here,” he said gruffly. “So you stay here.”
You frowned.
“Are you holding me prisoner?” You asked.
“No,” he said. “Just keeping you here for now.”
“Sounds an awful lot like holding me prisoner,” you said. The man shrugged, blocking your way to the door. “I’m not going to cause any trouble, I just want…”
“You can stay put for a bit while the doc does his work,” he replied. You narrowed your eyes at him.
“OK so if I can’t see Ellie can I at least see Joel?” You planted yourself in front of him, your arms crossed. “The man I came in with, just take me to see him. I just want to make sure he’s alright…”
“You stay. Put.” The man said, voice sharp.
You stared him down for another moment before you went to look out the window. Not that you were seriously considering jumping out of it if you were low to the ground but it was tempting.
Something about this whole situation had set you on edge. Your chest was tight, your stomach in knots. Something felt wrong. You didn’t trust it. You weren’t sure what you didn’t trust yet - if it was Dr. Anderson, if it was being away from Joel and Ellie, if it was just the whole situation in general - but you didn’t trust something. The feeling of something being out of alignment grew more insistent.
You were pacing, one arm across your stomach with the other propped against it, hand to your mouth, when you heard two sharp pops. The sound made you jump, like gunshots did in the QZ. You frowned and looked toward the man at the door.
“Did you…” you began but he cut you off.
“Quiet,” he snapped, looking through the window in the door to your room. His radio crackled to life.
“Shots fired!”
“What’s going on?” You asked, eyes wide.
“Probably fuckin’ raiders,” he said, his grip tightening on his gun. “Stay…”
“I need to get to Ellie and Joel,” you said quickly, trying to push your way past him but he shoved you back. “Please, I need to get to them, Dr. Anderson said Joel was unconscious and Ellie…”
“Leave it!” He snapped over his shoulder. “If you get yourself fuckin’ killed you’re of no use to anyone so let me handle it…”
“Joel was still unconscious!” You tried to run past him but he grabbed you and threw you back into the gurney, sharp pain radiating out from your ribs. You had started crying but you knew it because of the blow. “Please, they’re just going to kill him he won’t even have a chance!”
There were more gunshots and he glared at you as you pulled yourself to your feet.
“I was told to keep you in this room and keep you alive,” he snapped, turning the gun on you and pointing it at your thigh. “I will fuckin’ shoot you if you don’t calm down and stay put!”
More gunshots. They sounded closer now.
“Please,” you begged again, trying to make yourself stop crying. “I’m sure they got Ellie out but…”
“The fuck you think you’re gonna do?” He snapped. His eyes were wide, scared. “You’re not gonna last two minutes out there if we’re overrun by fuckin’ raiders! So get out of sight and shut the fuck up before you get us both killed…”
There were a few more loud pops, so loud that they made you flinch. Some of them must have made it to your level. The man glared at you and jerked his head toward the corner of the room that was against the same wall as the door, where you’d be harder to see if someone just glanced inside. You obeyed, watching him closely. The man clenched his jaw for a moment and went to the holster at his belt and pulled out a pistol. He handed it to you.
“It’s a full clip,” he said quietly. “If you need it.”
You just nodded and aimed the gun at the ground, pressing yourself back against the wall. You wiped your eyes and breathed deep. You had to focus. Had to be ready to defend yourself, you couldn’t help Joel and Ellie if you were dead.
The man was watching through the pane of glass in the door as you tried to calm yourself down. Your thoughts were like a drumbeat, get to Joel get to Joel get to Joel. You had to reach him, had to save him, you and Ellie needed him. It was desperate and gnawing and grasping and you had to get to him.
The man tensed for a second.
“Stay put,” he breathed, opening the door slowly, moving almost silently. You closed your eyes for a moment and got ready to move, to try to find Joel, when there were two almost deafening pops. So loud you knew they had to be right outside your door. You jumped and tightened your grip on your pistol, raising it, getting ready to shoot the next person through the door if they were a raider. Your heart was pounding against your ribs, so hard you were certain that someone standing outside would hear it.
The door opened slowly and you aimed your weapon for a second before you dropped it.
“Joel!”
***
You weren’t next to Joel when he woke up.
It felt like you should have been, though.
In fairness, it always felt like you should be next to him when he woke up. That had been one of the nice things about traveling with you the last few months, waking up and having you within arm’s reach. He’d started every goddamn day of his life from the time he first touched you feeling disoriented if you weren’t there when he woke up. He’d reach for you, searching, like there was a part of him that was missing. It happened when he thought you were dead, in the glorious few seconds every day where he forgot about the outbreak and didn’t know that you and Sarah were gone. It happened in the QZ, even when Tess was there because she wasn’t you. It happened on the nights on the road where you had second watch and he woke up while you were out of sight and there was the thrill of fear, a spark of wrongness at you being somewhere else.
But he needed to find you now. Something had happened, he could feel that in his body. He needed to find you and Ellie and make sure everything was OK.
“You actually fucking did it.”
The voice was familiar, it took him a second to place it, for his eyes to focus.
“I thought you were long dead…”
“Marlene?” He sat up and saw her in the doorway of a hospital room.
“You are the last person on the planet I’d want to be in debt to,” she hook her head, her small smile dark. “It couldn’t have been Tess who made it this far with them, had to be you?”
“I’d have it be the other way if I could,” he said, looking around. “Where are they?”
“They’re fine,” she said. “Doc is awake and has met with our doctor. She’s a little banged up but fine. Ellie doesn’t have a scratch, was mostly worried about the two of you…”
“Can I see her?” Joel asked, still blinking some disorientation out of his head.
“How’d you do it?” Marlene asked, ignoring his question. “How’d you make it this far? I had a whole fucking team of guys whose whole job was keeping me alive. We had equipment - trucks, guns - and I still barely made it here. And then there’s you three…”
“They were determined,” Joel replied. “Did a lot to make it this far…”
“They’d be dead without you,” she cut him off. “Before you even made it out of Boston, they’d have been dead. Ellie’s a kid, Doc wouldn’t hurt a fly even if it meant saving her own damn life…”
“I need to see them,” Joel’s chest was tight. He didn’t like this. Something was off, wrong.
“You can’t,” Marlene said, her voice calm and even. “I’m sorry, Joel.”
“The fuck you mean I can’t?” He got to his feet. An armed man at Marlene’s side started moving for him but she put an arm out, stopping him. “I need to see them right now, Marlene!”
“I mean,” she said, still calm. “Doc is getting up to speed on what our doctor’s been doing and Ellie is getting ready for surgery.”
Joel leaned back against the gurney. You already working made sense, he knew you wanted to get in and get out of here quickly but Ellie…
“Surgery?” He frowned. “You said she was fine, not a scratch, why’s she need surgery? I thought you just needed her blood and shit, to run tests, if she’s fine why’s she need surgery?”
“Our doctor thinks Ellie has had cordyceps with her since birth,” Marlene said. “They produce a kind of chemical messenger…”
“So get it from her fuckin’ blood,” Joel snapped.
“He needs the cordyceps that have grown inside her,” she said. “With them he’s going to produce that chemical messenger, one that makes normal cordyceps recognize Ellie as one of their own, and we can give it to everyone. It’s a cure, Joel. It’s a fucking cure.”
It was like his brain was a scratched CD for a moment, stuck on one thing she said.
“Cordyceps grows inside the brain,” he looked at Marlene.
He had to be missing something. That couldn’t be right. Marlene might be an asshole but she wouldn’t murder a child. She wouldn’t hurt Ellie.
“It does,” she nodded.
“No,” he shook his head. “No, you…”
“She doesn’t know,” Marlene said. “She’s not afraid, she’ll be unconscious so she won’t feel any pain…”
Joel’s head spun. It couldn’t be right. They couldn’t want to take her, not like that, not…
“No,” he snapped, pushing himself off the gurney and going for Marlene. “No, you take me to her! You take me to her right now!”
She didn’t stop her guard from intervening that time, the butt of his gun slamming into Joel’s stomach, a second blow hitting his head, sending him to the ground.
“Can’t do that, Joel.”
“You really think she’s gonna help you if you kill her?” He asked. “Think she’ll do a damn thing to make that cure happen if it comes at the cost of Ellie’s life? You’re not gonna have shit…”
“Doc won’t let Ellie die in vain,” Marlene said. “She’ll do it. She’ll make sure it works.”
“Please,” he panted. “Please…”
“I’m sorry, Joel,” she said quietly. “I truly am, you have no idea how sorry I am.”
“Then don’t fuckin’ do it!” He said, getting to his feet. “You can’t…”
“I’ve known her her whole life,” she said. “I was there when she was born, I was there when her mother died after I promised I would protect her daughter. But there is no other choice here, Joel. This is what it takes to get the world back. I have no other choice.”
He was back in 2003. It was dark, chaotic. He had to get to his daughter and he had to get to you. He had to protect you both, he had to, there was no other option. He had no other choice.
He looked up at Marlene.
“I do.”
She sighed.
“Get him out of here,” she said to her guard. “Out of town. He acts up, shoot him.” She pulled a knife - Ellie’s knife - and handed it to them. “Give him that.”
“What about Doc?” He asked. “What about…”
“Thought you hated her,” she said. “So don’t worry about it. We’ll take care of her. We need what’s in her head, remember? She’ll be safe with us.”
She left the room ahead of Joel, before the men shoved him forward. She paused and looked back at him.
“I am sorry, Joel,” she said. “Take care of yourself.”
They pushed him toward the stairwell and he let them. It was like an out of body experience, like he wasn’t in control. The need to get to Ellie and get to you had taken over. Nothing else mattered, nothing. Not his body or mind, not the lives of the people in this hospital, not hope for humanity, none of it. Get to his daughter, get to you.
“Keep goin’,” the voice behind him was sharp. Joel had forgotten he was there. He obeyed, going for the stairs. He paused, at a sign indicating the floors. He needed to go up. The men with Joel shoved him down. He let them.
He needed a gun. The Fireflies weren’t going to just let either of you go. He was going to have to take you from them. He was OK with that. It was worth it. It was worth a whole hell of a lot more than that.
He stopped on a landing. He didn’t have time to keep going along with them. He had to do this now, he had to get to his daughter and get to you now.
“The fuck did I say?” The man snapped, shoving Joel into the wall. “Keep. Goin’.”
He shoved him again and Joel moved fast, whipping around and ripping the gun from his hands. He shot the first man and shoved the other back onto the stairs. The man’s hands went up.
“Where’s the girl?” Joel asked. He didn’t recognize his own voice.
“Fuck you,” he spat.
“I don’t have time for this.”
Joel shot him, too. He didn’t feel anything when he did it, not the pain he once felt when killing another human being, not relief at taking action, not the push of adrenaline. He was beyond that now, outside what feeling could touch.
He moved on.
Up the stairs, next floor, where he heard people moving. He had to make sure there was no one who could interfere, no one who could stop him, not this time. He was not going to let them take you from him. Not you, not his daughter.
He took another gun and a clip from someone who was dead. They were dead because Joel had killed him. The fact barely registered. The fact that he’d killed at least a dozen people so far barely registered.
He moved to the next floor.
The Fireflies were shooting at him but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He’d only care if they killed him before he could get to his daughter and get to you. As long as he got you both out, they could have him. Get to her, get to you.
Next floor.
It was quieter there. He tried to think of how many Fireflies would be here and how many he’d already killed. The last few minutes were a fog. Two dozen dead, at least, he thought. Probably more. There may not be any more left to stop him.
There were gunshots from the side of him, shattering a pane of glass near his head. Joel turned and shot, dropping the man. Joel went over to him, the man writhing on the ground, gasping for breath. He went to shoot the man again but the gun didn’t fire. Out of ammo. He pulled out the knife - Ellie’s knife - and slit his throat before taking the man’s gun and ammunition.
Joel looked up. There was a door, one the man was close enough to that he might have been protecting it. It could be you or Ellie.
He opened it, slowly.
“Joel!”
You were against him in a second and he could suddenly feel again, everything becoming bright and harsh. Everything except for you, your warm, soft body holding him to the earth. He could smell your hair and your skin and feel your heart beat against his chest as you clung to him.
“You’re alive,” you buried your face in his chest and his arms went around you. It was instinctual. “Joel, there are raiders, in the hospital…”
“No raiders,” he released you and you stepped back from him, frowning up at him. “We have to get Ellie.”
“What?” You frowned. “I don’t… haven’t you heard the shooting? There’s…”
“We need to get Ellie,” he said. “Do you know where she is?”
“No,” you shook your head. “No, they just said they were taking her for tests, they wouldn’t let me see her yet. I’m sure they got her out of here when the shooting started… Joel, what do you mean there aren’t raiders? Who’s…”
“They’re not running tests,” he said, getting a better grip on his gun. “We have to get her.”
“What?” Your eyes searched his and he saw himself reflected in you for a moment. The shell he’d become if he failed this time. He saw the brief moment of horror and then understanding, he saw that you knew. He cut you off before you had the chance to ask.
“She’s in surgery,” he said. “They need to take the cordyceps from her, they…”
“That would kill her,” you stepped back from him, your eyes wide. “Joel, that would kill her, that…”
“Marlene said she didn’t have another choice,” he said. “We do. We have to get our girl, Baby, we have to get her…”
You picked up a gun from the ground and put it low in front of you.
“She’ll probably be in pediatrics,” you said, looking up at Joel. “She’s small, they’re going to want to use the tools that are there. They’ll stick to the surgical wing, no reason to reinvent the wheel and take the procedure anywhere else…”
Joel nodded once.
“Stay behind me,” he said.
He led you past the man he’d killed just outside your door, the linoleum slick with his blood. There was a twinge of something almost like pity in Joel now, seeing the man’s body. He pressed on. Down past the faded and dirty murals of animals, past the body of another man he’d killed to get this far.
“There,” you nodded down a hall. “It’ll probably be there…”
Joel wordlessly led the way, peering into rooms until he saw her, through a window in a door. Her small, fragile body on the table, nurses standing next to her, a man in a scrub cap with a scalpel. He opened the door, gun raised.
“Unhook her,” he said, his voice deadly calm. The women jumped. The man stared at him.
“Dr. Anderson,” you said softly. “You can’t do this. Please. This will kill her…”
“It’s the cure,” he looked at you, his eyes darting back to Joel before settling on you. “It’s worth the sacrifice, it’s for all of humanity, it’s…”
“Unhook her,” Joel said again, stepping closer. “Now.”
“I’m sorry,” the man said, holding the scalpel up. “I’m sorry, but you can’t take her.”
Joel aimed for his head, his finger going for the trigger, but you jumped in front of him, your gun held low.
“Baby,” he said sharply. “Move.”
“No,” you said. “No, you can’t kill him, you don’t have to kill him. He has a daughter, Joel. He’s a father, just like you. Imagine what would have happened to Sarah if you died. Imagine what would happen to Ellie. You don’t have to kill him…”
He reached out to sweep you out of the way but you turned before he could get to you, shooting the man in the leg with a small cry. The doctor screamed, dropping the scalpel and collapsing to the ground. Joel lowered his gun. Your eyes were wide, pleading.
“Get Ellie,” you said. “Joel…”
He turned the gun on the nurses as you put your pistol in the waistband of your jeans, starting to put a tourniquet around the doctor’s leg.
“Unhook her,” he said, gun up again. The nurses scrambled to obey this time, pulling a face mask from her and an IV from her arm. She started bleeding where the needle had been and he nodded at it. “Make that stop. Quick.”
They quickly taped a patch of gauze over the hole in her arm and stepped back again. Joel kept his eyes on them as he slung the strap of his gun over his shoulder and lifted Ellie’s small body, gently, into his arms.
“You’re OK Baby Girl,” he said quietly. Her head lolled to his shoulder. He could feel her breathing. “You’re OK.”
You got up from the ground beside the doctor, kicking the scalpel across the room and drawing your gun again.
“I’m sorry,” you said, looking around as you backed toward Joel. “I’m sorry it had to be this way but you can’t… We can’t… I’m sorry.”
You stuck close to Joel as he went for an elevator which, mercifully, still worked. You pushed the button labeled garage.
“I hope they have trucks,” you said, your grip on the gun tight.
“Should have let me kill him,” he said.
You shook your head.
“I’ll kill to keep you and her safe but I’m not killing if I don’t have to,” you said, your voice firm. “We didn’t have to kill him, he wasn’t armed, there’s nothing he could really do…”
“He was going to kill her.”
You took a deep breath.
“I know,” you said. “I know.”
The elevator chimed and you went into the garage first, your gun up, ready to shoot. For half a moment, Joel thought it was over. That he could take a car and be done, that there was no one down here and that the worst was over.
But it wasn’t. Of course it wasn’t.
“You can’t protect her forever, Joel,” Marlene said. You both turned to face her, her gun up as she prowled closer. “Not in a world like this one. It’s impossible. No one is safe here, that’s the point.”
“It’s not your choice to make,” he said, holding Ellie’s limp body closer.
“It’s not yours either,” she said, gun still raised. “It’s hers.”
“She’s 14 years old, Marlene,” you put yourself between her and Joel, your gun up. He resisted the urge to put you behind him, holding tightly to Ellie. Keeping her safe, that’s what mattered. “It can’t be up to her, she doesn’t understand…”
“She’s a smart girl, Doc,” she cut you off. “This is what she’d want and you know it.”
“She’s a child!” Your grip tightened on your gun. “She’s too young to decide something like this! So we’re deciding for her…”
“She’s going to get torn apart,” Marlene was ignoring you now, looking over you to him. “Or kidnapped by raiders, shot by some asshole. Is that what you want for her, Joel? Do you think that she’ll forgive you if she finds out that you cursed her to live in this world? With these risks?”
“Rather her be alive to hate me,” he said, looking down at Ellie, his watch reflecting the florescent light of the parking garage in a broken, fractured pattern onto a nearby concrete post. “Don’t care about the rest.”
“Let us go, Marlene,” you said, backing up toward Joel. “I don’t want to kill you…”
“We both know you’re not the dangerous one,” Marlene looked at you. “Just put the gun down, we can discuss this. We both know you’re not a killer.”
You planted your feet.
“For them I am.”
Marlene realized what was happening half a second before you pulled the trigger and fired just before you did. Time slowed and Joel watched, helpless, as the bullet hit you. He was helpless, just like that night in Texas. He couldn’t do anything but watch you hurt. You stumbled back and fell, keeping your gun clutched in your hand.
“Go!” You yelled at him, sitting up on your elbow, raising the gun and pointing it at Marlene again. He realized she was on the ground, too, her gun dropped where she’d been standing. “Get Ellie to one of the cars. I’ll be fine, get Ellie to a car…”
You were panting for breath now and he ran to obey, finding one of the SUVs that the Fireflies were charging a battery on and setting Ellie gently in the back seat. He made sure she was still breathing before going back for you.
Marlene was struggling to breathe, trying to get back to her gun. Joel met your eyes for a moment and you gave him a nod, letting your weapon fall as you hissed in pain. He picked up Marlene’s gun, standing over her.
“Please,” she panted, her hands clutched over her stomach where you’d shot her. “Please, don’t do this…”
“Can’t leave you alive,” he said. “You’d just come after them. You’d just kill them. Can’t let you live.”
He shot her in the head and her body went limp. He tucked the gun into the waistband of his pants and knelt beside you, one hand going to cup your cheek, the other around your ribs, holding you up.
“You’re OK Baby,” he said quickly. “You’re OK, it’s going to be OK…”
“It’s not bad,” you winced, nodding down at your leg. He adjusted your shirt. There was an entrance wound on the side of your thigh. “It missed the vital stuff and it went clean through, just need to stop the bleeding…”
“You did good, Baby,” he kissed your forehead. “You did so good.”
You closed your eyes and nodded.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” you said.
He lifted you gently into his arms and put you in the passenger seat of the SUV before he unhooked the battery, closed the hood and left the hospital behind.
A/N: Alright folks, this is it. We've got three chapters of this left to go.
I know, I know, I can't believe it either! I hope you enjoyed Joel losing his mind a bit in this chapter and that you'll enjoy what the future holds for our little trio.
Right now, I'm planning to publish again on Tuesday, 7/18; Thursday, 7/20, and close out the series on Friday, 7/21.
I'm going to close the taglist for now since we're so close to the end of this and it's been a bit shoddy anyway (Tumblr just does NOT let me tag some folks and I don't know why!) But thank you to everyone who has shared and commented and liked and followed this story. It sincerely means the world.
Thank you for being here! Love you all!
Taglist: @paleidiot@ayamenimthiriel@ginger-swag-rapunzel@drewharrisonwriter@flugazi @pedropascalsbbg@taoyuji@starstruckmusiciansartghost@splendsay@bigboiseason123@jpbplvr @ashleyandring @mrsyixingunicorn10@sloanexx@ninaminaromina @lady-bellyn @hufflepuffriver @sarap-77 @storyarcscribe @mellymbee @jasminedragoon @lemonmeli @reds-ramblings@arizonadaydreamer@mumma-moonchild@blackroseguzzi@candypeaches16@kittenlittle24@wrappedinfiction@oatmeaiboy@pedritosdarling@winchestergypsy90@imnotdatboii @lalalalemonade11 @maknimuk1@mrsdarcyinlovewithbuckybarnes@pedrosaidsheispunk@commanderawkward@n7cje@elliesgirlll@tsunamistorm123@spookyxsam@leeeesahhh @anoverwhelmingdin @untamedheart81 @pedropascalfan221 @pedr0swh0r3 @pedrobae@fifia-writes@fatima-marisa @acf2023 @1soff@encephalitiskat @ashleymsnodgrass @karlinspace
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Some sketches of headcanons for Maedhros' body-type, tattoos, and scars.
I will give a warning for talk on poor mental and physical health before my notes:
. His body-type in particular is something he specifically works for - before Thangorodrim I think he had the more stereotypical elf-prince body (his mother-name is "well-formed", yes?) - something classically desireable. After his capture, the mix of starvation and hard physical labour made him unhealthily lean. After being rescued he was able to build up body fat again, but instead of regaining his old body he works for this new one. Something undeniably strong, untouchable, a warriors body further exaggerated. Not only does he want to distance himself from the perfection of the old him, he wants to make sure noone looking at him could see him as weak. I doubt he'd remember at least the first few months after his rescue well, but from what he does, he feels ashamed. Hiding, cowing away in fear like a child, striking out at those trying to help, revealing far too much of his trauma from the enemy. Emotion becomes a weakness to him, and he learns to control that, but then as he heals further he seeks control over his body too. I think he might eventually see himself - both body and soul - like a project similar to the construction and ruling of Himring. Especially I imagine a disconnect from his body - it is something to be built up, made strong and impenetrable, anything to not be harmed and tormented again.
. The most important scars for my headcanon (other than his missing hand of course) are the brand on his shoulder and the whip marks on his back. The brand effects him the most, and is something he covers as much as possible. None would know about it other than Findekano, Makalaure, and a few healers. Unfortunately due to it being raised, it cannot be tattooed over (nor do I think he'd be able to sit through any tattoos). I am thinking of designing some type of clothing that would essentially be part of his underwear, something that would keep it covered as often as possible - goes over the shoulder, wrapping around his body to beneath the right arm pit?
For the whip scars - when first brought to Thangorodrim he would sometimes be put to work with the other thralls. This was meant to be demoralising, the thralls seeing their prince/king reduced to this, and to show Maedhros how much had been taken from him. Of course the scars healed poorly and were often infected (I think with the brand, it may have been purposefully aggravated to make the scarring worse), though due to his positioning he got enough medical care to keep him alive. Now that he is free they still give him trouble - mobility issues from ones that cut into muscle, and the scarring itself makes the flesh stiff and less flexible. There is also a lack of feeling for most of the area.
. Tattoos - I honestly don't have any real sure designs or positioning fro them. My main thought was the vision of a tattoo of the 8 pointed star, broken up and faded due to scarring caused at Thangorodrim. You can still tell what the tattoo is of, but it has undeniably been damaged. I think I'd like to design for him a large back tattoo - star of Feanor in the middle, with other references surrounding it. Then, of course, the whip scars on top.
(Ah, and for body hair: I imagine elves can grow it, just usually not as thick. I think I remember reading that some can grow beards in old age? (As with Cirdan), so why not the same for body hair lol. I mean, humans also only get most after puberty)
#my art#silm art#silm fanart#maedhros#tolkien#feanorions#i have a feeling tumblr wont like this one haha
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A Magician, Yoda is Not
After a disaster relief mission, Yoda entertains some local children.
Written for Fandom Empire Prompt Tables 2024 - Prompt: "Magic"
Read on AO3
“Your assistance has been greatly appreciated, Master Jedi,” the mayor said, with the utmost sincerity. The avalanche had been devastating, overpowering their safeguards and destroying half of their capital city. Rescue organizations and crews had arrived quickly after the request for help had gone out, but even with all their tireless hard work, things would have gone a lot differently without the aid of the Jedi, who could sense where people were trapped more quickly and accurately than the most sophisticated rescue droids, could predict and could lift snow and debris with their minds.
Many lives had been lost in the initial disaster, but so many more had been trapped, their survival entirely dependent on how quickly they could be reached and given medical attention. For many of those people, the involvement of the Jedi was that very difference between life and death.
There were so many more people saved today than the mayor could have ever imagined hoping for.
“You have our gratitude, and our friendship,” he continued, “and if there is any way we can repay you, you have but to name it.”
“Glad to be of service, we are,” Master Yoda said. “No reward do we require. But if offered, your friendship is, then glad we are to accept. No greater reward, could there be.”
A group of young children ran up to them. Not ones who had been rescued – they would still be receiving medical attention if they were – but children who had had family members and friends trapped, or knew someone who did, and had helped in whatever way they could, running comms between rescue teams, bringing food and water where it was needed, etc.
As such, they had witnessed the Jedi’s help as well.
“Show us your magic again!” one of them begged Yoda.
“It was amazing!”
“Please! Do some magic!”
The mayor frowned. They were children and didn’t know any better, of course, but he knew that the Jedi didn’t call their talents “magic”, so it seemed disrespectful to call it as such, even if it might as well have been to his eyes.
“I apologize…” he started to say to Yoda, but the Jedi had a twinkle in his eyes, and made the slightest shake of his head, so the mayor fell silent, and watched as Yoda turned to face the children.
“Magic?” he asked, with a teasing tone. “Magic, I know not. A magician, I saw once. Pull a coin from your ear, he could, and turn a scarf into a bird. Very impressive, it was. Offered his audience a turn, he did. Very bad at it, I was. Better at magic, I think, you would be, than old Yoda!”
The children were unconvinced.
“We saw you!” the first said.
“You lifted all the snow and ice!”
“The wind, it could have been,” Yoda said.
“The wind doesn’t lift up people,” another child said, matter-of-factly.
“Hmph! Say that, you do, but floating, you are!” Yoda said.
The children all looked down, realizing that in fact, their feet were no longer on the ground. They shrieked with delighted laughter, and two of them reached out to spin the third around in mid-air, to the amusement of all three.
“See?” Yoda said, “The wind, it was.”
“No, you’re doing this!” one of the children accused, giggling.
“Know what you’re talking about, I do not.”
“Yes, you do!”
“The mayor knows you’re doing it, too, right, Mr. Mayor?”
The mayor was a little taken aback by the question, unsure how he should respond. It was, of course, obvious that Master Yoda was lifting the children, but it was also clear that he was playing a game with them.
“I’m...afraid this is out of my area of expertise,” he said, finally.
The child pouted at him, but quickly bounced back to cheerfulness as the three of them floated higher into the air. It would have been alarming if the mayor had not completely trusted Yoda to keep them safe.
Slowly, the children were brought back down to the ground, only mildly disappointed to be back on their own feet.
“Thank you, Mr. Jedi! That was fun!”
“I always wanted to fly,” another said.
“Good-bye, Mr. Jedi!”
The three children ran off, and Yoda chuckled.
“Joy,” he said, “for the children, easy it is, to be found. Good, it is, to play. A relief from worries, it is.”
And, well, the mayor, even being of a more serious disposition himself, couldn’t argue with that.
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Once Upon a Time on the Razor Crest
Summary: First steps to friendship
A/N: Hello lovelies,
I hope everyone had a good week. I just want to put this out there as someone who works in the medical field, please be kind to doctors, nurses, technicians, receptions, and cleaning crews.
Just be kind in general. I had a rough week with a very rude patient. It might not seem like much but after a while it takes a toll. So to everyone and anyone who needs to hear this, thank you for all the hard work you do.
Love oo
Due to the past history of the OC there will be discussions alluding to past domestic abuse, please note that as it could be a trigger for some.
Warnings: discussions of lunch, trying to avoid isolation, mentions of past trauma (blink and you'll miss it), discussions of being dirty (physically), possible mud (use your imagination). If I miss any warnings, please let me know.
AO3 Link | Words: 909 | Previous -> Next
Main Master List | Once Upon a Time on the Razor Crest
THE CRESTWORLD
CHAPTER NINE
As we watched Taika and Misty munching away, it made me remember we needed to eat too, “Din, what do you want for lunch? There’s some leftovers from last night’s dinner or I could make us a sandwich and salad …”
“You know…” he cut her off, realizing he needed to make more of an effort with her.
Sure she was his employee, but he was also the only person she knew out here. Cobb and Fennec were always busy in town and the surrounding areas, and Fennec had even less time than Cobb, being Boba’s right hand. Then there was Grogu, and as fun and enjoyable he was for a little kid, it wasn’t the same as having someone around her own age to hang out with.
He nodded to himself, resolving he needed to do better, “You did a really good job today, Ann. Looking after Bessie, milking her, noticing there was something off about her. You could’ve easily brushed it off, or not even bothered to tell me about it. But you did, and because you did, I can tell you there will be a new addition to the ranch. Nerfs have a faster gestation than most quadrupeds. We should have a new addition in a month or two depending on if it’s a bull or calf. Not to mention you fed the nunas and collected the eggs, even though I know it freaks you out a little. I even noticed that you stamped the eggs with the date, and put them away. Cleaned out the pens as best you could … before I got here.” He smirked.
I tilted my head to look at him, resting my head on my arms that were propped on the railing of the corral. I didn’t say much, simply looking at him as I narrowed my eyes at Din, “I can’t tell if you’re making fun of me, or if you’re being genuine”
He chuckled, as he glanced over to her, shaking his head. “Genuine, I’m being genuine,” he turned back to look at Taika and Misty, “plus, I owe you for this morning.”
I smirked, focusing back on the horses, “So … does this mean, I’ll get a pay bump?”
“Ha! No.” He stood stretching, “However, I do believe, your good work today, and for my …”
“Assery?”
“That’s not even a word.”
“Words aren’t words, until you start using them more often”
Din shook his head laughing, “Anyway, I do believe this entitles you to lunch on me. How about we go into town for lunch? I know a good restaurant.”
“Oh, um … yeah, I guess…”
He hadn’t expected that reaction, “Do you not want to?” Din glanced over to her.
A thousand scenarios ran through my mind, my biggest concern was bringing danger to this small town, but … Fennec went through a lot to cover my tracks so I could make it here. I couldn’t keep hiding on the ranch like I was. I needed to stop letting my ex dictate terms. I needed to start living again.
I closed my eyes, and reminded myself, I wasn’t that same weak girl, he initially married.
“No. No.” I focused on the landscape before, taking in the beautiful mountains, the crisp air. I was far away from him. “I’m up for going into town. After all, I need to see more of this area, get to know the town and people. As beautiful as this ranch is, I can’t exactly be holed up here forever.”
“No. You can’t” he smiled.
I smirked, as my eyes glanced down, looking over my dirty outfit, “Maybe I should change? Take a shower at least?” My hand subconsciously went to my forehead and hair, wiping away some of the sweat and dirt.
Din shrugged, “You can if you want to but there’s no need, we’re going to a diner, not some fancy five-star high-end Coruscant restaurant. Plus this is a farming town, we’re all used to being a little dirty.”
“Hmmm … Well, I guess, if you’re going like that” I motioned to his shirt, “then I guess I can go like this” I motioned to my less than stellar outfit.
“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” He looked down, sure there was dirt, hay, dust, some grass strains, and something … he hoped but wasn’t entirely sure was mud. The more he thought about it, the more he changed his opinion, “You know, now that you mention it, maybe a change of shirt wouldn’t be the worst thing.”
I chuckled, nodding in agreement, as he tried to flick a nondescript dark matter off his shirt towards me. I squealed, flinching away from him, increasing the distance between us. “Hey …” I held up my finger as I moved further away, “I’ll have you know, I have enough of my own questionable dark matter on me, I don’t need to take on yours, too.” I shouted over to him, when I was far enough away and headed back into the house.
Din watched as she headed back to the house, slipping off her boots before she went in.
He stood in the open glancing over to the pens, the horses grazing, and Bessie chewing away as she stood there looking at him, and he couldn’t remember a time he felt this content from cleaning the pens and grooming Taika and Misty. He shook his head, pushing his thoughts aside as he headed into the house to change.
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Main Master List | Once Upon a Time on the Razor Crest
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What specific disabilities and medical problems do you think Levi experiences after the final battle? I find it astonishing he was able to survive at all, given how wounded he seemed initially after the thunder spear explosion and then how he aggravated those injuries and suffered new ones after the Battle of Heaven and Earth
Well, I'm no medical expert, so I can only give my very ill-informed impression of what I think Levi is dealing with, lol. But I think anyone can at least safely assume he's dealing with a lot.
Just obviously, his leg is clearly permanently damaged. Specifically, I think it's probably a problem with his knee, since that's apparently where the titan got a hold of him. The titan probably bit near clean through his leg, I'm guessing. It might have only been the metal harness from his ODM gear which managed to keep him from losing it entirely. I imagine he might have lost all of the cartilage in his knee, and probably also suffered severe breakage of the bones around that area. The bones were probably shattered, to be honest. All this would have only have been made worse by his continuing to fight afterward. I don't think Levi is paralyzed in any way, but he's probably suffering from pretty severe joint and knee pain, at the least, which probably has lead to all kinds of other issues. I imagine it's had a negative impact on his lower back and hips, for example. So Levi's need for a wheelchair, I think, probably comes from the fact that he's just in chronic pain, and can't be on his feet for very long anymore. It probably causes him a very large amount of discomfort to have to walk for any, real distance, though I assume he CAN still walk, albeit with a no doubt pronounced limp. It's probably just very hard for him, and so using the wheelchair is simply easier and better for his health overall.
As for Levi's other medical problems, well, we know he's lost the use of his right eye, leaving him blind on that side, which no doubt has a big effect on his depth perception and general awareness. I imagine that's got to be something that's really hard for Levi to get used to, not being able to tell when someone is coming up on him from the right. The close proximity he had to the thunderspear explosion probably also affected his hearing, though I'm not so sure about that one being permanent. But losing full sight in his right eye is going to make it more difficult for him to gauge where things are in relation to himself. That kind of thing can cause you to walk into doors or walls, or I imagine knocking things over that you're reaching for, etc...
I also know Levi suffered some pretty severe internal bleeding, and we can assume from that, that he suffered either severely lacerated or even ruptured organs. He no doubt required intensive surgery after all was said and done. That kind of physical trauma can't ever be fully recovered from, I don't think. It's probably had a big impact on his day to day life. I wouldn't be surprised if Levi needs to have regular doctor appointments just to make sure nothing is going wrong inside. That, on top of his disability, probably requires him to be extra careful with his body. He probably doesn't want to be taking any big falls or tumbles, for example. I think the physical trauma he's been through has probably left his body somewhat fragile.
And then there's his missing fingers, which no doubt had a very big impact on him. We don't realize how much we rely on our digits until we can no longer use them. Levi lost the middle and index fingers on his right hand, which is his dominant hand, I assume, so that would make things like writing and holding any sort of utensil or instrument much more difficult. It would make dressing and undressing more difficult (as would his bad leg). Even just turning pages in a book, or newspaper, would be much harder. Tying shoes, anything that requires minute precision with ones hands, etc... it would all just be harder for him. And again, that would be something that would be really difficult to get used to, no doubt.
I'm sure all of this had a terrible psychological impact on Levi too, especially when one considers that, for most of his life, he's been a physically superior person, stronger, faster, more coordinated, more athletic, than anyone. So to suddenly be faced with a life in which he can't do the things he once did with ease, to actually now be facing a life in which menial tasks which are easy for everyone else, are now daunting in their difficulty for him, must have been incredibly hard to adjust to and accept. I have no doubt Levi DID accept and adjust though, and didn't let it get him down or stop him from living a good and full life after the war, and I have no doubt either that Levi would do it all again if it meant he could saves lives. But there would have been a lot of adjustment, and no doubt there were days which were harder than others.
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After seeing the 'childe slowly turning into foul legacy' i just thought of something..
What if during their stay while tighnari, y/n feels their hand burning and when they look down they notice their also slowly turning into a abyss creature?
I can only imagine the damage they make if they end up getting out of control at some point and they have a electro or pyro vision!
Anyways, I'm eating this blog spices and using silverware 🙂
referenced post here
*sidles up to this ask and pets it very gently* oh yes VERY good very BEST
my moon and stars, just imagine you initially thinking it's just your hand being irritated and ignoring it until one day you just happen to glance down and see the skin hardening into plates. and you're absolutely terrified, scared to the bone, but instead of getting help you just slowly turn away and pull your sleeve over the affected area- you have to stay calm, you must stay calm for Childe. it was probably a trick of the light, right? a combination of stress and exhaustion, you're sure, and you continue caring for a suffering Childe
nothing gets better; everything gets worse- Childe's transformation, and you know it's a transformation now, since you can see remnants of Foul Legacy in his appearance, continues. it steals your Childe, your Ajax, and replaces it with a monster, one you still love but unnerves everyone else. Tighnari visits and leaves as quickly as possible, providing any medication he was able to get, and you're left to care for Childe on your own. the transformation has stolen his voice, and he lets out pained squeaks and whimpers whenever you prop him up to urge him to swallow medicine. throughout all this you bear your own pain with a smile, steadily ignoring the hand that looks more akin to claws, even if you can barely move it anymore
ironically it's Childe who notices your hand first after you. your fingers were so stiff and jittery that you accidentally dropped a bowl on the ground, which had promptly shattered. with a sigh you kneel to pick up the broken pieces, and suddenly Childe shrieks in alarm and lunges for you, grabbing your corrupted wrist with surprising strength and staring at your newly formed talons in horror. you try so hard to brush it off with a nervous laugh, but you're so scared and before you know it tears are sliding down your cheeks as you let out a choked sob
"Ajax, it hurts"
Childe cries with you, cradling your mangled hand to his chest and whining in fear. with weak tugs he urges you to your feet and onto the bed, where he tucks you close to his chest, quietly weeping. his own claws curl around your Vision which sparks along to your quickened, frightened heartbeat and allows you to tuck your head into the crook of his neck. he knows you're the same as him, the symptoms similar in appearance and pain, and he wishes that he could take your pain away even if it means to become even more inhuman than he was already. but for now, you need sleep- he can see how exhausted you are- and the same gentle care you provided him. he only hopes he can give it to you without the help of Tighnari and the people of Gandharva Ville
#genshin impact#childe#tartaglia#foul legacy#foul legacy childe#genshin tartagalia#genshin childe#genshin tartaglia#chit chat#heehoo you ignoring your pain to care for Childe hoohee!!!!#two abyss monsters trying to comfort each other.....#ohohohohoh this is giving me ideas#i won't say much but they involve dottore and more suffering#my brain is full *rattles it around*#please ask about it ehe#short scenario#other's stuff#FAVE
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Inspired by this prompt from @wisteria-whump
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“I suggest you leave,” the team leader said, drawing their weapon.
“You wound me.” The villain stalked forward. “Did you really think me the type to abandon my own?”
The entire room froze.
The hero burst out from behind their teammates, the words “I’m not yours” ready on their tongue.
“Oh my god.” The villain’s eyes moved over the bruises on the hero’s arms, the bandages around their midsection. “[Hero], what did they do to you?”
It only then dawned on the hero what the villain was doing.
Predictably, one of the protagonist’s teammates – a young guy named Ron – glanced at them. “But you said . . . ”
“[Villain]’s the one who gave me these wounds!” the hero cried. “Don’t believe them!”
“Are you okay, [Hero]?” the villain asked. They stepped forward, hand cautiously rising. “Please, sit down. That looks serious.”
The hero shot a pleading gaze at their various teammates. They were met with looks of confusion, or worry. At least nobody seemed to be jumping to believe the villain. The protagonist felt their shoulders begin to loosen.
“I did find your story a little off,” a voice said.
The hero spun around. Leia.
“Nobody asked your opinion,” the hero growled.
Leia peeled off the far wall, uncrossing her arms. “[Villain] captures you, without setting off any of our alarms. There’s no ransom note, no gloating. We don’t hear from you for months. Then one day, you just show up again, and refuse to talk about what happened. I’m just saying, it’s fishy.”
The hero almost wanted to laugh. None of that was their fault. And was it really so hard to imagine why they might not want to talk about their time with the villain?
“Leia, that’s not fair,” the team leader said. “And it’s not enough reason to suspect [Hero].”
“There was also the strangeness with [Hero]’s injuries,” another teammate – the medic – said. “Cutting and bruising isn’t [Villain]’s M.O.”
The hero saw the subtle shift on their teammates’ faces, as a film of wariness settled over them.
“Have you all lost your minds?!” The hero’s voice rose. “What are you even accusing me of? Of being [Villain]’s plant? If I’m working with them, why would they come back here and tip you all off?”
“[Hero], I’m sorry, I thought you knew,” the villain said. “The mission is over. I’m here to get you out.”
The hero turned on them. “Stop lying!”
“Please, [Hero], I’m sorry we argued. Just drop the act already. I miss you, and I want you to come home.”
“Shut up!”
“Okay,” the team leader said, raising their hands. “We’re going to talk this through, as a group. But first, let’s take care of [Villain]. Then we can – ”
They hurtled backwards in a burst of light, after the villain shot them in the chest.
“If [Hero] isn’t on my side,” the villain said, grinning, “then how would I know that [Team Leader]’s true weakness is lasers?”
Someone shouted, and the team all launched at the villain.
The villain threw a smoke bomb on the ground, and the area flooded with mist.
The hero turned frantically, whirling, trying to see shapes in the murkiness. A fist punched the wound on their back, and they collapsed with a howl of pain.
“Let’s go, beautiful,” the villain said. Arms encircled the hero from behind.
The hero looked up. They saw Ron several feet away, staring with a dumbstruck expression. The hero reached for him.
The villain pulled the hero closer, and placed a long, passionate kiss on their neck.
The hero saw a shadow pass over Ron’s expression. “Have fun with [Villain], traitor.”
And then he disappeared into the mist.
----
“You’re a good actor, I’ll give you that.”
“You give me too much credit.” The villain’s voice was cheery as they typed coordinates into the navigation program. “I hardly had to do anything at all.”
The hero glared down at their manacles. “Well you’re stupid, in addition to being a liar, if you think this is going to stop me.”
The villain leaned over and punched them across the mouth. The hero tasted blood.
“I didn’t lie about one thing.” The villain grinned. “I did miss you.”
Then they kissed the hero, pressing into the wound they’d just created. “And I’ll be ecstatic to have you home again.”
#villain#hero#villain x hero#hero x villain#villains and heroes#heroes and villains#whump#whump drabble#writing snippet#writeblr#whumpblr#snippet#writing#kidnapping#defiant whumpee#failed escape attempt#not a prompt
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No Fuss No Muss No Coconuts
Soldier/Pyro
1K
Friday (July 7) : Vacation | Relaxation | Holiday
If Pyro wanted to find Soldier, all they had to do was follow the trail of destruction.
Usually. Except this time, when Soldier disappeared from base with no word, no note, no screaming match that could be pointed to as the inciting incident, there was no trail of destruction. Somehow, that was most concerning of all.
Consequently, it took them a while to track Soldier to the off-season beach town, a lonely stretch of coast that had taken weeks to get to by foot. Even then, they’d only happened upon it because a few loose tongues in neighboring areas had been talking about escaped convicts and a man supposedly on the FBI’s most wanted list—and only then because the locals weren’t confident about their assumptions due to his partially covered face. Eventually, one week past the Soldier’s disappearance, Pyro took off after him, despite their teammates warning them strongly against it, claiming the stray dogs always find their way home.
Soldier was no stray dog. Not anymore! The team was his family, and they had adopted him, and if he’d gone off voluntarily then something was terribly wrong.
When they found him, he was facing away, staring into the setting ocean with his fatigues rolled up to his knees. The water lapped leisurely against his shins, damp crawling up skin to turn the balled part of fabric a slightly darker color.
“Soldier!” Pyro called, worry forgotten, replaced by only the uncomplicated joy of seeing their favorite person.
Soldier didn’t turn around at first, so Pyro splashed through the surf toward him.
“Soldier! It took me ages to find you,” they hudda-hu’d.
“Did it?” Soldier replied. “Y’don’t say. Can’t imagine how abandoning my post, disappearing without a word, and marching to the middle of nowhere would make me difficult to find.”
Pyro was mildly shocked. They’d never heard Soldier be sarcastic—his frank, matter of fact way of speaking was one of the reasons they found him easy to talk to. Pyro didn’t do well with metaphors and mincing words, already finding normal conversation to be an exhausting game of Schrödinger’s genuineness. Add on top of that that, since mercenaries tended to be a bunch of surly, grumpypuses that couldn’t say what they were really feeling if Medic cracked them open and pointed at it, it was little wondered they gravitated toward the simple man with straightforward goals.
The anomalism made them uncomfortable. Their hands found their way to one another, wringing close to their chest.
“We all miss you, Soldier. And also we’ve been losing pretty badly without you.” When he didn’t reply to that, they tried, “Why’d you come out here?”
“…Needed a vacation.”
He was smoking. He was quite pretty like that, the ember in the end of his cigar like his own shard of sun, tapping the ashes into the sea that wanted to swallow him.
“Oh okay. Can I go on vacation with you?” they asked.
He paused for a moment, silently wrestling with something. Then he sighed, dropping his stogie into the water. “Sure. Why not.”
They got drinks at the local tiki bar. Soldier had obviously been here long enough that everyone was skittish of him, but not long enough to know that severing alcohol to the ole’ war dog is even worse than trying to cut him off. Pyro got something fruity served in a coconut. Soldier got a plain beer.
“So…” Pyro mused. “These roofs, huh?”
Soldier grunted.
“All made of dried palms and stuff. Looks really…flammable.” Pyro wasn’t so good at winking, but they could wiggle excitedly in their seat.
“I guess,” Soldier said.
Soldier? Not jumping at wanton property destruction? Everything was so wrong and Pyro didn’t know what to do about it. They felt a flush of frustration; at Soldier’s obtuseness, at the fact he made them track all the way here in the first place. And he was being hard to decipher again, which made them feel stupid for not getting what was wrong. They hated feeling stupid at the best of times, but Soldier was one of the few that never made them feel that way.
Usually.
Fed up with all this insincerity, they scooted out their stool with force, curly straw spinning round its coconut.
“If you’re going to be like that, then I’ll just go light all those fires by myself!”
Before they could take another step, they were jolted back, a hand clamped around their shoulder.
“Not so fast, Smokey!” Soldier said. “Do not go getting up to that on your own.”
“Why the heck not?”
“Because you could get hu-” Soldier cut himself off. “Because you’ll get in trouble.”
“So?” Pyro demanded. “Why do you care?”
Soldier’s mouth opened, then closed sharply, his hand ungripping their suit. “I don’t. Whatever. Get to it then.”
Now it was Soldier evacuating his chair, storming out of the bar and forcing Pyro to be the one chasing after him. Which wasn’t fair! It wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t fun, and they chased him with muffled yelling all the way up the beach where the last of the sun had long since evacuated. They couldn’t get him to stop until they grabbed his arm with both hands and dug in their heels.
“Soldier! Tell me why you keep running away!” they demanded as his unstoppable force dragged them along behind him like a child’s toy.
Several feet of sand was excavated before Soldier finally whipped around. “You want to know why I am trying to get away, maggot? It is because this god-forsaken Team weakens me.”
Pyro dropped their arms.
“There is no escape from any of you! No relief in the intoxicating mother’s milk of battle, not when I am watching eight civilians running in blind and getting their asses handed to them! How can a man fight like this? How can a Soldier function when he is worrying if his strategy might get the men under his command killed? He should be able to sacrifice as many blood-brothers necessary! As many Lady Liberty demands for victory, and those blood-brothers should be proud to go!”
Soldier dropped his fist. The helmet pointed at the ground, where midnight sand had gathered on his boots, his whole body slumping to point at them.
“A real Soldier shouldn’t care.”
“It’s…not permanent Soldier. Us dying.”
“I know that, maggot,” Soldier said. “And yet.”
“You don’t have to worry about us. We’re all always fine! Just come back with me and we’ll-”
“With you?” Soldier spat. “I can’t come back with you when you are the worst of the lot!”
Pyro took a step back.
“You never question me!” Soldier said desperately. “Whatever stupid, suicidal thing your commanding officer comes up with in the moment, you go ahead and do it! The others, they at least will stop sometimes when all I’m doing is dragging us into shit. But you…”
“I don’t question you because I trust you.”
“That is my point. You shouldn’t.” Soldier grit his teeth. “I keep trying not to care, and it keeps not working, and the thought of you being hurt…The one person who…”
He reached out, as though trying to take hold of Pyro more concretely, to dig his fingers into their suit and not let go, but he gave up. The fist closed, reaching on to air.
Before it could fall back to his side, Pyro lunged for it, forcing their fingers between his.
“I won’t get hurt, Soldier,” they promised.
“You do,” Soldier said glumly. “All the time.”
“But it’s like you said,” Pyro pointed out. “All those blood-brothers who are going to their deaths because of Mrs. Liberty: they’re doing it willingly. Because they want to. Because maybe because they want to burn some stuff on the way. And even if they die, we have to be okay with caring about people.”
“Easy for you to say. A Pyro can get caught caring. A Soldier shouldn’t.”
“Says who?”
“Says me.”
“Then say different!”
Soldier turned to his grit-cloaked boots again.
“Come home Solly, please.” Pyro tugged his arm. “Loving the team doesn’t weaken you. I promise it doesn’t. And when everyone sees you back, they’ll prove it to you.”
They could see how much he wanted to come back. That being alone out here didn’t suit him anymore. He wasn’t the lone wolf taking bitter relish in his own solitude that he had been when he’d first joined the team.
Still, it was a monstrous relief when he finally relented, loosening his hand enough to let Pyro clasp it fully.
“…I am sorry for going AWOL,” he said. “I will…come back. It was wrong to deprive the team of their lone tactical commander of any skill.”
“Good. And Soldier?”
“Yeah?” he asked as they began walking hand in hand in the vague direction of the closest teleporter hub.
“Next time we go on vacation, can we go somewhere that sells saltwater taffy?”
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Febuwhump Day 20: Knife Wound
Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV
Characters/Ship: Sanson Smyth/Guydelot Thildonnet
Triggers/Content warnings: n/a
Happens shortly after this
Also references this
He's moved, not gently, and with little care for his wounds.
As he struggles back into consciousness, Sanson tries to shout through the gag - Eve must be coming back this way by now, or perhaps Guydelot will wonder what's keeping them; if he can but get their attention...! But no, his voice is thoroughly muffled, and the "bandits" move far too swiftly, covering all signs of their retreat.
Whoever these men are - Nourval's men - they know altogether too well how to hide their tracks. Well-trained and too skilled to be mere sellswords; were Sanson to guess, he might speculate that they're the sons of Gridania's wealthy elites, venerable and daunting. The sort of men who very well might align themselves with a youth claiming to be descended from Vainchelon himself, promising a war of vengeance against Ala Mhigo...
And then one of the men carrying him jars Sanson's wounds, and he thinks about little else but the pain for a while.
He tries, through the red haze that fogs his vision, to take note of where they're going - but he recognizes little of the terrain, having gotten precious little time to scout outside of the castrum. And he fades in and out of consciousness, waking wearier and wearier each time, only dimly aware of the men speaking around him.
His fear fades into numbness.
When at last they drop him unceremoniously on the ground at nightfall, Sanson is hardly lucid. He doesn't recognize the area - of course not. The beginnings of a camp bustle to life around him, but beyond that, he cannot guess where they are. Still somewhere in Gyr Abania, he supposes...
He closes his eyes, suddenly longing only for the escape sleep offers.
"Ah, no you don't." A gentle slap to his already-bruised cheek snaps Sanson out of his doze, and he opens his eyes to the unwelcome sight of Nourval kneeling beside him. On his other side is a grizzled older Wildwood man, frowning down at him with what looks disarmingly like concern.
"It's the blow to the head," the older fellow says, gently prodding at the back of Sanson's skull, tsking when Sanson hisses in pain. "There's little I can do for it; you young fools and your penchant for cracking skulls-"
"Fine, fine." Nourval waves it off. "See to his other wounds, then. We don't want him bleeding out."
The old man huffs. "Then you might have avoided stabbing him, mightn't you?"
What follows is the single most humiliating medical examination Sanson has ever endured, with the only saving grace being that Nourval has the decency to keep watch - and his back turned, keeping the other men at a distance. Though Sanson has never considered himself a particularly modest man, there's something demoralizing about being stripped and searched twice in one godsdamned day...
He flinches when the old healer's hands find the knife wound, low on his side, where Nourval had taken the blood to write his message for Guydelot.
Guydelot...
Matron, what must Guydelot be thinking now? He must be beside himself with fear and fury in equal measure; what if he does something foolhardy?
He squeezes his eyes shut. Tries to imagine it's Guydelot's hands on him, instead.
"That'll want stitches," the healer murmurs to himself, cleaning the wound. Before Sanson can so much as brace himself, he feels the touch of a needle-
He bites down hard on the gag, choking on his scream.
Guydelot... he'd once sat perfectly still, unflinching, while Guydelot stitched up his wounds, refusing to cry out. Gods, how it hurt! But pride kept him silent; stubborn pride. He'd hated the bard with everything he had, then, and refused even to give him the satisfaction of seeing him show any sign of pain. It'd taken everything in him to clench his jaw on the desire to scream, to keep himself from weeping from the burning agony of each pass of the needle.
Tough little bastard, Guydelot had said.
He hadn't screamed for Guydelot; he won't scream for Nourval and his men, either.
He bites down hard, clenches his bound hands into fists. In and out goes the needle. In and out goes his breath, slow and even. Black spots dance in his vision, in tune with the pounding in his head.
The process seems to take forever.
"That's the worst of it," the healer says, tugging Sanson's clothing back into place. "He'll feel like dying for a day or two, I'd wager, but he'll live, like as not. I'll check back in on him in the morning."
Sanson, relaxing at last, limp as a wrung-out dishcloth, sprawls miserably on the ground. Nourval says something; he doesn't hear it. Doesn't care. Tired, too tired; he wants to sleep. He wants Guydelot, and the safety of curling into his arms at night. He wants this all to be nothing more than a dream, an awful dream, and he'll wake in the morning to find himself still wrestling over Gylbarde's journal.
He wants...
#sanson smyth#guydelot thildonnet#my writing#febuwhump#febuwhumpday20#febuwhump2023#by popular vote: sanson gets stabbed
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