#and moved the Heap to a better spot so i could sweep
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*coughs* you should write something about 1389 hob and dream fucking nasty behind the white horse
Hob Gadling has had, to say the least, a bloody strange afternoon. At this point, he's more or less written it off as some sort of demented jest, the sort of thing you boast about when you've had a few too many tankards of ale and your mates about you to impress, and -- well, it was odd that the stranger knew his name without being told, but perhaps he's been in London longer than it seems, and learned it elsewhere. And the promise to meet a hundred years from now... well, they laughed. They all laughed. Hob laughed. It was only the stranger who kept looking at him as coolly and calmly as if he actually meant it. He's not a bad-looking bloke, if a bit pale, peaky and vaguely resembling an anchorite shut up in a church wall for years without seeing another living soul and becoming decidedly spooky as a result. Has he been shut up in a church wall? Seems like a waste.
Still, the others are making jokes about Hob's newfound immortal grandeur and aren't paying attention; they're pounding on the table and shouting at the wench to bring more wine, and for some reason, Hob feels anxious, as if he needs to run after them and double-check that he actually heard what he thought he did. So he gets to his feet, jostles through the trestle tables, the stools and chairs and boots and swords and stacks of logs for the great fire, past the spot where Chaucer is now explaining something about a lecherous miller, and out into the muddy forecourt, trampled with the hooves of horses and the paws of hounds, the footprints of the servants fetching more water and handing down arriving visitors, and spots the two of them about to vanish down the Thames towpath -- or somewhere else, though there's nowhere else to properly go, out here beyond the city walls. He doesn't have to say a word. He could just count it as some lighthearted tavern-banter and forget it.
Instead, never being one to do the sensible thing when the adventurous one could suffice, Hob bellows, "OY!"
The pale man and the dark lady stop in their tracks and glance 'round at him, and he waves in vigorous demonstration of the fact that he wants a word. The man seems unwilling to comply, but the lady gives him a smart shove in the ribs, and he huffs deeply and sweeps toward Hob. He still looks exactly like the Devil would in human form, as if he's strolled off the page of an illuminated manuscript depicting the temptation of Jesus Christ in the desert: dark hair, stormy eyes, a ruby like the fires of hell, that black robe and alabaster skin, something rare and strange and otherwordly that might burn Hob if he touched it. Sounding deeply impatient, he says, "Aye?"
"This way." Hob leads him around the corner of the White Horse, to the troughs and kailyards in the back, splattered in mud, rainwater, the midden-heap, and thick clumps of torn-up sod. Once they're alone, he says, "Were you just... having me on? Back there?"
The stranger stares at him icily, but with a hint of deliberate, goading challenge. "I don't understand."
"You knew my name. You said that we would meet again, one hundred years from now. How would you know that?"
"It is of no concern to you. Do you want it or not?"
"Oh," Hob says, leaning against the wattle-and-daub wall and flashing his most rakish and charming smile. "I do. If that's what's on the offering here, m'lord. But I just wanted to be clear on whether, if it was a bargain, some sort of boon was expected in exchange."
The stranger's eyes move down him slowly, taking him in from head to heel. Hob hasn't washed in a while, aye, and his hair is long and scruffy and his beard isn't much better, and his cloth is poor enough to make any bloody nobleman, besotted of their stupid sumptuary laws, to run away screaming and clutch his marten-trimmed cloak for comfort (no ermine, unless you're royalty). But he's tall and strong and straight-bodied, has a longsword strapped around his waist and walks with the confidence of a man who knows how to use it, has all his own white teeth and a smile that folk tend to melt for, the very smile he is employing now. The stranger's pale cheeks turn the faintest hint of pink, like the first flush of sunrise on Midwinter-morn. Then he says, "You need offer me nothing. The bargain is made, and will be kept."
"Certes, m'lord?" Hob takes another step, close enough that they're suddenly nose to nose, and the stranger flinches slightly. "Nothing?"
"Are you..." The stranger looks as if he cannot possibly comprehend this utterly bizarre behavior. "Do you think I want something?"
"You came to talk to me," Hob points out. "You were the one who seemed willing to act as if my fool wish was real. Why is that?"
The stranger's gaze drops deliberately to his lips. Then it flicks back up to his eyes. "Because," he says, "I'm interested."
"In what?"
"In whether you'll be begging for death in a hundred years' time." Again that oblique, goading look. "I think you will. My sister believes that you will yet surprise us."
"I'm a surprising man," Hob says smugly. "You'll lose."
"If you say so." The stranger folds his arms, either in petulance or in an attempt to stop Hob in his tracks. Either way, it doesn't work. "I say you've no idea what you're.... asking for."
There's an unmistakable seductive burr in that voice, so incongruously deep for a Devil who looks as if one strong gust might blow him away, and Hob feels it down to the toes of his battered boots. "What say," he murmurs, almost against the stranger's mouth, close enough to feel the other's breath on his cheek, "that I did?"
The pause that follows is even longer, crackling at the edge of potentiality and possibility, and -- Hob doesn't know exactly what he's doing, but it's not the first time he's pursued an assignation with a handsome gent out back, out of sight. His first meeting with Wat, may God assoil him, was, after all, almost like this, and for all his standoffishness and snobbery, the stranger hasn't bothered to actually step back. Lucifer was the most beautiful of the Almighty's angels, before he fell. Is this exactly what Hob is about to do? Sell his soul to the Devil out behind a tavern, as the bells are calling Vespers? Or sell something else, if it gave him the chance to live forever?
"I should go," the stranger murmurs. "My sister awaits."
"Sure you won't give me something to remember you by? A hundred years is a long time, m'lord. If I grow that old, I might forget."
"Oh." The stranger's eyes flick up to meet Hob's again, feral and thunderous and threatening to devour Hob altogether, body and mind and soul. "I don't think you will."
Another instant -- a frozen, endless instant -- and then it snaps. The stranger seizes Hob by his grimy tunic, shoves him back against the wall, and Hob, and it please you, does plenty of seizing and shoving in return. The kiss tastes like weak English wine, nothing so good since they lost Gascony and its lush vineyards (perhaps that is why the Black Prince, while he lived, sought so ceaselessly to retrieve it?), like woodsmoke and ash and wind and summer, like the blood where they've bitten each other's lips and are in fair danger of breaking each other's noses. Hob closes his eyes and pulls the stranger closer, wrapping his arms around him, making sure that there is no doubt, that when the time comes again (if indeed it should), they will know each other at once, by scent and sight and touch, by sense and speech and taste. Hob Gadling would do far worse than to kiss a beautiful man as if all the world was ending, if it gave him this gift of eternity. And for a moment, for a blinding, lightning-struck instant, he thinks, It's real. It's real.
They kiss in a grappling, struggling, stubborn ferocity, both of them trying to get the upper hand on the other, until Hob pulls his mouth back with a bit of a jerk and goes to his knees, pulling the frankly excessive flourishes of that black robe aside and fumbling to find if there are anything resembling breeches below it. He momentarily thinks the stranger is going to stop him, but he doesn't. He jerks at Hob's hair and growls something that sounds like do it if you dare -- and then Hob tugs the laces apart and draws his cock out, pale and hard and perfect as a Roman statue, of the kind that they still sometimes dig up in York. He takes it into his mouth, wraps his lips around the shaft and sucks slow and considering and deep, and the stranger utters a low, shivering whimper that Hob, once again, feels to the back of his spine. It is wet and raw and too fast and too slow at once, it is like a dream of the sort that wakes you arched and clutching and in need of changing the bedclothes -- Hob closes his eyes and licks, moves his tongue with a devilish little flick, and takes it deep, to the back of his throat, sucks down, and --
The stranger loses himself with another maddeningly deep half-growl, half-moan, tugging at Hob's hair again, almost losing his balance, shuddering from head to toe as his pleasure (or something like that) washes through him like a tidal wave. Then, slowly, as if neither of them are entirely sure what has just happened, he pulls back, as Hob turns his head and spits. The stranger laces himself up again, steps back, and says, desperately trying not to breathe too hard, "You -- you need not have done that. It was -- crude."
"What sort of thing is that to say to a man who's just made you forget your own name?" Hob cocks a dark eyebrow. "And by the way, I don't think I caught that myself?"
The stranger stares him dead in the eye for a full five heartbeats, just to make it very plain that he heard and does not intend to answer. Then he whirls around, cloak swirling, and takes his leave. Hob hears his footsteps striding away, fading, and he leans back against the wall, suddenly rather weak-kneed himself. Fuck. Well. Fuck.
This is going to be a very interesting century indeed.
-------
"Well?" Death says, much too sweetly, as she is badly stifling a smile. "Did you go.... talk to Robert Gadling?"
"Yes," Dream says with tremendous, dogged dignity. "We spoke. That is what happened. Nothing else, by the way. Except for speaking. Which we did. Thank you very much."
(Death of the Endless smirks like a cat in cream all the way back home.)
(It is really terribly irritating.)
#fishfingersandscarves#ask#dreamling#dreamling ff#the circle of mutual enablement/spiderman-pointing-at-spiderman continues
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OH NO BABY!!
Summary: It was Harry who swimmed in freezing ass water but someone else (his lovie) ends up catching a cold, caring boyfriendrry, a mighty bit momrry.
Turquoise chilly waves crashes against the dark coloured stones as Y/N watches her button sized boyfriend; summat all with rosy cheeks and nose, un-tattooed, wearing excessively short knickers (so tiny it shows the curves of his cute bum perfectly), being a cheeky giggly boy while shooting his swimming scenes.
She wheezes a cold puff of breath winding her brown overcoat closer around to keep her warm but it fails to do so and she might get a scolding from Harry for being silly and waiting outside the whole time just to watch him but she doesn't care, she's extremely proud of him and comes by the sets of My Policemen once a time she gets day off her job early.
He paddles towards her like a penguin buried into humongous coats and towels, his brows furrowing together trying to recognize her dainty self waving him quite enthusiastically from far and his face softens at that.
Shaking his head when her teeth clanks together from the gush of stinging cold breeze.
"Lovie'," He wraps his nippy palms around her hands bringing them to his frosty lips to blow warm air, knowing she hates cold and gets real whiny from not being able to bear it yet she stood in it for two hours for him means alot to him because his assistant told him someone was waiting for him but didn't tell it was his actual sweet baby.
"How you're not a frozen chicken yet?" She asks sighing once in the heat of his given trailer and he makes an exhultant purring noise when she cups his face, lulling it left and right playfully, "Are you okay? She queries worriedly looking down at him with batted eyes and he muses a chuckle at her sweetness.
"Baby 'm fine -- feeling hot by the way now you're inside the van." He grins bashfully tugging her closer with his knees pulled around her legs, "You better go back home .. I don't want your cutesy bum to freeze to death." She squeaks surprisingly when he smacks her ass playfully and drags her down by pulling the lapel of her coat to smear his lips against her's fondly -- heart bigger than it's normal size at her sight making his day 100x better.
"I brought you lunch, it's on that shelf." She tells him standing at the stairs of trailer and he waves her blowing a heartious kiss her way, "Call me when y'reach, yeah?"
"Kay, bye!" Her awfully pretty smile covets dimples into his cheeks and he just want to throw himself into the sofa piled with blanket and scream into it like a teenager girl.
Though, she keeps sneezing through whole ride -- eyes teary, nose runny and fingers twitchy not to mention her numb toes making her feel very uncomfy. Her eyes dropping from being too sleepy and lazy.
She's about to catch a cold.
Tiredly she drags her feet upto their flat and doesn't even pet their kitten strawberry on the way to their bedroom and when reaches it flops over blankets snuggling into them -- without even changing into comfy clothes.
Sirens everywhere as she wakes up with a groan holding her forehead to subside the pound in it and it's feeling like blazing alarms are going off in her head making her want to puke.
It's dark outside. She's been napping for hours. She manages to sit on the edge of bed deciding whether she should stand up to go to washroom or not for that all she could see is floating wooden floor.
Weakly she trudges towards the kitchen filling a glass of water and pulls out a thermometer from one of the drawers -- she was too occupied in waiting for it to beep then checking her fever that she didn't hear Harry announcing; he's home.
She gasps quickly shoving it under her bum, "Don't you hide that thermometer from me!" He squalls rushing towards her in two big strides of his daddy long legs and her eyes widen comically.
"I was just checking and I don't have any kind of fever!" She squeals not letting him get hold of the thermometer and he glares down at her sternly, "You're burning up, baby." He hisses, the back of his hand pressed to her forehead.
She stands up and does a twirl for him shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly, "See 'm fine —- " Only to pass out but Harry was quick to take her fall in his arms gracefully squinting his eyes down at her.
"Yeah . . . could see how fine you're." She gives in atlast. Knowing he's going in a severe mommy mode.
"Put your arms around me — Or just fall on me, yeah that works too." She nods and let him slip his socks clad feetsie under her soles to walk them to their bedroom, he sits her down and she wails when he opens their wardrobe to get her something comfy.
"Nooo." She bunches up into a ball as he fists her vest top to pull it over her head, "it's freezing -- 'm feeling so cold." He frowns because he's sweating his ass off from the heat.
He sweeps her hair away from her eyes rubbing a hand down her back continuously, "It'd be a sec, pet. Then I'll warm these blankets in the drier 'n make ye' some soup, so you'd be all cosy 'n snuggly … hmm?" She's very unconvincing when sick. Wants him and just him by her side.
She wipes her nose with her sleeve and sniffs, raising her armpits in air for him and shivers terribly when he undressed her completely, "Oh me poor baby." He leans in to kiss the corner of her lips but she pushes him away grumpy-ly.
"You're g'na get sick too, dummy." He pouts childishly helping her to put her legs in her fuzzy pyjamas, plants tender kisses to her ankles once covering her feet in aloe-fused socksies.
When she stands up on wobbly legs with the support of his folded thigh he almost jumps asking worriedly.
"Where are ye' goin', missy!??"
"To washroom." Her voice barely audible her throat achy and scratchy, "'M comin' with you." He tells her demandingly and she groans knuckling at her eyes.
"No."
"You wanna walk by yourself? Alright, let's see that." He leaves her wrist and she gasps tripping forward from weakness -- catching the nearest furniture before the damage.
"Moppet, stop being so stubborn and lemme take care of you … look at you, an absolute horror –-- never been this frail." He's just so caring it makes her want to cry and have a full on water-works party. He pushes her from waist to himself pecking her sweet smelling hair and takes her to washroom.
After that he tucks her beneath two fluffy blankets and leaves her to make some soup for her and bring her medicine, "Harry!" She yowls pinching the blankets closer around her round small head and feels bad when he rushes inside in a frenzy with an utterly concerned face, serving spoon in his hand and dish rag on his shoulder.
"What happened baby? D'ya wanna throw up? Or are you feelin' freezy, should I blow up heat?" He asks in one breath and she blushes murmuring timidly, glossy eyes still very sleepy and exhausted.
She sneezes loudly, "I just –- achoo!! –- " Another sneeze and she messes her words horribly, " –- you — " Drool on the corner of her mouth.
"You achoo me?" He giggles softly fetching some tissues for her and wipes her nose with them as she struggles to clean it herself.
"'M sorry, please come back." She sighs holding in an another sneeze to avoid wetting him with her yucky stuff.
He strokes her head for a generous moment, "It's almost cooked –- oh fuck is it burning?" He sniffs the air then looks down at her with full on saucer eyes and slaps his forehead when she raises her shoulders, "Maybe?" Thankfully not all of it got ruined and his grin was obnoxious while bringing it inside. Trying to shoo away strawberry who's pawing at the frizzes of his socks.
She smiles up at him with hooded eyes when he hovers the spoon infront of her waiting to feed her as if she's some sort of lil baby and when she tells him it's hot he blows at it and when she still tries to make excuses he stares at her strictly, "Baby." He warns her and she obliges quickly grabbing his wrist delicately to eat and his heart jumps consciously at the fact she's still burning awfully.
"Did you even put salt in it? It tastes like nothing."
"Please stop wasting of what's left of ye voice on complaints about soup you can't even taste." He huffs and she giggles only to drive into fits of loud coughs. He rubs her back gently and puts the tray aside when she feels like throwing up from the effect of coughs and moves the bin where she's bended over the edge of bed and his legs.
"It's okay, hmm just let it out." He caresses her back and holds her hair away from her face -- though nothing comes out since she hasn't eaten anything from morning.
"I hate this." There comes the first sniffle and he instantly cradles her face in his soft hands, "I know dovie' you're feeling very icky right now but it'll be better in the morning, I promise." She shakes her head coughing into her elbow.
"I don't want to eat anymore." Her voice groggy and hoarse, he lifts her gaze up towards him scolding her with a stern frown.
"Hey, now none of that -- you're not allowed to sleep until your belly isn't full." She groans nodding at last and he kisses her shoulder as a little reward. She isn't very bratty. Infact she's Harry's polite girl. Though, When she's he makes sure to tug her back on line but at the moment he understands that how much she's suffering.
How much she needs him to take care of her.
Taking care of her medicines and her cough syrup he turns on the lamp laying back into heap of pillows against the headboard and spreads his knees to bunch her petite weak body against his chest and closes them when she's properly snuggled on top of him, it's one of her favourite positions to sleep in when she's sick --- clinged and cuddled to him.
Like babies on their mommy's chest with their bums sticked out.
He tightens his arms around her hiding his face into the crook of her neck and smooches tiny kisses to her sweet spot, "You're so cute baby makes me heart-ache."
His tranquil heartbeat never fails to lull her to sleep and his hands loving on her sides always makes her feel very warm, "You shouldn't have come to beach -- moppet. Knows your immune against cold is terrible." He whispers cheek squished over her head and she murmures sleepyly —- hands bundled up between her and his front, "Just wanted to make you feel ….. loved." Her words jumblish but full of affection and drool sticks to his sweatshirt when she mumbles against his chest.
//
Harry didn't sleep whole night making sure she's okay, making her sip her cough syrup in betweens and massaging her head but when his eyes barely dropped and the clock hit 4 in the morning whimpers and wails started slipping out of her lips as if she's in very much pain. Which infact she's. Her body shivers vigorously in his arms and even though she's sweating her fever didn't lower down a bit.
He has never seen her in such a bad condition.
He perches on his elbow immediately cupping her hot rosy cheek and gives it few pats crying out worriedly, "Hey baby -- wake up." When she doesn't listen his lungs felt suffocating themselves bile forming in his throat. He throws the blanket away sitting up fully and rests her head in the nook of his elbow.
"Y/N!?" He tries not to panic when she gives him no-response and before his anxiety driven self could duck down to press his ear to her heart her eyelids fluttered barely -- blue chapped lips moving slowly.
"'M okay, bub. Don't worry ….. "
"Bullocks. You're not okay! You can't stop shivering!! Looks almost dead." He growls angry at her and himself for not taking her to clinic soon, "You're so fucking stubborn, pet." He mutters rageously laying her gently down on the mattress and climbs down the bed to bring their coats. Almost stomping his way all around the bedroom to collect stuff.
This time doesn't ask her if she could walk or not and glides his arms underneath her shoulders and knees to haul her firmly against his chest -- blanket still wrapped around her shivering body.
"Shh, shh my baby. You're g'na be okay, 'm so sorry you're in so much pain." He tries to soothe her while walking down stairs of the building.
Turns out she caught pneumonia. They had to stay two hours at the clinic for her drip and some injections for which he had to hold her down from wiggling and squirming her way out.
Made her rest till the fever was gone temporarily then drives them back home when assured that her condition isn't worsening and right now when she's cuddled up into his side with strawberry sleeping on his thighs he nudges her lightly.
"Dovie' I love you so much but that doesn't mean you can scare the shit outta me like that." She just mewls sinking deeper into his side.
"No more set visits fo' you." He tells her seriously and she perks her head up coughing mildly and he raises his forefinger in a demand for her to stay quite, that there's nothing to argue, "You could watch me for once 'n all at the big screen."
"Harry……" She whines tugging the hem of his sweatshirt.
"No, Harry." He pets her head down back on the pillow.
Without saying anything she distance herself from him like a grumpy shrimp and fusses under her breath. He supresses his amused chuckles noting the silliness of this girl and drags her back by her ankle towards him.
"Come back here, you little betrayer." He gasps dramatically and squishes her in his embrace till she gives up and herself nuzzles up into his homely scented neck.
#Harry Styles#harry smut#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles blurbs#harry styles one shots#harry styles imagine#cute harry#harry styles blurb#harry styles smut#fluff#harry angst#harry styles fluff#harry styles fluffy duffy
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Can you write smut about jaehyun as the bodyguard to y/n who is the daughter from the wealthy family heheh
Pairing: bodyguard!jaehyun x heiress!f.reader
Genre: smut (18+ only)
Warnings: unprotected sex
Word count: 0.9k
A/N: there were so many ways this could have gone (so many scenarios!) but i went with this one. hope you like it!
It was yet another dinner party your parents were throwing, where you were forced to attend, cheeks frozen from smiling, being leered at too many times by your father’s colleagues. As the only child and therefore heiress of your parents’ fortune, you were a valuable asset, hence the bodyguard that shadowed you at all times.
The bodyguard that you now led out of the dinner party and into the hall.
“Just going out for some air,��� you called out, your bodyguard nodding and falling into step behind you. You led him away from the din of the party, voices of the guests receding as you moved further and further down the hall. When you reached the door of the library you pulled him in, and he closed and locked the door behind him.
As customary he waited for your command, obediently standing by the door with his arms crossed in front of him.
“Come here, Jaehyun,” you instructed, leaning against a desk piled high with books.
“Yes, miss,” he nodded, before taking two long strides towards you and sweeping you into his arms. You inhaled sharply, no matter how many times you had done this the way he held you always took your breath away.
“How do you want it this time, miss L/N,” he murmured low into your ear, goosebumps forming on your skin from the heat of his breath.
“Rough. Hard. Raw, like always,” you breathed, the firmness of his body against you igniting the heat in your core.
You felt him smirk against your neck, before he attacked it with kisses, making sure only to leave marks where they could easily be covered up. He pulled the neckline of your dress down, almost tearing it in his haste to get to your nipple.
“Mmh, Jae,” you moaned, when he finally got the pebbled bud into his mouth, sucking so harshly you almost yelped, biting your bottom lip instead.
“You like the way I fuck you, don’t you,” he growled, hands going to your thighs to lift your skirt up to your waist.
“Yes,” you moaned, your panties being discarded somewhere in the room for the housecleaners to find later. “You’re so good to me.”
He lifted you onto the desk, fumbling with the zipper of his pants to pull out his hardened cock. You took a moment to admire it as he pumped it with his hand, all while he watched you with hooded eyes.
“You want this,” he asked, his voice deep and sultry. You looked up into his face, lost to his sexy charm yet again, just like the day you’d first met him, when your father had insisted you needed a bodyguard and you had resisted. That is, until you laid your eyes on Jeong Jaehyun.
“I want it,” you nodded, desire overcoming all your senses, “I want your cock inside me.”
He didn’t need to be told twice, pushing you down onto the desk by your shoulders and lining up his cock with your entrance. “Be quiet for me, okay baby? Anyone could be walking by.”
You always loved when he called you ‘baby’, it made you gush, which certainly helped as he pushed into you, his girth stretching you almost always overwhelming.
“Oh fuck, oh Jae,” you moaned, your chest heaving as your body attempted to accommodate his size.
“You can do it, baby,” he cooed, “your pussy is so good for me.”
By the time he was all the way inside you, you were panting, hands clinging to his shoulders as your body gradually grew accustomed to the intrusion. The pleasure of his cock filling you up soon overtook you and you pulled him closer.
“Fuck me, Jaehyun,” you whispered into his ear, and he groaned as he grabbed onto your hips in preparation. “Don’t hold back.”
The desk you were on was an antique, passed down through generations of your family, and how it held up to Jaehyun’s powerful thrusts you would never know. The desk shook on its legs as he pounded into you, books falling to the floor in heaps, the thudding sound of them drowning out your loud moans.
“You like that, baby,” he growled, hips snapping into you so hard he had to hold you in place, fingers digging into your skin to keep you from flying off the desk.
“Yes, baby, oh Jaehyun,” you moaned, losing yourself to the feeling of him splitting you apart. Your moans encouraged him, and he adjusted his angle, his cock hitting you in that spot that made you see stars. “Oh fuck! Jaehyun, right there, yes, just like that…”
He grunted as he pounded you even harder, beads of sweat starting to form on his brow, an almost feral look in his eyes. Just watching him made your orgasm come on even faster, the knot in your stomach threatening to burst as you kept your eyes on him.
“Come on, baby, come for me,” he said, voice low and raspy, and that was enough for you. With a scream tearing from your throat you came, your entire body shaking as your pussy pulsed around his cock. A deep rumble came from his chest as he came, pulling you close to him as he spilled his cum inside you, his face buried in your neck.
You breathed deeply in tandem, bodies still intertwined, your legs wrapped around his waist. He kissed your collarbone, then trailed soft kisses up your neck, along your jawline, and finally captured your lips with his.
“Can we stay like this for a while?” you asked, nuzzling your face into his neck, inhaling his scent. You had no desire to go back to the dinner party, and you couldn’t think of anywhere better than being in Jaehyun’s arms.
“Sure,” he smiled against your skin, but then you felt his cock twitch, still inside you. “But the longer I stay inside you, the more I’ll want to fuck you again.”
---
Thank you for 1k!
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Sick days // Hunter x reader
My google history search after this: what do they call toilets in Star Wars?
Star Wars rabies?
Summary: I would do anything for Hunter, even take care of him when he has food poisoning. I saw a sick day prompt list and didn't end up using anything but it inspired this cluster fuck
TW: throwing up, alcohol mention but no use, bad writing I just love him ok
"Hey, have you seen Hunter? I need him to sign off on some damage reports." You announced as you entered the cockpit of the ship as it barreled through hyperspace, throwing a pointed look at Wrecker who was the main reason for most of aforementioned damage reports.The other members of Clone Force 99 made some sort of acknowledgment of your existence. Wrecker grinned obliviously at you as continued doing bicep curls with a GONK droid while Tech made brief eye contact with you before going back to some sort of machinery he’d dissected. Crosshair was the only one to actually somewhat answer your question, giving you a sassily quirked eyebrow and motioning down with his toothpick.
"I’m assuming that super vague motion would mean he’s in the cargo hold?" You pressed but you had already turned around to go find the sergeant.
"Should we tell ‘er?" You heard Wrecker ask but when no one answered him, you assumed things would be fine. Besides after almost a year with the Bad Batch, you’d walked in on them in all sorts of compromising moments. Nothing would surprise you anymore.
After popping down the ladder into the cargo bay, you did a cursory sweep. Crosshairs rifle was disassembled on a crate for cleaning, more of Tech’s mechanical experiments in a heap by the bay doors, your own trunk of belonging… but no sign of Hunter.
"Hunter? Are you down here?"
You poked a little further into the sleeping quarters, like any room that housed four soldiers who didn’t know how to mop, the smell chased you right back out. Shaking your head you thought to yourself, That should be considered a hazard zone.
You paused by the fresher to listen for water running but heard nothing, which officially meant Hunter hadn’t been anywhere you checked, Hell, did he jump out of an airlock?
Just as you were about to give up, you heard an awful noise come from the fresher. Like a bantha dying in a fire. Did some animal stow away? Absentmindedly you considered getting Wrecker to handle it- the last thing you needed was contracting some planet-specific strain of rabies. But then you considered that in the process, Wrecker would probably destroy the entire bathroom. And then everyone would be without a bathroom for the next two days… and that could get ugly.
Then the noise came again, bringing you out of your mental debate. With a heavy sigh, you decided you’d have to check it out yourself. So, after pulling a random tool off your belt, you let the door slide open.
To your surprise, Hunter was the first thing you saw, bent at the waist over the vac tube, bracing himself with one shaking arm against the durasteel wall. His helmet was discarded carelessly two feet closer to the entrance, and the enhanced trooper was heaving breaths, looking rather haggard. Almost stupidly the first thing that came out of your mouth was, "Oh my God, did the animal do this to you?"
Hunter actually startled, which had never happened before. He was impossible to sneak up on, it was his whole thing. When he did look up at you, he looked confused, among other things. His skin pallor was four shades lighter than it was supposed to be, slightly greenish gray, and dew dropped with sweat.
"Animal? What animal?"
"The animal that made that-" You cut yourself off suddenly feeling dumb, now lamely dropping your defense tool. Then the disbelief, "Oh my- that noise was you?"
He didn’t get the chance to answer again, instead turning his head back towards the vac tube to wretch again. Now with that information, the haggard appearance made more sense.
"Hunter… you look like shit." You scolded, hesitantly moving closer, “Like, legitimately corpse like.”
The sergeant coughed a bit before throwing you glare, “Thank you, (Y/L/N), that’s very helpful. Did you need something?”
Damage reports long forgotten, you ignored the question instead more concerned with the trooper in front of you, “Why the hell are you standing like that? What’s wrong with you? Are you sick?”
Hunter was confused with this sudden line of questioning, turning his head to gag a little bit but this time he kept it under control to answer you, “Clones don’t get sick.”
“So this is normal for you?” You snarked right back, “Here, try kneeling, it won’t take as much of a toll on your body like that.”
At first he didn’t listen to you, just when the ship hit a patch of turbulence it triggered another wave which forced him to a knee. Then it hit you, clones don’t get sick, they’re engineered with near perfect immune systems.
“You’ve never been sick before have you?” You whispered sympathetically, he legitimately didn’t know how to handle being sick. Frowning, worried welled up in your stomach. It was almost painful to watch the man be so sick, after all how many times had he saved you or helped you out of a tight spot, so you looked away until he quieted again. This time he took a minute to catch his breath so you took some liberties.
“First, let’s get your hair off your neck and face. You’ll feel less gross.” You promised, going behind him to gently scrape his long hair into a makeshift bun and tie it off with a spare hair tie.
“What are you doing?” He croaked, but didn’t pull away from your hands.
“Taking care of you, now shut up and let me.” While your voice was still kind, you were just stern enough not to argue with you, “Now, lean up.”
You didn’t wait for him to follow the orders, instead you started unfastening pieces of armor on his arms before moving on to the chest and torso pieces. Moments later he was able to move a little freer and his armor from the waist up was neatly stacked to you right.
“There, that should help with the overheating.” You announced, not mentioned how he couldn’t bend over properly with a piece of plastoid against his abdomen. You gave him another once over, he was taking deep breaths with his eyes closed, little baby hairs already escaping your rather pitiful man bun situation. You’d never seen him so vulnerable.
“So clones don’t get sick, why are you throwing up like my roommate after her twenty first birthday?” You asked quietly, gently moving the stray bits of his forehead.
“Would you believe that I ate an expired meal ration?” He asked with enough doubt in your voice that you immediately shook your head.
“You’re not that stupid Hunter.”
“I lost a bet with Crosshair and had to eat part of the Yalbec stinger. Tech did say it was a delicacy on some planets.” He sighed, dry heaving again.
“I also remember him saying it was mildly poisonous to humans.” You reminded him, going past him to the shelves that held shower things. Reaching into your own caddy, you produced a rag before wetting it in the sink.
“Yeah, I lost the bet before he enlightened us.” Hunter admitted, visibly relaxing when you put the cold rag on his neck before sliding into a sitting position next to him, “How do you know all this stuff?”
“Well, us normies get sick a lot.” You teased, laughing when you caught the disgusted look on his face, “But, I learned most of this stuff taking care of my hungover friends.”
“Oh, just your friends?” It was Hunter’s turn to sass you, but you just rolled your eyes. The two of you fell into a halfway comfortable silence, so you took your data pad to do a little research on Yalbec poisoning.
“You don’t have to stay for this?” Hunter reminded you, using the back of his hand to wipe sweat off his forehead. When you looked back over to him, he was staring at you. Even when puking, his eyes could stare straight through you. Hurriedly, you dropped your gaze back to your data pad.
“Well, you spend all your time taking care of them,” you motioned up towards the cockpit, “And me. So someone has to look out for you when you need it, you don’t have to suffer alone.”
His eyes softened as he relaxed slightly, you were glad to see his coloring was already getting better. But after a few moments, even the softness of his stare brought a flush to your cheeks so you just cleared your throat, “Well, the good news is that the holonet says someone of your size and weight will be fine. Symptoms should pass within twelve hours at the most, and it’s already been five.”
“Thank you, (Y/N).”
Your head snapped back up, he rarely ever called you by your first name. Somehow it almost felt intimate.
“Of course, Hunter.”
You scooted a little closer so that your knees would touch. Closer than you had ever been to him, but he didn’t scoot away. You smiled at the small contact, shaking your head.
“Can I impart on you a bit of civilian wisdom?” You asked teasingly, not even waiting him to nod. You took the rag off his neck and used it to dab sweat off his forehead, “Don’t eat random things on a dare, especially things you cut off foreign animals.”
“You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?”
“Not a chance.”
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more than gold
summary: A lost Jedi Temple, a riddle, some literature, and feelings that Cody isn't ready to speak out loud. | AO3
note: written for @codywanweek and the alt day 5 prompt Sith/Jedi Artefact Shenanigans! sliding in on the last day with one more thing written than expected, so i’m happy with that! i’m pretty ill today so i hope it actually makes some coherent sense 😂 also if the riddle was super obvious, soz, never written one before and turns out it’s really hard.
-
“You know, I could have sworn I told you not to touch that,” Cody says conversationally, from where he’s splayed out on his back.
“Really? I’m sure I didn’t hear you,” Obi-Wan says, cheerful despite being crumpled in a heap. His elbow is in Cody’s gut. Cody glares at him.
The room they’re lying in is circular, stone, carved out of some Forced-damned mountain and according to Obi-wan, practically thrumming with power. The ceiling is high and vaulted, letting in slivers of light where intricate mirror systems catch the sunlight of double suns and project it deep underground. It takes on a slightly blue cast, reflecting off the huge pool of water they were lucky to not fall into. Four walkways at each cardinal point lead to a central platform, and interspersed between them are four waterfalls.
It should be serene. Except now the waterfalls are travelling backwards, and all the doors, including the one they came in by, are blocked. Cody scrambles up onto his elbows, dislodging Obi-Wan with a grunt.
“What did you do?”
Obi-Wan follows his gaze and gasps, delighted. “Now, will you look at that?”
Cody is looking. Frankly, he doesn’t trust this place enough to not keep his eye on it at all times. Obi-Wan keeps saying that this temple was built long ago, by ancient, peaceful Jedi as a place of learning, and that it won’t hurt them. After they got cut off from the rest of their men at the entrance, however, Cody thinks he could be forgiven for having his doubts.
As Obi-Wan himself proves, peace-keeping hardly rules out danger.
“Amazing,” Obi-Wan breathes, hoisting himself to his feet without a second glance, to walk back up to the plinth and stalk round it, examining the incomprehensible runes engraved there.
Cody is left to peel himself off the floor, and instead goes to prod at the barriers now sealing the exits with the end of his blaster. He tries not to look too much at Obi-Wan, at the soft sweep of his hair and the span of his shoulders. Being on their own like this is something he’s avoided, of late - not because he doesn’t enjoy it, but because he’s starting to enjoy it all too much.
He doesn’t trust the way his heart leaps when Obi-Wan smiles, when he asks him to call him ‘Obi-Wan’, when the cycle draws on and they’re up late again, companionably finishing reports and debating strategy. Or, as they had been doing until Cody got cold feet and started finding excuses, debating novels, which Obi-Wan checked out of the Temple archives and read aloud, one chapter at a time, before they turned in for the night.
He doesn’t trust himself not to ruin this by overstepping. There’s something about his general that makes him lose all control of his tongue, and puts him in danger of voicing thoughts that really he should not be having at all.
It’s agony. It’s bliss. It’s stretching him to breaking point, and this is possibly the worst situation they could have ended up in, really.
“These are made out of water,” he says over his shoulder, grunting as he tries to push his blaster through. He is, of course, unsuccessful.
“Ingenious,” Obi-Wan says. “How did they manage that, I wonder?”
Cody cuts a glance back at him, and grins, despite his exasperation.
“You’re not more worried about how we’re going to get out?”
Obi-Wan waves a hand. “I’m sure the path will reveal itself, in time. Oh, look - Cody, I think this is a puzzle!”
Cody bites back a groan. They do not have time for this. They never really had time for it, but Obi-Wan promised it would be a brief detour on their way to the capital for hyperspace lane access negotiations. He’d looked so excited by recon reports of a lost temple that Cody just hadn’t been able to say no. He’s never able to say no to Obi-Wan, even when he isn’t following orders. It’s probably his fatal flaw.
“I don’t suppose there’s an off switch? A back button?” He asks hopelessly. The Force, at least the Jedi sort, very rarely seems to work that way. Obi-Wan is always talking about moving through problems, about seeking balance and adapting to what’s around you, rather than manipulating it. It’s not Cody’s favoured approach; he was trained to leverage his environment to its maximum advantage, and finds he has little patience for anything else.
Obi-Wan snorts. “This is a defensive mechanism, I’m afraid. Judging by the architecture this was built at the height of the Sith Wars. This artefact is designed to trap us here until we understand the mechanism and progress, or until, back when the temple was occupied, someone would come and deal with the intruder.”
“That doesn’t sound very peaceful,” Cody says.
Obi-Wan shoots him an amused look, the warm, soft kind that makes heat rise from the pit of Cody’s belly right up to his ears.
“Even a pacifist may defend himself,” he says, then leans over the pedestal. “Now, how about you stop grousing and come help me with this?”
Cody rolls his eyes, but goes, slinging his blaster across his back and crossing his arms.
“And stop looming,” Obi-Wan laughs, catching one of Cody’s gloved hands and pulling it down to rest at his side. The simple touch makes Cody’s cheeks burn.
“Don’t see what help I can give you, Sir,” he says, frowning down at the characters surrounding the bright blue artefact. “I was never any good at Ithorian.”
Obi-Wan pauses, then tilts his head up. “Ah. Is that what it is?”
“I - I think so?” Cody was never any good at his language flashtraining; he never had the proper patience for it, but he can usually figure out the basics.
“No, no,” Obi-Wan muses, stroking at his beard with his free hand. “You’re quite right. Goodness me, it's been a long time since I last saw this dialect. Let’s see now…”
Cody steps back and waits, keeping his attention firmly split between their blocked exit points while Obi-Wan ponders. The slow upward movement of the waterfalls is eerie - it still makes noise, but none of it is right. Instead of the gentle patter he expects of water joining a larger pool, there’s a faint gurgling as they move further into each grate, travelling somewhere he cannot see.
Obi-Wan finishes his fifth circle round the platform, and the hand at his chin goes still. Cody stands at attention, expectant.
“It’s a riddle,” Obi-Wan says, and if possible, his delight grows. “Yes - the language is coming back to me now. Do you know, I haven’t looked at Ithorian in maybe 12 years?”
“Sir?” Cody says, tilting his head to look at the characters more closely. He doesn’t have even a passing proficiency at modern Ithorian, and presumably it’s changed a bit over the millennia. His training was focused on the basics, and only the useful bits, at that. He thinks he can make out the words for ‘ water ’, and ‘ enemy’ , both of which are either unhelpfully descriptive or frankly discouraging, but that’s about the extent of it.
“My old master - he loved prophecies. When I was a teenager I could never see the point of it, but it meant I spent a lot of time learning the old Ithorian dialects. They’re known as the most peaceful species, did you know?” Obi-Wan shakes his head. “They’ll exile anyone violent, it’s quite remarkable, really. I suppose in some sort of idealistic emulation, a lot of the early Jedi texts are written in their dialect.”
His blue eyes are keen, his laser sharp focus firmly on the podium. It gives Cody a moment to observe his clever fingers, the long line of his neck, the open delight with which he tackles this new problem. It’s a rare thing, to see him so relaxed, and Cody can’t help the fond smile that creeps up on him despite the circumstances. This almost makes it worth it, and on reflection, he’d rather an ancient temple than the last thing that had made Obi-Wan so happy; a wretched, bioluminescent fungus, which had infected half the battalion and given them hives. Their general had studied it for weeks.
Obi-Wan’s lips quirk up. Cody barely trusts himself to speak.
“I didn’t know, Sir,” Cody croaks, then pauses, fishing for something normal to say. “Didn’t we have to defend the governor’s daughter from an Ithorian bounty hunter on Ganaris-IV?”
“Well,” Obi-Wan grins. “Those exiles have to go somewhere, don’t they?”
Cody huffs a laugh and reaches up to scratch his neck at the seam of his bucket.
“Let’s just hope they didn’t all come here. What’s this riddle, then?”
Obi-Wan shifts to the side, then points at a spot on the podium. “As I said, it’s been a long time, but I think it starts here, and goes something like:
A thing to be forged, where water is thicker,
Worth more than gold, unless it’s pyrite that glitters.
An enemy of my enemy, or in hard times, in need,
Sometimes fair-weather, or in high places indeed.
What are you, traveller? ”
All of Cody’s hopes that it would be something nice and obvious, like “lightsaber” or, given what’s going on around them, “gravity”, escape from him like smoke. Jedi and their metaphors. It’s not just a quirk of Obi-Wan’s, clearly.
“Does that mean anything to you, Sir?” he asks, turning the words over in his head once, twice, then frowning when nothing comes immediately.
Obi-Wan’s brow is also furrowed, but in a leisurely, meditative manner.
“...I have some ideas, I think,” he says. “How about you, my friend?”
What does he think? He thinks that there are other sorts of puzzles he is much better suited to. Word play and idioms...what does a clone have to offer that?
Still, Obi-Wan is watching him, expectant and gentle, and he sifts back through the lines, a little more seriously this time.
“Ice, maybe?”
Obi-Wan nods, slowly. “Perhaps. Walk me through it.”
Cody swallows. “Ice is something that can be made, right? It’s not exactly forged, but…”
He trails off in uncertainty.
“Go on,” Obi-Wan says with another one of those soft, devastating smiles. It fractures all the thoughts in Cody’s head, and he has to stop, clear his throat and gather up all the pieces.
“I suppose...it’s just thicker water, isn’t it? On warm planets it’s a valuable commodity, it’s found in high places, and I suppose if you wanted snow, a freeze would be fair weather.”
Obi-Wan is rubbing his beard again, and he’s still smiling. “Fascinating. I would never have thought of that...only, I don’t think it’s quite there. That mention of pyrite is troublesome, and the ‘enemy of my enemy’, where does that fit in?”
Cody shrugs his shoulders, frustrated, and feels a hot flush creep up his neck. “Don’t know why you’re asking me, to be honest, Sir. Kamino hardly covered poetry.”
There’s a slight pause, then Obi-Wan’s hand is on his again, tugging it slowly down from where he’s crossed his arms.
“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” he says, soft.
“Do what?” Cody’s voice is gruff.
“Dismiss yourself. You do it sometimes when we’re reading together. There is often no right and wrong answer to these things, no secret. There is only perspective, and you see things I never would, if only you would trust yourself.”
Cody looks down and away, back towards the waterfalls and their slow, glacial climb. He isn’t sure that’s true. He enjoys what Obi-Wan shares with him, what other lives he gets to touch in their books, but more than anything they convince him that, beyond war, he knows very little of anything at all. He would like to, someday.
His eyes land on Obi-Wan’s lips briefly, before he tears them away. Particular experiences he would like to know more than others.
There was one book that Obi-Wan had read early on, back when this infatuation was just setting its first tendrils into him, about a forbidden romance at the heart of the old Mandalorian court. Two heirs of rival clans battling to be together against the good approval of their noble relatives. It had been torrid, ridiculous and entirely unexpected when Obi-Wan had suggested they break up their reports with some literature.
But what it had done was give him the words to express the crawling heat in his stomach, the urge he has to reach out, to touch, to soothe, to care for. He’d known what he wanted before that, of course, in a more rudimentary manner, but it had gifted him the language of yearning.
Suddenly, a particular passage springs into his mind and he straightens.
“You don’t think it could mean ally, do you? In Beneath the Armour, Mata threatens Clan Riza by saying he has ‘allies in high places’.”
Obi-Wan pauses, and then a brilliant smile spreads over his face. “Yes, that’s it! Pyrite - Fool’s Gold; a false friend! Brilliant Cody, whatever made you think of that?”
Cody grins, even though Obi-Wan can’t see it, and doesn’t answer.
“Is that really it?”
“I think you’re very close,” Obi-Wan says. “The characters engraved into the platform...yes! Stand close to me, Commander.”
Cody does, watching curiously as Obi-Wan lifts his hands, shuts his eyes, frowns, and pushes . Six blocks that make up the platform lift, the characters on each glowing bright, lurid blue. Under their feet, something scrapes, shifts and clunks, before the platform lurches upwards, spinning gently.
There’s a thunderous gurgling sound, before all of the pool beneath drains away.
“The answer,” Obi-Wan says, slightly breathless, his hair a little out of place. “Was friend.”
“The doorways are still blocked,” Cody notes drily. The plinth with the blue orb that started this whole mess has also risen, and underneath it are a set of very wet, slimy looking steps. “I don’t suppose it’s as simple as just walking down these and getting in?”
“Likely not,” Obi-Wan agrees, then inexplicably shifts a little closer, so that they are sharing space. Cody’s heart skips a beat. “But it’s like I told you, Cody. You are far greater than what you have been given.”
Cody coughs and looks at his feet, at their boots almost toe to toe, pleasure at the praise singing low through his body.
“Now,” Obi-Wan says, too close and not close enough. “How do you feel about another puzzle?”
Cody groans, laughing, and after a moment, follows his General into the dark.
#codywanweek2021#codywan#obi wan kenobi#commander cody#alderwrites#i would tag this jedi culture but i literally pulled this out of my ass#there is absolutely no basis in canon here#only vibes#the clone wars#star wars#codywan week 2021
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Lesson Learned ∣ Spencer Reid fic
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader
Category: Smut
Summary: Curiosity killed the cat, and the tail end of a cat and mouse with Spencer might just be the satisfaction to bring you back to life.
A/N: SHE LIVES! I am so sorry for being MIA. Work has been kicking my ass which has left me no time to write, and (insert other excuses about poor time management, etc). Anyways! Please be kind, I’m a little rusty. I love a bratty Reader and I hope you do too!
Content Warning: Masturbation (female), Dom! Spencer, bondage, mention of impact play, penetrative sex, cursing, teasing, punishment, overstimulation (mild), degradation, use of sex toys, aftercare
Word Count: 2.6k
My mother always told me ‘curiosity killed the cat’. She usually said it to keep my nose out of her grown-up conversations or out of her closet around Christmas time.
What she didn’t know, or had chosen not to tell me, was that satisfaction is what brought the cat back to life.
If curiosity was to be my demise, then my glutton for punishment could simply be considered an attempt at resuscitation.
I put on my best pair of puppy eyes and laid it on thick.
“Please?” I whined, “I just wanna try something. I saw it in a movie and it looked really fun!”
His eyes searched my face. “A movie?” Spencer asked dubiously.
I nodded quickly. It wasn’t an immediate no, which was promising. I took his hand and coaxed him gently to the chair by the small table in the bedroom. There had been many a night where I’d been taken over his knee while he sat in this same chair. I’d become familiar with and quite fond of the markings in the old wood of the legs had earned over time.
He followed behind me hesitantly and plopped down in the chair. I gave him a quick smile and went to retrieve the red rope he kept in the closet.
His brows furrowed but he remained quiet as he watched me disappear behind him.
I worked quickly to tie his wrists together, weaving the rope around the pillars of the chair.
“What movie did you see this in?” he asked, craning his neck to see me.
“Uhhh, you know the name escapes me right now, actually.”
I circled back around to take a look at my handiwork. I nodded, satisfied and met his eyes.
His eyes were dark- a doubtful look etched into his features.
A smile crept across my lips and spread to my entire face. This was the best idea I’d had in a while.
“Wh-”
“Shhh, shh, it’s gonna be great.”
***
I felt his eyes follow me around the room, my ears burning like that old urban legend.
I grabbed the small vibrator from our bedside table and tossed it on the bed before meeting his eyes.
He shook his head slowly, almost imperceptibly, warning me.
I shrugged and padded to the dresser, rummaging through my bottom drawer for my old friend.
I produced the velvet pouch from its hiding place under old sweats and unzipped it, dramatically revealing the silicone length like a sword.
I placed it on the bed before throwing a glance towards Spencer, tied to the chair with nowhere to go. Normally when he was in the chair, I was strewn across his lap earning bruises or making myself useful with my mouth, but tonight was different.
I climbed up on the bed and situated myself so I was directly in front of him. I fluffed pillows behind me, piling them to create a prop for my back. I leaned against them, shimmying my shoulders as I stared down the barrel of the loaded gun that was his line of sight.
I kept my eyes locked to his as I slipped my t-shirt up and over my head, exposing my breasts.
Both hands came to grab and grope them, pushing them together and kneading, squeezing and gripping. My bottom lip found its way between my teeth as my fingers tugged and pulled at the quickly pebbling peaks. My eyes fluttered shut for a moment, pretending my hands were Spencer’s. I drew a deep breath in, letting my breath hitch for a moment as I tugged one peak harder for effect before the air rushed from my lungs through a smile.
My hands left my chest and traveled downwards, rubbing and exploring until they reached my waist. I spread my legs and brought my head forward, opening my eyes to see a vein on Spencer’s neck protruding. I gave him a smile and ran my hand over my mound through my panties.
A moan fell from my lips but was cut short.
“Stop.”
My eyes flew to his and my hand stopped. But only for a moment.
A small smile touched my lips as I hooked both thumbs in the fabric resting at my hips and dragged it down my legs, kicking them off to land by his feet.
His eyes followed the fabric and stared at the tiny heap for a moment.
When his eyes found me again, they immediately spotted the small toy teetering between my fingers. His eyes dragged up my arm and locked eyes with me, unblinking.
The silence in the room was deafening. I could hear his breathing, low and dangerous.
There was a static charge to the air, his anger almost tangible, coupled with the adrenaline coursing through my veins.
I broke the silence with a flick of my finger- the buzz of the vibrator seeking contact filling the air.
His jaw clenched and flexed as I brought it between my thighs.
I started with drawing slow circles, teasing along my lips before touching it to where my body was craving it most. My back arched off the bed just slightly at the contact, followed by a quick gasp as my head fell back to rest on the pillows stacked behind me.
I could feel him staring daggers into me, the heat from his glare scorching my skin. I made more pointed sweeps of the vibrator over my clit, and brought my other hand up to knead at my breast.
My breaths quickened and hitched, the sounds of my moans and the vibrator against my slick center filling the four walls of the room.
“Stop,” he ground out.
I lifted my head up briefly, quickly losing the strength in my body to fight the orgasm brewing low in my belly before falling back on to the pillows.
A small giggle escaped my lips before they came small, needy gasps as the intensity of the vibrations against my clit grew.
“Don’t do it,” he warned. I could see him wrestling against his restraints, throwing hisnwright around and pulling his shoulders forward in an attempt to loosen the ties. Any person with a sense of self-preservation might have considered the repercussions of my little game and stopped while they were ahead.
I knew better than to finish without permission and knew better than to deny a direct order, but I figured, fuck it.
My soft gasps became a desperate plea as my orgasm washed over me. My legs shook and my core tightened as stars danced behind my eyelids. I was briefly aware of how much trouble I would be in when I did have to untie him, but those thoughts were quickly swept away as the bliss settled over my body like a fine mist.
I could feel the wetness pooling beneath me as I started to regain feeling in my limbs.
When I lifted my head again, I saw Spencer had moved himself closer, the chair angled and slightly closer to the bed than where I’d left him originally.
The fact that I could feel his anger coming off him in waves shouldn’t have excited me, but it did. I wanted to know just how far I could push him before he snapped.
Perhaps it was the post-orgasm chemicals that emboldened me, or my general inclination to be a glutton for punishment, but I summoned enough strength to reach for the other toy on the bed.
I brought it to my lips, throwing an extra loud moan in for good measure while my tongue worked and swirled around the silicone length. I dragged it from my lips, a small string of spit snapping against my chin as I dragged it slowly down my chest, between my breasts and over my tummy.
“Baby, baby, please. Don’t.” he rasped.
“Hmmm,” I feigned thoughtfulness, “No.”
I continued on my mission, breaching my own heat with the toy, alternating with slow and quick thrusts while I adjusted to its size. I stole a quick glance at Spencer who was looking absolutely feral. I gave a quick twist of my wrist, taking myself by surprise at the new angle I’d found. I continued on my mission, the quick and shallow thrusts tacked the second orgasm on to the first quite nicely.
The scream that left my lips might have been a touch performative, but the sound of Spencer’s laboring lungs made it well worth it. My chest heaved as I came down, staring at the ceiling with my hands outstretched at my sides.
I took a moment to catch my breath before sitting up and hugging my knees to my chest, daring to look at Spencer.
He looked fucking possessed. He had wiggled mostly loose of his restraints, and was leaning forward in the chair, his chest heaving as his eyes bore into mine like he was capable of seeing through me.
I knew what I had to do and figured leaving him there longer wouldn’t end well for me. I climbed off the bed onto still-shaking legs and crossed the room towards him, carefully skating along dressers and walls to keep a distance between us.
I crouched behind him, quickly undoing the rope, taking cautious steps backwards towards the bed. My eyes followed his movements, watching him bring his wrists in front of him, rubbing the indents from the fabric.
His next move was so quick my eyes couldn’t register it for my brain quick enough to make my limbs move.
He was on his feet with his hand wrapped around the column of my throat, pushing me backwards onto the bed.
“Have you lost your fucking mind?” he growled, his fingers flexing around my throat.
Maybe.
I gave him a wicked smile. “No, sir.”
“Then what the fuck was that?” he spat.
“I just wanted to make myself feel good!” I squeaked.
“Listen to me,” he started, his tone absolutely lethal, “I own you. I own this pussy. And I own your pleasure.”
As he spoke, his hand worked between us to position himself to be perfectly aligned with me.
The head of his cock dipped briefly into the pool of my arousal, gathering wetness from my previous orgasms. Without warning, he plunged into me, not stopping until he was balls deep and began thrusting with punishing force. He pushed the air from my lungs with the force of an absolute madman until I was left gasping for air, his hand still firmly gripping my throat, not at all aiding my attempt to breathe.
My hand flew to his wrist and his grip loosened, sliding up to secure a vice grip on my jaw instead. He used his hand on my jaw to move my entire head from side to side, just to show he could.
He stopped the movement with his eyes locked on mine. “This was the first and last time you do that. Understand?”
I probably should have tried a little harder to suppress the saccharine smile spreading across my lips, but I’d be damned if he just made it so hard to behave if this was my punishment.
Spencer’s lip curled at the sight and his thrusts became more purposeful, driving deeper until I felt him in my belly. A whorish moan ripped from my chest, wiping the smile clean off my face, replacing it with a slack jaw in his hand.
“Everytime you feel this good, you’ll know it was me,” he bit out, his pace not faltering.
A particularly deep thrust sent a blazing trail straight to my chest, igniting a flame that licked its way down and out to engulf my every nerve. I cried out as my eyes fluttered shut, much to Spencer’s dislike. He shook my jaw in his hand. “Open. I want your eyes,” he ordered.
I whimpered in response, my eyes barely open beneath my knit-together brows. I felt my walls fist around him, the fire in my veins reaching its original source and threatening to explode at any moment. Spencer felt the change and grabbed my ankle, throwing it over his shoulder. Our new position allowed him a new depth that felt like he might just split me in two. I cried out, the line between pleasure and pain blurring as I was swallowed by the flame.
“Who owns you?” he yelled, “Who makes you feel this good?”
His thrusts did not falter, his pace did not change, and he was not any kinder to my body despite it falling to pieces around him.
“You! God, you!” I shouted back, the only level my body recognized.
“Don’t you fucking forget it.”
His hand flexed around my ankle, adjusting his grip. I knew he was preparing himself for his own release. I hoped he was close because I didn’t know how much longer I could take his brutal workings.
He pounded away, growling and turning to nip at the inside of my ankle resting on his shoulder. That alone shouldn’t have aroused me but it did. I shook my head, wishing and willing for my body to not chase another orgasm. I was exhausted and fighting to stay coherent.
I saw him smile and shake his head, his brown mop shifting as some pieces stuck to his forehead.
“P-Please, Spencer-”
My attempt at a beg fell on unimpressed ears.
“Hmm, no,” he said, mocking my feigned thoughtfulness from earlier.
His hips pistoned forward as he found his own release, and took me with him as he both fell apart. My tired cries danced in the air with his strangled moans like our lives depended on it. I felt his warmth spread inside me, but was too exhausted and delirious to be happy about it.
I couldn’t move a single limb on my body. Spencer kissed the inside of my foot once more, a delicate press of his lips to my skin before brushing my leg off his shoulder like a piece of lint.
“Fucking brat,” he muttered as he climbed over me. A smile spread across my lips as I watched him climb out of bed through half hooded eyes.
Sometime between him walking away and closing the bathroom door behind him, I lost the battle of staying awake and my eyes shut.
*
“Baby,” Spencer whispered.
I whined in protest. There was literally nothing I wanted to do other than sleep, and nothing he could do to convince me otherwise.
“Baby.” This time, he whispered against my temple before dropping a kiss.
Another groan from me let him know I was not going to be a willing participant in whatever he was planning.
He chuckled and pulled the sheet I’d tucked under my chin down, leaving me exposed to the cool air of the room.
At that, my eyes opened a bit to see him kneel between my legs with a towel. His hands were gentle on my legs as he pulled them apart, nothing like the ruthless, punishing man he was mere minutes before.
He finished cleaning me of our mess and pulled the sheets back over me, pulling them snugly around me. After a moment, he crawled into bed next to me, propping himself up on one elbow.
“Oh,” he said, gently petting my hair, “If you ever plan on trying something like that again, you’d better work on your stamina”.
I snuggled closer to his chest to hide my smile. “Lesson learned,” I mumbled into his warm skin.
Final Score: Curiosity: 1 0 Satisfaction: 1
——
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Damage (Chapter 20)
FFN / AO3
Wordcount: 14,052
Content warnings: Descriptions of abandonment, death and abuse
Silver Sonic and fleshbag Sonic found themselves in a bit of a predicament, to say the least. A GUN mech spotted them a second quicker than Sonic could react and promptly fired away at them. Sonic took cover behind a crate, unable to move as quickly as normal with a heavy robot over his shoulder. He muttered under his breath in thought, not yet sure of how to go about this escape.
An explosion behind the crate shook Sonic enough to send him onto his side, where he promptly dropped Silver in a heap. He cursed and went to gather the robot up again, but Silver woke up and stared up at him. Sonic met his optics with an apologetic grin.
"Sorry. That was an accident."
Silver just laughed. "Yeah, I-" He stopped to cough oil into his hand and grinned back at him. "I figured."
Sonic looked around and his eyes came to rest on a stray rifle ahead of them. Silver saw it a second later and reacted as he normally would. With a grunt from the effort, he rolled over onto his knees and grabbed the rifle in front of him as if it was second nature to do so.
"This is like a video game I've always wanted to play." Silver mused to himself as he fumbled to hold the rifle correctly. He knelt behind the crate and propped the rifle on top of it.
Sonic opened his mouth to argue against that, but thought better of it. "I- Okay, kiddo. How do we play it?"
Silver looked through the sights, sweeping his weapon to the left with apparent focus. "Jus' start punchin' whoever I shoot at."
"Works for me. Is it really the best idea for you to be holding a gun right now though?" Sonic asked sheepishly.
Silver looked at him pointedly. "Is' just motion blur glitch. I can compensate for it..." He looked down the sights again, sticking his tongue out a little as he concentrated. True to his word, he aimed a little off-center to compensate for his dizziness, and with a quick squeeze of his trigger finger, the tyre of a military van went "pop" and screeched to a stop. A slight lean to the right and another squeeze of the trigger sent a bike veering off away from them.
"I'm startin' to think you could use that thing in your sleep." Sonic commented to his side, impressed.
"When you're made t'be a weapon, it comes natural." Silver said, taking a clean shot at another van that pulled up on them. "I'll take all of these idiots out, no problem."
"You gotta pick and choose your battles, kiddo."
"I'm like... two. I shouldn't be fightin' any battles. Only battle I should be pickin' is-" Silver stopped to spit oil onto the floor before taking another shot, "A battle royale."
"Like in a video game?"
"Precisely. You get me."
"Hold the fort here. I'm gonna go deal with that 'bot," Sonic instructed him, narrowing his eyes at the GUN mech that was closing in on them, "got a feeling it's bulletproof."
"Ya don't say, genius..." Silver replied sarcastically, struggling to stay awake as delirium washed over his head again. He expertly took out another bike before stopping and resting his chin on his arm for a moment, struggling to stay coherent. "Jus' come back quickly. I'm losing it."
Sonic vaulted over the crate to land a kick on the GUN robot as promised. But then he sped off to Chaos knows where, and Silver couldn't track his movements. He panicked. In his impaired state of mind all he saw was Sonic leaving, the chaos around him, and his damages leaving him unable to fend for himself.
"Wait. Don't leave me. Please." Silver whispered, watching Sonic speed out of view. He saw everything in sharp focus, panic overwhelming him as those footsteps grew further and further away. He tried to pull himself up onto his elbow, reaching out for the edge of the crate in front of him. He clumsily grabbed the corner, pulling himself up with his teeth grit and knees shaking. The world around him quickly began to spin, and he fought to stand - only to fall down in a messy heap.
He breathed a sigh, which turned into a choked sob, and he pressed his head to the ground as he blacked out again.
---
- LOADING. 10%. 20%. 50%. 100%.
- Artificial Intelligence ROBOTNIK Custom Chip installing.
- Systems calibrating. Please wait. This might take a moment.
- Installation complete. Initiating boot sequence.
- Priority one: hedgehog. Objective: destroy him at all costs.
- DO NOT FAIL.
The robot awoke on a table.
Nothing made sense. The world was so strange, bright, noisy. It stared up at the ceiling, confused and disoriented as its systems booted one by one. Temperature sensors came online and the room was suddenly cold. Auditory sensors tuned to the whirring of machinery. Facial recognition systems searched for something to log. Pressure sensors detected several disturbances on multiple parts of the machine's frame. It was slightly uncomfortable.
"Hello."
The machine turned its head to meet a stranger's face. It frowned, puzzled - a reaction it hadn't had to consciously think about.
Eggman smiled at them. "I'm your creator, Dr. Eggman. You may log me as your manufacturer. Now, test your voice modulator, you should be able to speak."
The robot stared at him. "Oh." It looked up again, confused. "Where am I?"
"You're on one of my flagships. This is your home." Eggman explained, gesturing around the room with a hand.
"I... have a home?" It asked quietly, "and you're my dad?" For the first time, a smile spread over its face. Its optics fixed on his creator with adoration instantly. Having a parent meant safety and direction, and Sonic's personality influenced him to seek family. It awaited instruction.
"Yes, you do, and yes, you could say I am." Eggman reached out and put his hands on the robot's shoulders. "Now, are your systems all go?"
It checked in with its registry for a moment. "Everything's good, I think. I dunno what constitutes "systems all go" though. Never been alive before." It lifted his hands above his face and turned them over a few times, noticing the many wires attached to its frame. So that's what their pressure sensors were throwing a fit about. Interesting.
Eggman chuckled and removed his hands. "That's true, my boy."
They looked up at him. "What's my designation? The space for it is blank, I think."
"Your name is Silver Sonic MK II," Eggman told them with pride, "my latest and greatest creation."
Silver's face lit up at getting their own name. "Sweet! I love it."
Eggman winced the tiniest amount at the Sonic-like inflection to the robot's voice. Silver caught it - they had been studying their creator's reactions readily. He tilted his head, confused by it. Had he done something wrong?
"Your target is Sonic the hedgehog," Eggman told him, gesturing to a picture of the hedgehog on his computer screen, "and you are to kill him." Silver turned slightly to rest on his elbow on his side, looking on with curiosity. He studied the picture for a long minute, seeming to process something - and then tilted his head in confusion.
"I'm lost. My files say that I'm the same as that hedgehog," Silver replied, pointing to the picture for a second, "am I supposed to be him?"
"Not exactly..." Eggman responded, sounding a little concerned.
Silver tilted his head the other way. "That's confusing. You want me to be him and kill him? How does that work?"
Eggman turned and walked to the other side of the room, mumbling to himself with his head in his hands. Silver tilted his head this way and that, trying to listen.
"I've created another one. Dear Chaos..."
Silver sat up at once. "What do you mean?" He got his arm caught in a bundle of wires and held it up sheepishly. "Oops..."
Eggman stopped, realizing that the robot had heard him. With a sigh, he walked back over to them and freed their arm. "Nothing, my son. It's okay."
"Have I done something wrong?" Silver asked, worried that he had disappointed his creator somehow. "Should I log that action as undesirable?"
"No," Eggman replied, reaching over to disable Silver's comm-link in his ear, "you haven't done anything wrong." He didn't verbalize it, but he didn't want Silver communicating with the other hedgehog-series. Metal was already unstable and he didn't want them planning anything together. After this, he turned to his computer and typed away at the command window, altering something in Silver's programming. Silver watched, confused, and a pit of fear started to form in his stomach area. He couldn't decipher anything about the coding, and that unknown made him uneasy.
"Uh... what are you doing?" Silver asked with a frown.
"Nothing important, my boy." Eggman told him. He made sure not to look at Silver, for his regretful expression would give him away. Unknown to Silver, the program that would allow him to understand and use the coded speech between hedgehog-series was disabled.
"Oh. Okay..." Silver replied, uneasy. He messed with a wire that looped around one of his fingers, inspecting the red and blue closely. "What are these for? They feel funny... My pressure sensors are angry about them."
Eggman unplugged each wire one by one, avoiding the robot's inquisitive gaze as he did. "They just let me read your data on the system, it's nothing to worry about. You should be good to go without them."
Silver watched his face closely.
"Why are you sad?"
Eggman stopped. The fact that the robot was already recognizing something as complex as human emotion was incredible, and it startled him at the same time. He had intended for Silver to mimic organic emotions, which was already proving to have worked - but that meant he might end up getting as angry as Metal could. It was a problem, and he instantly regretted the decision to give him emotions.
"You'll understand when you're older, son," Eggman told him, forcing a smile over his turbulent thoughts.
"I don't wanna understand when I'm older. I wanna understand now." Silver replied, messing with a wire that had been attached to his leg. "Can you explain it to me?" He turned it over a few times and studied the end, looking into the connector with curiosity.
"Sometimes we have to do things that make us sad," Eggman explained, "and there's no other way around it."
Silver tilted his head the other way. "Oh."
"Listen, son," Eggman started, taking the robot's other hand in his, "I know everything is confusing right now. But it's going to be okay."
Silver met his eyes, puzzled, and he dropped the wire. "What do you mean?"
Eggman slowly released his hand and moved over to a console by his computer. "I need you to go back on standby."
Silver stared at him. "But... I only just woke up."
"I know."
Silver climbed down off of the table and stood there, hands raised as if about to say something, but stopped. He looked around instead, taking everything in, trying to make sense of things. The cogs turned in his head as he gradually pieced together what was happening. His optics came to rest on a cryotube for a long moment, and his "stomach" flipped and his face fell. He looked to Eggman in disbelief and confusion.
Eggman gave him a nod and motioned with his hand to the cryotube.
Silver froze.
"Wait... Don't leave me there. Please. Please. Don't."
Eggman didn't say anything.
"Dad? Why aren't you saying anything?"
Silver's ears started ringing. His temperature control systems shut off, leaving him feeling ice cold.
When he didn't get an answer and saw that finger twitch on the button to open the container's door, he knew he had to move. He took a step back, and then another, and then another. His back hit the wall and he flinched in surprise. Eggman followed after him to round him back towards the cryotube. In his fright and confusion, Silver sank down against the wall and stared up at his creator.
"Please don't do this. I'll do anything." Silver whispered, trembling despite himself. He put his hands up as if to push the man away, but found a hand on his cheek anyway. "Please. I'm so scared and I don't understand."
Eggman finally spoke, barely above a whisper himself. "I'll be back for you." He steeled himself and got a hold of his voice, firmness forcing its way in now. "I just have to make some changes to your software, alright?" He ran a thumb over Silver's cheek bolt a few times, trying to soothe him.
Silver pressed back against the wall as hard as he could. "D-dad, please. Please, please don't do this. I'll do whatever you want, I'll be good, I'm not gonna do anything wrong, I..." He tried to get up, but his knees were too weak and he sank back down. He shakily looked up at his father again and met his eyes.
He saw the guilt, remorse, and shame. But also the disappointment. And that was what destroyed him the most.
"Am I not good enough?" Silver whispered, his voice cracking painfully.
"You are." Eggman told him, trying to sound firm, but a distinct pain tinging his voice. "I said I'll be back for you. You just have to stay here for a while." With that said, he stood up and looked down on the robot. He pointed to the container.
Confused, scared, and hurt, Silver shakily stood up and obeyed his father. His father would keep him safe, he would come back, it would be okay. With his head low and engine hitching with his fear, he slowly walked over to the container and took a hesitant step inside.
As the glass surrounded him and the door clicked shut, he looked at his father. Eggman whispered an apology, turned away, and left the room.
Silver stared after him, brokenhearted. His hand slid down the glass as pain stabbed through his chest.
"No... Please don't leave me here."
"Please."
"Please!"
"No! No no no!"
"PLEASE! DAD! PLEASE COME BACK!"
The robot sank down to its knees. It didn't understand what these feelings were. All it knew was that they hurt. He hunched over, holding himself with his head pressed to the glass. He broke down sobbing, clicking into his armour for hours. And a fter long days of being alone, the pain only grew stronger. Loneliness, like long blades, prodded him from all angles. There were days that his processor felt electrocuted, so violently defocused, and the pain, the emotional pain, was all-encompassing - he simply existed out of a matter of hope, hope that his father would return for him. So he waited. And waited. But it hurt. It hurt so bad that he was sure it would never go away. He refused to put himself into low-power mode or even sleep mode, for he might miss his father's return.
Silver sat with his arms wrapped tightly around himself, desperately trying to soothe himself. He poured hours into reading and re-reading every file in his registry, taking in every piece of data like it was a lifeline. Anything to distract him from this loneliness.
He studied the hedgehog, turned over every detail, but nothing in him could find the desire to kill him. He tried, he did - maybe if he could become a murderous machine, his father would come back and want him again. He looked for something to hate and found nothing. Sonic was a good person. He identified with his traits. How was this supposed to work? He tried, again, and again, and again.
But he couldn't.
He looked at his reflection in the glass and saw the exact moment he realized nobody was coming.
---
"I've got you, kiddo, you're okay, you're okay."
Silver came to and realized he was crying. The arms wrapped around him with a false promise to never leave, they always left, they always would - and Silver couldn't bear that. He pressed his face into Sonic's shoulder and cried his "heart" out, completely overwhelmed. He didn't realize he was saying "don't go" over and over.
"You're okay. I'm not leaving you," Sonic gently told him, holding the robot tighter, "you're not alone."
Silver could barely talk, just above a whisper into Sonic's shoulder. "But I am, he left me, Neo left me, Mecha nearly left me, you're gonna, you're gonna... I'm such a fucking failure and everyone sees it and wants to run away, you're... you're..."
Sonic gently rested his hands on Silver's shoulders and pushed him to sit up. "Look at me, little guy."
Silver slowly lifted his head and let his gaze trail up to meet Sonic's.
"You're not a failure. From the second you came online, they knew they couldn't control you. And that scares them. Keep scaring them. Keep being you."
"But what if being me is bad... what makes me so important?"
"You're important to me."
"Why? Jus' a disappointment. Everyone knows it, why do you care?"
"Ya think I'd go through all this for someone I didn't care about?"
Silver looked around, taking in the reality of the situation - the fact that Sonic was risking himself all for him and his brothers. He slowly looked up to Sonic again.
"You're never gonna be alone. Whether it's your brothers or me, you're always gonna have somebody who's got your back. I promise." Sonic leaned towards him just a little, eyes genuine and kind. Once the robot was looking at him again, held out his pinky finger to them and smiled. "Promise me you'll never forget that. You're a hero like me, and heroes don't ditch other heroes."
Silver hesitated for just a moment. Then, he slowly smiled, reached out, and hooked his little finger around Sonic's in a pinky promise.
"I promise."
---
Silver made a habit of trading data for warmth. Like putting a penny into a meter, it lasted for five minutes, then he had to put another penny in. Re-reading the same data over and over was tiring. It was fixed and unchanging, painfully permanent. And there was only so much he could read about "priority-one hedgehog" before he felt like he was going to die from boredom. So, he turned his attention to the outside world. The only way to connect with the world outside was to research it. So, he did.
He looked into a folder titled "hedgehog-series" and scrolled through it. He noticed the designations "Mecha Sonic" and "Metal Sonic" come up here and there, alongside many others - Robo Sonic, Pseudo Sonic, Badnik Sonic, Silver Sonic MK I to name a few. All of them but Mecha Sonic and Metal Sonic were no longer active. Silver had to wonder what became of them. He stopped thinking about it, though, when he remembered his purpose. They were probably long dead by now. Would he be next on that list? The thought of it made him shiver.
He came out of the folder, but hesitated. A longing feeling formed in him. Wondering why, he went back to it and looked over Mecha Sonic and Metal Sonic's files again. They had impressive specs, similiar to his, and had the same purpose. He wondered what they were like. Had they been left alone like this too? Were they aware that he existed yet?
A new hope sparked in his chest, and he felt a small smile form on his face.
Maybe if he couldn't have a father, he could have brothers instead.
He held onto that.
---
A GUN helicopter circled overhead as the pilot looked for a place to land. Slowly, it descended to touch down, the wind from its rotors kicking up clouds of dust. As the rotors stopped spinning overhead, a familiar fox jumped out and called out to Sonic and Silver.
"Guys! Over here!"
Tails opened the sliding door in the aircraft's side and waved for them to come. Neo hopped in with Mecha and turned to watch Sonic and Silver approach, their path now safer from Silver's expertise with firearms. Suddenly Neo detected something, and his head snapped up. He calculated trajectories faster than the speed of an organic's thought, and he knew he couldn't leave the helicopter with enough speed to remove Sonic from the missile's path. Sonic was fast enough to outrun it, but his back was to it, and he couldn't hear it over the heavy rain and thunder, and he wasn't moving fast enough in that moment.
An old hatred rose in Neo, battling with his feelings for his brother. What was more important, after all? Seeing the hedgehog die, or saving Silver? The answer was obvious. Disgustingly obvious, in fact. But he knew he would have to say the hedgehog's name. He never spoke it. It was repulsive. But if he did nothing right now, both his brother and the hedgehog would die. Time was running out. Neo saw everything in sharp focus, optics flitting between the missile and the hedgehog over and over. He took a deep breath through his intake, dug his claws into the door frame as hard as he could, and yelled,
"SONIC!"
Sonic's head snapped up and he looked over his shoulder. His eyes widened for a second before he looked ahead and picked up the pace. The aircraft started to lift to avoid it, and Sonic dodged aside just in time - it went straight into the ground, narrowly missing him. Sonic skidded to his feet, spun around and ran for the helicopter. His strides shortened, gathering himself up to jump with Silver over his shoulder. Sonic jumped and reached for the edge of the doorframe. Neo grabbed his hand, an action that made him squint his optics in disgust, and yanked him up into the craft. Sonic stumbled onto his feet and set Silver down on the floor, panting. The craft took off higher and started off towards Chaos knows where - as long as it was far from this place.
Neo was at Silver's side in an instant, hovering over him protectively and cursing at his little brother's injuries.
"He'll be okay." Sonic offered his reassurance with a smile. "He was making terrible jokes the whole way here before he uh, passed out."
"Whoever did this will die by my hand..." Neo growled, clenching his fists as his temper grew hotter.
"Yeah, don't worry. They won't be messin' with him for at least a week." Sonic told him with a grin and a thumbs-up.
Neo looked up at him, surprised. After a moment of eye contact, he looked down and touched his brother's head with his optics shut.
"Thank you for saving him."
"No prob. It's what I'm here for." Sonic told him with a genuine smile.
"Are you..." Neo started to say, but then stopped. His optics brightened in realization at what he was about to ask and he sharply looked away with a scowl.
"I'm okay."
"Satisfactory."
Sonic dug a finger in his ear. "I must be hearing things. I thought I just heard Metal being considerate."
"Shut up hedgehog. I will maim you."
Silver stirred on the floor and promptly woke up. He looked up at Neo and Sonic and a grin spread across his face.
"So glad my bros are gettin' along..."
Neo startled at his brother's sudden awakening. He looked down at once to meet Silver's optics and found a smile in his own. He leaned down and pressed his forehead to Silver's, gently rubbing his injured arm to soothe the pain he knew his brother would be feeling. Silver reached up for a hug, and Neo gathered him into his arms without hesitation, nestling his face in his little brother's armour as he sat them both up.
"Tell him I said I love him and that if he ever gets killed, I'll bring him back just to kill him myself."
"The big guy says you should get exploded less."
Silver laughed and buried his face in Neo's shoulder. "That's definitely not what he said, but thanks." He pulled away a little to open the compartment on his arm, taking out a phone he had stashed on his way to the HQ. "Everyone get in. I found this and I want a pic." He flipped the phone so that it was sideways and opened the camera app, holding it up.
Mecha appeared from the cockpit and looked down at his siblings fondly, moving to sit by them. He noticed that Silver was struggling to hold the phone high enough, so he gently took it and held it up higher, getting everyone in the shot as Tails peered around the corner at them.
"Smile, or else." Silver instructed them.
"I am incapable of smiling." Mecha told him, hovering his thumb over the button.
"Shut up an' do it." Silver demanded with a laugh. He rested his head on Neo's shoulder and beamed at the camera, while Neo rolled his optics and held up a finger to replicate the classic taunt he would give to Sonic. Sonic gave a peace sign and grinned next to Silver, and Tails waved behind them with a smile.
Snap.
Mecha handed the phone back to Silver, who studied the picture with a genuine smile.
"Our first family photo. Is' so cute." Silver said adoringly, his tail wagging behind him. He flopped onto his back and looked at the picture for a while longer, holding the phone above his face. "Keepin' this forever. Oh, Mecha, you did smile!"
Mecha looked at him, puzzled. "I did not. I am incapable of such body language."
Silver looked up at him and laughed. "Look again." He turned the phone around to show Mecha, who peered down at it curiously. He studied it closely, looking for this apparent "smile", and suddenly he realized.
He looked happy.
The way his visor brightened, his shoulders weren't tense, and his head tilted ever so slightly to make sure that he didn't block out anyone else - it was his own version of smiling, and Silver and Neo saw it for what it was.
"Yes. I did."
---
"Men! Ceasefire!"
The door slammed open. Heavy boots marked the entrance of the GUN commander. He made way to the switchboard with haste. At once the soldiers manning it stood to attention and saluted, but one hovered their finger over the radio button, having just made a call.
"Sir?"
"You heard me. That's an order. Cease fire immediately." The commander ordered them with steel in his voice. "Withdraw all offense. We are not moving forward with this attack any longer."
"After all this?" The soldier asked, completely blindsided. They looked the commander up and down, noticing all the blood and bruises covering him, for a moment considering whether he was in his right mind to make such a drastic call. "But we have them in our sights, sir!"
"I never dreamed that I would make such a call," the commander started, forcing the soldier away from the switchboard now, "but I must. Let them flee."
"It's too late."
"I beg your pardon?"
"We already fired. It's too late."
The commander's face dropped. He stared out of the window in horror as he watched a missile head straight for the helicopter that had lifted away. It would hit. There was no going back now. All he could do was arrange to deal with the aftermath.
"Send our best medics and..." He paused, clearing his throat, "mechanics out. That's an order."
The soldier comm'd to request medics and mechanics, but had no luck. "Noone wants to go out there."
The commander grit his teeth and hissed through them.
"What have I done..."
Maria would hate him for this.
---
Mecha stepped back into the cockpit to co-pilot with Tails. The fox was much more confident with a fellow pilot by his side, and they shared fond looks before looking over the controls to get them going faster. But Mecha suddenly straightened. He tilted his head, listening for something, and then put out a scan - and to his horror, he detected something approaching them at an impossible speed. Just as he scrambled to his feet, disaster struck.
The second missile came for them amongst their chatter. It collided with the end of the craft, sending shards of metal and glass all over the compartment. With the sliding door still wide open, the helicopter tilted sideways and spun - and Sonic slipped. He toppled backwards, grabbing onto the doorframe with a hand - but he lost his grip in the rain and fell several hundred feet.
Neo froze. He heard Tails scream, and Mecha stumble into the compartment, and - even with his hatred, he somehow knew what to do already. Everyone in this place loved Sonic, and to have him die would destroy them. The hedgehog had rescued his brothers not just once, but twice, and had shown him kindness. It was disgusting. It was vile. It was the worst kind of insult. And it was the evil Metal Sonic's turn to be the one who saved someone.
Neo jumped.
As he plunged after Sonic, he saw everything in sharp focus - the ground coming, Sonic falling, the rain pelting them - and prepared to do what he thought he never would have done in a thousand years. He weighed far more than the hedgehog did, and soon met him mid-air. He wrapped his arms tightly around the hedgehog and went to boot his jet engine. It failed. Of course, it failed. So this was it. Neo tensed, waiting for that killer landing to come. He squeezed his optics shut and waited. It felt like forever but it came too fast at the same time.
Three.
Two.
One.
The two hit the ground and bounced several feet. Neo flipped himself so that he was on the bottom. On the second landing, he put himself on the ground again. If he was not, then Sonic would be dangerously injured. Neo felt things break internally. His damage percentage skyrocketed beyond comprehension. They bounced and tumbled and he kept shifting his weight to take the brunt of every impact.
Neo's consciousness deserted him on the last impact and the world cut out to black.
Several minutes passed and Neo awoke slowly. He was not in pain yet. But he sensed that there were multiple things very, very wrong with his body. He stared up at the sky, stunned and in shock as he tried to make sense of what he had just done.
Sonic lay beside him. "Metal..." He groaned and slowly sat up with his hand on his head. "What the hell? Why did you do that?"
The hedgehog was completely intact. Hardly injured at all, in fact. That was... satisfactory. Neo tried to say something, but all that came out was a static hiss. He tried to sit up and felt a mechanism in his back snap that should not have. He laid back down, defeated, and looked up as rain blurred what was left of his vision. Half of his screen was cracked, leaving him half-blind.
"I'm good..." Sonic grunted as he finally sat all the way up. He turned his head and finally looked down at the robot. His eyes widened in horror. "Metal..."
Forming words was too difficult, so Neo squinted his working optic in reply.
"You're hurt really bad."
- CRITICAL ERROR.
- THE INSTRUCTION AT 0X0000000025C2342B NEO SUPER FX DSP CHIP REFERENCED MEMORY AT 0X0000028384F4. THE MEMORY COULD NOT BE READ.
- CLICK OK TO TERMINATE THE PROGRAM.
- CLICK CANCEL TO DEBUG THE PROGRAM.
- DEBUG ERROR. ABORT() HAS BEEN CALLED.
Neo consulted his error report again. The errors went beyond the maximum number the readout could give. He stared at it for a long moment, and then just closed it. He felt nothing. It was just like every time before. All over again, Neo was in pieces at Sonic's feet, just like on the deck of the ship that had once been part of his kingdom. Only this time, it was by choice. How wonderfully, horrifically, disgustingly ironic. Under Neo's numbness, a cold, rational part of him knew that if anyone ever deserved death, it was him, the foul, evil killing machine that he was. He should have been destroyed long ago, and each time his body was seemingly broken beyond repair, it should have been the last.
- THIS APPLICATION HAS REQUESTED THE RUNTIME TO TERMINATE IT IN AN UNSUPPORTED WAY.
- CONTACT MANUFACTURER FOR GUIDANCE. UNSUPPORTED FILE DETECTED.
But there was one thing that kept him from that fate.
Suddenly he jolted onto his front and stared ahead in a panic. His working optic darted this way and that, searching for something in the mud and rain. He didn't register Sonic speaking behind him, hearing only muffled sounds. Without a second thought he scrambled to his feet, but fell back down. His CPU was shutting down in a critical error from the extreme trauma to it and he was running out of time. He forced himself up over and over again until he reached what he was looking for.
- THE PROGRAM CANNOT START BECAUSE NEO SUPER FX DSP CHIP IS MISSING. TRY REINSTALLING TO FIX THIS PROBLEM.
Silver.
He collapsed by Silver and reached out for his hand.
Silver weakly reached for him, too, and rested his hand by Neo's.
They didn't need to say anything. The rain pattering down on them and the stars glittering above said everything they needed to.
- CATASTROPHIC FAILURE (E_UNEXPECTED)
- A PROBLEM HAS BEEN DETECTED. INITIATING SHUT DOWN TO PREVENT DAMAGE TO THE SYSTEM.
Their fingers interlocked for the last time as they both shut down.
---
"Knowing how this ends, would you still have loved me?"
"Yes."
Neo started to walk away from him. "I'll never regret loving you."
"Even though it's killed you?"
"Especially with the fact that it's killed me."
"How can you say that?"
"I would die a thousand times if it meant I got to be your brother."
Silver's legs moved on their own, aching to follow his brother, but he willed himself to stop. "I'm sorry. I love you. This was my fault."
Neo stopped. "I'm sorry. I loved you more than I was ever supposed to. None of this is your fault."
"And how much were you supposed to love me?"
"I wasn't. I was never supposed to. You came into my life as an accident. But, Chaos... it was the best accident of my life."
Silver's optics rested on Neo, desperately aching for him to turn around. "We never stood a chance, did we?"
"No."
Silver gave a bittersweet smile. "We were too young for this, weren't we?"
"Yes."
"We were just kids. We should be having fun and watching the stupid sunset like we did that day we met."
"I think I understand why I watched the sunset with you, now," Neo said, "it exists only on the edge of its own disappearing, and yet, everyone loves seeing it. To be loved, you must first be seen. Love is not just a feeling. Sometimes it is a matter of seeing. Being seen. Being seen as something more than a fleeting moment. Being seen as something more than a weapon created to die."
"And you've always seen me when nobody else did." Silver said, his bottom lip trembling. "I see you for who you are... my big brother. You're not a weapon to me."
"And you are my little brother. I would do anything for you."
Neo continued to walk further away. This time, he said nothing.
"Wait!" Silver cried after him, reaching out for him with an outstretched hand. "Don't go. I want to hear your voice again. Please."
In the distance, Neo turned around. A smile came over his optics as he looked at his little brother.
"Be strong."
"I don't wanna be strong. I wanna be a kid..." Silver met his eyes. "Don't leave me." He started to run but it felt like he wasn't going anywhere. An endless race. His brother stayed impossibly far away. He let out a scream and ran with all he had. "Don't leave me! Please! You promised me!" He was sobbing now. "Please! Please! STAY! I CAN'T DO THIS ON MY OWN!"
The light blinded him, impossibly bright.
---
"No..."
"No no no no..."
Mecha took one step, then another. His mind screamed at him to run, but disbelief and terror ripped through him and stayed his feet.
He suddenly bolted as quickly as he could through the mud and rain to his brothers. He dropped to his knees in front of them and put a hand on each of them, already trembling.
"No..."
Sonic slowly walked up behind Mecha.
"I'm sorry buddy."
Mecha lifted his head and looked over his shoulder at Sonic, gathering his siblings' hands into his.
"Why..."
Sonic knelt down beside him. "It's gonna be okay."
"Why... Why..."
"I know buddy, I know." Sonic gently said. "It's gonna be okay, you'll be okay. They can be fixed."
Mecha didn't say anything. He slowly looked down at his brothers again, at the oil and parts spilled out around them, and something in him broke. He doubled over and held their hands to his chest, wishing he had just protected them. Saved them from this. The guilt, the fear, the hurt, the rage over this being done to them - it burned. Yes, they could be fixed, but it hurt so bad to see them so broken. They weren't disposable machines to be fixed. They were his brothers.
Mecha felt pain for the first time. He let out a scream of agony.
Sonic pulled him into his arms and held him tightly. "I know..." He shut his eyes to hide his own tears, and his ears flattened against Mecha's scream. Something about it pricked his heart somewhere especially sensitive. When Mecha continued, Sonic only wrapped his arms tighter.
Tails walked up behind them, his ears flattened and a hand up as if about to say something. He was unharmed apart from a few scratches and bruises, for Mecha had protected him in the crash. Hearing the seemingly emotionless robot scream like that brought tears to his own eyes, and without thinking about it, he fell into their hug and squeezed Mecha tight, wishing none of this had happened.
"I'm sorry." Tails whispered, holding Mecha tighter. "I'm so sorry."
As Mecha sobbed and screamed, Sonic reached out with one hand and rested it Neo's white arrow and closed his eyes.
"You've made some terrible decisions. You've hurt a lot of people. Hurt me. Hurt yourself. You've gone from one self-inflicted disaster to another. To that all I can say is... welcome to the family." Sonic smiled down at him sadly and brushed a thumb over the arrow, knowing now what it meant to him. He leaned down closer, now in a whisper.
"Maybe you haven't been good. But you're good enough."
---
Silver awoke with a start. He sat bolt upright and looked around in a blind panic. At first, everything was impossibly bright, and he stared blindly from wall to wall. His visual sensors came online a moment later, and he saw where he was.
Home.
Then he detected the pressure around his body and gasped in a panic. He stared up at Mecha, who looked down at him with concern clear on his expressionless face.
"W-Where's Neo?" Silver asked shakily. "Where is he? Is he okay?"
"He's here." Eggman gestured to Neo, who was laying on the other table.
Silver scrambled off of the table, not even stopping to see if he should move at all, and was at his older brother's side in an instant. "Is he alive? Please tell me he's okay. Please." He looked up at Mecha and Eggman with pleading optics. "He's okay, right?" The "adrenaline" kept him on his feet despite his myriad of errors that were working to repair themselves.
"He was badly hurt," Eggman told him carefully, "just like you were." He moved to show Silver the readouts on his computer. "We're still waiting for him to wake up. Give it some time, son."
Mecha gently rested a hand on Silver's shoulder. "He will return. As the doctor says, we must give them more time." As Silver wavered in front of him, Mecha carefully picked him up and held him to his chest, letting Silver rest his head on his shoulder. "You must rest. Your systems require ample time to recover."
Silver stared at the wall behind them in shock. He couldn't stop shaking. The two things he was most afraid of; death, and losing his brothers, had just cruelly slammed him into the dirt and then picked him back up again. Their cruel hands kept pushing him, and he swore he could feel the pressure on his back like knives.
"Where's Sonic? And Tails? A-Are they alive?" Silver stammered out, barely able to form words.
"Affirmative. They are safe and well," Mecha told him reassuringly, rubbing circles on Silver's back, "and they returned to their home to recover."
Silver hadn't the energy to respond to that. His hands wouldn't keep any tension in them, and when he tried to hold onto Mecha, they just opened back up again. He choked a sob and started hyperventilating.
Mecha moved to sit against a wall and held Silver close to him, continuing to rub his back soothingly. "You are safe. I have you."
"Why did this happen..." Silver whispered, ice-cold with his terror and trauma. The memories of what had happened came back to him in snapshots, and he felt sick at the sight of them. What-ifs raced in his head. What if he had killed the commander. What if he had done something differently. What if he hadn't surrendered with Neo. What if. What if. What if. "This is my fault. This is my fault. This is my fault. He's dead and it's my fault."
Mecha rested his chin on Silver's head and held him tighter. "You are not to blame for the events that have transpired." He gently hushed the younger robot, turning down his vocalizer volume. "We must await Neo's return as calmly as possible, for self-blame will not hasten the process. He is not dead, merely recovering, like you."
"O-Okay. I'll wait." Silver replied, burying his face into Mecha with a sigh. He was quiet for a moment before breaking again. "I died, Mecha."
"I know."
---
Several long days passed. Silver and Mecha kept a devoted vigil the entire time, making conversation between themselves to pass the time. The only time either of them left was to attend to some matter in the base, but they always returned as quickly as possible.
"I fold. You're too good at this." Silver complained, pushing his cards over to Mecha and resting his chin on his hand.
Mecha peered over his cards at Silver. "Would you like me to reduce the difficulty of this round? I can delay my processing speed by several-"
Silver pouted at him. "No thanks. I wanna win fair and square next round."
Mecha let out a laugh as he took Silver's chips. "Suit yourself, brother. Would you like to partake in a different game? Perhaps one that meets your requirements more sufficiently?"
The other robot practically lit up at the proposition. He leaned forward with a mischievous look. "You want to play one of my games?" He bounced up to his feet and slid over to a spare computer.
Mecha got up to follow and tilted his head to one side. "The game is inside the computer?"
Silver nodded with a grin. "Yes. I'll introduce you to the world of gaming, Mecha." He brought up the start menu and scoured it for anything that resembled a game. "Oh hell yeah, tetris! Oh, and snake! We've even got pinball."
Mecha looked over his shoulder. "This is gaming?"
"I'll make a gamer out of you yet. You hear that, Neo? I'm gonna train him to beat you so hard." Silver looked over to Neo with a grin, but it soon fell. He sighed sadly and looked away. "I wish you were here to see me kick their butt."
"Let us proceed with this "gaming" task. I am intrigued and wish to acquire more data." Mecha said to distract him.
Silver gave a nod and forced a smile back onto his face. "Alright. Say, I don't think we need controllers. We could like, mod this shit with our super robot brains."
Mecha tilted his head, puzzled, but soon got the idea when Silver fished out two USB cables from under the desk. He plugged them into the computer and then wired them up to both of them.
"Is this safe?" Mecha asked, studying the cable intently. "I do not wish to acquire any viruses from any source."
"Pssh, course it is. And anyway, if you did get one, then Neo could-" Silver stopped himself and sighed with frustration at himself. "Uh, you updated your software, right? So we're good to go. Viruses got nothing on us."
Mecha gave a nod in reply and watched as Silver scoured for a game for them to play. Silver settled on a shooter he found online and booted it up, moving from one foot to the other with impatience as it loaded.
"Loading screens. Always hated 'em." Silver lamented. "They're so slow."
"Much like yourself." Mecha taunted him nonchalantly.
"Error 404, fuck not given." Silver shot back, elbowing Mecha in the side as the game finally loaded. "I'm so gonna beat you."
"You may attempt to do that," Mecha said smugly, fixing his gaze on the screen with intent, "but know that you shall fail."
They played for all of ten minutes when something happened behind them.
Neo awoke on the table. He turned his head to look at the two robots across the room from him, scanning each one in turn. Mecha detected the interference and looked over his shoulder to find his brother's optics fixed on him.
"Trying to distract me so you can win? I don't think so-" Curiosity got the better of Silver and he looked over his shoulder too, finding Neo awake and looking at them both. He slowly unplugged his USB cable, reached over to undo Mecha's, and turned around. He couldn't believe it. His hands dropped to his sides and he gave a breath of disbelief.
Mecha and Silver were at their sibling's side at once.
"Welcome back, bro," Silver ventured gently, moving to rest a hand on the robot's head with a smile, "how was your nap?"
Having heard the conversation, Eggman strode in right away to see what was happening with the robots. He was surprised to see Neo had woken himself up already.
Neo sat up with an odd mechanical rigidness. He looked from Eggman to the two robots a few times before sliding down from the table to stand. But instead of greeting them, he just stared them down.
Instantly, something was wrong, and all of them saw it. There was no recognition in his optics - he should have been happy to see them.
"Neo?" Silver asked, taking a step back with confusion. "You good? It's us, your super awesome bros who've waited for ages for you to stop laying around."
Neo just stared at him, clearly processing something, but nobody was sure what.
Eggman cleared his throat and spoke up, hoping that the robot's systems were just still booting. "This is Silver Sonic and Mecha Sonic. They are your br-"
- Silver Sonic.
- Mecha Sonic.
- SONIC.
- SONIC. PRIORITY ONE HEDGEHOG.
Metal's optics brightened dangerously. Without any further warning he lunged for both of them, aiming a slash at their faces. Mecha grabbed Silver and pulled him out of the way before any harm could be done, quickly pushing the younger robot behind him. Silver and Mecha stared at him in disbelief. Slowly, Mecha moved to stand squarely in front of Silver with his head lowered protectively.
"What is the meaning of this," Mecha asked in a low voice, "brother?"
Metal glared at him with every ounce of hate in his being. He flexed his claws at his sides and started to circle around them, optics fixed on them like a predator. Just as he raised his arm to attack again, Eggman grabbed it and yanked him back.
"They're not your targets." Eggman firmly told him, tightening his grasp on the robot's arm.
Metal sharply glared up at Eggman, not believing him. They were Sonic. It didn't matter what they looked like. Any Sonic was as good as dead, for it was his one and only purpose. He would fulfill it at any cost.
Mecha took a step towards him. Metal caught the movement and reacted in a split second. He wrenched his arm away from Eggman, took a step towards Mecha, and slashed him across the face as hard as he could. Mecha staggered back and Silver caught him with a gasp.
Mecha reached up and touched his face to find four jagged gashes across his muzzle. He slowly lowered his hand and looked at Metal. They stared at each other, for a long, tense moment. Metal moved first, aiming his fist at Silver's face, only for Mecha to move to block it with his arm. A loud bang reverberated across the room, and Mecha looked at Metal over his arm, who glared daggers back at him and pushed against him. For a moment, Mecha saw that frightened, angry child behind those hateful optics, the one who had locked itself away and torn itself apart. He relieved the tension in his arm for just a second, enough for Metal to overpower him to deliver another blow, this time to the top of his head.
"That's enough!" Eggman barked and pulled Metal back once again, this time quickly moving to deactivate him. Metal crumpled into a heap on the floor, and for a second, Silver saw the confusion and fear in the robot's optics before they went out. Silver held the air in his intake in horror.
"What's wrong with him?!" Silver asked, barely above a whisper in his shock.
Mecha held a hand to his face as he knelt down by Metal. "I suspect that their recognition protocols are not working correctly."
"You don't say..." Silver responded with a sigh, following after Mecha. He placed a hand on Mecha's shoulder. "Are you okay? He got you pretty bad."
Mecha gave a nod. "Affirmative. My damages are superficial and will not impair my function."
Silver didn't let his freak out come yet. He took a deep breath through his intake, held it, and let it out in a sigh. He helped Mecha back up to his feet and studied his face closely, frowning at the circuitry exposed beneath the slashes in his face.
"Boys... it's best if you go for a while," Eggman told them, "I might be a while trying to figure this out."
Reluctantly, the brothers left together, and Mecha slung his arm over Silver's shoulder to keep him close.
Eggman knelt down to look at the deactivated robot closer. It was just as he had feared - the trauma to his CPU had caused massive memory loss.
"My son. My creation. My fault."
Eggman brushed a hand over Neo's white markings and bowed his head. He reluctantly switched the robot back on and was met by confused and angry optics glaring up at him.
"Forgive me. I had to do that," Eggman told him, helping the robot back up to his feet, "those two aren't your targets. You only have one person to go after, and that's the original hedgehog. Don't make that mistake again."
Metal gave a nod. He folded his arms and looked out to the doorway where the pair of robots had left. After a moment, he begrudgingly logged Mecha and Silver as "neutral" in his data log and closed it. Their mere existence was confusing to him. Were they supposed to be Sonic? He would prove that he was a better Sonic than they were.
The next few hours were long, tense, and confusing for all of them.
---
Hedgehog-series don't give up on family.
Silver repeated that like a mantra in his head as he looked for his sibling in the base. Following the signal, he turned the corner, only to stop dead in his tracks. He stared for a long moment in disbelief at the robot in front of him.
Metal was looking at his reflection in the window, paintbrush in hand - covering up his arrows with his original blue paint. Bright white markings made him noticeable. And, the real Sonic didn't have them, so why should he? It was illogical. It made far more sense to be all blue for his objectives. It would make him more like Sonic, too. He was Sonic, the real one, and he would prove that.
Silver scrambled over and grabbed his brother's shoulders. "H-Hey, what are you doing?" He spun Metal around and searched his face in panic. "Don't do that. Please."
Metal stared back at him, confused and annoyed. Why was this strange hedgehog-series so persistent? He shrugged Silver's hands off of his shoulders and stormed away. This other robot was such an annoyance to him.
Silver reached out after him but was too slow to grab him.
Metal didn't look back. He kept going to find someplace to be alone. He would not waste time interacting with this stranger, for his time was better-spent training.
Silver stood alone in the hallway, just listening to his sibling's metallic footsteps as they faded away. The room suddenly felt endless and empty around him. This space between him and his brother was only getting wider with every moment that passed, and it drove him mad with grief. And that grief for the loss of his sibling slammed into Silver all over again. Only this time, his deep sadness warped into something ugly and angry. It hurt so badly. He had hurt before, but never like this. He choked back a sob as he kicked the paint can into the opposite wall, where it clattered onto the floor and spilled over. He stomped on it several times before screaming with all of his pain and anger and smacking a fist into the wall over and over. After several punches, he slid down to the floor and hit his head against the wall, where he pressed into it and sobbed loudly and with all of his grief.
His brother had already died and this stranger was just wearing his mask.
Silver just wanted his big brother back. Not this stranger wearing his body. It was terrifying, and it destroyed him to see those last pieces of what remained of Neo slipping away.
"You pain in the ass... the real you would tell me off for doing this sort of thing." Silver murmured, referring to his brother. He shakily drew his hand back and opened it, and when he turned it over, he found that his knuckles were blackened from missing paint. He hissed painfully and pressed his head to the wall, voice dropping below a whisper now. "It should have been me. It should have. You didn't deserve this."
A familiar hand came to rest on Silver's shoulder. He knew instantly that it was Mecha. Before he could say anything, Mecha knelt down and wrapped his arms around his smaller brother, resting his head on his shoulder lovingly. Silver broke down in his arms and pressed his head further into the wall to hide his face. Mecha stayed quiet, instead gently rocking his little brother to soothe him.
"Grieve if you must," Mecha quietly told him, nuzzling his cheek against Silver's, "it would be unwise to disable these emotions."
"I want him to come home," Silver whispered, "we should all be here, together, saying fuck you to the world, having fun, bullying each other."
Mecha gently rubbed circles on Silver's arm with his thumb. "I know. But it will be alright. We will make sense of this, together. We always do."
"I want our brother back, Mecha," Silver murmured into his hands, "it hurts so bad. I'm gonna go crazy with how bad it hurts."
"I understand. I am hurting too." Mecha told him, tightening his hold on his little brother. "Perhaps we should partake in a distraction of your choice."
Silver tilted his head back to look up at him, smiling weakly. "Wanna go shoot some bad guys in a game?"
Mecha looked down to meet his optics. "Affirmative. Gamer mode: activated."
Silver quietly laughed and playfully slapped Mecha's nose with his hand, his mood lifting with Mecha's strong and unwavering presence.
"I'm a bad influence." Silver said with a snicker.
"We are simply related." Mecha told him, hooking his arms under Silver's shoulders as he stood to bring the younger robot up with him.
"I don't think being a gamer is genetic..." Silver replied with a snicker. He leaned into Mecha's side, letting the bigger robot support his weight.
"I was referring to your behaviour influencing my own." Mecha responded, putting his arm around Silver as they started to walk. "It is much like a virus in that it is infectious."
"We making trauma jokes now? You're killing me."
"Is that supposed to be- Affirmative. You died."
"Yeah, don't rub it in. You're imprisoning me here."
"Is that supposed to be- Understood. I was imprisoned."
"That makes two of us. Do you reckon my container was comfier than your cell?"
"I believe that you have that on lock."
"On lock, huh? I like that. It's like... being locked up. In a cell."
"Your intelligence knows no bounds."
"We're made with the same AI chip, loser."
"We will find out who the true "loser" is after this game."
"Oh, you're on."
Eggman pinged Mecha for his assistance with something. Mecha dismissed it. His time was better spent with his brother and helping him through this. He sent a pre-written message back to Eggman informing him that he was already occupied.
---
Hedgehog-series don't give up on family, even if days have passed and nothing has changed.
"Hey, Neo. Wanna go out to race or something?" Silver invited Metal hopefully. He tapped his fingers together and smiled.
The door slammed in his face once again. Silver sighed and turned away, shaking his head as he walked off. "Yeah, I thought you might say that, asshole."
"Stop trying to talk to him."
Silver looked up to find Eggman walking over to him.
"What? He's still in there somewhere, I'm not just gonna ignore him now that he's a bit different." Silver replied with a shrug to mask his dejection.
"Silver..." Eggman knelt down to the robot's level and sighed. "His memory is gone. There's nothing there. I'm sorry, but that's just how it is. If you keep going up to him like that he's going to attack you again."
Silver dropped his charade, letting a frown work its way onto his face. "You don't get it. He's still in there, he's just gotta remember. I've seen it."
Eggman placed a hand on the robot's shoulder. "I'm saying this because I care about you. Stay away from him. I've already looked through all of his data for anything we can do, and there's nothing. He's going to hurt you."
Silver's frown only darkened. "He never stopped trying to understand me. I'll get through to him somehow... I'm not giving up on him. I don't give up on family."
"Son. I'm sorry, but it's pointless. You just have to accept it." Eggman told him, standing up again. "You can't bring back lost data. It's gone. I'm sorry, I know it's hard to hear, but you have to let go."
Silver decided he had heard enough. He turned and strode away, hands clenched into fists at his sides and teeth grit now in a way that mirrored Neo almost perfectly.
It was then that Eggman saw it.
"Silver! Get back here!" Eggman called after him, seeing the robot's anger brewing as they walked back to the door that had shut in their face. He remembered seeing Silver come online for the first time, and his worries about Silver being as messed up as Neo, and it seemed that he was being proven right. At least, in his eyes he was. He couldn't understand Silver's trauma, for he had never lived it.
Silver stopped and glared at the floor. He turned his head slightly. "Or what, dad? Or what?"
"I'll be forced to put you back in-"
Something in Silver snapped. He turned on his heel, marched up to Eggman, and stared him in the face with a set jaw.
"Okay, I'm just gonna come out and say it. Why didn't you make me good enough to love, dad?"
Silence. He was learning to hate it. Silver's fingertips dug into his palms hard enough to scrape the paint away.
"You made me. You knew what you were doing. So why..." Silver's anger turned black. Cold. Hard. "What's wrong with me?" In a move that echoed his brother, he slammed his fist into the wall with a yell. "What the fuck is wrong with me?!"
Eggman remained silent.
"I just wanted to be your son! I wanted you to be my dad! And you gave up on me. You gave up on all of us! You're giving up on Neo when he's still standing right there in front of you! I don't care if there's no data. He's not just data. He's a person."
"I never gave up on you. You just... didn't come out the way I had planned. He did too. I can't fix that and I admit it. It might be for the best if he starts again this way."
"So I'm a fucking mistake now?" Silver set his jaw and squared up to his creator. His face was uncharacteristically dark with anger - anger that had no place on the face of a child barely two weeks old. "And you have no right to say what's best for him."
Eggman held his glare with a straight face. "You haven't been around long enough to look at me like that."
"Damn right, I've not been around long enough. I'm hardly two weeks old and I'm going through all this!" Silver grit his teeth as he moved closer. "You don't even know who I am. Who the fuck are you? I don't even know anymore!"
"You're pushing it, Silver." Eggman spoke down to him, a glare forming on his face now too as the robot accused him. "I'll ask you once. Stop."
Silver laughed mockingly. He threw his arms out to his sides and stepped closer. "Why don't you just say what you think? That all of this is my fucking fault!"
Eggman scowled down at him, the stress of the situation and the robot yelling at him making him snap. "You know what, Silver? It is your fault."
A cold silence reigned over them both for a long minute. All at once, Silver saw that disappointment on his creator's face all over again. And he laughed.
"Thank you." Silver stepped back, smiling. "Thank you for finally being honest, for once in your life."
"It's your fault. You and your childish behaviour got you into every mess you've ever been in. Is that what you want to hear?"
Silver laughed in his face. "Oh! That's rich! If you knew any of the shit I've been through, you'd take that back. None of it is childish. I died. I've been through hell and you've never cared to ask about any of it! You're nice to me once and that suddenly makes you father of the year?! You repair me when I need it and you expect me to call that parenting? That's the bare minimum!"
"I've tried my best with all of you." Eggman told him firmly. "It's not easy being a father to three killer robots. You don't understand that... You might understand when you're older."
"You ever stopped to wonder why your robots betray you so much? Maybe you should look in the mirror. I don't need to be "older" to get that being a dick to your own family will make you unpopular." Silver snarled up at him.
"Look. Metal betrayed me once. And then you and Mecha made him worse. If you hadn't tried to turn him into something he's not, this never would have happened. You all went gallivanting around with the hedgehog, the one person you're supposed to defeat. You treated all of this as a game and look what happened! I try my best with all of you, but you push your luck."
"Oh, so this is a game now? Prepare to play by yourself, 'cause player two just quit."
A violent slap across the face nearly sent him headlong. Silver reached up and held his cheek in disbelief and shock. He was rendered silent for a long moment as he processed what had just happened.
"... You hit me."
A twinge of regret flashed on Eggman's face. He remembered hitting Mecha before, too, and his regret doubled. "Yes. You're not listening to me and I'm out of options with you. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that to you."
Silver slowly looked up at him. "Fuck you."
"Silver, you're my son, and I won't see you go down the same path as your brother. I care about you, I just want you to understand."
Silver's hand slid off of his cheek and fell to rest by his side.
It clenched into a fist, a shaking, angry fist, and he stared his creator in the eyes with a depth of rage he had never felt before.
"I am nobody's son."
He walked away.
Sometimes we have to do things that make us sad and there's no other way around it.
---
Metal had locked himself in the training room on the other side of the base by now. As an assassin, it was best to work, train, and operate alone. He didn't need anyone else. Other units were a mere distraction from his purpose. So, it was very strange to him that these unusual hedgehog-series robots kept insisting on pestering him. Perhaps they were faulty. He didn't care to scan them to find out. It would be a waste of RAM space to do that, and he only needed to focus on one thing - training, becoming better, to beat that hedgehog.
The robot held his fist to the wall, having made a dent in it. A perfect performance, as usual. So... why did something feel off? He couldn't place it. Disregarding the feeling, he shrugged it off and turned away. That was when a strange image loaded itself in his visual systems. He huffed through his vents and begrudgingly looked at it, frustrated that something as trivial as memory was hindering his training progress-
A memory?
He paused, lingering on the picture. It wasn't clear, not at all, and all he could really make out was a robot pinned against the wall by another robot. And the emotion attached to the file was... anger. Anger and fear. What could possibly make him afraid? Nothing could, he decided. Nothing but failing to defeat the hedgehog. It had to be a glitch. Yes, that was it. He dismissed it and went back to his training. It would be dealt with and eliminated later, for glitches would hinder his progress in defeating the hedgehog.
Behind him, the door opened.
Metal spun around to face the door and glared at it as it opened. He had locked it! Nobody else had access! To his surprise and annoyance, Silver walked in and locked it behind him. Of course, Silver still had alpha command access, just like his brother did - Metal wouldn't know that.
"You want to train to beat Sonic so bad?" Silver asked, walking right up to him. He stopped when he was almost nose-to-nose with Metal, looking him directly in the optics. "Let's go. Just you and me. Sonic copy to Sonic copy." If just talking wasn't going to work, he would try to get his brother riled up. Maybe that would bring something back.
Metal gave him a long, confused look. This robot just kept throwing itself at him over and over, and for what? Did it want to be destroyed that badly? Was it intending to beat the hedgehog before he could do it? Was it trying to prove that it was the real Sonic instead of him? Completely thrown off and irritated, he just stared at Silver with brightening optics as his frustration brewed.
"Out of all the other 'bots here, Metal..." Silver began as he backed up, "I'm probably the only one who can keep up with you one-to-one." He started to walk in a wide circle around the other robot, who stayed put - mirroring how he had circled him before. He walked slowly until he came to a stop behind his brother, where he stayed. Metal didn't fear this stranger, not one bit, and he wasn't about to come off like he did - so he didn't even look over his shoulder at him to see what he was doing.
This standoff between them lasted for a full minute.
Silver watched his brother closely. He knew just how lightning-fast the other robot was when he wanted to be, and if there was anything left at all of Metal's old personality, he knew that the robot's ego was too big to let another Sonic copy start with the upper hand. Just as predicted, Metal suddenly spun around and went to slash at Silver's face - but Silver was already gone. Metal stumbled to a halt and whipped around to find Silver standing behind him.
"Too slow," Silver told him with his arms folded and a shrug of his shoulder, "you're rusty. I expected more from you, princess Neo."
Metal narrowed his optics at the other robot challengingly. Just who did it think it was? He straightened and flexed his claws with intent to use them. As Silver predicted, Metal's ego was hurt.
"I know you remember. You just need to keep trying," Silver told him, circling around him again, "because I see it every now and then."
Metal started to follow, keeping his optics fixed on this apparently insane Sonic copy. He couldn't make sense of what it was talking about.
"You always had a thing about throwing yourself into combat," Silver continued, pausing for a moment, "especially when me and Mecha were involved. You didn't care about the consequences, you just saw that someone was gonna get hurt, and acted. You're just as impulsive as I am. I think it runs in the family."
A glint of repulsion flashed in Metal's optics at that. Being compared to some inferior make was insulting. He continued to move, not caring that Silver had stopped.
"That's the thing about you, Metal..." Silver continued, walking in a slow circle around him once again. "You think that nobody can beat you. Not permanently." He watched Metal's expression carefully. "You think you don't need anyone. You think you can do all of this alone." He slowed down, seeing the confusion in the other robot's optics. "But the truth is, loneliness kills you. You're dying inside."
That hit a nerve, and Metal wasn't sure why. Anger blinded him all at once. Metal lunged at him and took a swipe at his middle, but missed. Silver hopped out of the way and stepped around to stand behind Metal, where he held him in a headlock.
"There's not many things that you want. And even with that, you feel like you don't deserve them." Silver said, lower this time. He leaned closer to his brother's ear. "You don't think you deserve to live, either. But to die would mean that the hedgehog wins. Am I right?"
Metal wrenched himself free and went for him again. This time he kicked Silver's legs out from under him before he could react, pinned him to the floor, and glared in his face. Silver stared up at him, unafraid.
"You know how I know that? You know how I know that's a nerve I just hit?" Silver asked, his heartache clear in his voice. "Because I know you. I know you feel everything..." He glanced up to the half-painted arrow on his brother's forehead. "And I know you're in pain right now. You think you gotta be alone, but deep down you don't want to be. And that's ruining you. It's tearing you apart. But you don't have to be alone. Don't shut yourself away like this. Don't hurt all alone."
Metal's anger boiled over. This robot had some nerve telling him who he supposedly was and throwing out accusations like that! He balled his hand into a fist and went to punch Silver in the face, but Silver caught it and pushed back.
"And you know how I know what you're gonna do?" Silver asked quietly, watching how Neo's optics brightened more and more with rage. "You're my big brother." His grip started to weaken, and he just laughed before choking and breaking into a sob. "You're my brother!"
Metal's fist overpowered Silver's hand and struck his cheek. Metal took the opening and slammed his other fist into the younger robot's face, and then the other, and kept going. Once he grew dissatisfied with his attack pattern, he relented, only to grab Silver by the arm, slam him into the wall, and hit him again and again.
Silver eventually managed to catch both of his fists and pushed back, shaking with the effort. Neo was strong in any form. He knew that very well. He looked up to meet Metal's blazing optics that looked down on him with disgust and disdain.
"You're my big brother," Silver repeated himself shakily, "and this isn't your fault. I know the real you wouldn't do this. The you who got better. The you who learned to care about people." He felt his grip weakening again, and he struggled to keep holding on. "And you're always gonna be my big brother. I don't care who or what you become." He felt Metal's strength falter a little and pushed back harder, finally moving Metal back just a little. "I don't care. You can't just erase brotherhood like that. You don't just forget love like that."
Metal stared him down with a mixture of confusion and... pain? His strength weakened again, and Silver put him back a few steps. The two continued to push each other.
"You know who taught me that?" Silver asked him, smiling shakily as oil ran down his face. "You wanna know?" He pushed Metal back a third time.
Metal kept watching the other robot's face intently.
"It was you," Silver told him with a sob, "it was always you!" Now he overpowered his older brother. As Metal released him and stumbled back, Silver was the one to land a single punch to Metal's chest. But before he could put any power into the blow, he slowed down deliberately and his knuckles hit the other robot's armour with a soft "clink." He hung his head and tried to stuff down his pain, but he couldn't. "It was always you..." When Metal didn't hit him or push him away, he slowly lifted his head to meet his confused, pained optics.
Metal couldn't understand. He just looked down at the mess of a robot in front of him, finding deep down that he should feel something about this. Somewhere deep down, it all meant something. But, what it was, he couldn't figure out. It left him confused and aching and defensive.
"I miss you." Silver whispered, slowly withdrawing his fist from his brother's armour. He held Metal's optics for a long moment. "And I love you."
A short silence. Oh, how he had come to hate it.
"I'm sorry that everyone let you down like this," Silver murmured, desperate to fill the silence with something, "you didn't deserve this. None of us did. We're just kids. We're all just kids trying to survive."
Metal just stared back. A glimmer of pain came over his optics at that, and Silver caught it.
"I wish you could tell me where you are now... There's something in a living being that can't just disappear. I know it's dark out there, but you're out there, somewhere. I'd like to let you in, let you come home. So when you find that light, don't wait. Run back to it. I'll be waiting for you, however long it takes." Silver gently told him. "Come home soon, okay?"
Metal's confusion only grew stronger. That something deep down kept stirring. Had he really lost his memory? It didn't make any sense. There was nothing before all of this, right? Right?
As much as it ached to walk away, Silver reluctantly turned and took a few steps towards the door. "I love you to death. I just wanted you to know that." He stood by the locked door and lifted his hand to unlock it, but stopped. He looked back over his shoulder at Metal and smiled sadly. "Please, don't forget that. Ever. That's all I ask."
Metal didn't outwardly react.
Silver hadn't expected much else. He sadly sighed and shook his head, turning to give one last, long look to his brother.
"I'll never regret loving you. Goodbye, Neo."
The door closed behind him, and Silver stood alone on the other side.
He had to let go until Neo was ready to remember.
More than that, he would leave before anyone else could leave him.
Silver took a deep breath through his intake and walked away. He walked in silence, staring straight ahead, not willing himself to look back. This was done. It was over. There was nothing to gain from looking back at his shell of a sibling. Not right now.
In the silence, Silver walked into a storage room. He picked up the toy gun his father had given him. After that, he went to the repair bay and took a toolbox and took a few tools from it. He grabbed some cans of paint, packing them into a bag that he strapped over his chest and over his shoulders. He moved on to the weapons room, taking a rifle and a sling, which he put over his shoulder in an off-side drop position alongside the toy one. He stopped for a moment to paint "Silver Sonic" in orange onto the real one, making it his own.
He made no attempt to speak to anyone as he walked towards the exit, not even to look for Mecha, and he kept walking until he found himself outside. It was raining, and storm clouds rolled in over the sky in a myriad of greys and dark blues. Raindrops blurred his vision intermittently.
Silver carried on. He went far past the boundaries of the base he called "home." Industrial buildings turned to dead fields, drained of life from the pollution of the base. He tried to ignore it. He endured, walking further, almost forgetting that he was a robot capable of flight. Fields turned to a forest, at the edge devoid of life, but deeper within, rebirthing was all around him, plants everywhere coming back to life. A cynical part of the robot dismissed it. He came to a stop in a clearing, where he would be well and truly alone. He didn't want anyone to see him, not right now.
Don't shut it out, because it'll come knocking later on and it'll take what you owe it.
He stood in the center of the clearing, just looking straight ahead. Slowly, his hands clenched into fists. They shook. He reached up to touch his cheek and held his hand there, where Eggman had hit him. His lip threatened to tremble, so he bit it. The clicks threatened to spill out and he stuffed them back down, muting his vocalizer. The more he struggled, the stronger the pain became.
It'll come knocking later on and it'll take what you owe it.
He started hyperventilating, and his hands shakily came up to his head. The reality of everything he had experienced made his head reel. It was all too much for him to cope with. No, he couldn't lose it, he shoved the hurt back down and tried to steel himself against it-
It'll take what you owe it.
A bolt of lightning lit up the sky above him.
It'll take what you owe it.
Silver screamed as loud and hard as he could.
He collapsed to his knees and sobbed and screamed with all of his heart.
Don't shut it out. It'll take what you owe it.
#fanfiction#metal sonic#hoo boy.#sorry in advance if ur about to look at this#gaming the trauma away <3#something about things coming full circle#something about how you dont owe your parents anything if they were shit to you even if they do nice things every so often#something about setting boundaries and not letting people step on you#HOW CAN I BE FINE WHEN EVERYTHING IS CRASHING WHY DO YOU CROSS MY MIND WHEN FIRE BURNS AROUNDDDDDD#MEEE#SO HOW CAN I BE FINEEEE WHEN EVERYTHING IS CRASHING?#WHY DO YOU CROSS MY MIND WHEN FIRE BURNS AROUND ME?#I'M FORCED TO WALK YOUR LINE I SHOULDA WALKED AWAY#CUS MAYBE THEN YOUD SEE THE DAMAGE THAT YOU DID TO ME!!!!!!!!!!!!#having silv finally stand up for himself was cathartic also.#like yeah put him in his place lil dude. pro gamer move.#cries.#sobs.#screams and farts.#also? 14k words? am i okay?#no. <3#I WISH THAT THINGS COULD BE DIFFERENT. IN A PERFECT WORLD I DONT HOLD A GRUDGE AND WE FIND THE LOVE THAT YOU WASTED.#I TRY TO SLEEP BUT IT BOTHERS ME I'M LEFT TO WEEP AND I FEEL EMPTY.#BUT WHATS DONE IS DONE SO I'LL SPARE MY LUNGS I WONT LET IT BRING ME DOWNNN#I WISH YOU'D RIGHT YOUR WRONGS BUT THAT PRIDE#IS WAY DOWN IN YOUR DARK SOUL#I'M WAITING FOR THE GUILT TO DIE CAUSE I NEVER GOT THE CHANCE TO SAY GOODBYE.
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Sorry if this is indecent but, do you only write fluffy or do you also write spice stuff? Because I have a Sansby request of "making dinner becames a fun night"
I have mixed feelings about this, actually, but not for the reasons you may think!
See, I am asexual. I’m not sex-repulsed, but I don’t understand the appeal of being with another person in that way. However! When it comes to writing, I appreciate its potential as a plot device and I know it is something people like to read for a variety of reasons. I have read sex scenes before just so I don’t miss anything reading through interesting fanfiction and I know how to build up to and imply arousal. However, I have a feeling that I would be really bad at writing the actual sex part, because again... I don’t get it. I pride myself on my ability to portray emotion, but I don’t think I have that level of skill.
Also, just in case I can do it, I don’t want to accidentally end up known for smut fics. I like stories better. So, y’know. Not gonna attempt it, just in case.
That being said, I would loath to leave a reader entirely disappointed, so I have elected to write another take on the prompt you’ve given me! I know you were looking for spice and not fluff, but I hope you enjoy this anyway.
Cooking 101
Word count: 1109
“Cut the stalk into strips, but don’t cut all the way down to the joint. That will help keep the celery stable as you cut.”
Grillby smiled gently as he stood behind Sans, reaching around him to guide his hands. He’d been surprised when the skeleton insisted on helping him cook dinner. As far as he was aware, Sans wasn’t much of a cook. The fire monster had a sneaking suspicion that the sudden desire to learn had something to do with that morning’s little accident. Grillby wore gloves when working with wet ingredients, but while he’d been making breakfast he dropped the bottle of vanilla into the pancake batter. It splattered everywhere, and seeing as it had yet to be infused with magic, it left several dark marks on Grillby’s arms where the flames were partially put out. Sans had been quick to heal him, but it left the skeleton ‘rattled’. When the fire monster had suggested chicken and dumplings for dinner Sans had been quick to suggest that he handle the wet ingredients until they’d been properly treated with magic that would protect Grillby from any ill effects.
That’s how Grillby found himself leaning gently against Sans, wrapping his arms around the skeleton’s waist as he let him finish the dicing on his own. “That’s perfect. We can set that aside for now.”
Sans grinned at the praise, leaning back into Grillby’s arms. Between the warmth at his back and the warmth in his soul, he was once again reminded that marrying this man was the best decision he’d ever made. “Hey, firefly? This is really nice,” he mumbled.
“I agree,” Grillby chuckled, kissing Sans’s cheekbone, “But I’m afraid I can’t hold you up and get a bowl from the cabinet at the same time. Sit up for just a moment.”
Sans whined, but complied, shifting his weight back on his own two feet. “So, what’s next?”
“Dry ingredients.” Grillby set a bowl and an assortment of measuring cups in front of Sans as he moved things around with organized ease. “That’s strange… I could have sworn I laid out the thyme.”
“Don’t worry, I got it.” Sans glanced at the microwave display. “Clock says it’s six thirty-eight. Lemme guess, we gotta wait until the moon is high to start our witch’s brew?”
Grillby rolled his eyes, setting a container of flour in front of Sans. “Haha, very funny. Go ahead and measure out two cups of flour while I find it.”
Simple enough task, right? At least, if you’re familiar with cooking. Sans wasn’t working with a very large bowl, so it would make sense to add a leveled half-cup of flour to the bowl at a time. Unfortunately, Sans was not familiar with cooking.
Poof!
Grillby turned around to find both Sans and his workstation dusted in a light coating of flour. The skeleton had taken a heaping cup of flour and dumped it all in the bowl at once, sending a cloud of white powder everywhere. He coughed and shook his head, trying to get the flour out of his eye sockets. When he looked up at Grillby, his expression was so bemused that the fire monster couldn’t help but laugh.
“Oh my god, Sans,” Grillby managed through his laughter, “You’re an absolute mess.”
Sans gave him a mischievous grin. “Oh yeah?” He picked up the measuring cup again with clear intent.
Grillby realized what was happening a moment too late. He barely had time to shield his face with his arms before Sans had thrown a cup of flour at him, the nutty scent of lightly cooked flour filling the kitchen as it covered him. “Sans-!” He gave his husband a playful smile. “Oh, you’re going to regret that.”
Sans knew that look. He took off running, getting a few seconds head start while Grillby grabbed the flour container. The fire monster gave chase, jumping over the couch in his pursuit. He managed to nearly catch up, throwing a handful of flour at Sans. Sans changed direction and caught him off guard, grabbing a handful of flour from the container in Grillby’s hand and throwing it over the fire monster’s head before taking off again.
Sans made a mistake when he let Grillby chase him up the stairs. Grillby intentionally let Sans run past him into the living room. When he was in just the right spot, the fire monster dumped the entire container of flour over the banister, engulfing half the room in a white cloud. Sans took the brunt of the impact, playfully crying out as he was practically drowned in flour. Grillby laughed, leaning over the banister. “I believe I win.”
“Yeah, yeah, I surrender,” Sans conceded, taking off his hoodie and trying to shake out some of the flour that had accumulated there. “So, pizza tonight?”
“That sounds perfect.” Grillby came down the stairs, giving Sans a fond smile. “Perhaps we should clean up a bit, first.”
“I’ll sweep, you vacuum?” Sans proposed. “And of course, the first shower goes to the victor.”
Grillby arched an eyebrow at him. “Sans, we use separate showers. Unless you’re implying that you want to try bathing in fire, in which case I must strongly discourage it.”
Sans chuckled. “Nah, I’m just looking for an excuse to be the one to order the pizza so I can annoy the delivery guy.”
“You’re incorrigible,” Grillby mumbled, rolling his eyes.
Sans looked up at him with a cheeky grin. “Aww, you know you love me.”
Grillby’s smile softened at that. If someone had told him three years ago that he would be chasing his favorite customer around the house with a container of flour, laughing and leaping over furniture, he would have just rolled his eyes. It had seemed like an impossible, silly fantasy. Yet, there he was, clothing white with powder as he gazed lovingly into his husband’s eyes. The fire monster leaned down and kissed the top of Sans’s skull, unable to wipe the smile from his face even if he tried. “I do love you, Sans,” he said softly. “I really do. I wouldn’t trade evenings like this for anything.”
Sans flustered a bit. “Yeah. I know how you feel.” A warmth settled in Sans’s chest as the mirth faded. He smiled up at his husband, putting his hands on his shoulders. “By the way, Grillbz?”
“Yes?”
“I cannot take you seriously with that much flour on your glasses.”
The monsters’ combined laughter filled the house as Grillby wrapped his arms around Sans, letting the skeleton lean against him once more.
Yeah. Neither of them would trade that moment for the world.
Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little bit of domestic fluff. If you liked it, consider reblogging and/or leaving me a comment telling me your favorite part! Also, if you’d like to be added to my tag list, let me know!
#undertale#undertale fic#sans#grillby#undertale sans#undertale grillby#sans x grillby#sansby#dustyfic#ask answered
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No Air
@whumptober2021
Rating: T (for violence, torture (maybe), and choking)
Summary: Aang slumped and looked around, dully watching the firelight flicker. It was rather unfortunate, he mused, that he was captured by the Fire Nation, but honestly, he couldn't bring himself to care that much about it, not if his friends were able to escape safely.
Better him than them.
Or: Aang gets captured by Azula.
Written for Whumptober Day 2: "Talking is overrated"
Prompts: Garrote | Choking | Gagged
Word Count: 2.2k
AO3 || FF.net
The world first appeared as blurred red-orange blobs that blended together with the dark brown, almost black background, like a painting that had been smudged together. Even when Aang blinked a couple of times (why were his eyelids so heavy?), the world seemed oddly muted, indistinct.
Gradually, however, the borders between objects sharpened, and Aang found himself kneeling on the cold ground with his hands behind his back, staring up at huge menacing walls of brown brick that stretched over him into a large arch over his head. It reminded him of the holding cell he had been in when he had been captured by Zhao, which was not what he wanted to be reminded of at all.
He closed his eyes, trying to remember what had happened to lead up to this point. Everything was a whirlwind, a blur of activity that he could barely decipher—and the fact his head throbbed fiercely did nothing to help jog his memory. He squeezed his eyes even harder, mentally racking his brain with something, anything that could help him remember.
Fire roaring through the courtyard, hot air searing his skin.
The screams and shouts of his friends as they ducked for cover.
Whirling around frantically, searching for them, hoping, begging that they were alright.
Something hard and heavy being slammed into the back of his head, stars exploding in his eyes.
Katara's wide, horrified eyes the last thing he sees before the world goes black.
The back of his head throbbed harder than ever, like it was loudly protesting his getting caught by the Fire Nation. Aang instinctively made to rub the aching spot, but when his hands jerked, he looked behind him and realized his hands were chained to a grate in the ground, metal links wrapped around its bars.
He suppressed a sigh. Of course.
Aang slumped and looked around, dully watching the firelight flicker. It was rather unfortunate, he mused, that he was captured by the Fire Nation, but honestly, he couldn't bring himself to care that much about it, not if his friends were able to escape safely.
Better him than them.
They could take care of themselves, he knew, which is why he's confident that they escaped; they wouldn't have made the same mistake he had, letting a Fire Nation soldier sneak up on him like that.
(he wondered if Toph had seen—well, felt—it happen, and amused himself with the thought of her lecturing him when he got himself out of this mess)
(if he got himself out of this mess)
The sound of the metal door scraping against the stone floor echoed throughout the chamber, and Aang glanced over to see four firebenders enter the chamber, followed by…
A cold stone of dread began congealing in the pit of his stomach. "Azula."
The Fire Princess placed her hand over her heart, her eyebrows lifted in mock surprise. "So you do remember me." She smirked, her eyes calculating and mirthless. "How flattering."
The scar in his back tingled.
"What do you want from me?" he demanded loudly, trying to ignore the twinge in his back. He had meant it to sound confident, firm, maybe even angry, but it sounded more scared than he wanted it to.
And from the sadistic gleam in her eye, Azula heard it too.
"What makes you think we want something from you?" she purred, circling him in an almost predatory fashion, as if she were a wolf eyeing a piece of fresh meat. Aang tried to shrink in on himself, unnerved by the piercing look in her eyes. "Why, you're the Avatar; you were the only obstacle standing in our way to total victory." She walked away from him, her back to him. "There wouldn't be anything else we would want from you, other than your capture.
"Unless, of course…" She turned to regard him with a sly smile that Aang didn't like the look of. "You're saying you have information we would want."
"I don't," Aang said quickly, realizing too late a bit too quickly.
And from the way Azula's eyes narrowed, it didn't go unnoticed. "I see."
She stopped, tilting her head to the side, as though considering something. "Actually, now that I think about it," she said—something in her voice made ice slither down Aang's back, "there is something that you would be most… helpful in providing for us."
Fear crawled up Aang's throat at the way her golden eyes gleamed. No… she couldn't possibly…
Azula leaned in so close, all he could see was her flaxen eyes that gleamed menacingly in the dim firelight as she hissed, "Where is my traitorous brother?"
Aang jerked his head away from her, leveling a defiant glare at her as he tried to hide the terror he felt. "I don't know," he said forcefully. "And even if I did, I wouldn't tell you." He tilted his chin up, squarely meeting her narrowed gaze with his own.
Azula's eyes flitted over his face, as though gauging for any weakness, any vulnerability in his face. Aang kept his gaze steadily fixed on her, refusing to waver.
Then, she did the last thing he expected her to do.
She smiled.
"I know," she said pleasantly—a chill ran down Aang's back. She stepped away from him, a sly, menacing smile fixed upon her face. "Which is why we have the perfect bait."
Aang's breath caught in his throat as it hit him. "No…"
"Oh, yes." Azula twirled her bangs, looking as though she were very much enjoying the panic that was now rising in Aang's chest. "I take it they're very… fond of their Avatar. It would be a shame if they were to come back for you and"—she sneered—"something were to happen to them."
No, no, no— Aang jerked against his chains, cold panic filling his lungs and rising in his throat. He strained against his bindings, but it's not enough, not as Azula begins speaking.
"Perhaps we'll throw the earthbender into a lake of water," Azula mused aloud. A sadistic smile flitted on her face. "I hear she can't swim."
No no no—
"Or maybe we'll throw that water tribe barbarian into the fighting ring. I'd be interested in seeing how long he lasts before he inevitably perishes."
"Stop!" The word exploded from Aang's mouth on its own. He was only distantly aware of cold tracks on his face as he struggled against the chains tying him down. He squeezed his eyes shut, not caring about the tears running down his face or how pathetic he sounded, and wished with all his might that he could block out Azula's sickeningly sweet voice.
"Maybe I'll personally escort poor Zuzu to our father." Cruel disdain dripped from her tone as she inspected her nails. She sneered with contempt. "Perhaps our father will burn in the lesson he never learned the last time he rebelled."
Nonononono—
"And, of course, the water tribe wench."
Aang's heart stopped.
A finger slid under Aang's chin and tilted his head up, forcing him to stare into those cold, cruel eyes. "Now I wonder," she said softly, deliberately, "what the best way to kill a waterbender is. Perhaps it would be fitting, to bind her hands and drown her in her own element. Or maybe she should suffocate deep underground, where no one will ever hear her scream."
No…
"But do you know what I think is the best way to kill one?" Azula leaned in so close to his ear, her lips brushed against it. "Burn them alive."
Something in him snapped.
One second, Azula was right in front of him; the next, she was slamming against the metal door across the room with a resounding BONG! before crumpling to the ground in a heap.
Aang ducked as a fireblast shot overhead, the firebender guards snapping into action upon seeing their princess lying prone on the ground. A firebender came at him, fist cocked and wreathed in flames, but Aang brought his feet out from underneath him and slammed them into the guard's midsection, sending him reeling into another firebender.
Another guard charged towards him, throwing out his fist towards Aang's face. Even with the limited maneuverability of having his hands tied down to a grate, Aang managed to dodge before sweeping his leg out, tripping the firebender. The guard stumbled over his own feet before crashing to the ground, rolling into a heap.
He felt the air currents ripple and moved just as a katana sliced through the air, barely missing him by a hair. He turned and kicked out, sending an airblast that slammed the guard head-on and sent him skidding back several steps.
The firebender backed up, sword brandished warily as though second-guessing his choice of engaging in battle. Aang glared at him. I like to see you try.
As if taking his silent challenge, the firebender charged again, steel blade whirling as he advanced on Aang. Aang slipped around his slashes and stabs easily, and the firebender visibly grew more frustrated with every blow that failed to connect, his sword swings growing more aggressive and reckless.
Finally, Aang jerked forward just as the sword came down, and it sliced clean through his bindings. He lurched forward, his hands free, and whirled around, punching out an air blast that sent the guard slamming into a brick wall.
For several moments, all was still. Aang looked around at the firebenders laying prone on the ground, their groans the only sounds echoing in the chamber.
Then he felt a ripple of heat in the air currents, and he turned just as blue flames filled his vision.
Aang slammed against the wall, head smacking hard against the bricks and making stars explode in his eyes. A palm slammed into his throat, fingers closing around his neck, and suddenly he couldn't breathe.
Aang gasped for air that wouldn't come, scrabbling at the hand (or was it a claw?) pinning him against the wall, at the fingers digging into his windpipe. Frantically, he kicked out, desperately trying to dislodge his attacker, but the fingers clenched into his throat tighter until his vision flashed white.
Wheezing, he pried desperately at the vice-like grip around his neck as he fought for air, fought to breathe. The world was beginning to spin all around him, turning inside out and flipping upside down until he was no longer sure what was up or down.
Gasping desperately, he opened his eyes to see piercing gold eyes staring back at him.
A cold smirk played on Azula's lips as she forced his head around, studying him with no more interest than an insect she was about to dissect. "I've always wondered what would happen if you cut an airbender off from his precious air," she sneered. Her fingernails dug into his skin, piercing into his throat, and his vision whitened.
Wild now with blind panic, Aang thrashed. He reached out for his element, pleading, begging for respite, for the very thing his body was starved of.
Never had he ever been so deprived of his own element.
(all alone)
He clawed
(why were his fingers so heavy)
at the crushing grip around his throat.
(so tired)
Darkness marching steadily over his vision.
(why was he still fighting?)
His fingers slackening from the hand against his neck.
(so heavy)
The world falling away to black.
(sleep)
He closed his eyes.
(floating, intangible, untouchable)
(nonexistent)
(what was up?)
(what was down?)
(was he flying?)
(or had he always been falling?)
When the world faded back into reality, Aang found himself limp on the ground at the feet of the firebenders, involuntarily coughing and sputtering, his throat burning but free of the crushing grip. His chest heaved laboriously as he gulped in air, his limbs floppy and still like a broken doll's.
He was sure Azula said something, but it was lost in the blood roaring in his ears, in the pounding of his head. Every sound was muffled as though he were underwater, every object blurred and indistinguishable except for splashes of color that flitted in his vision.
Azula said something else that he couldn't hear, but the sinister tone behind her words were enough. Then footsteps retreated, followed by the sound of a heavy door slamming shut.
Aang curled in on himself on the cold stone floor, body trembling involuntarily. His breaths sounded unnaturally loud and ragged in the sudden spacious emptiness of the stone chamber, echoing eerily all around him.
He thought of Zuko, of Toph, of Sokka, of Katara. He thought of their passion, their determination, their compassion, their willingness to fight. They would come for him, no doubt.
Then Azula's sadistic laugh echoed in his head, and his throat constricted in on itself.
Please, he prayed to the spirits, a tear rolling from his cheek. Keep them away. Don't let them come after me.
He squeezed his eyes shut and reminded himself to breathe, just breathe. He breathed and breathed and breathed, inhaling and exhaling over and over again, trying to reassure his body that there was air, trying to convince himself that he was safe.
And if there was something warm trickling down his neck, he ignored it.
He was still breathing.
He was still breathing.
He was
still
(claws digging into his throat)
breathing.
(but how long until they take that from him too?)
#whumptober2021#no.2#choking#fandom#fic#violence#threats#psychological torture#restrained#northern's fanfiction#atla fic#whump fic#aang#azula#minor kataang#atla aang#atla azula#atla fanfic
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Soulmate AU part 8!!!
First • Previous • Here • Next
“I need you to call your father, Wayne,” Ivy hissed, hand over the slowly growing red spot on her side. “And tell him that Scarecrow and his thugs have decided to trash up my gardens.” She spat the words furiously for someone who was starting to look paler than the Joker’s clown makeup. “Get your date out of here while you can.”
From the crashing sound behind Ivy, that wasn’t possible.
“Miss,” Marinette moved forward. “Let Damian call for help. You need medical attention.”
Ivy just laughed at that, wincing. “Yeah.”
Damian’s hands had been on his phone since Ivy showed up, dialing Alfred’s number and letting the call roll, knowing that he would hear everything and send whoever could help. He should be getting away from them, trying to change so Robin could come help-
Marinette’s eyes just narrowed. “You’re bleeding out.” With much more force than Damian thought she could exert with her tiny frame, she pulled Ivy forward, down to the bench, and then started tearing away the edges of the shirt that was soaked with red. “Damian. Call for help.”
He made a show of pulling the phone out, pretended to dial, and then held it up. Alfred spoke up.
“Master Bruce is already on his way. Masters Jason and Tim as well.”
“Alfred,” he said, playacting it out. “Something is going on at the gardens. Pam’s been shot and said that it’s Scarecrow.”
“ETA seven minutes, Master Damian. Apologies that this disrupted your date.”
Said ‘date’ was ripping the hem of her own dress into strips, while helping Ivy maintain pressure on the wound, then winding the bandages around her with a precision that spoke to past experience.
“Thank you, Alfred. We’ll sit tight, and try to stay out of sight.”
He didn’t end the call. It was far better to have the line open in case anything else went down.
“That’s as much as I can do,” Marinette said, face set in determination. “Is there anyway we can get you out and to some actual medical personnel?”
Ivy made a face. “You’ve done plenty, kid. I’ll probably be just fine.”
“You’ve been shot!” Marinette’s voice went high with outrage.
“Looky here,” a voice from the door called out.
Damian faced the idiot. Hulking figure, gun-toting. Typical.
“We got a Wayne, a girl, and Ivy, holed up in the back,” he spoke into an earpiece. “The three of you are coming with me.”
“Monsieur,” Marinette spoke up coldly. “This woman is shot, still bleeding. I will not allow you to move her.”
With a feeling like ice water down his back, he realized he couldn’t actually leave. This girl wouldn’t last face to face with a goon, let alone Scarecrow. Damian stood beside her. “Marinette, these men are dangerous. Don’t antagonize them.”
“Listen to the boy, sweetheart,” the man growled, getting up close in her face. “Now, you and Wayne are gonna help her up, and bring her to the front. If she passes out or dies, I guess you drag the body. Understood?”
Damian can feel it right before she decides to do something, and he tries to move before it happens to preempt whatever retaliation for her snark is incoming.
And then without words, she drives one hand up into his face, her knee into his crotch, and uses his doubling over to sweep his legs out from under him. With one swift movement, she pulls his head forward and then bashes it back to the floor. The man’s eyes roll up in his head.
Damian is left, if he is being honest, a little breathless. He’d completely forgotten that Drake had said she’d been able to take him down. Between her small stature and innocent appearance, she seemed so...
“Damian,” Marinette says levelly. “Check the hallway. We need to move to a different room.”
Well. He supposed he won’t ever make the mistake of calling her harmless.
He does as she asks, without question. He’s caught halfway between disbelief and high elation. Marinette had seemed sweet and funny and smart in their quiet awkward conversation, but this was- he let himself be pleasantly surprised by just how relieved he was that his soulmate knew how to protect herself.
And watching her take down a guy easily two times her size was, to be frank, very attractive.
“Clear for now,” he told her lowly. She was helping up Ivy. “Let’s take the left, it’s a slightly longer route to the front so we should have a bit more time to hide.”
Before, he would’ve been surprised by her taking most of Ivy’s weight as she helped her walk. Now, it made sense, even if her height made the image unusual.
“Where’s the biggest tree in this place?”
His head whipped towards her. “Too close to the front. We won’t make it.”
“Side exits?”
“Can’t risk them. Probably has men outside.”
“Dark room for night blooming plants?”
Ivy, pale with a thin sheen of sweat, looked up. “Three rooms down on the right. Smart gal you picked up, Wayne.”
He could only nod, starting to lead them. Ivy’s labored breath was too loud, but there wasn’t much they could do.
“Stop,” Marinette breathed, and Damian did so without hesitation. He pushed himself against the wall as Marinette did her best to do the same, Ivy leaning against the wall and her shoulder.
He heard the footsteps a moment after. Three sets. Marinette tensed and he waited.
She met his eyes, and he nodded at her, reassuring the best he can. She straightened though, so it mustn’t have been too bad.
The footsteps were too close. He took a centering breath, and leapt the moment he saw movement.
The first man went down easily, the second fumbling with his gun long enough for Damian to disarm him and send him flying, joining his friend in a heap against the wall. The third man was raising his gun even as Damian spun back to him, but before he could do anything Marinette was there, one hand chopping against his exposed throat, the other wrenching the gun away.
The man couldn’t recover enough to retaliate before Damian crossed the divide and delivered a blow that knocked him unconscious.
“Thanks,” Marinette breathed out, just a bit to close to him. His eyes met hers again and that electric current returned, sharp and steady between them even with no contact.
Ivy coughed.
Damian turned away instantly. Marinette slipped right back into steadying Ivy, and they continued to the correct room without any further interruptions.
The room wasn’t in total darkness- there were flowers, grasses, and mosses that exuded faint bioluminescence, but the soft glow did little to actually illuminate the room. If anything, it cast the shadows darker, leaving every shadow absolute.
It was brilliant.
Marinette was already feeling along, finding somewhere dark and soft for Ivy to recline. Damian skulked after them, one eye on the door and the other on his phone. The call was still open, Alfred waiting on the other end. Ivy was quiet enough now that he didn’t dare break the silence to speak to him.
He received an ETA text of two minutes. He could only hope that they wouldn’t check this room.
They would though.
And Damian would be ready when they did.
TAGLIST:
@the-fusionist @rebecarojas07 @lowandco @kotaleartzu @resignedcatservant @alenee13 @mystery-5-5 @ladybug-182 @actual-disaster-human @loysydark @rumbelle18 @magic-miraculous @vixen-uchiha @athena452 @mochegato @ash-amg @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @thestressmademedoit @sassakitty @doriebell @toodaloo-kangaroo @myazael @theatreandcomicfreak @mer-mel @dahjokester @northernbluetongue @abrx2002 @area51qt @jessigurl-design @renscorpio @cici-schnee @multplelifes @redscarlet95 @razzledazzle247 @rosep16 @emotionalsupportginger @kceedraws @tired-butterfly @kuroko26 @catthhay @moonystars14 @shamefullove @shreky-boi @imanerddealwith @chaosace @captainmac6 @purple-people-eaters-productions @crazylittlemunchkin @weird-pale-blonde-person @bigpicklebananatree
#maribat#daminette#daminette soulmates#soulmate au#fanfic#me to myself: oh but i dont want to leave them on a cliffhanger overnight like that!!!#me also to me: how about cliffhanger but still another chapter!!!!!#i dont know how to write high stakes! or fights!! im just blundering about hoping i dont give someone three arms bc i added a punch somewher
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and you bring me to my knees
Also on Ao3. Rated E
00000
“I’ll see you again on Monday,” Davey calls as the other students file out the door. “Make sure you do the readings, and bring questions if you have any.”
He hums to himself as he tidies the classroom he hosts his tutoring sessions in, sweeping up loose bits of paper and eraser shavings and dumping them in the waste basket. He’s in the middle of stacking textbooks back onto the shelves when he hears the classroom door creak open.
Davey glances over and smiles. “Hey, Jack,” he greets.
Jack shuts the door behind him and sets his bag down with a soft thunk but doesn’t reply. His expression is strange: his face is flushed and there’s a look of intense focus burning in his dark eyes. Davey doesn’t think much of this—Jack must still be amped up from practice—and turns back to the textbooks.
“I’m almost finished,” Davey says, bending down to place the last of the books on a lower shelf. “Just let me get these put away and we can go.” He straightens up and stretches, giving everything one last survey to make sure all is back where it should be.
Then abruptly, Jack is right behind him. Davey lets out a yelp of surprise as Jack pushes him, hard, up against the bookshelf he was just organizing, his strong hands moving to settle on Davey’s hips, holding him so they’re pressed flush together, back to front. He leans in to nose at the sensitive spot behind Davey’s ear, then places a kiss there.
“What are you playing at, Dave?” Jack murmurs, his breath tickling at the nape of Davey’s neck as he speaks. He’s absolutely plastered along Davey’s back, his hips seated tightly against Davey’s ass. “Are you trying to drive me crazy?”
“What?” Davey asks, uncomprehendingly.
“Do you have any idea what your ass looks like in these jeans?”
“I— what?” Davey tries again. He feels hot and a little dizzy, sudden desire spreading through him like warm honey. He’s usually quicker on the uptake, but he can’t focus on anything other than the feeling of Jack’s dick pressed against him, thick and hard through their jeans. “What are you talking about?”
“I’ve been distracted all day—everyone’s noticed except you. Spot and Albert spent all of practice laughing at me and I nearly set mine and Kath’s chem station on fire in class today because I was too busy staring at’cha.” Jack says, dragging his mouth down the length of Davey’s neck, one hand moving from its place at his hip to massage his inner thigh.
“But how am I supposed to focus,” he continues, “when my boyfriend’s wearing the tightest pair of jeans known to man, prancing his sweet ass around like the world’s most oblivious fucking tease?”
“Jack,” Davey whimpers, and god, he already sounds wrecked. “Jack, I— Mmm.”
Davey’s head falls back onto Jack’s shoulder, unable to help the soft, keening noise that escapes him as Jack rolls his hips into his ass, nibbling at his pulse point. Jack’s hand slides up his thigh and over his stomach, as if to somehow pull him impossibly closer, then starts working Davey’s zipper open.
“Jack,” he manages to protest, even as he widens his stance to give Jack more room to maneuver. “Someone could hear, someone could walk in.”
“Then I guess you’d better keep quiet,” Jack growls, then wraps a hot hand around Davey’s dick.
“God, Jack,” Davey moans, overwhelmed by the efficiency of Jack’s ministrations.
His eyes flutter closed as he pants, tilting his head to give Jack better access to his throat. He can’t decide whether to cling to the bookshelf in front of him or hold onto the strong arms wrapped around him, if he wants to thrust forward into Jack’s hand or grind back against the hard length of Jack’s dick.
Jack gives him a few hard, fast strokes, then stops, using his grip on Davey’s hips to pull him away from the shelf. He nudges him forward, and Davey takes a few shaky steps until he can brace himself against the edge of a nearby desk.
“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” Jack demands in a low, raspy voice, dragging Davey’s jeans and underwear down his legs in one rough motion. He flattens a hand across the small of Davey’s back, easing him down until he’s completely bent over with his bare ass thrust out in offering. “For fuck’s sake, Dave, I’m only human.”
Davey lets out a shaky breath and glances over his shoulder. Jack kneels on the floor behind him, staring transfixed at his exposed ass and thighs, and the look on his face… Davey bites his lip, pulse racing.
“Christ, Davey, you’re gorgeous,” Jack breathes, reverent. His hands slide down Davey’s back and lower, cupping the soft globes of his ass and squeezing.
“Jack!” Davey whines, feeling the beginnings of a blush spreading across his face. He opens his mouth—maybe to say something, maybe to beg—but lets out an embarrassing squeak when he feels Jack’s hands part him and a hot puff of air cover his hole.
“Shhh,” Jack soothes, mapping a slow, hot trail down Davey’s thighs. He presses a kiss against the curve of Davey’s hip, then scrapes his teeth against the smooth skin of his ass. “I thought you were worried someone would hear?”
“Well maybe you should hurry the hell up and—ah!” Davey’s retort is lost in a moan as Jack circles his tongue around Davey’s rim. His legs tremble, his hands clutching, white-knuckled, at the edge of the desk, desperate for something to hold onto.
Jack hums, pleased, dipping his tongue into Davey’s hole, Davey’s panting breaths his only reply. He thumbs Davey’s cheeks further apart, then buries his face in Davey’s ass, alternating between slow, firm laps and teasing flicks of his tongue.
“Oh, god, don’t stop,” Davey pleads, tilting his hips up to give Jack a better angle. Each pass of Jack’s tongue threatens to tear a whimper or moan past Davey’s lips, and it’s taking everything he has to stay mostly upright, to brace himself as best he can and hold on.
“Fuck, Jack, please,” Davey gasps.
Jack presses in again, sucking at his hole, then scraping his teeth against his rim, and Davey cries out, his back arching at the sensation. His hips jerk and twitch in Jack’s grip—he tries to rock back against him, but Jack’s hands are unyielding, pressing him down and spreading him open, forcing him to take every stroke of his tongue.
Pleasure zings up his spine, blooming in sparks behind his closed eyelids. Davey can feel the heat coiling tight in his stomach, can feel himself getting closer and closer to his peak, but it’s not enough, he needs more—
“Jack, Jack, come on, please, I need,” Davey babbles, incoherent.
Jack pulls away, circling a finger teasingly around his hole, then reaches around to wrap a spit-slick hand around Davey’s neglected dick, red and leaking against Davey’s stomach.
“Fuck, Jack,” Davey whimpers, hip jerking violently in Jack’s hold. “Jack, I—fuck, Jack, I can’t, I’m gonna—“
“Come for me, sweetheart,” Jack orders, and Davey’s helpless to do anything but obey, spiraling over the edge with a cry. His legs and arms tremble and he can’t hold himself up anymore, collapsing in a heap on the desktop.
There’s a long moment where Davey just lays there, trying to catch his breath. He hears Jack climbing to his feet, hears him fumbling with his belt, and he cracks an eye open to look at him. He looks about as wrecked as Davey feels, his lips red and shiny, a hand wrapped around the base of his dick to stave off his orgasm.
“Dave,” he rasps out, his eyes dark and his pupils blown wide, and Davey thrills at the idea that just the sight of him, fucked out and sated, is almost enough to make Jack come. “Davey, can I, will you—”
Davey licks his lips, tilting his head invitingly. “How do you want me?”
Jack bites back a groan, then staggers forward. “Like this—no, like this.” Jack gets a hand under Davey’s thigh and lifts until one of his legs is up on the desk with the rest of him, leaving the vee of his legs open for Jack to step between. “Is this okay?”
“Yeah,” Davey breathes, dropping his head so his cheek is pressed against the center of the desk. He lifts his hips experimentally—Jack is a warm, solid weight behind him, his dick hot and hard against the curve of his ass, and even though he just came, Davey feels a fresh surge of arousal thrum through him. “Come on, Jack,” Davey says, looking up at Jack through his fringe. “Fuck me.”
Jack’s hands go to Davey’s hips and his dick slides between Davey’s ass cheeks, catching against Davey’s rim with each thrust and sending sparks up Davey’s spine. It’s a little overwhelming, the pleasure-pain of Jack fucking up against his sensitive hole, and Davey can’t help the little gasps and sighs that escape him.
“Christ, Davey, you’re so good, so perfect for me.” Jack leans forward and kisses the marks he’s left on Davey’s neck and shoulders, and Davey hums, low and pleased in the back of his throat.
He can’t help but babble, “Mmm, yes, Jack, just like that. Come on, darling, come for me. Please, Jackie, do it, please, please, please—"
Jack moans, his thrusts going wild as his hips spasm. He pulls away, one hand roughly stroking his dick while the other presses down between Davey’s shoulder blades, holding him in place. Davey just manages to turn his head in time to look: Jack comes hard, painting white stripes across Davey’s ass and thighs, expression slack with pleasure as he pants and sighs.
Davey bites his lip, watching as Jack’s chest heaves, his mouth parted slightly as he shivers through the aftershocks. God, he loves him.
They clean themselves up the best they can with some tissues, straightening out their rumpled clothes and smoothing their hair back into some semblance of order. As Davey buttons his fly, he feels the weight of Jack’s gaze on him, heady and heated.
“So, you like my jeans, then?” Davey asks lightly, trying and failing to hide a smirk.
Jack stills, caught, then huffs out a laugh. “I’d say ‘like’ is a bit of an understatement, sweetheart.”
“They’re a little tight,” Davey concedes, “but I had to wear them—the washer’s been out all week, these are my last pair of clean pants.”
“Well, next time, have some pity and warn a guy.” Jack says, his hands moving to Davey’s hips to pull him closer, before sliding down to fondle his ass. “I need advanced notice if I’m gonna to get through the day without ravishing you.”
"Duly noted," Davey says, reeling Jack in for a kiss.
#newsies#javid#*the writing desk#*final cut#*editor's note#tease series#this is housekeeping#I've got a few fics that predate this blog so I'm posting them here now so everything's up to date#and this gave me an opportunity to go back through and edit some older fics#will get the other one up at some point but I'm thinking of giving that one a major overhaul so not sure when#don't mind me im just trying to create some kind of order here
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Overcome
Anonymous asked:
Maybe one where B!D is still a teenager but lives with her sisters in NC?
Summary: Emma Danvers has always struggled in school. Her talents not lying in the school system, but the arts. How does she cope moving into National City with her sister’s and can they help her overcome her insecurities?
Word Count: 1.4k+
Warnings: TRIGGER WARNING! Suicidal Thoughts, Violence, Blood, Bullying, Angst
Two fics so close together? Whoop! Anyway... I was given this request and my brain went into override mode! This is the first part showing what has happened and building the foundations of the story. B!D is a teenager in this fic with a nine and seven year age gap between her and her sister. Things do get better. I promise.
Tag list: @natasha-danvers, @life-is-hella-unfair, @supergirl-writingz, @finleyfray
Fifteen year old Emma Danvers really thought today couldn’t get any worse. But then it rained heavily as she was stumbling home, mixing with her blood and tears. Her blonde hair was sticking to her face and she didn’t have the energy to brush it away. Her hazel green eyes, bloodshot from her tears and the force of the punches.
The usual gang of bullies had torn her clothes, cracked her glasses, broken her phone, punched her face until it was a swollen mess and kept kicking her when she fell down. Emma was certain a few of her ribs were broken. Unfortunately she was used to their abuse by now and she had learnt how to hide the evidence from her Mom.
But today, for some reason, the bullies were out for blood and left Emma a heap on the floor around the back of the school. Because of this she missed the bus and had to walk the long trek home. Well, try to walk. Her head was getting fuzzier by the minute and the pain in her chest was becoming unbearable. For some reason Emma thinks cutting through the forest by the fallen tree was a good idea. To her it was a good idea until she trips on a root and falls flat on her face. Her glasses crack further and her body throbs in pain.
She coughs violently and wheezes, wanting to cry but not having the energy too. So Emma just lays there for a while, listening to the rain and wind sweeping through the trees. The animals scurrying around trying to find shelter.
Emma’s mind soon drifts to her Mom and two sister’s. How they would be better off without her. A complete failure who has to redo 9th Grade due to not fitting into the schooling system. Emma was smart but just not academic. She has dyslexia and though Emma can read she’s better at doing things to learn it. Excelling at subjects like art, drama, dance and music where she can express herself. But give her a textbook on maths, science and english and she’s lost.
Not like her sister’s who excelled in school and were considered geniuses. Which didn’t help Emma’s case as her teachers remembered Alex and Kara well. Even though they left school seven and nine years ago. Emma constantly heard her teachers comparing her, which added more ammunition to the bullies arsenal.
“I wish I was dead.” Emma whispers. Her eyes were growing heavy and she just wanted to sleep forever. To rid herself of the crushing pain that was pressing down on her. “I’m sorry.” Finally Emma closed her eyes.
———
“Alex come on!” Kara yells as they near their Mom’s house, who had called them three hours ago in a state of panic. Their baby sister was missing and the sun was setting. Alex had broken a lot of speed laws to get to Midvale in record time. Kara was tempted to use her powers but she hadn’t used them for a while and now wasn’t the time to try and fly. Especially if she held Alex too. She couldn’t risk it.
Both sister’s hoped Emma had already been found and was under a ton of blankets, being held by their Mom. But as they pull into the driveway their hearts sink at the sight of Eliza sitting on the bench on the porch, phone in hand and a grave look on her face. She stands immediately and races to her girls. The rain had stopped hours ago.
“Any news?” Kara says as soon as she leaps out of the car.
Eliza can’t speak, instead she just shakes her head and pulls Kara into a hug. A sob escapes her lips and Kara holds her close. Alex rushes around the car and wraps her arms around her Mom and sister.
Eliza pulls away and wipes her face. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be Mom.” Alex rests a hand on Eliza’s shoulder.
“Yea, it’s completely understandable.” Kara holds Eliza’s hand and tries to sound encouraging. Not to let the dread she feels take over.
Eliza squeezes the other blonde’s and takes a shaky breath. “Kara, I know we keep telling you not to use your powers. But, could you, just this once, use them to find Emma?” Eliza gazes deep into her adoptive daughter’s eyes. Pleading that Kara would do this. “A search team has been looking for her for hours and I’m worried we are running out of time.”
“Of course!” Kara says immediately.
“Where have they searched so far?” Alex asks, going into FBI mode.
“Mainly along the roads.”
“They haven’t checked the forest?” Alex frowns.
“Not yet, they need more volunteers before they can do that.”
“Okay.” Alex runs a hand through her hair. “Mom, you stay here and man the phone. Kara, I’m going to come with you. Will be easier if I drive and you listen out for her.”
“Alright.” Kara nods and hugs Eliza again. “We will find her, I promise.”
“Thank you Kara.” Eliza whispers before hugging Alex. “Bring her home.”
“We will.” Alex says as she rushes back to the car. She quickly reverses down the drive and heads out into the forest. Kara frantically scans all around them, hearing every noise around her. It was starting to get overwhelming.
“Do you remember the walk we would sometimes take to cut off the huge corner?” Kara says as she thinks through every route Emma could take.
“The one by the fallen tree?”
“Yea.”
Alex puts her foot down on the gas, feeling Kara’s hunch is the right one. She pulls over outside the entrance to the trail. Grabbing two torches, her medical bag and a blanket, the sister’s race into the forest. They call out for Emma as they look all around them with their torches, scanning the ground for any sign of their baby sister.
Kara suddenly stops as she listens intently. A faint heartbeat thumps in the distance.
“Kara?” Alex turns around when she realises the blonde has stopped. Kara’s wide eyes fill the redhead with dread.
Suddenly Kara rushes past her, not realising her quick speed was kicking in, making it harder for Alex to follow.
Finally Kara nears the heartbeat, she gasps when she spots Emma’s blonde hair and she falls to her knees next to her fallen sister.
“EMMA?!” Kara reaches out but freezes, she doesn’t know what to do. Emma’s face is turned towards her, but it’s so swollen. Bruises colour the pale skin. Her glasses are cracked and askew on the blonde’s face.
“Kara?!” Alex yells nearby, searching frantically for her sister’s.
“H-H-Here!” Kara stutters. Her emotions bubbling beneath her. Soon Alex is beside her and instantly gets to work.
“Kara, I need you to hold her head while I roll her over, okay?” Alex orders, when Kara doesn’t respond she looks at her. “Kara?” Tearful blue eyes snap to hers. “Hold her head while I roll her?”
Kara nods and gently cups Emma’s head.
“Ready?” 3, 2, 1.” They gently roll the teenager and Alex starts examining Emma. “Kara, call Mom.”
Kara gets out her phone, her hand shakes violently and she has to take a few deep breaths to calm herself. She selects the home number and Eliza instantly picks up the call.
“Hello?!” Eliza answers with both dread and hope.
“We found her. On the trail by the fallen tree. Alex’s car is by the entrance.”
“Oh thank God! I’ll call the Sheriff right away! How is she?”
Alex looks up at Kara with sad eyes and nods. they need to tell Eliza the truth. “Unconscious… She’s been attacked.”
Eliza gasps. “Keep her stable. Help… Help is on the way. Okay?”
“Okay.”
They hang up and Kara opens up the blanket, covering her fallen sister. Tears fill her eyes as she looks over Emma’s broken face. Her anger bubbles up at who dared do this to her baby sister.
“Kara?” Alex’s voice breaks through Kara’s racing thoughts.
“Yea?”
“Can you go back to the car and lead them here? That way it will be quicker to get her the help she needs.”
“Okay.” Kara nods and gets to her feet. Taking one more look at her sister’s Kara races through the forest. She paces by Alex’s car and finally an ambulance with a rescue team and police vehicles arrive. She leads them back to Alex and Emma, making sure she doesn’t use her powers to quicken her pace.
The rescue team get to work in securing Emma in a special stretcher and carefully head back to the ambulance. Alex and Kara follow behind, holding each other's hands to comfort and support each other.
Though Alex isn’t showing it, her heart is breaking and her blood is boiling. She saw the bruises covering her sister’s body. The boot prints and the clear sign Emma’s ribs were broken. Whoever hurt her baby sister is going to pay.
(Part Two)
(Side-note: Took me blooming ages to scroll down everything to add the link!!)
#supergirl#supergirl imagine#supergirl baby danvers#supergirl fanfiction#supergirl fanfic#alex danvers x baby danvers#kara danvers x baby danvers#alex danvers imagine#kara danvers imagine#b!d#baby danvers
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Chapter 11 -- Perfect Harmony | Charlie Gillespie
Summary: Emily Fox is a talented 17-year-old with a passion for all things music. Her dream is to become a successful singer-songwriter one day. But to achieve that dream, she needs to get into one of the most prestigious music schools in her district – it’s all been part of her plan since she was six. Sadly enough, those schools cost a ton of money that her parents don’t want to invest. They don’t even want her to pursue her dream. So, now Emily’s hustling, working at the music store to save up to get into college. That’s until she meets Charlie, an annoying seventeen-year-old boy with the same dream as her. The only difference is, he’s just doing it. He doesn’t need a fancy college to pursue his dream to become famous with his band. He just writes his songs and books small gigs here, there and everywhere. Will meeting Charlie defer her from her dream college, or will he actually help her achieve the dream?
Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x OC (Emily Fox)
Warnings: mentions of death, sexual assault
Important note: the characters of Charlie, Owen, Jeremy and Madison are based on the characters they play on the show and i do not own their names, only OC are mine. The songs aren’t mine either, they’re all from the show except for one.
Chapter eleven
~|Charlie Gillespie|~
Making out in the back of a music store has never been at the top of my bucket list, but I have to tell you, it’s the best thing ever. Unless one’s employer barges in every five minutes. Even though we only ever sneak off during her breaks or after closing time, Ash never really leaves us alone. Ever since she busted us after hours, she hasn’t trusted us alone for a second. It’s kind of annoying and pretty much the biggest buzzkill ever.
“Ash, could you please stop coming in so often?!” Emily shouts at her on Wednesday. This time, we’d just been working around the store; Emily sweeping up and me sorting the invoices.
“If you didn’t violate my trust, I wouldn’t have to come back so often!” Ash shouts back. I suddenly feel like I’m intruding and shouldn’t be there at all.
“How in the hell did I violate your trust? It’s not like we’ve been sneaking off during my shifts!” This discussion is way worse than what their other discussions have been before.
“Hey, Ems…” I try to chime in carefully.
“Not now, Charles!” I immediately back off upon hearing my full name and return to sorting the invoices. “Tell me, Ash. How did I violate your trust? If anything, you violated my privacy!”
“Your privacy? This is my store you’re talking about, Emily Fox!” Mmh, Emily Fox. Nice. Sounds cute. Not the point, though. “You shouldn’t be making out in a store people could just walk right into!” I really just want to leave and not be a part of this at all, but I don’t want to leave Emily alone either.
“Fine! We shouldn’t have, okay? Can you get off our backs now?!” She glances over at me and offers me a quick smile, telling me it’s all right.
“Fine! But if I ever bust you again not doing what you’re supposed to do, you’re fired.”
“Honestly, you should be happy Charlie is helping out for free.”
“Whatever, Emily. Just don’t let it happen again, okay?!”
“Yeah, it won’t happen again, Ashlynn. Now, please leave, so I can clean up.” Emily passive-aggressively points at the door, arm stretched out entirely. Ash huffs once before turning around and leaving the store. The tension, however, doesn’t leave with her. It stays here. On Emily’s shoulders and hangs around us like a foggy mist.
“You okay, Ems?” I carefully ask. She noticeably relaxes a little, her shoulders tensing a little less. She then lets out an exasperated sigh and walks over towards me. I think she wants a hug, so I start opening my arms until she walks past me and grabs the broom instead. “Hey,” I grab her hand gingerly. She looks up at me, her eyes dark and shooting fires which fade out quickly.
“I’m fine, Charlie,” she manages a smile, but it doesn’t convince me.
“You sure?” She nods her head and reaches up to kiss me on my cheek. I’m then left alone with the burning feeling of her lips still on my cheek whilst she goes to sweep up the place.
From that day on, our make-out sessions have been put on hold until we’re out of the store and now take place in a dodgy alley between stores.
“Are you sure we should be here?” I ask, pulling away from a kiss, and looking around feverishly. Emily’s chuckle reassures me the tiniest bit.
“Relax, I used to come here with –” she freezes, her eyes widening.
“With who?” I ask.
“With whom?” she corrects my grammar, which makes me roll my eyes. “It doesn’t matter,” she replies and grabs my face to lead me towards her lips again. The half-sentence keeps haunting my mind though, so I pull away again. “Charlie!” she drawls out the last syllable of my name in an annoyed squeak.
“I’m sorry, but now I can’t stop thinking about you kissing another guy here.”
“You’re imagining me kissing another guy? Is that a weird turn-on I never heard about, or?” She looks adorable with her head slightly tilted and her eyebrows knitted together, her face only lit up by one streetlight.
“No,” I scoff, “I just—” I can’t even find the right words to tell her what I’m feeling or thinking. There’s a lot going on in my mind and most of them don’t have to do with me kissing Emily. I can’t find my way through the word-jumble.
“Hey,” she brings my attention right back to her, “If it’ll make you feel better, I know a different place we can do this.” She wiggles her eyebrows, pecks my lips once more, and then leads me out to the street again. It takes us a while to get to the location, but once we’re there, I realize we’re in front of her house.
“Ems?”
“There’s a fire escape ladder on the left side of the house, which leads to the balcony that’s connected to my bedroom. Climb up and meet me there. I’m going inside to distract my uncle Mitch.” Her voice is just above a whisper, and it’s sending shivers down my spine.
“Ems—”
“Go!” She kisses me once again before heading inside. Before she shuts the front door, she mouths a ‘go’. I listen like an obedient puppy and make my way into her yard. I pass a large window through which I can see Emily talking to her uncle. He seems like a cool uncle. Not one who’d kill me for dating his daughter, or niece. Emily spots me, her eyes growing wide. She jerks her head a little, telling me to move on with my journey. Suddenly, Uncle Mitch starts turning towards the window and in case Emily doesn’t save the situation in time, I squat down behind the bush in front of me. One, two, three, four, five. I peek behind the bush, finding no one in the living room; they must’ve split.
So, I make my way up the balcony where I find Emily already. She’s turned on the many fairy lights in her room, which gives the small balcony a fairytale-like glow.
“Never heard of a term ‘hurry’?” She asks and immediately plants her lips onto mine. I haven’t even gotten the time to get off the ladder. “Hey, this kind of looks like that scene in Aladdin, doesn’t it?” She points out with a smile, her hands still on my cheeks.
“Should I have brought my magic carpet?” I ask while she steps away to give me room to get off the ladder and onto the balcony. With an amused smile on her face, she raises her eyebrows as if saying “really, honey?”. – I’m imagining the cute nickname. She wouldn’t actually call me ‘honey’, sadly enough. “Just kiss me,” I say, a little annoyed she doesn’t like my joke.
“Wait!” she says and gets back inside her room. I watch her – and admire her – as she grabs a heap of cushions from her bed. “I locked the door, so I think we might be good on the adults-entering-unexpectedly front.” I chuckle a little and take a couple of the cushions from her. We place them against the railing. I sit down first, Emily following suit. At first, she just sits next to me, grabs my face and kisses me passionately. I’m a bit taken aback by the fire in her kisses tonight, but I can’t say I don’t like it.
“Are you comfortable?” I ask her then, realizing she’s straining herself a little. Even though she nods, I still grab both her legs and swing them over mine, so she’s sideways. “Better?” She nods again before resuming our kiss with a faint smile on her face. I can’t help the smile tugging at my lips too. Being with Emily is unbelievable.
That’s how we spend every night from Thursday on. On her balcony, making out. Every night except Saturday. Emily asked Ash beforehand if it was cool the band would come and rehearse in the store tonight.
“Well, as long as you don’t have make-out sessions with all of them, I’m fine with it,” Ash had said, to which Emily had rolled her eyes. Hard.
“Are you guys decent? We’re coming in!” Jeremy’s voice sounds just after the bell ringing.
“What do you think we’re doing in here?” Emily makes the mistake of actually reacting.
“You don’t want to know what he’s thinking,” Owen tells her instead, slapping Jeremy on the back of his head. The dark-haired boy lets out an ‘ow’ before glaring at the blonde one.
“Right, I don’t,” Emily’s mouth curls up into a smirk, and I know exactly what’s coming. “What I do want is hearing you guys play.” I knew it and I can’t stop my eyes from rolling.
“What do you want us to play?” Owen questions as he takes his spot behind the drums.
“Now or Never,” Emily and I say in unison. She furrows her eyebrows at me, giving me an adorable version of her scowl.
“You ask me to play that all the time, Ems,” I tell her, hanging the strap of the guitar over my shoulders.
“Eh…” she squeaks out as if thinking about whether it’s true or not. “I mean, you can’t blame me, Charlie, that song is really good.” She shrugs her shoulders then and gets behind the counter for the broom.
“One, two, three!” Owen counts us in once we’re all ready to go, and off we go again with the same song. But I don’t mind though, it’s for Emily. And it’s adorable how much she loves this song. She can even sing along now. Just like last week, she sings along during the bridge, which doesn’t even surprise me anymore. I just love hearing her voice blended with ours.
“You know you have this cute thing you do with your leg when you’re playing?” she asks me when we finish the song. My eyebrows knit together as I look down at my leg as if I’d see it now that we’ve stopped playing.
“What do I do with my leg?” She imitates me, pumping her leg forwards ever so often. “I don’t do that with my leg!” I scoff, not entirely sure if it’s actually true or if I should be offended, for that matter.
“Yeah, you do,” all three of them reply, but not at the same time.
My mouth drops open in shock.
“I do not!” The words come out in some sort of a squeak, my voice failing on me a little.
“You do,” Emily mouths to me while Jeremy places his bass on the stand for a break.
“Hey, Emsie-girl,” he captures all of our attention, mostly with the nickname. “Have you decided if you’ll join Sunset Curve or not?” She did ask for a week exactly a week ago. I’d almost forgotten. Emily’s mouth opens like she’s going to say something, all three of us staring, awaiting her response.
“I mean, is it a good idea with me and Charlie…” she asks carefully.
“Why would that change anything?” I shoot back, a little offended she’ll use our relationship as a reason not to join our band.
“Fleetwood Mac? ABBA? They split up because they couldn’t work together anymore due to break-ups between each other and stuff…”
“So, you’re thinking we’re going to break up too?” I ask, a little offended.
“No!” she responds instantly. “No, I just… I don’t know, Charlie…” I walk up to her, my guitar still strapped across my torso, and grab her hand in mine.
“If you want to join the band, we could just try it, okay? If it becomes even a little straining to what we have, we’ll quit,” I propose to her.
“Quit what? Us or the band?” she whispers, not wanting the boys to hear and be offended too.
“The band,” I reply in the same whisper.
“Hey! We heard that!” Jeremy chimes in again. Emily and I look up for a second, decide to ignore it and turn back to each other.
“So, what’s it going to be, Ems?” I look at her with hopeful eyes. Hopeful she’ll say yes. Hopeful I finally get to write songs with her and actually sing them too.
“Uhm… Yeah, sure. I’ll join Sunset Curve!” The boys and I all erupt into loud cheers. I give her a kiss on the cheek and then trade my electric guitar for an acoustic one. I know exactly what this moment asks for.
“Sunset Curve is reborn!” Owen throws his hands into the air.
I strum my guitar, a melody flowing out of the instrument in my hands.
“Come on, Jeremy!” Owen says and starts tapping his own body. A bit of body percussion thrown into it, perfect.
“One, two, three, four,” he counts us in, and Jeremy begins to sing whilst Emily goes back to cleaning up the store.
“Can you, can you hear me”
“Yup, loud and clear!” Emily says in a normal tone, totally ruining the vibe a little.
“Gotta get, gotta get ready,” Jeremy goes again.
“'Cause it's been years,” I sing.
“I mean…” Comes from Emily again. I give her a glare and then start following her around the store.
“Oh, this band is back,” Jeremy sings, joining me in the chase of Emily.
“Oh, this band is back,” we all sing together and Owen shuffles behind us in tow, still tapping his own body.
“Whoo, ooh, ooh, ooh
Whoo, ooh, ooh, ooh
Whoo, ooh, ooh, ooh”
Emily stops at the sheet music station, grabs a couple of sheets and then moves back to the piano with her entourage behind her.
“Can you”
“Yes, we can,” Emily and I now sing together. At least she’s singing now.
“Can you hear me,” Owen and Jeremy go.
“Loud and clear!”
“We gotta get,”
“Wanna get,”
“We gotta get ready”
“'Cause it's been years, hey”
Our voices blend together nicely. Especially with Emily’s voice harmonizing with ours.
“Oh, this band is back
Oh, this band is back
Whoo, ooh, ooh, ooh
Whoo, ooh, ooh, ooh
Whoo, ooh, ooh, ooh
Whoo, ooh, wee, ooh!”
The boys and I then start scatting – or trying to, earning a weird glance from Emily.
“I cannot scat,” I say, but continue anyway.
“No, you cannot,” Emily replies teasingly. She shoots me a teasing smile my way too, and I nearly melt on the spot. This girl is honestly going to be the death of me someday.
Taglist: @parkeret @lukeys-giggle @hannahhistorian92 @gingerxarmy @marinettepotterandplagg @lovesanimals @thequirkybookaholic
Lemme know if you want to be on my taglist for this story/any of my other works!
#julie and the phantoms#julie and the himbos#charlie gillespie#jeremy shada#owen joyner#madison reyes#oc emily fox#charlie x oc#luke patterson#reggie jatp#alex jatp#julie molina
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[Tales from the Pack] Minghao: Find Our Way (Part Ten)
Characters: Minghao x female reader
Genre/warnings: werewolf au, fantasy, kinda angst??? but not really?????? idk what to call it lmao
Word count: 2,123
Summary: You already knew who you were meant to be with and how your life was supposed to go. The only thing keeping you and the life you were destined to lead apart was the fact you were blind. At least, for now, you could meet him in your dreams.
Tag list: @choiminjae0325 @heolykpop @fullsun-donghyuck @yoonbabe-d @exuwu @lets-get-1t @vintageot5 @sehunnies-hunnie96 @childfmoonn @wobwobkpop @henloimawierdobye @dirinast @joshwoah @wreckedbytae @salty-for-suga @janellxu @xu-miseo @uglyratlmao @sakura-uji @littleheartsays @onewoowonderboy @kesmonster (if you wanna be added please send a dm!!)
Unable to tag: @birthday-prinxess @sooooofrench
Previous | Next | Find Our Way Masterlist
Yeji spent the better half of three days trying to get somebody in your stupid pack to follow her. The closest she could get was intriguing Jihoon, who apparently wasn’t supposed to be fond of animals. But no matter how hard she tried, nobody seemed to want to listen to her. So she resorted to trying to get things done on your end. If she could figure out how to break the barrier or undo what the witch had done to block the pack from finding you, then she wouldn’t need to get the wolves’ attention. She could just sit back and wait for you to be rescued. It was just a matter of figuring out what exactly that old hag had done to get rid of the pull.
You were surprised that Yeji stuck around the cottage with you. She normally went off elsewhere, though you never could quite figure out where she had gone. You still weren’t even sure what happened to the witch, but she never showed up. You weren’t entirely sure if she was something you had to worry about still, but you figured that was something you’d only know if she showed up.
Meow.
You looked up from one of the spell books you were reading on the couch to see Yeji perched on one of the shelves of the many bookshelves, her tail flicking off the side.
“What?” you asked.
Over the last few days, you’ve started talking to her more like a regular human rather than in a strange voice that you typically spoke to animals in. You didn’t know it, but Yeji appreciated it.
She stood up and pawed one of the books off the shelf, the book falling to the floor with a thud.
“You want me to read that book instead?” you guessed.
Then she hit off another book. And a third.
“Do you...want me to read all of them?”
She gave a single nod as she sat back down.
“Are we looking for something?”
Yeji jumped down from the shelf and flipped one of the books on the floor over with her paw before she began flipping pages until she reached the front of the book. Then she sat down and began scanning the pages with her eyes.
You got up from the couch with your book that you were only half through reading -- you were very slow with it because you hadn’t read anything since you were a child. You sat on the floor beside her and opened the book in your lap.
“How am I supposed to know what I’m looking for?” you asked.
Yeji could only glance up at you before going back to her book, flipping the page with her paw.
-
The pack was so sure it must’ve been some sort of coincidence that the black cat with green eyes led them to the witch. It couldn’t have been the familiar because they couldn’t figure out why a familiar would want to kill its owner. The familiar was there to help its witch, so it made no sense for the familiar to want her dead.
So they paid it no attention.
While Minghao refused to stop his searches, Soomin was flipping through the large book she’d managed to get back from her old cottage after it burned down. She was desperate for answers for the poor wolf, but the book was big and she was unfamiliar with it. Beom could easily flip to the exact page she needed, but Soomin had to scan every single page to make sure she didn’t miss anything.
“Oh!” she gasped as she read something that seemed like it might be the answer to why Minghao couldn’t feel the pull to you anymore.
“What, love?” Wonwoo asked from beside her.
She pointed to the page, “Would an item to keep werewolves away be able to keep a werewolf away from its mate?”
Wonwoo scanned the page as he hummed in thought, “I’m not sure... Since the pull is strong, I’m not sure what exactly would be able to overpower it.”
“This might be it,” she insisted. “This might be why Minghao can’t sense _____ anymore. Unfortunately, even if it is, we have no way of getting the item she cast the spell on.”
“But we know she might be okay,” Wonwoo shrugged, trying to find the bright side in this. “That’s definitely useful.”
Soomin offered a small smile, “Yeah. I’m sure Minghao will be somewhat happy to hear we might have an answer, even if we don’t have a solution.”
“You did well, love,” Wonwoo smiled before placing a small kiss to her temple.
-
It took the better portion of the day for you to get toward the end of the large book you had been reading. You were concentrating extra hard since Yeji had already gone through three books on her own. She had yet to make any sound, so you assumed she didn’t find anything of use.
Your eyes followed your finger as you tried to read the words, your brows furrowed in concentration. You couldn’t even be worried about Yeji judging you for taking so long -- not that she was -- because you were too focused on trying to find whatever it was that the cat was sure you would find.
“Wait,” you spoke up as you flipped back between the last three pages you’d read, making Yeji’s head snap up, “this section seems to be about werewolves. Is that useful?”
Yeji softly meowed as she wormed her way into your lap. She pressed her front paws on the book, making you drop it to the floor on the page it was on. She began flipping through pages, her green eyes scanning words quickly before she stopped on something and meowed loudly. You leaned forward to read the page she left her paw on.
“How to ward off werewolves,” you read slowly, your head tilting to one side. You continued to read, taking in the information given before the actual ingredients and spell were listed. “So you essentially make some sort of object made out of silver and wolfs bane, place a spell on it to ward them off, and place them all around the place you want protected. So...we have to find all of the ‘talismans’ and destroy them.”
Meow.
Yeji seemed to be confirming your suspicions. She looked up at you with a new look in her eyes that you couldn’t quite read since she was, well, a cat. But you gave her head a pat and smiled.
“We’re getting closer,” you told her, though it was mostly reassurance for yourself. “Let’s get to it, then. This place is small so it can’t be too hard, right?”
But it was very hard. You knew what to look for thanks to the instructions in the book, but the small cottage was still cluttered with things, and it could’ve been hidden anywhere. So after a quick sweep of the place -- in which you came up empty handed -- you began desperately tearing the place apart. Yeji was knocking vases and jars and books off of shelves while you were ripping cushions off the couch and undoing the bedding on the bed in the bedroom.
But still, you found nothing.
“It can’t be this hard to find wolfs bane encased in silver, can it?” you asked as you looked around at the mess you’d made in the den. From where you stood, you could see that the kitchen was no better with broken plates and silverware all over the floor. As you realized you’d looked literally everywhere in the house, you let out a defeated sigh and sat on the floor. “God, what’re we gonna do? I’m never getting home!”
Meow!
Yeji rushed over to you and began headbutting your side. But it wasn’t like she wanted attention, it was a forceful push like she wanted you to get up, but you weren’t sure why.
“What?” you wondered.
Meeeow!
You shifted over, hearing a slight creak when you got off of your spot on the floor. It was where the large area rug once was, but that had long since been removed and shoved in a heap in the corner of the room when you began looking.
Yeji stepped on the space you had been sitting, hearing the floor creak like she did the first time you sat down on it. But since you weren’t speaking, you heard it this time. She moved her weight off of it and heard it creak before stepping on it again and hearing the same squeak as before.
Meow!
She began pawing at the loose floorboards, looking up at you intently.
You nodded, knowing what she wanted you to do. You scrambled to your feet and went to the kitchen, grabbing a knife off of the floor before rushing back to the room and getting on your knees by the cat. You jammed the knife in between the boards and wiggled it while also trying to push it upward. After a few tries, the board came loose enough that you were able to lift it out of place. Then you managed to pry a few more before Yeji dove into the space, going under the floor of the house.
“Yeji?” you called as she disappeared into darkness.
You tried to peer in but it was far too dark for you to see anything. So you sat back and waited for the cat to appear, your heart hammering in your chest. You hoped this was it because you couldn’t find anything anywhere else and this was your last--
Her tiny head popped up, her teeth holding a wad of melted silver that was holding a few stems of wolfs bane together. She dropped it on the floor in front of you before she ducked back under the house.
“Yeji!” you squealed in praise as you picked the small thing up and examined it. You leaned down to put your head in the hole, asking, “How do we destroy it?”
Her face was suddenly right in front of yours with another tiny talisman in her mouth. You quickly sat up so she could leap up from under the floorboards, watching her trot over to the fireplace and toss it in. Then she walked back to the hole and jumped in again.
You stared at the makeshift talisman, turning it around in your fingers. You weren’t sure why you wanted to examine it before getting rid of it, but you observed it for a few seconds before tossing it into the fire and waiting for Yeji to bring the rest.
-
It wasn’t that Minghao wasn’t grateful for Soomin’s research, he was just bummed that he was no closer to getting you back. Sure, he knew what was causing the problem, but it didn’t mean he had a solution. All he could do was hopelessly try to find you even though he had no leads or hints as to where the witch had taken you.
“Jihoon, have you been outside all day?” Chan asked as he sat down at the table for dinner, the rest of the pack having already taken their seats.
“You should take after me, pup,” Jihoon told him with a dry tone. “Some fresh air might do you some good.”
“It’s not fun if I can only stay in the backyard,” the youngest mumbled.
“He was looking for that cat again,” Danbi ratted him out with a giggle.
“I was not!” he insisted. “It’s just some cat.”
“I wish it would come back,” Junhui frowned. “I bet Jihoon scared it off.”
“It wouldn’t even come close to me or Hansol,” Seungkwan told them as scooped food onto his plate now that the mates had theirs. “It just kept meowing and walking further into the woods whenever we got closer.”
Minghao had drowned out the conversation, much like he had been doing since you went missing. He couldn’t concentrate on anything else anyway, and the pack stopped calling his name to get him to focus because they knew it wouldn’t do any good. They just let him stay in his own little bubble.
But this time, he snapped himself out of his own thoughts as he abruptly stood up, his chair falling back on the floor with a loud crash. The pack looked up at him as he stared wide-eyed at nothing, his mouth slightly open.
“What?” Soonyoung wondered.
“I can feel her,” he said barely above a whisper before he locked eyes with his alpha. “The pull is back!”
And before anybody could say anything, he had turned and run toward the nearest exit and out of the house.
#seventeen#minghao#the8#seventeen au#seventeen imagine#seventeen oneshot#seventeen scenario#seventeen fanfic#werewolf!seventeen#minghao au#minghao imagine#minghao oneshot#minghao scenario#minghao fanfic#werewolf!minghao#the8 au#the8 imagine#the8 oneshot#the8 scenario#the8 fanfic#werewolf!the8
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All The Things You Say
Pairing: ARC Trooper Fives x Reader
Warnings: suggestive themes, swearing, almost smut. Not quite NSFW but trying its best.
Rating: NC-17 prob? To be on the safe side.
A/N: Shout out to my boyfriend for inspiring this because he would not stop laughing at the scientific inaccuracies in The Avengers while we were trying to watch it the other day. I didn’t even mean to write this, it just kinda happened. This is the second time I’ve posted this!!! Actually getting quite stressed with the way the tags just will not work for me - I’m finding the first time I try to post something it will show up in the tags for about an hour, and then just disappear and never come back?? Pls lemme know if you have any hacks for this.
There is a bark of laughter next to your ear, the chest you are using as a pillow shaking with poorly suppressed mirth.
“Come on, there’s no way he’s still alive!” Fives exclaims. You drag your eyes away from the holofilm you’re watching in time to see him throw his head back and laugh again, as on screen the hero dives out of a roll and comes up shooting. “That’s not even how you hold a blaster!”
“Fives,” you whine, pushing your elbow into his stomach. You may as well not have bothered, for all the good it does; the solid muscles of his abdomen don’t budge even slightly. “You’re talking over the good bit!”
“Sorry, sorry,” Fives says, shifting to press a warm kiss to your cheek. He is absolutely not sorry – he’s been doing this the entire holo. You’re so comfortable and warm curled up against him, though, that it’s hard to mind all the interruptions too much. One of his large, calloused hands is resting firmly on your hip, the heat of his palm burning through the thin shorts you’re wearing. Kriff, you’ve missed this. Your apartment is tiny, but somehow it always feels so empty when he’s gone.
“I take it back, his marksmanship is unparalleled.”
“I don’t care what you think about his shooting as long as you hold it in until the credits,” you grouse.
You feel him shake with silent laughter again, then he presses his lips to your forehead, the scrape of his beard making you shiver. He is soft and pliant in the sleep clothes you’d delighted in buying him, because they are something comfortable and non-regulation, his in the way few things are. The steady weight of him at your back, the gentle rhythm of his breathing…it feels like coming home.
You only have three days this time, before he will be gone again. He doesn’t offer any details of his next mission, and you don’t ask. It is already hard enough to let him go when you don’t know the exact horrors that you are sending him into. He fights for his life, fights for every citizen of the Republic, while you sit pretty in an office filing data all day. It hurts you to think about, so while he’s with you, you don’t. Instead you desperately fold him into your life on Coruscant in the time you have, trying to give him everything that the Senate won’t. Some things, though, he is evidently less appreciative of than others.
He only makes it ten minutes before he just can’t help himself. The final straw is when two Jedi appear mid-scene and start swinging a pair of lightsabers that even you can tell are badly animated.
“What are they doing? They’re not even trying to go on the offensive! No – you idiot – aim for the –“
You turn your head and narrow your eyes at him. You’d never dream of admitting it, but the genuine indignation on his face is actually very cute. Fives meets your unimpressed gaze and cuts himself off.
“Right, sorry, no talking.”
You nudge him with your elbow again and squawk when he digs his hand into your hip as retaliation.
“Maybe this was a bad idea, this is clearly reminding you too much of work,” You say. “We should have gone for another romance.”
Fives shudders dramatically. “No, please, I promise I’ll keep my mouth shut this time.”
You snicker into the arm Fives has curled around you. The last time he’d been on leave, you’d made Fives pick a holo at random. He’d landed on, in his words, perhaps the worst, most melodramatic soap-opera ever made. He doesn’t have any others to compare it to, but he’s sure nonetheless. The memory of his absolute disgust at the way the love interests had draped over each other still brings you unreasonable joy.
Abruptly you flop backwards in Fives’ arms, draping your body over the arm of the sofa. He peers down at you, his brown eyes sparkling, his expression amused and open. His hair is soft and rumpled and you want nothing more than to run your fingers through it.
“But Fives…I want you to draw me like one of your Corellian girls,” you say melodramatically, flinging one arm back.
He groans loudly, and before you can blink one hand has come up to pin down your chest, the other darting out to jab the most ticklish part of your ribs. You jerk and shriek, your hands scrabbling against his thick forearm but it’s no use; you’re not moving an inch until he lets you.
“The long necks never taught me how to draw,” he says loudly over the sounds of your choking laughs. “So I think I should get to be the Corellian girl.”
There are genuine tears in your eyes when he lets you go. You sag down in a limp heap, clutching your stomach.
“You definitely have the tits for it,” you wheeze out, relishing the indignant noise he makes when you reach up and squeeze one for emphasis.
“I still say there was room for two people in that fucking escape pod,” Fives mutters, making you muffle another cackle.
“I know you do,” you say, because it was all Fives talked about for two days after the holo ended. Then you turn your head when there’s a particularly loud explosion on the neglected film you’re supposed to currently be watching. “Oh, shush, this bit’s the best part!”
“I should shush? Who was just talking?” Fives grumbles, but settles down obediently to watch as the film reaches its crescendo, a huge space battle unfolding on the frontier of Wild Space. As it builds, he slides a hand into your hair, stroking your head gently. He even finally sounds like he might be getting into it – you hear his breath hitch when a starfighter explodes on screen and his grip tightens briefly on your hip.
The holo draws to a close with the hero dragging the broken body of their friend from a downed fighter, leaning over them while the rest of their forces look sad at a respectful distance.
“I love you, brother,” They say tearfully. You clutch tight to Fives’ forearm, a little teary yourself as the music swells and the shot pulls out to a beautiful sunrise over the wilderness of an unknown planet.
Fives tenses behind you; it’s the only warning you get before he’s opening his big mouth again.
“If they loved him, they’d be calling for a medic, honestly,” he scoffs. “All the love in the galaxy isn’t gonna remove that shrapnel.”
You roll your eyes heavenward, the moment ruined. It’s your own fault and you know it; you picked this idiot up at 79’s and brought him home and never let him go again, like he was a sad stray tooka you found on the sidewalk. You have nobody to blame for this but yourself.
It’s a good thing he’s pretty.
In a moment you have twisted in Fives’ grip, shoved him down and straddled his waist. Before he can move, you grasp both of his wrists and pull them up to rest by his head. If you’re not going to get to enjoy your holofilm, you’re only going to settle for something better.
“Don’t you ever fucking shut up?” You ask, laughing your way through the words.
Fives smirks lazily beneath you, utterly unbothered by the change in position. He flexes his hands a little, but deigns to let you keep them trapped. The knowledge of how easily he could break free if he wanted to makes your mouth go dry.
“Only if there’s something to occupy me.”
This is accompanied by an eyebrow waggle that makes you groan in disgust, but you’re grinning like an idiot all the same.
“The holo was supposed to occupy you!”
Fives shrugs a shoulder. His eyes sweep over you slowly, meaningfully. “Can think of much better things.”
“Oh really?” You ask, settling firmly into his lap. “What did you have in mind?”
Instead of answering Fives leans up, his nose sliding along your own. His breath sweeps over your lips and your eyes flutter shut, anticipation curling in your stomach. You give up the pretence and melt into him, meeting his eager mouth with a sigh. He is hot and wet and wonderful. Fives groans deep in his chest, the sound rumbling through you where your bodies join and shooting straight to your core. You feel him work his hands free and then they are on you, sliding firmly over the dips and curves of your body.
When you break apart, it feels like your whole body is on fire.
“So how about it, cyar’ika?” He breathes, his face flushed. He leans up again to mouth at your throat, a quick flash of teeth that makes you gasp. “You gonna shut me up?”
You grind your hips down sharp and sudden, and smirk in satisfaction as Fives chokes and throws his head back. You can feel his interest literally growing beneath you; it’s your turn to lean in and bite your way up his neck, to the spot by his ear that always makes him shudder.
“I think I’ve got a better idea,” you whisper, nipping the shell of his ear and savouring his yelp. “I’m going to make you beg.”
#arc trooper fives x reader#fives x reader#arc trooper fives#fives#the clone wars#the clone wars fic#arc trooper fives x you#userkarina#alderwrites#if this doesn't work i might cry
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As Bad as it Looks
Frank Castle (Punisher) One-Shot for a challenge
A/N: I joined @trashmenofmarvel ‘s Trashman 2K Challenge with the prompt: “Why are you so stubborn? Do you not have a sense of self-preservation at all?” So, this is my offering to the heap! Apologies now for all the undoubted typos - I’m blind to them right now but wanted to get this posted haha
You and Frank always had a complicated relationship, and you shouldn’t be surprised when he just shows up. And yet...
Warning: Blood, injuries, the mother of all swear words, angst. And I apologize, but there is a “Yes ma’am” in there. I try to keep things neutral, but I have a hard time with Frank because he does like throwing around ma’am and atta girl. I hope it doesn’t pull anyone out too much (and hopefully it helps to know that’s coming)
NOTE: If you want to be on a Frank (or everything) tag list, let me know :)
No matter how many times you came home with your groceries, you never seemed to get the hang of resting the bag on your jutted hip as you unlocked the door. Every time, it was a struggle to shuffle into your apartment and reach the counter to dump them before everything spilled out. In the dark, of course, because you couldn't spare a hand to flick the switch.
Right on cue, as the door flew open, everything seemed to shift in your arms and you rushed towards the counter. You were engulfed in darkness as the door pulled shut behind you, but you knew the way.
Only that time, you slipped.
Sliding forward on the slick tile, your knee and hip crashed painfully into the lower cupboard doors as they smashed loudly in response. You didn't even have time to question why the floor was wet before your back foot slipped and you had to lurch forward, slamming your groceries on the counter as you grabbed the edge of the sink for support.
“You okay?” A low, gravelly voice broke through the shadows.
You couldn't hear your gasp over the rushing in your ears as your heart tried to pound straight out of your chest. Feeling along the counter, you stumbled away from the voice and slapped on the light.
Blood. The floor was covered...except for the streaks you made slipping through it.
In the middle, propped against your cupboards in a tattered shirt wuith old bruises littering his face, sat Frank Castle.
Only that fact felt like a speck being swept around in a sandstorm, and it just couldn't fully register in your mind. Tensing, your mouth dropped open as you sucked in air.
But before you could scream, he held his hands up, palms facing you. “Shh, shhh, shhh, it's okay, Y/n. It's me. Hey, hey.....it's just me, okay?”
Frozen with your mouth still open, the air seemed to whoosh from your lungs, leaving you breathless.
Frank leaned towards you before suddenly stopping as pain shot across his face. Letting out a low grunt, he settled back against the cupboard. When he continued, it was little more than a mumble. “It's...just me...”
“Frank.” You breathed out his name so unsteadily that it verged on a question.
Resting his head back with a dull thud, his eyes drooped closed as a fleeting smirk touched the corner of his mouth. “Hey. Been a while.”
All of your shock was slapped away in an indignant rush. “I...W-what? It's...been a while? Are you fucking serious?”
Letting out a low chuckle, his eyebrows lifted as his head lolled slightly.
Shoving the groceries further back on the counter, you took a careful step out of the blood. "And of course, it's not like you can show up at my door like a normal fucking person. Nooo, you have to just appear in my place, dying on the kitchen floor."
"Wow, dying, huh?" His scoff was listless.
"Look at all this blood! I want my key back, I mean...what the hell, Frank..." Muttering under your breath, you were already shedding your jacket, tossing it on the floor by the entrance. Roughly pushing your sleeves up past your elbow, you took a better look at the floor, finding relatively clean spots to move closer.
He completely ignored the demand for your key.
The smell of copper greeted you as you crouched low. It was undercut with something else, a heavy, sickening scent that you couldn't quite identify. Ignoring it, you balanced on your feet, keeping your knees off the floor as you peeled back the shreds of fabric. Thick smears of blood coated most of his torso, and it was impossible to see where it was coming from. "Holy shit..."
Clumsily, his hand clapped over yours, his fingers curling over and holding you in place before you could flinch back.
"Hey...relax, alright? It's not as bad as it looks." He cracked his eyes open and immediately captured your gaze. Slowly, his eyebrows drew together with concern as he refused to let you look away.
Your mouth ran dry as his stare cut through everything and found the core of you. There was a twinge of frustration that followed the flutter in your chest. Sighing, there was less heat to your words. "Well, that's good because it looks bad. I...I don't even know where to start."
“I already got the worst of it,” he said, nodding to the stove behind you.
Twisting, you followed his gesture and saw a bloodied table knife on the floor. Trailing your eyes up, you noticed the glowing red burner that was still on high. Your stomach rolled as you made the connection. And that smell...
"Jesus, Frank." Pulling away, you got to your feet and turned off the stove. Holding the oven handle, you willed yourself not to give in to the wave of nausea that passed over you.
“Hey, hey...stay with me, okay? I'm fine. I just need to get cleaned up and rest a bit and I'll be out of your hair, yeah?”
“Ha!” The sharp laugh burst out as you looked over the mess in your kitchen. The mess that was Frank.
“I'm fine.” Grunting, he pulled his feet closer as he attempted to get up. Pushing his back against the cupboard, he lifted his hips only to have his foot slide away. Bracing himself on his hand, he reached his free arm, grabbing at the top of the counter to pull himself up but couldn't find a firm grip.
Darting forward, you grabbed near his elbow to offer support. Letting go of the counter, he pushed your hand away, refusing your help.
“Seriously?”
“I got this.” His rough voice was strained as he tried again, pulling himself up while keeping his other arm tucked against his chest. As he raised himself higher than before, his other foot slipped just enough to throw him off balance. Wincing as his back slammed into the cupboard, he sat down with a groan.
Leaning over, you were met with a dismissive wave of his hand.
“Seriously? Why are you so stubborn? Do you not have a sense of self-preservation at all? Because, let me tell you, a concussion isn't going to help things right now.” Grabbing his elbow, you moved closer as you snipped at him.
From that bit of movement, his breaths had already grown heavy. You took advantage of his silence.
“So let me lay out what's going to happen now. You're going to let me help you up and I'm going to look for any more obvious bleeding. Then, if you pass that test, you're going to get in the shower and clean off enough that I can figure out what else needs to be patched up. And if you don't like it, you can crawl yourself back out the door. Got it?”
Letting out a weak chuckle, his tongue darted out over his lips. “Yes ma'am.”
Even with your help, tucking your shoulder under his arm and taking as much weight as you could, it was still a struggle to get him off the floor. But once he was on his feet, he seemed to move easier, even if it was with a heavy shuffle through the apartment.
Lowering him onto the side of the tub, you only gave him a second to catch his breath before you started pulling his shirt up. Instinctively, he raised his arms but froze, favouring the bloodied side. Frowning, you freed one arm and pulled the shirt remains over his head before sliding it down the arm he pinned along his torso.
Sweeping your gaze over his broad chest, you looked for any other obvious wounds. Letting the shirt drop to the floor, you carefully pressed your hands to his injured side, a move that was met with a low hiss.
"Is it just from the wound you...uh...fixed...or do you have some broken ribs too?" It was impossible to see any bruising, even if it had been there. Leaning over, you looked at his back while he stayed hunched forward.
Before he replied, his free arm slid around your waist and he relaxed his forehead against your shoulder. Tilting your head, rested your cheek against his hair. It was soft on your skin.
Skimming your fingers down his back, you saw an exit wound and while it wasn't bleeding, it wasn't cauterized.
As if reading your mind, he preemptively answered your next question. “It went straight through, not much damage. One asshole got me pretty good with a knife...that one...that one I had to deal with already. Ribs might be bruised...cracked even...but nothing's broke.” He mumbled against your shoulder, making no move to back away.
So it really wasn't as bad as it looked.
Sighing, you let yourself relax against him, melting slightly in his arm as he adjusted his grip, pulling you closer. Bringing your hand back up, you lazily traced your fingers through his short hair.
“You could have been killed.”
Feeling his grin against your skin, he finally straightened. Pulling back, you scanned his features, looking for a hint of what was so funny. The exhaustion was clear, even as he lifted the corner of his lip in a weary smile.
“I'm not the one that gets killed, remember?”
A faint smile ghosted your lips, trying to reflect his attempt at levity. "You're the one that does the killing."
“You're goddam right I am,” he said without a hint of shame. And, as much as you hated what he did, it brought an odd measure of comfort.
Brushing his fingers over your cheek, he let them settle at the back of your neck as he pulled you closer. Tilting his head, he touched his forehead to yours as his eyes fluttered shut. Letting your own eyes close, your tense shoulders softened as his warm breath fanned across your collarbone.
Even if the worst of it was already handled, there was still a lot to do. And yet, you couldn't bring yourself to pull away.
"I guess you can keep the key for now," you said quietly, your eyes still closed.
Huffing through his nose, his laugh was cut short as he tensed against the pain it brought.
It was going to be a long night.
Taglist: @foreverfaeries @flower-two @getlostinyourparadise @selfishkiddo @angelicshinigami @parkersbabey @natsukitakama @kchavez666 @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @cattpaws @mysteryoflovve @castleadixon @harrysthiccthighss
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