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dentiststoothfairy · 6 months

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hello! can i ask a norton,Aesop,and naib

with an s/o that got really hurt during a match like it injured the whole right side of there s/o face and also made their s/o loss there right eye? so like at first another survivor told them you got hurt so they went to you thinking you just got a scratch or something but they didn't expect to find there s/o in a puddle of their own blood holding the right side of there face because it got hit with a flare gun which exploded right when it hit the right side of there face,

(it's fine if you don't want to do this or your not comfortable writing it, that's fine but thanks for taking the time out of your day to read my request(⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

🟢 𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐁 𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐄𝐃𝐀𝐑 🟢

Accidents occasionally happen in the manor, which always gets on his nerves. It's just the soldier in him.

No room for mistakes with this one.

So when he found out you were in an accident with a flare gun, he was pretty pissed off.

THIS is why people can't afford to fuck up, anytime, any day. Because people like you get fucking hurt.

Cracking his knuckles for a totally unrelated reason guys don't worry.

Emily was pretty stern with him before letting him into her little nursing room that she made for injuries after matches.

Don't apply extra stress on the wound.

Allow for proper rest.

Don't let them apply for matches until their face is at LEAST 77% healed and that's if we're being generous.

As Emily listed off the rules, Naib just got more agitated.

Had something like. Actually gone wrong?

And once he saw you. Holy fucking shit.

Memories came flooding back.

It was like. Actively sort of triggering him. Looking at you like that.

As Emily applied the final bandages to your face to make sure you wouldn't get infected, he couldn't look at you.

Not that he thought you were ugly, no no. It was. Physically painful to see the one he utterly adored to be in that position.

A position his friends were in so long ago.

He tries to get you to rat out who did it. He just wants to talk.

Once the healing is done and it turns out you've lost an eye. He honestly feel sick, for you. Again, he isn't any less attracted to you. But it's. It's so raw for him. It takes him a while to feel okay.

He has war trauma guys.

🍩𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐍 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐋 🍩

He's a little more careless than Naib, so when he heard about an accident in a duos match.. He didn't really bat an eye.

You were tough, he trusted you. Although, he'd still pretty fucking upset. Like. Come on. How the hell did that even happen in the first place? In fact, the news that an "accident" occurred kind of unnerved him.

And like Naib, Emily gave him a run down on how to treat the wound. Which he could only scoff at.

He knew how to treat a wound like that. Especially a facial wound.

*vaguely gestures to his face*

And. GOD. his reaction to your face.

FUCK DUDE.

It hurts him knowing that you've gone through the EXACT same thing that he has.

Unlike Naib, he doesn't struggle to look at you from guilt. No. He doubles down.

He's extra attentive to you, although he basically discards Emily's advice, he handles it in his own... Mr Mole sort of way.

⚰️ 𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐎𝐏 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐋 ⚰️

He's pretty expressionless on the daily. It's hard to read his eyes especially with the mask, so when someone br𝐪oke the news that something happened to you during a match.. It was hard to gauge his reaction.

Internally, he was pretty conflicted actually.

One half - was he finally allowed to preserve you for your beauty? No scar or scratch or anything could ever doubt your luminescence to him.

On the other half -

If you weren't already dead...

ARE YOU OKAY?

He was stressed, very stressed.

Anyways. He's actually not a germaphobe as one would expect from the gloves and the mask. So when Emily advised him to watch after you carefully, he listened cautiously.

Once he saw your face

He didn't flinch.

"Oh dear,... Poor [Y/N]...are you feeling alright?"

Probably the only time Emily saw him actually interact with someone like.. A normal human ngl.

Aesop doesn't blink twice.

When I say nothing could tear his eyes from you, I mean nothing.

Lost eye, half scarred face, burnt skin smelling like a chicken dinner.

He truly believes you are the most beautiful th. FINE. FINE. HE'LL PUT DOWN THE SYRINGE :((

U don't love him anymore.... And u hate him 😔 u want him dead /j

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cal-flakes · 10 months

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Dark!Rafe when crybaby!reader is refusing her punishment???

╰┈➤ y/n can’t follow orders (blurb)

warnings: triggering content, hints of dub-con, knife play, degradation, slapping, smut, kind of? innocent!reader.

summary: dark!rafe gets jealous after a dinner party.

“rafe! that hurts, stop it!” she plead as he dragged her through their shared home, into the bedroom. “that hurts, stop it!” he mocked, venom laced in his tone. y/n gasped as his grip moved from her wrist to her throat, pinning her against the now closed door.

“what’s the matter? huh? you were all giggly and smiley when you were talking to mr turnbull at the party, what’s changed?” he sneered, his hot breath hitting her in the face. her brows furrowed as she struggled to connect the dots.

“oh? you don’t understand? you never do, do you? just a silly little girl who never knows what she’s doing..” he spat, chuckling slightly as the words left his mouth.

“rafe..i’m sorry..” she croaked, breathless from his tight hold on her neck. “prove it”

staring up at him through her lashes, her forehead creases deepened, once again, utterly confused.

sighing deeply, he released his grip, instead sweeping his palm over his face in frustration. “get on your knees, and prove it” he snipped, staring her down like prey. “show me how sorry you are..”

“rafe, just let me explain..” she muttered, reaching for him as he began to step away from her, jaw clenched.

her mouth fell agape at his sudden movements, stepping behind her and kicking the toe of his shoe into the back of her knee, forcing her to the ground.

she landed with a thud, arms outstretched to stop her from faceplanting. gathering herself, she was taken aback but the sudden pool forming in her panties, chest heaving as her bundle of nerves throbbed against the material.

smirking at her forced submission, his fingers danced along the top of the wooden draws, lingering near the handles. “i want to try something, m’kay angel?” he asked rhetorically, pulling the draw open to retrieve the small blade.

rounding her small frame once more, he crouched in front of her, internally groaning as the sight of her caused a strain in his suit trousers. using the tip of the sharp metal, he tilted her head upwards, inciting her to suck in a deep breath.

“now, you know what to do if you want to stop, yes?” he asked, staring at her wide eyes. “mhm” she hummed as her heart pounded in her chest.

she’d never surprised herself more than she had then, to be so internally excited about her boyfriend holding a knife to her throat? y/n’s mind was conflicted for a split second, she knew this was certainly crossing some sort of line, but rafe loved her, and he wouldn’t hurt her. right?

“you gonna be a good girl now yeah?” he breathed, unbuckling his belt with one hand, freeing his hard cock. y/n’s eyes darted to it, her mouth salivating as she awaited his next orders. humming in response, she looked up at him innocently.

“you’re sorry huh?” he smirked devilishly, almost tickling her cheek with the tip of the knife, dragging it along her jaw bone. y/n nodded frantically, suddenly desperate to please him, almost yearning.

“open” he instructed, situating his free hand in her long locks before pulling her head closer.

y/n’s tongue teasingly swirled around the tip of his cock, she pressed gentle kisses to his base, coating his length in saliva.

the tension in her stomach only grew as she watched him, brows furrowed as he threw his head back, sucking in a sharp breath.

her core fluttered in validation as she pushed his cock further down her throat, moaning slightly as it reached the back.

her head bobbed as grunts and groans fell from his lips, one hand tangled in her hair while the other gently held the small knife to her neck, tracing the outlines of her jugular.

her eyes streamed as she attempted to fit his whole length into her mouth, chest heaving. rafe stared in awe, watching as mascara coated tears rolled down her cheeks, trickling down onto her tits.

“can’t take it all?” he whispered menacingly, tugging her off of him roughly before pulling her up to shove her onto the bed. he placed the knife by her head, going hands free for a short moment.

her lip quivered slightly as a deep exhale left her lips, relief washing over her as she saw the knife was discarded.

quick to notice, rafe’s eyes narrowed before he cupped her cheeks softly, stroking his thumb over the now-dried tears, drawing her in to a false promise of passion.

her eyes flitted between the look on his face and his hands, observing as he reached for the knife once more.

“can’t take me in your mouth huh…” he snipped, thinking out loud. her hearts pace quickened as he threateningly brought the knife to her neck, smoothing it over her bare breasts before trailing it down her stomach, all the way down to her growing wetness. rafe, fascinated by the way she jolted against the blade as the cool metal tickled her skin, moved his gaze to her wide eyes, slowly.

“what about your pussy? can your pussy take it?”

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0kayblue · 1 year

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Need You

You and Leon have been a little more than friends with benefits for awhile and he struggles with what he wants it to be.

Word count: 3k (almost 4)

Mentions of alcohol, slightly possessive Leon, over protective Leon, angst, fluff (??kinda??), happy ending, not proofread very well if it all.

A/N: HELLO!! How are you all doing? Good I hope. I’ve been gone for more than a hot minute. It took me a lot longer than what I thought it would to get back into the groove of things. With that being said, this is not that great. Kinda boring, but hey, sometimes things are boring. This is just kind of to get me in the groove of uploading and writing again.

Part three and request are in the works. They are coming!! I just need a little practice before I start actually going at it again.

With all my heart, I hope you are having a fantastic day!! Enjoy!!

Time had never moved so slow as Leon anxiously bounced his leg underneath the cheap break room table. His tired eyes glanced to the clock and then back down to the untouched styrofoam cup of coffee.

Leon hated a lot of things about his job, but at this moment debriefing was his least favorite. He detested having to explain everything that happened on missions before he officially had time to process how they happened to him. Not that he ever truly enjoyed thinking about the things he had to do in order to survive, but he liked to have an understanding on why he did this or that. Why he chose to go left instead of right.

He had just spent nearly three days fighting his way through the deep Rocky Mountains; B.O.W’s at every turn, and he didn’t even get the information he was expected to return with. The whole thing was a waste of his damn time. He was sent to follow a lead that only set the operation two steps back and whatever up and coming supervillain, or want to be Umbrella Corporation, or extremist cult one leap forward. All while defense was wounded and information scrounged for a thread to pull to loosen the seam on the shit show they were currently trying to clean up.

He was annoyed and beyond frustrated with everything. On top of the emotional stress he also was not in the best shape physically- it wasn’t anything major all things considered- but, broken ribs, internal bruising and external bruising causing almost his whole torso to be a deep purple almost gray hue, and the bandaged up gashes on his limbs and slight cuts on his face only kept adding straws to the camel's back. He felt like it was only a matter of time before he snapped, he felt like he could only sit here for a few seconds more before he stormed out the door and out of this damn stale sterile building that was too clean.

He took a deep breath before adjusting himself to sit up straight in the deep blue plastic chair. As he exhaled he closed his eyes and saw the face he’s seen behind his eyelids since he landed, desperate to see it in person. To touch the soft warm flesh of someone he could never get enough of, regardless of the fact that he tried so hard not to get addicted to. Each hit of you more potent than the last, each high allowing him to forget for a little longer, each graze of his skin against yours permitting him to daydream of a life he has always ached for. Even if you didn’t long for the same things he did, he saw you with everything he had ever wanted. It was cruel and yet he continued to do it to himself.

He had bought you a burner phone with his number and his alone. You were not to use the phone for anything other than to communicate with him. He had asked you to carry it with you at all times, lying and saying he didn’t bug it. He told you that with his line of work that it would make your meetings more secure, that it would keep you off the radar. In a lapse of poor judgment you took the phone and him up on his proposal to make him an official fuck buddy. Who could blame you? It was a scene straight out of a movie and boosted your ego. It made you feel special that someone so important took such an interest in someone like you. Someone who lived such an exhaustingly normal life. It kept you on cloud nine for at least a week and a half after receiving it.

It was a purely physical relationship that didn’t require any emotional attachment regardless of the deep emotions that sunk into the both of you too quickly for comfort. Each rendezvous lasted longer than the previous one. Him staying at your place for days, while you both interacted like domesticated adults. Not quite like a married couple, not as casual as friends, and nowhere near as uptight as roommates; it was such an odd relationship, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Oftentimes by the end of his stay he left you with more questions than answers. Your knowledge of his life was barley skin deep and you were left to piece it together from fragments he dropped you.

He on the other hand knew everything about you. He couldn’t help himself. All your information was at his fingertips; your past, your present, and a vague idea of your future. In hindsight he should have left it alone and maybe if he did he wouldn’t be stuck in this current predicament. Maybe wouldn’t be digging in his pocket for the phone that held only one contact number, a phone number that he had memorized even though he shouldn’t have. He leaned forward in the chair as he typed only two words.

‘Need you.’

He didn’t think about the impact they could have, he didn’t think of the weight they carried, he just sent the message. Not a part of him even considering the fact that you would think it was the truth. He needed you. Rather you are below him or watching some low brow television show that networks pumped out to dumb down the population. He just needed you within reach, he needed the comfort of your presence to ease the buzzing of the world he lived in.

He sat the phone on the table as he crossed his arms and sat back, anxiously awaiting a reply. He didn’t get a chance to glance at the clock before the phone buzzed against the table.

‘Busy.’

The message read and he couldn’t help but to scoff as his hand ran through freshly washed damp hair.

‘With what?’

He asked in his reply as he sent it. His jaw tightening in annoyed agitation. What part of need did you not understand? He took a deep breath and reminded himself of the nature of the relationship. As he went to follow up his demanding question with a meeting time and place the break room door opened and he shoved the phone back into his pocket.

“Mr.Kennedy,” A rather thin man with tired eyes and a disheveled navy blue suit sighed out, “I’m sorry, we know you are exhausted, we just have a few more questions. Can you stay for another thirty minutes? No more, no less.”

Leon forced a polite smile as he stood, “Lead the way.”

“Thank you so much, Mr. Kennedy.”

“Please, call me Leon.” Leon insisted as he took the door from the man and just like that he followed the man down the hall and into an elevator; leaving behind a hot cup of coffee to grow cold on a cheap linoleum covered piece of wood where it would eventually be washed down the drain by night janitorial staff.

It had been an hour since Leon set foot in that room and not much of anything had come out of his answers. He was out of the building now and almost free as his hand found the handle of his car door, but a buzz in his pants pocket caused him to let go of it immediately. As he unlocked the phone he noticed he was left with a voice memo and not a message, which he found odd but not alarming. He couldn’t help but to smile, ready to hear your voice. He pressed play and heard the hustling of feet and an unrecognizable song in the background.

“She said she was busy, Le-on. Take a hint.”

A low masculine voice came out of the speaker as he gripped the phone. He pulled it away from his ear with a snarl as he looked at the phone screen. It took every fiber of his being to not shatter the phone right there; it took every remaining ounce of sanity that he had to not let this red hot anger consume him. This little voice in his head pleaded for him to think rationally.

He opened the car door and slammed it shut behind him as he got in, it was a miracle the car door window didn’t break from the force. He was quick to pull up your location and an airy laugh left him as he knew the location too well. A dive bar on the outskirts of the city, the same exact bar he had found you in. It was tragically comical.

He didn’t bother with a seat belt as he backed out of his parking spot and hit the gas and drove off after you. The speed limit was a mere suggestion as city lights passed him just as quickly as they appeared. He was livid as his knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel. He was angry. He was angry that you had the audacity to be out with someone at the bar that he met you at. He was furious that you were busy with some asshole who had the nerve to address him by his first name. He was livid that he didn’t just leave work and go to you as soon as he landed. He was heartbroken because even though he was lost in this haze of consuming rage he had no right to feel this way. You weren’t his, but he was yours.

As Leon quickly pulled into the parking lot he parked his car with no regard to the faded white lines that were supposed to indicate parking spots. He left the car running as he slammed the car door shut, making a bigger scene than the screeching sound his tires made against the asphalt when he parked. He could feel the eyes of smokers burning a hole in his frame as he took quick strides to the front doors of the bar.

“Nice ride-.” A voice started but was cut off by the beep of Leon locking the car. Normally Leon would nod politely, but he didn’t bother to spare a glance to whoever made the comment. His brows furrowed and a glare that could kill adorning his face as he stepped into the warm bar.

“Hey!” Zack yelled, the bartender was shouting as Leon watched him scurry from behind the bar and over to a crowded table. Men and some women of varying ages were crowded around the table cheering. “Give that back! How did you even-?” Zack tried to reason as some guy held him back from the table. Leon proceeded with some caution as he approached Zack.

“Let it go, buddy. He’ll give it right back and pay for the shots as soon as he’s done.” A stranger said as he tried to keep Zack back. “He’ll even pay extra if this chick handles her liquor the way she says she can.”

That got Leon’s attention faster as he pushed his way closer to the front of the table. His eyes locked on your frame laying on the tabletop with your head leaning off the end as another guy poured vodka down your throat.

“Yeah! That’s what I’m talking about!” The man screamed before putting the bottle to his mouth and taking a shot straight from the bottle.

Your laugh rang through the bar as you began to try and sit up, but the man was quicker than you were as he bent down to meet you, his arm wrapping around your shoulders to keep you in place. His lips graze yours as he spit his shot into your mouth. Your throat burning as you tried to push him off of you. For a second you thought your weak effort was successful as his lips left yours, but when you gained some composure you heard the shattering of glass and saw people back away quickly from the table.

“Get the fuck off of her!” A voice yelled, that voice, you knew that voice all too well. You sat up as your eyes found Leon’s frame. His shoulders tense as they fell up and down with his labored breathing. His fist clenched and jaw tightened as he threatened in a deep low growl, “Touch her again and I’ll break your fucking spine.” He was in no condition to fight, he was barely standing. He was utterly exhausted and his limbs ached, but the angry adrenaline that coursed through his veins kept him upright.

“Leon.” You dryly got out as you sat up on the table. You repeated his name but he didn’t even glance in your direction.

“Leon? Jesus Christ. Look, she already-.” The man spoke and Leon recognized the voice immediately from the voice message. Leon’s eyes darkened with rage as he looked at this pathetic excuse of a man.

Busy.

“Where is her phone?” Leon asked as he roughly grabbed the man by his shirt collar, “Where is her damn phone?”

“Here, here! Take it!” The man shook as he pulled the phone out of his pocket and handed it to Leon. Leon snatched it from his hand before pushing the man roughly to the ground. Leon towered over him as the man shook, Leon’s unbridled rage causing the bar to grow freezing cold.

“Stay away from her.” Leon turned from the man and his gaze softened only slightly as it landed on you. Your eyes locked with his for only a moment before he avoided your gaze and approached you. His hand found your arm as he helped you off of the table. He wrapped an arm around your waist as the crowd parted like the Red Sea. All eyes were on the both of you as you walked out of the bar.

“I can take it from here.” You said agitated as you tried to push yourself away from Leon.

“I don’t care. I’m taking you home.” Leon said as he unlocked his car. That aggression he felt still resting on the tip of his tongue. He opens the passenger door and with a deep sigh you get in his car. After he just opened the door you took a deep breath before running your hand through your hair. A bottomless pit settled in your stomach before you sat back against the seat.

“Seatbelt.” You heard him say as he got in the car, pulling you out of your thoughts. You compiled as he started to drive out of the parking lot and turned right out of the parking lot.

You raise an eyebrow before looking at him and confusingly confront him, “You were supposed to turn left.”

“I said I’m taking you home. I know where I’m going.” Leon glared ahead and for once wished you wouldn’t say a damn word. He was heated.

“How did you know where I was?”

��Can you not ask questions right now?”

“No, because you’re freaking me out. First, you know where to find me and second, you hook a right when you know my place is left. Where are we going?” You stated in a matter of fact tone as you crossed your arms. You could tell he was angry, but you didn’t care because you were angry too. You never disclosed your location to him, he nearly started a fight, and he continued to treat you like you were something more to him regardless of the fact that he made it clear that you would never be anything more.

“My place. It’s closer and I’m too tired to drive further than what I have too.” He admitted as he sent you a quick glance.

“Your place?” You rolled your eyes, “You’re telling me that your place is closer and we’ve spent all this time at mine?”

“Yeah.” Leon sighed with irritation.

“How is that fair? How is it fair that you know all this shit about me, but I know nothing about you?” You asked flat out and annoyed. Normally after going an extended time without seeing Leon you didn’t ask any questions, you just tended to him until he was ready to talk. He loved that about you, you never pushed him. Leon grunted knowing that it was the alcohol and a mix of unconfronted emotions made you bold.

“We talked about this-.”

“Yeah, we did, but you tracking my location wasn’t in that conversation.” Leon took his eyes off the road as the car came to a stop at a stoplight and he looked at you. He opened his mouth to speak, to defend himself, but you cut him off. “Cut the shit, I know it’s a bugged phone. I had it looked at and your sudden appearance tonight only proved it.”

“It’s only bugged for your protection.” Leon got out through gritted teeth.

“My protection? What the fuck are you even talking about? If anything it’s so you can keep your whores straight and away from your wife.” You spit at him with venom. You knew Leon wasn’t the type of guy to run around town like that, he was a one woman type of guy. You were just angry and confused at why you would be enough to protect but not enough to be his.

Leon’s face turned up in pained disgust and he went to say something, but the blaring of a car horn called his attention back to the road and a green light. You huffed as you turned away from him and he continued to drive onward to his place.

The rest of the car ride was silent, giving you time to feel bad about what you said and how you said it. Your face falling and your anger simmering out as your eyes felt heavy with the weight of fresh tears threatening to spill. You refused to cry though as you sniffed and he pulled into his driveway.

A two story house that was too big for just him, but old enough for you to believe that it was a house that was left to him in some family members' will. Or he could’ve bought it himself easily with the way you’ve seen him treat money; like it was something that grew on trees. He was a complete and utter mystery to you and it drove you insane that you could still fall for someone who you knew so little about. At this point you were more mad at yourself than you were at him. You knew of his interests and hobbies, his likes and dislikes, you saw his heart; but you didn’t have a clue about his day to day life. It was like he existed only to you and no one else. No criminal record, no traceable family; he seemed to have nothing. All you had were snippets of an article about Raccoon City that left you with more questions than answers.

“Don’t worry, the wife’s not home.” Leon muttered through gritted teeth and you winced as he got out of the car. You went and got out of the car alongside him as you followed closely behind him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.” He opened the front door and you followed him in, shutting and locking it behind you. Your body now shaking as his focus remained straight ahead. He was so cold and you knew you deserved it. “I know that’s not you. I just…” you hesitated as you could feel your throat beginning to clog, knowing that your voice was going to waver and your next words were going to come out broken if you didn’t get a grip.

“I’ve got a guest room, but I haven’t found time to clean it out so there is a bunch of junk and shit in there. You can take my bed and I’ll take the guest room.” Your heart broke, thinking he didn’t even want to be near you and you couldn’t blame him.

“I think we should call this off.” Your voice still broke as you said it and Leon quickly turned to you. His gaze softened immediately as soon as he saw your big glassy doe eyes. He stood frozen as his heart shattered. He was losing you and it wasn’t to some unforeseen force, he did this. His refusal to let you in completely had pushed you away.

Leon was a fighter, it was his job. He stood up for what was right, he fought for people who couldn’t fight for themselves, he fought so people who weren’t fighters never had too. But did he ever fight for his own selfish desires? At the end of the day was he willing to fight for the first good thing he’s had in his life for a while? At the bar he was ready. He was ready to push his exhaustion aside and fight the object that stood between him and you; but now? Fighting you, the person he desired the most.

“Look, it’s not anything personal…I just…this isn’t working for me.” You nervously blabbered out, the silence killing you. You took a deep breath as your hands found your hips, “I mean the Pretty Women aspect of it was fun, I had fun. I don’t know, I guess, I mean…” you stumbled over your own words.

“Alright.” He said and you looked away from him as your arms wrapped around yourself trying to comfort yourself. The floodgates of your tears threatening to spill as your eyes darted around the room.

“Okay. Good. I’ll sleep on the couch and grab a cab and be gone before the sun comes up.” You voice low as you head to the couch but Leon catches you by your elbow. The sudden connection of your bare skin against the palm of his hand sends a chill up his spine.

“I want to start again. I want to make it right.” He said as he slowly looked at you, his own eyes glassy. You study his face now and how exhausted he looked. “I’ll tell you everything. Let me start over. Let me make it right.” Your brows knitted together as you relaxed slightly and your other hand cupped his cheek. Tears fell from your eyes as you stifled a pained groan. “Please.” He begged and how could you say no?

Your lips found him in a hesitant kiss that he returned with desperation. The moment your lips sparked against his he was ready to fight again. His hand trailed down your arm and before it found your waist. He pulled you close to him as your arms wrapped around his neck. Sweet desperate kisses turned into feverishly hungry ones.

“Need you.” He admitted softly against your lips; hoping that you understood. Hoping that the feeling was returned. Hoping that right now that he said enough, that those two words meant enough. As you melted against him he knew that you understood.

For the first time in a long time Leon was ready to give his all to something besides work.

#resident evil leon #hayley writes a bit #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy resident evil #resident evil fanfic #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil #leon kennedy x you #leon x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #writing romance #writing angst #writing #romance #fluff??#i don’t even know #he’s just my baby

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supercriminalbean · 1 year

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Jets of panic.

Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader.

Summary: After a bad case Reader has a bad panic attack on the Jet and Spencer helps calm them down.

Warning: Panic attacks, anxiety, mental health, bombings, death, blood, school bombings, slapping, crying, angst, fluff. (If I have forgotten anything let me know)

Words: 1.8k

A/N: I rewrote this/ edited this in 10 minutes and then got bored near the end so I'm sorry for the rough ending but I tried its been a long day. I wrote this last year before I knew how to write (spoiler I still can’t write) so yeah I would love some feedback, thank you enjoy.

As you sit there on the jet couch, staring off into space. Beginning to daydream as the team starts their debriefing of the last case. Your head is buzzing, with the events of the last few days, still trying to process everything you have been through. This case wasn't the worst that you have had, but that doesn’t mean it was easy. It's never easy when you watch someone you were meant to save die right in front of your eyes, and manage to get out of the situation, with only a concussion and small scratches.

~~~

You can’t help but let the bombing replay over and over again in your mind. The way you fell to the ground, unable to move for a good minute. Only able to open your eyes and watch as the student you were escorting out of the building lay lifeless in front of you, her eyes staring straight into your soul. Everytime you try to close your eyes, you just see her face staring back at you, a feeling of helplessness and guilt filling you up, knowing it should be you instead. The room is a blaze, you can feel the room starting to heat up, but still your body refuses to move. Your ears are ringing from the loud blast, your mind unable to process what is happening in the moment, until you feel a pair of hands on your body pulling you up. Your eyes shoot over landing on a pair of scared eyes belonging to Morgan. Who you know must have run inside the building, after the explosion.

“Save her, we need to help her” Your words are a mess, as you try pulling away from him, your strength suddenly returning to your body.

“We need to go, there’s no time,” Morgan says firmly. Wrapping his arm around your waist pulling you along with him. Ignoring your pleas to go back and help the girl, his mind is more focused on the second bombing in the building.

~~~

Your mind stays centred on replaying the scene over and over again, focusing on the girl's face. Never hearing Hotch call out to you repeatedly, the whole team now watching you worried. They all know you’re taking this case hard, going internal rather than speaking about your worries. Morgan, who's sitting beside you, places a hand lightly on your shoulder to get your attention. You jump quickly, so far away in your own mind, you didn’t even notice that your hand had gone up as you turned round to face him. Only realising when the smack echoes around the jet, a gasp leaves your lips as your eyes widens. Fear and panic spreading throughout your body.

“I'm so sorry” You squeak out, As you spirit off to the bathroom, before anyone could stop you. Locking the door as you fall to your knees.

~~~

Tears are flowing down your face, as you lean against the door. Heart racing away in your chest, as you struggle to breathe. You're fully aware that you're having a panic attack, but your team is right outside the door, so you know you have to do your best at staying quiet. Pulling your knees up to your chest, hiding your head between your knees, allowing the tears to roll down, as your mind continues to race. You didn't mean to hit Derek, you just got startled. One of your reactions is to spin around, but your hand was already up and apparently had different plans. Morgan must hate you now, why wouldn't he? You slapped him for no reason. You never wanted your team to see you like this.

~~~

There's a gentle knock on the door, making you jump slightly, you don't respond.

“Hey (Y/n) can you open the door please, we just want to make sure you're okay” JJ's soft voice comes through. Shaking your head as a response, deciding to stay verbally quiet. You weren't ready for everyone to see you like this.

“Come on (Y/n) please, just let us check on you okay?” JJ sighs softly, knocking again. The whole team became filled with worry, when they saw you run off to the bathroom, after slapping Morgan. Morgan was shocked when he realised you had slapped him, more concerned than anything else. He got up straight away, wanting to go after you. But Hotch stopped him, wanting to give you some space to calm down first.

~~~

You wipe the tears off your face, but somehow they seem to keep flowing. You hear more footsteps approaching as a harsher knock comes against the door.

“(Y/n) open the door now, I don't want to have to kick it down but I will” Morgan sighs, looking at JJ with concern. “Come on kid, you're worrying us” Morgan's voice calls out, gentle but harsher than JJ. You close your eyes tired, pulling at your hair feeling stressed out. You don't want people to see how broke you are. You get that they are worried about you, but you just can't deal with it, not right now. Hearing more rushes footsteps quickly approche, the talking outside, sounding like an argument beginning to break out. It soon goes quiet as you hear the footsteps walking away.

~~~

It stays quiet for a minute, before you hear a soft knock on the door.

“Hey (Y/n/n) its Spence, I've sent the others away, can you just unlock the door for me?” Spencer speaks softly, his voice calming you. Slowly you reach up unlocking the door, moving out of the way so he can open it. The door opens quietly, he slips inside before closing it behind him. He looks down, spotting you leaning against the wall. Staying silent, he joins you on the floor, breaking his heart as he sees you like this. Your face stained with tears, your hair a mess where you were yanking at it.

“Are you alright?” He asks after a bit of silence, turning to watch you. Shaking your head faintly, your tears having finally stopped. Spencer places his hand carefully on your knee, rubbing a circular pattern. Gradually you lean your head on his shoulder, your heart still pounding away. While your mind now just feel empty and froggy. Feeling like you can’t even think straight even if your mind has just fallen quiet all of a sudden.

~~~

“Morgan okay?” You finally speak, your voice is rough due to the crying.

“He's fine, he's worried about you, everyone is” Reid speaks gently. His hand is still drawing patterns on your knees, the sensation helping calm you.

“I didn't mean to slap him” You let out a heavy breath, closing your eyes.

“We know, It was a good hit though” Spencer smiles at you gently, earning a small laugh.

“I don't want to go out there, not yet”

“We don't have to, we can stay in here as long as you need” Smiling weakly as you listen to Reids breathing, matching his. Helping slow your racing heartbeat down to a normal pace.

~~~

“Spence, can you tell me something, just anything please?” You ask faintly. Feeling tired and weak, keeping your eyes closed. Reid stays quiet for a bit, thinking.

“I was thinking about entering a chess tournament this weekend, but I think that would be a bit unfair seeing as I would easily beat everyone,” Reid laughs lightly, earning a small chuckle from you.

“You really think you can beat everyone, don't ya Dr Reid” Smirking slightly, opening your eyes.

“Well I mean, I can easily calculate what moves they will make and be able to beat them in less than 5”

“That is why I don't like playing games with you” You laugh slightly, teasing him.

“It's not my fault you're easy to read (Y/n/n)” Reid teases you back smiling. Happy to see the colour returning back to your cheeks.

~~~

“Are you ready to go back out?” Reid asks, removing his hand on your knee, you nod. Ready to stand up, as your heart starts beating faster and your mind decides to start spinning once more. They are all going to ask you questions, staring at you. What if they are already talking about you, who knows what they could be saying. What if Hotch doesnt think you're fit for the job anymore, and fires you. You can’t lose this job, you don't want to lose your team, your family. Your breathing picks up speeds, finding it hard to breathe once more.

“Hey hey, (Y/N) look at me, look at me” Reid speaks gently, placing his hand on your knee again. You shake your head refusing to look at him, while your mind starts to spin. Spencer places his hand on your cheek softly, turning you to look at him. Tears slide down your face again.

“I'm sorry , I'm so sorry” Crying out, your head dropping, trying to get away from him. Reid doesn't let you, wrapping his arms around and pulling you into his body. Your face hides away in his chest, snuggling into his touch.

“Don't be sorry, it's alright, just listen to my breathing okay” His voice is calm but firm. He starts taking deeper, calming breaths. You start doing the same, keeping in time with him. Listening to his heart beat, closing your eyes, finding peace in his heartbeat. You stay there for a while in silence. Soon he starts humming your favourite song, earning a faint smile from you. Slowly moving your head out of his chest, resting against his shoulder.

~~~

You two sit in the bathroom, for close to an hour. Once you are fully calm down, thanks to the help of listening to Spencer , talk about random facts. Earning smiles and small comments from you.

“Okay Spencer, I'm ready” Smiling weakly, he smiles back, getting up. He holds a hand out for you, taking it, pulling yourself up. You fix your hair before walking out.

~~~

It's been over an hour since you locked yourself in the bathroom. The team has been extremely concerned about you, but decided to give Reid and you some space. Rossi and JJ are still sitting in the same place talking and laughing, while Morgan and Emily have moved to sit at the back. Emily is reading her books and Morgan has his headphones on staring out the window. Hotch is doing his usual round of after case paperwork, on the table opposite them. Morgan looks up as you walk past, giving you a small smile. Reid takes your hand in his, leading you towards the couch. Taking a seat on the couch, resting your head on his shoulder. Positioning yourself, so that you're half laying down, with your leg out on the couch. Spencer wraps his arm around you, holding you close, as your body begins to relax, feeling at home in his arms. Closing your eyes, knowing you need to deal with everything that has happened. But, you can do that when you land, as you let yourself drift off to sleep in Spencer's arms.

#criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader one shot #spencer reid x gender neutral reader #spencer reid x reader fluff #criminal minds one shot

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fatuismooches · 8 months

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dottore brainrot hit me right in the middle of my poetry class so I'm making it everyone else's problem

dottore with a poet s/o. he's a logical man, he doesn't go into the arts, let alone decipher and examine them. would challenge dottore to decipher their poems. he's STRUGGLING bc how was he supposed to know that "the running water loves the land that hugs it" was meant to represent his hugs?? sometimes the segments can hear him muttering to himself and reading the poem aloud over and over again. but when he figures it out?? he melts(internally) bc it's just so sweet. 100% would support his partner's art

OH YM GOSHHH I FREAKING LOVE THIS. As someone who always adored writing but sucked at poetry like THIS IS SO CUTE BDWQHDWJ ILY FOR THIS ANON (Nah fr though... Dottore probably handed all the literature homework over to you to do for him in the Akademiya because he couldn't be bothered or interested enough in stuff like that 😭)

But even all these years later he still claims to be able to understand it if he tried (lies) so you decide to whip up your own poem to put him to the test. He easily accepts the challenge with his usual confident grin because how hard could it possibly be? He deals in complicated ancient texts relating to science, math, and all these other matters. Surely he can figure out a poem. (He turns out to be wrong. So so wrong.) For such a smart man he couldn't seem to interpret the hidden feelings, or the metaphors and poetic devices used in these poems or writings as quickly as he thought he would. He's POURING over every word, every punctuation mark, stanzas, line breaks, everything trying to understand what's going on. There are literally whole notes, underlining, circling, and more scribbled around the poem. And you thought you made it pretty easy too... of course your poem would be about your love for him!

Despite how much it looks like he's suffering trying to understand what's going on, it's enjoyable to Dottore. Like a stress relief. He knows he's not the easiest person to be around so he wants to understand you and your hobbies too... although he isn't adept at them at all. After a dozen pages of brainstorming he finally reaches a conclusion and he just gets so excited and cocky, like how he does when he finally makes a breakthrough in his research. Dottore will come up to you with his confident smirk again and tell you in plain words what exactly you want. Acting as if you didn't make his brain short-circuit a few times.

"The running water loves the land that hugs it" was meant to represent his hugs??" IS SO SO CUTE IM EVAPORATINGGG AHHH

#smooches talks #dottore love notes <3 #funny enough ive been writing poems lately for class as well 😭#my favorite kinds are ones that rhyme🚶‍♀️#the segments want some poems too :(

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mymhameme · 4 months

Text

Some more concrete designs for hero Touya and villain/vigilante Hawks.

Check below for more details.

All I've got so far is that Endeavor sent Touya to the HPSC to train with them to become a hero since he wasn't going to stop no matter what they said. He figures this way, Touya will be safer and preoccupied so he can focus on Shouto. With the Commission's training and support equipment, Touya made leaps and bounds, but none of it seemed to matter to Endeavor who never appeared impressed of interested in his progress. Touya kept at it despite feeling as if he was completely thrown away in favor of Shouto. He began to resent Endeavor instead of idolizing him and worked hard to become an even better hero than both Shouto and their father. After his debut, he quickly rocketed up in the hero charts climbing to the top ten by 20 and settling in at number four by 23.

After Shouto's class was attacked by the LOV, he begins looking into the group in order to capture them on HPSC orders. Shouto asks to intern under him instead of Endeavor, eager to know his brother and not have to deal with their father. He declines, irritated, but the Commission demands he take him in so they can gain more information. Touya does as he is told but is an asshole the whole time, always rushing ahead and not bothering to actually talk or teach his brother anything. Shouto doesn't let it dissuade him and continues to chase after his tail. It's infuriating to Touya since Shouto is actually very good at being a hero to no one's surprise. It almost seems effortless to Touya who had to fight every day and struggle to get where is he now only for Shouto to already be this close to his level.

If it wasn't bad enough, Shouto is attacked again by the League and the HPSC demands he try infiltrate the organization. His contact ends up being Keigo. Touya struggles with trying to balance overtaking Endeavor's new place as number one, still being a hero, a spy, and training Shouto during his internships.

------------

Keigo's father was never arrested an eventually he and his mother began demanding Keigo go along to commit crimes, seeing how his quirk would be perfect for being a villain and getting them money for drugs and alcohol and anything else they wanted. Keigo refuses and his dad begins screaming at Keigo in public, about to hit him when Endeavor shows up. He asks what is going on and Takami tells the truth, that he's just trying to get his son to do what he's supposed to do. He's trying to look out for his wellbeing, but he just won't listen. Endeavor (who doesn't know there is a warrant for his arrest and frustrated with both Shouto and Touya) tells Keigo he needs to be a better son and do as his father asks; he's just doing what's best. With that, he leaves, completely shattering Keigo. Feeling defeated, he does as he's told and follows his father into a life of crime, hating every second. He's very successful and Japan begins to know of him. It leads to his father becoming more unstable and paranoid, demanding they get into more lucrative crimes that are worth the risk. Keigo does as he's told like always but gets an idea. By doing these things, he's able to get information and access to people who get off on the suffering of others.

He begins working as a vigilante, being very careful to cover his tracks so no one suspects the villain they're all working with to betray them. This leads him into the LOV after they attack the USJ, eager to see where the nomu come from and take them out from the inside. He plays along like he has for the last few years as a vigilante, getting cozy with the members. It's going well until he is found by Touya who insists on joining the league as well. He spins a sad story of his dad playing with eugenics and throwing him away and how he only became a hero to make him proud. Touya says it was all for nothing so why not just tear it all down and expose the hero filth from within? Keigo doesn't buy a second of it but once again, plays along. It would be good to have someone else on the inside trying to take these guys down besides him, especially since doing anything too drastic would fuck up his chances of continuing his vigilantism in the future once this mess is cleared up. As tests, he makes Touya dig up dirt on other heroes so he can expose them later.

---------

Fucking Christ. Okay, so that's all I've really gotten so far.

If you made it to the end of this, I applaud you. Thanks!

(side note- If Endeavor seems stupid or out of character for what he says to Hawks, it's based on a similar situation that happened to me as a kid- so it's not impossible. Especially for a guy who looks away at the own harm he causes for what he wants and thinks is best.)

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navstuffs · 1 year

Text

carlos oliveira decides to surprise you when you can't be home for valentine's day(gnflightattendat!reader, FLUFF)

when you told your boyfriend carlos about your schedule on valentine's day, you watched his shoulder fall down in disappointment, although he tried to keep a smile. you had flights planned for the whole day, from seven am to nine pm.

you apologized a million times that day, promising you would make up to him on your next day off together - in three months. deep down, you thought about asking for the day off (which would be impossible), getting "sick," or firing yourself (seriously, the best option). carlos, watching your internal struggle, gently grabs your face to look at him.

"we will find a way. don't worry," how can carlos be so sweet to you when you just ruined your first valentine's day together?

so the day finally comes, and you receive a happy valentine's day text from him as you walk to your gate. you are so focused on texting him back you hit a man with familiar broad shoulders.

"i'm sorry, sir!"

your voice dies down in your throat. carlos is right in front of you, wearing comfortable gray sweatpants and a tight black shirt with an unzipped grey hoodie. he smiles at you, holding the straps of his backpack.

"carlos? what are you doing here?"

"what do you think? i am going on the flight with you."

you think it is a prank, laughing. during boarding time, you welcome the passengers in front of the plane when you see the famous dark curly hair going down to enter the plane because he is that tall. when carlos winks at you as he passes, your co-workers give you fast smiles.

you end up trading with a co-worker to stay in business class, so you can stay close to your boyfriend. carlos is alone in his seat, smirking at you when he sees you.

"i can't believe you did this!" you exclaim, surprised but happy. at least you had him for a couple of hours, before saying goodbye.

after the flight lands at the next destination, carlos waits on you by the gate. you are ready to say bye to him, when he remains on your side, naming your next destination. you look at him surprised, making him chuckle.

"i said i was going fly with you today, didn't i? the whole day."

you can't believe he did this, as carlos shows his multiple reservations on his phone. you want to kiss him so badly. during the day and numerous changes of airplanes, carlos gives you favorite snacks and chocolates, smiles and winks, small notes that say "i love you", and even rubs your hip when you are passing by him when he is sitting by the last row; you see him struggling so much during the three hours flight since he is so tall. he naps, and you have to hold your hand to not give him a head rub, or kiss him on his lips. just his presence makes you feel loved, and the work day not so hard.

by the end of the last flight, carlos is waiting for you by the gate exit. he looks exhausted, you can't even imagine how you look. you finally hug him, hiding your face into his body.

"thank you, thank you so much for this carlos!" you whisper, on the erge of tears. carlos chuckles (your favorite sound in the entire world), giving you a kiss on the cheek.

"if you aren't so tired, we can stop by the fancy airport restaurant and continue the celebration?"

you nod your head, happy.

part of my valentine’s day special 5/5 DONE!!! OMG I DID (before midnight where i live, please forgive me brasil). i am SO SO HAPPY! and seriously, this idea came to me on a whim (i had another idea for only f!reader for carlos, but since i am doing gn! for the challenge YAY). thank you so much for all the feedback! I DID IT!!

#carlos oliveira x reader #carlos oliveira x you #carlos oliveira #carlos oliveira fanfic #carlos oliveira fanfics #carlos oliveira imagine #carlos oliveira imagines #carlos oliveira fluff #in my headcanon they joined the mile high club BUT I WOULDN'T BE ABLE TO WRITE TONIGHT i am sorry #i have to get sleep since i have to work in the morning #stay with some fluff

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royalsunshinehotel · 2 months

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Hey!! I saw dev in a movie a couple months ago and was completely shocked by how attractive dev is and I found your account a few weeks ago and I wanted to make a request if that’s okay

So like I read one of your preference works and I was thinking about like kinda angsty oneshot based of the Joshua madika part of the “how they fight” one were it’s angst in the beginning with the whole fight and all that and then more comfort/fluff towards the end? Thank you!!

Guilty As Sin? (Joshua Madika x f!reader)

A/N: You are struggling with internalized misogyny. Joshua's left to untangle your mean streak.

"I don't understand why we're fighting." That was a lie. Of course you know.

"How can you not understand?" Joshua snaps right back, whipping off the tie that had gotten too tight around his neck over the course of that evening.

"Joshua, she cheated on you!" You snapped, throwing your bag down and kicking off your heels. Tonight should have gone differently, you'd be on your way to the kitchen to get a snack for the two of you, but now you were going to get a snack for one person, you!

"Don't try to pretend this is about me." You hate how even his tone is, even from one room away.

"She had it coming!" No, she didn't. She didn't need you being cruel to her.

"No, she didn't!" Joshua, your Joshua, was right.

"She's not ugly, her dress was fine, and I used to love her!" The venom in Joshua's voice hits you right in the heart.

He used to love her. Why did that feel like a surprise?

"Oh. Okay." Every atom in your being falls, and you have to get away from him.

Joshua knows what he's said was a dagger he didn't even realize he'd pulled out.

"Wait, no wait, come back!" He chases you through the house, towards your shared room.

"I just try so hard! I try so hard to be the best girlfriend for you, and then she comes marching back, asking for help and you do it?"

"It's not what you're thinking!" He raises his hands in exasperation, heat rushing to his head.

You raise your pointer finger at him, "I'm thinking that I try so hard. I try so hard to be the best girlfriend for you, and you just don't even see it! You don't even care!"

"Of course I do! Don't you know I love you for that?"

A beat passes, you thank God for the break.

You start bawling first, and Joshua blinks, breathing heavily.

"I'm going to bed!" You shouted, turning on your heel, down the hallway to your shared bedroom and slamming the door behind you. Water won't stop coming down from your eyes, so you shower. You don't know how long you're in the shower for, but you don't come out until you're a prune.

Grabbing your pajamas you shiver, shuffling over to bed, exhausted. You flop down.

You pull your covers up to your neck, and fold in on yourself. Sleep doesn't come like you hope it would. Your eyes burn when you try to shut them.

Some time after, your partner comes in, the mattress bending under his weight.

"Can I hold you?" Joshua's voice comes from behind you. It's horribly mournful.

"Yes." You croak as he pulls you in.

#dev patel #joshua madika #modern love #modern love 2019 #joshua x reader

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nekkomaa · 10 days

Text

Warnings: Violence, inappropriate language, manipulation, toxic relationships.

Notes: I'm really surprised that I managed to write another chapter in such a short space of time. I hope this cheers you up a bit! Comments and reblogs are appreciated!!!

I'd love to know if you'd prefer a protagonist with a name, or a “reader” protagonist

Portuguese version published on Wattpad

Word count: 2038

“You know I love you very much, don't you, darling?” David smiles at you, a venomous smile, his gaze containing a silent threat, daring you to do something wrong while he's away.

“I know. I love you too.” You answer, it's disgusting to have to say it, you've hesitated many times before, but you knew the hard way that it was better to go with the flow of things, to let things go his way. Here, you're nothing. “Come back safe.” You say, as he waves to you and walks through the front door. Secretly you wish he'd never come back.

“I'll be back soon.” He replies, his voice muffled as the door closes.

You don't move, not until you stop listening to the sound of the car's tires against the gravel. Letting out a breath you didn't even know you were holding, you move towards the bedroom. You'd go back to sleep, it was late and you didn't even like the idea of playing the good wife and saying goodbye. At this point you were in an internal struggle, not knowing what to feel, but at the same time you felt nothing, you felt hatred for him.

You climb the steps slowly, the darkness of the house becomes gloomy, as you face the large corridor that extends to the end of the stairs, you take a moment to look at the white door at the end of the corridor, you think about trying to open it in a moment of courage, he wasn't home, he couldn't stop you from opening the door.

You give up when you remember that the door would obviously be locked, David wasn't stupid, he knew that someone could try to open the door while he was away, whether it was you or the maid.

Opening the bedroom door, you are surprised by a cold wind coming from the window, a strange feeling of fear and doubt comes over you. You're sure that when you left the room, the window was closed, as was the whole house. With hesitant steps you walk to the window, there is no light except the new moon shining outside. When you reach the window, you feel your body shiver, the sensation of being watched passes through you for a moment, you look down cautiously and discover that the guard who is always at the door is passed out and tied up in front of the jeep they use for work.

Your heart races, you hear his pulse in your ear, you're stunned for a moment, not knowing whether to take the opportunity to flee, or whether you should hide, someone has passed out the guard and tied him up, just when David isn't at home, and by chance the window is open, your window.

Your thoughts are racing, you know there's someone in the house with you, but how did he get in so quickly? David left a few seconds ago, could you have wasted more than half an hour just climbing the stairs?

With a quick breath you feel the need to look for any kind of weapon to defend yourself, whoever got in here certainly wouldn't spare your life. You look next to you, a tacky lamp is there, and next to it a medium-sized plant pot, you grab it without thinking too much, as you turn back you squint your eyes trying to see into the partially lit room, you notice something moving towards you and you don't hesitate to throw the pot in its direction.

You can see the silhouette of a person, the vase hits them and falls to the floor, apparently it didn't even have an effect, you're not sure where you hit it, but you knew that if you didn't hit a vital part you were screwed.

He kept advancing, the black shadow was fast, you dodged by reflex when you hit him the first thing you saw, a pillow was thrown and distracted him long enough for you to run towards the door. Panic filled your veins, you would be killed, you would die living a dull life shrouded in panic.

Anger fills your senses, you hate it all, you hate David, you hate this house, you hate looking in the mirror and seeing a shell of what you were with each passing day, you hate yourself.

You can only hear your quick steps towards the kitchen, you only hear the rustle of clothes behind you, whatever is chasing you moves like a ghost.

The sharp turn you make at the door seems to delay your pursuer by a few seconds, giving you time to grab the first pan you see in front of you to defend yourself, the kitchen is brighter than your bedroom thanks to the large windows it has, you can see what's chasing you as soon as you turn back, But you didn't even have time to register what it looked like, as in the blink of an eye he was inches away from you with something in his hand, without wasting any time you hit the pan on his hand and then on what you thought was his head, the sound of the pan hitting echoed in the empty house.

Your luck seemed to run out the moment that pot hit his head. You felt your throat tighten immediately afterwards, the air being cut from your lungs.

You could take a closer look at what was chasing you now, unfortunately it was in the worst way, and not with the chaser passed out from the pan.

Everything was incredibly black except for the white skull staring at you in the dark, you couldn't see the eyes through the holes, but you could feel them piercing you. The tightness in your throat loosened slightly as soon as he saw that you weren't squirming. The pan that had been in your hand was forgotten on the floor, the counter behind you was clean, there were no weapons to use, if you wanted to get out alive, you had to be smart.

Anger and fear were strongly intertwined with each other, but anger in a fragile body like yours wouldn't solve anything. Fear, however, only served to make you soft, the survival instinct seemed to work the other way around, telling you to stay still, as if your predator couldn't see you, as if your predator didn't have his hand on your throat.

“What…” Your voice comes out lower and shakier than you first intended, but you continue anyway. “What do you want from me?” The man in front of you brings his second hand into your field of vision, the knife glinting on the moon, his body trembling with anticipatory fear. He realizes this and lowers the knife until it is facing his face.

“No funny business, okay?” He says to you and carefully releases you, his gloved hand moves away from your neck and he signals for you to remain silent. You just nod back. There were no loopholes to escape, so collaborating at the moment seemed the right thing to do.

He ties your wrists together in front of you and uses them to guide you into the room where he entered. He sits you on the bed and faces you. He seemed big before, but now, this was much more than you first thought. That made it worse, he seemed much more indimidating with her.

“You're going to tell me what I want to know, if you lie, I'll take action.” He remains where he is staring at you for a while longer before signaling for you to speak. “Do you understand?”

“Yes.” His voice remains low, he doesn't seem to care, anyway, even if you were completely hysterical screaming and calling for help, no one would come, he's passed out the only guard in the house, and in the place where you live, so far away from everything, it's obvious that no one would ever hear you.

“Where's your husband? Where did he go?” His voice was harsh, to the point. He seemed out of patience.

“I-I… don't know” His voice faltered, he took it as a lie. The knife from before soon came into view again, he twirled it between his fingers like a threat.

“I'm sure we fought before, didn't we? No lies, or should I make it clear that I'm armed?” His voice showed a lack of patience, and you certainly wouldn't want to test his patience.

“I swear.” You tried again.

“Little thing, if you're going to lie you should try to be more convincing, anyone swears. Now tell the truth, where is your shitty little husband?” He takes a step closer, the knife still twirling between his fingers. The movement would be mesmerizing if it weren't for this situation. “Aren't you going to tell me that a good wife like you doesn't know where her husband is?” He teases, his voice now sounding sweet, a hint of amusement in it.

“I don't know where he is! You have to believe me!” You beg as he comes closer, the knife threatening you with every move.

“And why would I believe you, darling? As far as I know you're just pretending you don't know anything just to get your husband's fat ass off the hook.” The knife hovers inches from your neck, you swear you can feel the cold steel.

“I don't know who you are or what you want but if it's money or some kind of information I'm sorry you're talking to the wrong person!” You speak quickly, despair coursing through your veins, you're going to end up dead, and you haven't even had a chance to leave this place.

“You have to know something. He's not keeping you here for free.” He comes close to your ear. “Even if you are his pet, it's impossible that you don't know anything.” He steps back and watches your reaction.

Swallowing dryly, you remember the room at the end of the corridor, the place you never entered. “There is, there's a room at the end of the corridor.” You stutter as the knife lightly grazes your neck, stinging as he moves away from you.

“Yes? And what's in the room?” He asks.

“All the letters he receives are there, if there's any kind of information it's there.” You reply, the man seems satisfied with your answer.

“I said you knew something.” He comments, his voice now more amused, something like a mockery of I knew it! “You're coming with me.” He pulls you up and leads you into the hallway. The white door at the end faces you, you hope to escape from this house as soon as this man leaves with whatever he's looking for, if you stay, and David comes back, you're sure to be dead.

The man turns the handle and the door doesn't move. He snorts in annoyance and pushes you behind him.

“I don't have the key.” You say as soon as he pushes you back.

“Well, I never said I needed one.” He replies quickly. You watch him step away from the door and kick it, the door opens on the second kick and soon he's pulling you into the room with him.

“I told you what I know, you're going to let me go… right?” The uncertainty in his voice is palpable, you wince as he throws you a look. With the light in the room now, you can see his eyes. A deep brown stares back at you, if before he was intimidating even without seeing you properly, imagine now that those eyes pierce right through to your soul from across the room.

“I don't usually leave witnesses, you little thing.” That's the only thing he says to you.

Credits for the mask used in the second image: @Mcmorthern on twitter.

If you are the owner of the image and want it removed, please contact me!

#call of duty #cod x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost fanfiction #ghost cod

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gumnut-logic · 8 months

Text

Thunderbird One shuddered as she slid into dock, her whole fuselage groaning as if in relief. As she relaxed, her airframe creaked, losing heat to the cool of the hangar and for a moment everything was still.

Scott let his shoulders loosen, his whole body slumping in his pilot’s chair. One by one, he uncurled his fingers from the controls, his joints stiff from holding them so tight.

His head dropped back against the headrest and his eyes closed.

God, damn.

Breath hissed between his teeth as he let it out as if he had been holding it in all afternoon.

It certainly felt like he had.

They couldn’t save everyone.

They couldn’t.

But god, how he tried.

He drew the breath back in and activated pilot retrieval. One’s main viewing hatch folded back and the platform extended out from the dock as his chair unfolded to meet it.

Even then it took him a long moment to move.

“Scott?” John startled him. “You okay?”

He drew his shoulders up, straightening automatically. “Perfectly fine, Thunderbird Five.”

There was a grunt from orbit. John didn’t believe him.

Scott was not surprised.

A sigh and he pushed himself out of his seat and onto the delivery platform, forcing the correct stance so he didn’t abruptly end his career on the concrete floor far below.

Machinery that had no concept of emotional state hummed smoothly and retrieved him back to solid ground. He took the last step.

Scott stared at his elevator for a solid minute before turning to the stairs and taking them instead.

He needed to move. Needed start his heart beating again. Needed to rescue himself from that vast hole that was sucking him down into its depths. That same empty hole those dead eyes had lured him to once the boy’s life had fluttered away and…

He closed his eyes and rubbed his face with a gloved hand.

It was always the eyes that got him.

These ones had been brown, somewhere between Virgil’s and Gordon’s and…oh god.

Move.

He threw himself up the stairs. Fortunately, there was a lot of them and they made his body work hard. By the time he made it to the locker room, he was panting.

His own breath was harsh in his ears and had a helplessness to it he didn’t want to acknowledge.

He shed uniform. His gloves hit the bench, followed by his baldric, his boots skidding across the floor. Struggling not to think, he unzipped his flight suit and shed the thick material, barely acknowledging the cool air as it hit the bare skin of his arms.

Another moment and he flung off his undershirt and shorts and padded over to a shower cubicle naked as the day he was born.

Goose pimples raised on his arms.

The shower was as hot as he could get it. But not hot enough to wash away the bruises he had no doubt Virgil would be targeting the moment he laid eyes on his eldest brother.

Scott’s sigh couldn’t be heard above the water spray.

Body scrubbed clean…ever so clean…red raw in places…the Commander of International Rescue stood under the steaming shower and closed his eyes.

You can’t save everyone.

It was his father’s voice. The same voice that came to him in all difficult moments. Grey eyes, reassuring smile and a strength Scott wished daily that he had. Jeff Tracy was a legend, bigger than life. Jeff Tracy was his father.

Jeff Tracy was a voice that guided him, that saved him, held him tight and prevented him from falling into that pit of despair that sometimes just loomed.

He turned the water off and let the remains drip off his body.

His left thigh was turning an ugly purple.

Damn.

Another sigh and he pushed aside the cubicle door and grabbed a towel.

It was big, extra fluffy, sky blue and all Virgil’s idea. He could still see his brother making his case for luxury towels in the locker room where they were needed. Mental health, he claimed.

Scott, Air Force to the core, had used abrasive cardboard squares masquerading as towels enough times to acknowledge the difference and how right his little brother was. It wasn’t a luxury; it was a necessity.

Scott buried his face in deep cotton as the cool air wrapped around him. Another moment and he was rubbing himself dry, his thigh, left ribcage and arm complained. The ache was creeping up on him. He hadn’t really noticed other than the sharp collision when he had initially fallen.

But he hadn’t had time. Arms full of dying rescuee with a building on its way down…he did what he had to do.

Still, it hadn’t been enough.

First John and then Virgil yelling at him over comms. He was fine. The teenage boy was dead, but Scott Tracy was fine.

Just fine.

He scrubbed his hair dry, trying his best to ignore the fact his left arm hated being lifted above his shoulders.

Hair hung in his eyes and he brushed it aside, irritably.

Somewhere outside the rock walls of the locker room a familiar roar swelled and he knew Thunderbird Two and his three brothers were moments away from invading this quiet space.

Scott straightened. It was inevitable. Virgil would not let him escape again, but there might be a few more minutes alone if he got his shit together.

One of the advantages of flying the fast ‘bird. First dibs at the showers and that moment to gather himself before his brothers cornered him.

Digging through his locker, he found some underwear, loose pants and an old t-shirt. His usual casual wear beckoned, but even he knew he wasn’t fit to go out again, even if Virgil hadn’t grounded him yet.

He wasn’t stupid.

Tomorrow, yes. Today? He needed a stiff drink and time to himself.

So that is exactly what he did. Detouring to the drinks cabinet, he nabbed himself a bottle of scotch and two tumblers. Two, because he was a realist.

Hair still a damp mess, he skipped up to his rooms, grabbed his tablet, and hid on his own private balcony. From here, he could see the Island, the villa below and the sky to the south. Mateo had birds hovering over it like it always did in the early evening as the day started winding down.

His eyes randomly tracked a lone bird, different from the others, coasting past high above the Island.

He threw himself into an overly plush lounger. Again, a sky blue and Virgil-instigated. Scott had returned from a mission several years ago to find it sitting on his balcony. Not a word had been said, but he knew it was Virgil. Just like the towels, it wasn’t extravagance, it was mental health and Scott had to admit to curling up in the contraption on many an occasion since.

The tablet, bottle of whisky and tumblers landed with a thud on the wooden table beside it.

His body creaked as he folded into the chair and he was reminded that he would likely have a medic brother on his ass sometime soon.

He lay back and closed his eyes and forced every to muscle relax.

And tried to ignore the eyes etched into his mind.

Only to be startled awake as someone loomed over him.

“Hey, hey, it’s only me.” Familiar, soft baritone and deep brown eyes, Virgil was crouched down beside him. His brother’s hair was still curly damp from the shower and he was frowning…at the bruises on Scott’s arm. “Just chasing you up after that fall.”

Scott shifted on the lounger and his whole body protested. Damnit. “I’m fine, Virgil.”

“I’ll decide that.” That prompted the ghastly yellow scanner light to flicker across his body.

“Virgil!”

His brother’s lips thinned to a line as he read the scanner’s readout. “You’re off rota at least twenty-four hours, possibly more.”

“I know that.”

“I’ll note that against your diagnosis of ‘fine’.”

Scott glared at his brother.

Virgil rolled back on his heels, eyes assessing in that damned medical way of his.

“Virgil, I’m okay. A few bruises. I’ll live. Stop worrying.” He hated being the source of anxiety.

Still, his brother stared, his frown emphasizing that scar between his eyebrows.

“What?!”

Virgil’s eyes didn’t waver. “Sit up.”

“Why?”

“Scott…”

Fine. He pushed himself up out of the lounger and sat on its side, frustrated as all hell as to why his brother was being such a pain.

Virgil rolled onto his knees and before Scott could do anything, he found himself wrapped in a massive hug.

His brother’s arms, ever so strong, built for heavy lifting, held him tight, but gently, Virgil’s damp hair brushing his cheek as his head rested on Scott’s shoulder.

Startled, it took Scott a blink to return the gesture, his longer arms flailing for just that moment of surprise before curling around red flannel. “Virgil? You okay?”

His brother’s only answer was to tighten his hold a little more.

Scott frowned, unsure what the hell was going on, but Virgil didn’t let go and Scott could only stay tensed up for so long before he was forced to relax into his brother’s embrace.

“What are you doing?” It was asked against flannel and his own breath was warm against his lips.

Virgil still didn’t answer, but one large hand crept onto the back of Scott’s head, fingers stroking hair.

What?

But somehow the question never made it to his lips. Somehow, his body began to melt, each muscle falling limp, those strong arms taking the place of the tension in his body.

Fingers carded through his hair.

“Virg…” But it was little more than breath and he found himself blinking rapidly.

No.

Still, Virgil didn’t stop. Scott could feel his brother’s steady pulse, thrumming against his neck, his chest moving with each breath.

Scott closed his eyes.

Ever so warm.

He could have struggled, fought, pushed his brother away. But…

Brown eyes vacant and hollow. The image had him flinching and the arms around him reacted, shifting just a little. His brother’s baritone rumbled a reassurance he didn’t quite hear.

But still Virgil held him.

Held him.

Scott had no resistance left.

That baritone rumbled again and his brother’s free hand began stroking his back.

Nonsense words. His brother was spouting nonsense words.

But Scott’s eyes were closed and his body spent. He wilted into his brother’s arms and found himself breaking on the inside.

Vacant, hollow eyes.

So young.

So like a little brother.

Scott scrunched up his face, fighting his own reaction. But Virgil was still rumbling, still stroking his hair.

A single tear escaped to dampen red flannel.

No.

He let the wave of grief wash over him, but refused to react, waiting for it to wane away.

His heart beat too fast and it left him exhausted.

And still Virgil held him.

He lost time for a bit there. Eyes closed. Warm flannel. His brother’s voice. A small part of him resisted it. Virgil was a little brother despite their closeness in age. Scott should be the comforter, always…

But the little boy who had lost his mom, the young man who had lost his dad…the commander who lost a young teenager in his arms today…took that moment, grabbing it like a life line and accepting what his brother was trying to give him.

He sat there, he didn’t know how long, just existing, warm and safe.

Perhaps he would have fallen asleep right there in his brother’s arms, whether he would be embarrassed to admit it or not, but there were bruises and aches and eventually he was forced to gently pull away.

Warm brown eyes peered up at him, still worried. Virgil’s hand was on Scott’s knee as if he didn’t want to let go.

“Thanks, Virg.”

That hand squeezed his knee in acknowledgement. “Lie down and get some rest.” His little brother stood up and walked out of sight a moment, only to return hauling another lounger, this one in a deep green. “John’s coming down in the morning. We can debrief then.” Virgil grunted as he put the lounge down. “Grandma has an eye on Gordon and Alan, but the Fish has a new Buddy and Ellie series and Alan is hip deep in that latest game of his. I think they’re good.” He threw himself onto the lounge and the structure creaked under his weight. He lay back, crossed his feet at his ankles and closed his eyes. Virgil was obviously here for the long haul.

Scott wasn’t surprised.

The scanner lay discarded on the table.

A sigh and he lay back just like his brother. The sky was beginning to pink in the east, the echoes of a sunset he couldn’t see lighting up Mateo.

He felt far more relaxed than he had earlier. A tension had been eased, while not entirely, that would take time, lessened considerably.

He eyed his medic brother. The man looked like he was going to fall asleep. The sight of him had Scott yawning.

Damn him.

But it was thought with fondness and with a sudden urge to reach out and hug his brother again.

“Go to sleep, Scott.”

Virgil didn’t even bother to open his eyes.

Scott sighed and looked back up at the sky. It had been a shit day. Not the first. Probably not the last. Vacant eyes still haunted him and probably would for some time, but a pair of rich, brown eyes full of life and not a little love had somehow managed to take the edge off. His brother had filled that cold vacuum of a hole with warmth.

Virgil began to snore and Scott was forced to smile.

The snoring was probably fake, but it was lulling nonetheless. Safe and home.

Loved.

Scott closed his eyes.

And let himself drift away.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #virgil tracy #thunderbirds fanart #nuttyfic reblog #nuttyart reblog

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t00thpasteface · 3 months

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I forgot if I've already asked you this question, but who is your number one favorite Fictional Antagonist from Media? Rules are as follows; feel free to ignore:

If you want to choose a recurring villain like Bowser or The Joker, you have to choose a particular incarnation of this character. Like Alan Moore's Joker or Paper Mario 64's Bowser.

Specific Characters/Entities Only. You can't say, "Haunted Houses that aren't haunted by, like, a single ghost or anything in particular" like my mom wanted to. She settled firmly on "The Overlook Hotel" and she's a stronger person for it.

Villainous Duos like Boris & Natasha are accepted.

People have a hard time picking a #1, so you're allowed to list as many runner-ups as you like. Listen to your heart.

Protagonists who are their own worst enemies don't count!

Villainous characters who are protagonists in their story are very begrudgingly accepted. Whether or not George Costanza (A Villainous Protagonist) or Detective Columbo (A Heroic Antagonist) count is beyond the scope of this paper.

Thank you for your time!

hmmmm!! that's a really interesting question to chew on actually.

i'm not usually drawn to villains or villain-driven stories, outside of games that necessitate it as a gameplay mechanic or genre staple a la mario games or your standard JRPGs. and i wouldn't call a glorified game mechanic a character if they really don't do much besides throw barrels at the player to jump over. porky and giygas are exceptions but honestly not much; they aren't very complicated characters, even though they're snappily written, and most of where they shine is just the fact that they're one well-placed load-bearing piece in a larger cohesive narrative. they don't really capture my attention outside of their gameplay role.

i'm overall much more compelled by Romantic with a capital R stories about internal, oftentimes more abstracted struggles. i mean, i don't have to tell you that my favorite books EVER are "20,000 Leagues Under the Sea" and "The Great Gatsby," both of which play with deuteragonists as foils to the narrator that inevitably spiral and leave the reader with something of a thought exercise regarding the intersection of nature versus nurture, intent versus action, past versus future, et cetera. the characters themselves are symbolic of sociological concepts so much larger than themselves, and because of that, they can't truly be classified into "hero" or "villian", because the topics those books grapple with are so incredibly messy and morally-fuzzy that the characters who exemplify them must reflect that same complexity and nuance.

as soon as a story starts to veer towards "all our problems are caused by One Guy who we can remove from the equation forever," it usually loses me, or if nothing else it just makes me zone out when the villain and his evil army of doom is on screen until we're back to introspective character-building moments between the protags, deuterags, etc. i'm the boring guy who likes slow, dialogue-driven things more than flashy show tunes.

ALL THAT BEING SAID......

villains really only shine (for me) if they're funny as fuck. that's the one way they can really get my attention as a character that has, by definition, been written into a unilaterally negative role that must be booed. they get to be FUNNY! and they get to be my favorite kind of funny: insane slapstick funny. i like seeing cartoony villains get absolutely pulverized, thrown around like wet dishrags, set on fire, flung off cliffs, you name it. the zanier the better. so here's my own elite 4 in ascending order:

fourth is 2012 avengers movie Loki. very hammy, very showy, extremely puncheable face, and he takes SO much physical punishment and writhes like a worm the whole time. super fun.

third is pokemon's Archie. emerald is my favorite game but archie SHINES in alpha sapphire. he's such a huge personality and he takes hits with a smile. and then he gets a big fuzzy redemption at the end because this is a game for kids, but even that is so over-the-top cornball that i just laugh and smile the whole time instead of rolling my eyes. a good wholesome time was had by all.

second is Mr. Burns in the simpsons. let me preface this by saying i really don't watch anything after, ehhhh, i'd say season 8 or 9, because that's about where my box sets ended growing up. any episode where Mr. Burns gets some slapstick gags about his incredibly frail body that runs on pure evil is a good episode. i especially love "the springfield files," "homer the smithers," "homer at the bat," and "who shot mr burns" parts 1 and 2.

and my favorite is undoubtedly Sheldon J. Plankton. similar situation as simpsons; i don't watch anything after seasons 1-3 and the first movie. he commands every single scene he's in, which is especially impressive given that he's literally just a single tiny copepod. he's got the best villain laugh EVER. he's even a delight in the game "battle for bikini bottom"... you GOTTA check out BFBB Rehydrated if you like the spirit and snark of the early seasons. i love him in "walking small," "F.U.N.," "the algae's always greener," and of course, the movie. he's evil! he's diabolical!! he's LEMON SCENTED!!!!

#i'm not sorry i wrote a fucking essay. if you get me talking about Art Analysis you will never hear the fucking end of it!!!!#shebbz shoutz #ask

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yaut-jaknowit · 1 year

Note

Can u do a gawtin x reader about y/n bonding more plz

Bilingual

Pairing: Gawtin x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1622

Summary: Yautja and English are heavily different. That you'll wholeheartedly agree with. How does she eve expect your mouth to form those strange sounding words? It doesn't make sense! Even the child can speak these words better than you. But you try, that's all that matter.

Author Note: I'm so sorry for taking forever to get to these requests. I promise I'm getting them done. I just don't know how to write less for these one-shots. I have temporarily closed asks so I can get caught up. If anyone wants to hit me up though, my dm's are open!

Love, love, love my girl Gawtin. I feel it was the perfect time to post this on International Woman's Day with this badass.

Masterlist

Ao3

“Lah-r-chjah,” Gawtin spoke slowly and drew out each syllable. The same way she taught her child, Qui-oky. Not that you’re embarrassed about it. Learning a whole new language, let alone an alien one, was difficult. Especially one that you didn’t have the right mouth or vocal cords to pronounce every word of her language. But you tried. That’s all that matter. It helped as well to learn to understand if other Yautjas are talking down to you. Then, you respond and tell them to fuck off. Okay, well, probably not do that without Gawtin nearby or else you’ll end up dead.

With a deep breath to fill your lungs and exhaling a little, you gave it a try. “Lar-ckah?” Immediately, you knew that wasn’t correct and groaned. How could it be so hard to say the word ‘dark’ in Yautja? It’s a simple word, compared to ‘dawn’. That’s one you know you’ll never get with how your lips formed these words. At least you’ll understand the damn word.

Qui’oky gurgled and reached out towards you from Gawtin’s lap. The mother let her arm around his small body fall away. Despite the terrain being a little rough, he made it his mission to transfer himself into your lap. When he took a tumble, rolling to his designation, you caught him and sat him up. “Am I that bad that you think I need support?” you teased and let an arm curl around his chubby, toddler form. The same position that Gawtin held him moments before.

“You are not doing bad. Your mouth is not like mine or his. It is understandable you are struggling with our language. English was not easy to learn as well,” Gawtin explained and placed a massive paw on your knee in comfort. “You are doing better than a week ago.” You snorted through your nose and shook your head.

“Thanks, love. But I’ve only learned two more words and been able to say only one of them. You speak better English than me at times. You’re so formal about it too, like you’re royalty.” And that was the truth. The way your language fell off her snake-like tongue was astonishing. Not even yourself could do that well. At times, it made you jealous but amazed at the same time. She could have you on your knees with a couple simple words.

The child in your lap babbled some words in Yautja you had no idea what he had said. Gawtin entertained him, encouraging him to say more in Yautja. You smiled at the adorable sight. Then, the female lifted her eyes to you. Your gaze snapped away as a blush coated your cheeks. She totally didn’t see you do that.

When your eyes slowly returned to the alien before you, you could see she had caught you. Like a child with their hand in the cookie jaw. “Let us try again, artful one,” she encouraged and dipped her head at you. Your shoulders fell dramatically.

“Gawtin,” you groaned and lulled your head back, but keeping in her within your gaze. This was pointless. All the progress you’ve made has come to a stuttering pace. Nothing was making sense anymore. The fact she was still in front of you, sitting the same way you are, continuously teaching you her language… How in the universe has she not gotten frustrated at you yet? You’re human. A lower species to her own. You struggled to grasp her language while she almost completely knows yours.

The mentioned Yautja only tilted her head down at you just any inch. Enough so she was peering at you from underneath her thick brow line. “Try again. Lah-r-chjah.” Same damn word. You weren’t going to get this.

Sneakily, you rolled your eyes with a resting bitch face. “Lar’ja. See, can’t do. Why-wait a damn time. Did I-“ your pupils locked onto her down. “Did I just do that? Did.” Gawtin watched as you pumped a fist into the air and danced in your spot, mindful of Qui. A soft, minute small gracing her mandibles. She had full faith in you. Some people just take longer than others. There’s nothing wrong with that. Her children take longer to grow, but they turn out strong, fast, bigger than many other Yautjas. Best of all, they have their mother’s mind.

She leaned forward and touched her forehead to yours. The affection caused your heart to stutter and tilt your head away; as if she couldn’t see the heavy pink coloring your cheeks. Not that she didn’t miss it. Gawtin sees everything, always has her eyes on the prize. “Good job, my little artist. I am proud of you. Would you like to try another word? Test your luck?” she questioned and rubbed her thumb along your knee, mindlessly.

In the heat of the moment, you rapidly nodded your head and wiggled in your spot again. Qui-oky chirped in his spot and moved along with you. Babbles of toddler Yautja spilling from his mandibles. “Let us see then. Qui knows this one. Gkaun-yte. Gg-kah-oo-n-yin-tee. A greeting,” Gawtin said and used a finger to scratch underneath Qui’s chin.

Said child clicked at her before repeating the Yautja word back at her. You blink a few times with a look that said ‘seriously?’. “Oh, you got to be kidding me!” you protested and threw your hands up. The kid got it first try. Now, you get to struggle all over again with a simple word. A greeting word to be exact. Why did Yautja have to be so difficult to speak? Alien or not.

“Just try it,” she encouraged and patted your knee. The comfort settled you little, enough to calm you. Your arm rewrapped around Qui’s small body once more. “I know you can do it.”

If your mate believes it, how could you not at least give it a whirl. “Ge-kan-yen-teh,” you attempted with some effort. Enough so Gawtin couldn’t lose full faith in you. A part of you nagged at you, saying that wasn’t correct.

Qui gurgled some indistinctive Yautja before twisting around and standing up. With his two small hands, he clasped them on your face and slightly smooshed your cheeks together. “Gkaun-yte,” he reiterated for you. Bested by Gawtin’s child. A kid no older than four in Yautja years. Though, he was bigger than a four-year-old on earth.

“Thanks, kiddo. But that’s not helping my ego or pride.” Your face dropped; lips pressed together as you blankly stared in front of you. Then, your gaze drifted north to Gawtin’s gorgeous purple eyes. They drew you into them, stuck in their sticky trap with nowhere else to go. “I’m trying, Gawtin. I promise but you know it’s difficult when I don’t have your mouth or vocal cords. Some of the noises I have to make hurt my throat.”

“Yet, you are so close to another word. You can do. Even Qui has faith in you,” she uplifted and shifted closer to you. Your knees bumped into her shin. “Do you not, Qui?” The mentioned toddler clicked feverishly in what you believed to be baby talk. “See, he does have faith. Come on. This will be our last one for the day. Then I will test your knowledge tomorrow. If you pass, I will give you a gift for your hard work, little one.”

Now, that had your full attention. That’s one way to get you going. A present. A trade-off for all the curses and difficulties during this whole learning process. When you tilted your head, intrigued, Qui-oky let his hands fall and plopped back down. He shifted to have his back to your torso again and rocked side to side, trying to get you to as well.

You kept her in your sights for a moment longer than needed then nodded. Gawtin stated the word and pronounced it in syllables for you once more. She rubbed her thumb on your knee as she waited patiently. Those breathtaking eyes of her watched you intently. "Ge-no. Gg-ka. Gg-ka-ooo-n. Gg-kah-oo-n-yin-teh.” At that last part, Gawtin subtly shook her head. “Tee. Tee. Gkaun-yte. Gkaun-yte. Taan Kall Gkaun-yte!"

Relief flooded your system. Finally! Finally, you did it. With another word added as well. Gawtin easily picked up on the what you said and smiled brightly down at you. Without meaning to you, you had said something she hadn’t taught you yet. She cupped your chin with one large paw. “I am so pauk-de proud of you, artful one. Do you know what you last said?”

Now, that excitement came to a halt. Had you said something wrong? Did those two words together translate to something bad? Those two words directly translate to ‘morning, greetings.’ Was that bad? Gawtin read your facial expressions and was quick to quell you. “You just said ‘good morning’ to me. Did you know that?” she explained, features calm and gentle as she looked.

Your shoulders dropped from their tense position that you didn’t even know you were holding them that way. The breath caught in your throat was released. “I-I didn’t know,” you said, hands playing with each other. Your gaze couldn’t meet Gawtin’s. It peered down at Qui who was in his own world now. Two seconds of using his mind was enough for him today.

Gawtin used both hands to cup your cheek and tilt your head back up. “You have done well, my ooman. As promised, today’s session will end on a good note. But practice later for tomorrow.” You melted in her touch, eyes soft as you looked up at her. Her words rolled over you, not sticking to your brain. Well, you’ll learn your lesson tomorrow if you are ready or not.

#yautja x you #female yautja #yautja #predator x human #predator x you #x reader #yautja x reader #predator x reader #yautja x human #female predator #predator #alien vs predator

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cryptids · 1 year

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I think that both Gaara and Naruto are very emotional people who have also struggled a lot with emotional regulation... like their reactions have always been very intense and would sometimes overwhelm them (anger and sorrow/distress especially hit them really hard)

It's like... they both have trouble "feeling too much" as a consequence of their trauma and have emotional responses that sometimes veer out of their control. It's really clear with Naruto pretty much every time he starts to go kyuubi mode and/or breaks down crying whenever something reminds him of his childhood. And I think people tend to forget Gaara is like this too bc he went from being so unhinged (like "anger problems" would be understatement of the century here lmao) to always being so calm and rational, but even after that change you can tell from his internal dialogue that his feelings surrounding his trauma and loneliness etc. still run very deep.

Another thing that sort of ties into this imo is the way they both really yearn to feel loved and wanted by the people around them. Gaara decided to become Kazekage for basically the exact same reasons Naruto wanted to become Hokage, thinking it would give them the opportunity to gain people's admiration so they'd feel needed... and what Gaara said about how Naruto achieved their dream of becoming necessary presences in the world, bc both of them grew up feeling like their existences were unwanted and meaningless. I'd say they both are the kind of people who need a lot of love and attention and emotional support/reassurance, but neither of them will ever demand or even just ask for it bc they both feel like it's their responsibility to have to 'earn' it.

Anyway I'm not really going anywhere in particular with this lmao, just some random thoughts..... I think it's one of the many things that make them so similar deep down despite being such different people? Like their whole being mirror images of each other thing that gives them such a unique ability to understand each other

#naruto #gaanaru #long post #🐊#they're both ''would you still love me if I was a worm'' boyfriends is what I'm getting at ultimately jfjjshfjsjs #anyway I'm sorry this got so long wtf....... it was only gonna be one paragraph then something possessed me #I was going to bring up the part in kage summit when Gaara had to fight Sasuke and started crying (and kind of snapped at Kankuro a bit)#bc I think its a good example of him still struggling with certain emotions #but then I was gonna start talking about Sasuke(/my sasunarugaa agenda) and this post really would have never ended 😭

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lets-try-some-writing · 1 year

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Any ideas on how Beast Hunters Optimus would act in the sparkling AU?

Would he fly around with Miko or tiptoe around them instead, worried about his now larger frame?

How hard would his disappearance and the destruction of the base hit?

Ah yes, the angst and fluff potential in this is spectacular. Don't mind me, but I am starting with the angst for the sake of the timeline.

Born Anew

The location of the base being given away took the whole team by surprise. Their first instincts were to blame Starscream and Soundwave, but then again, the duo would never harm the sparklings. But as the timer till Megatron launched his attack on the base ticked down, choices had to be made and there was no time to point fingers.

The sparklings didn't understand what was happening when Optimus burst into their play room and grabbed them, making a b-line for the groundbridge. Rafael cried as he was passed off to Ratchet and Bumblebee, the only other mecha Optimus trusted to take care of his youngest son. Miko shrieked in concern as Optimus pressed a kiss to her helm and handed her to Bulkhead to care for. And Jack looked up at Optimus in dawning horror as the Prime caressed his face and handed him over to Arcee. All the while Smokescreen looked distraught beyond words as Optimus took a shaky vent and activated the groundbridge.

No words needed to be said as Optimus took up the star saber and stood still as stone. The team knew what he intended to do and they wept internally. More than one considered trying to stop him, but with their precious charges... they couldn't object to Optimus's choice. The sparklings needed to be protected at all costs. They couldn't lose what could possibly be the last sparklings ever to be brought into creation.

However before the team were sent away, Optimus gave Ratchet the relic that had turned the children into sparklings originally. His only command once he handed it off being one that haunted the whole team.

Optimus: If the worst comes to worst... do not let him have my sparklings... turn them back, destroy the relic, and give them to June.

Ratchet: Optimus, what in the Allspark are you saying?

Optimus: Please Ratchet... he will do unspeakable things to them if he is allowed to have them. I will not stand for it. I would rather they are forced to endure the lives they had previously if it means they will be free of him.

Arcee: Sir, it will kill them!

Bulkhead: Miko almost died the last time she was returned to human form!

Bumblebee: Please reconsider! We already lost them once!

Optimus: I know. But I would rather death embrace them then have Megatron claim them as his own.

The team were shaken as Optimus sent them off. Arcee held Jack in her arms and saluted with saddened optics and gritted denta as the Prime knelt and pressed a final kiss to Jack's helm. The eldest of his sparklings cried and sniffled as Optimus pulled away muttering reassurances that they would meet again even though the whole team could feel that Optimus himself believed it to be a lie. Bulkhead struggled to maintain his composure and did his best to stand strong as Optimus wrapped his field around Miko, drowning her in his love and affection which only served to make her cry harder. Ratchet didn't even bother to pretend to be strong, shaking and crying out in grief at a pitch too high for the human ear. Optimus wrapped his oldest friend and consequently Rafael up in the most loving hug he could manage before allow Rafael to grab his digit with his small servos. It nearly broke the Prime's spark to pull away and wrap Bumblebee in what was likely to be the last hug he would ever give him.

Smokecreen was the last to leave, rushing into Optimus's arms one last time. Optimus had not raised him, but the Prime was more of a Sire to him than any other had been. His frame shook in sorrow before Optimus pushed him away at the sound of close gunfire. It pained Smokescreen greatly as he gave his commander and father figure one last salute and sped through the ground bridge.

Bumblebee and the sparklings all wailed when the base went up in flames. Rafael screamed, crying out in his small voice and completely inconsolable as Ratchet dragged him and Bumblebee to a scrapyard to hide. Miko shrieked and clawed at Bulkhead, flailing and activating her small thrusters with wild abandon in an attempt to get to Optimus in response to her bond with him feeling like it had snapped. And the moment the bond shut off, Jack went nuts, even being so bad as to have Arcee scruff him and then knock him out even though she hated doing so. At the same time Bumblebee curled up in a ball in the corner of the scrap yard refusing to move for around a day as he wept in the absence of his bond to Optimus.

Unbeknownst to the team, Smokescreen went back for Optimus and hid him away, doing as he asked and sneaking onto the Nemesis to retrieve the forge. All the while the team gathered together, joining Ultra Magnus to discuss what was to be done.

Ratchet wanted to give up and die, only refusing to do so because of Rafael and the solemn duty Optimus had given him should the worst come to worst. Arcee and Bulkhead wanted to fight or go down trying, they couldn't stand idly by while the one who killed their Prime lived on. And Bumblebee... he was practically feral with rage, his grief having been shoved aside in favor of wrath. The sparklings as a general rule wept and made a fuss, refusing fuel and comfort in a vain attempt to get Optimus back. It broke the sparks of all those present to watch Rafael cry, Miko claw at her own plating, and Jack cling protect his siblings so fiercely that he would not accept energon. At that point, Ratchet brought up the possibility of using the relic again, much to the team's overall distaste.

Ultra Magnus: We cannot be hasty with this decision Ratchet. While hope for victory remains, using the relic is pure foolishness.

Ratchet: That might be so, but what if we fall in battle? Optimus made it clear he would rather the sparklings die than be given over.

Bumblebee: We are NOT going to doom them to a living death. Not so long as I still function! I won't lose them too!

Ratchet: Do you think I find joy in this either?! I don't want them to be condemned to such a fate! But I will respect Optimus's dying wish even if it means extinguishing my own spark to see it happen!

Ultra Magnus: That's enough! Ratchet will remain behind to coordinate us during our attack on darkmount... and should we fail... you have leave to do what you must.

With the plans made, the team moved to use the abandoned space bridge left behind by the Decepticons. During that time, Starscream and Soundwave coordinated and made their own plans. They held little love for the Autobots, but the sparklings were a different matter. They knew the sparklings survived, but the issue lay with finding them and waiting for the perfect opportunity to snatch the sparklings away after the Autobots inevitably failed. It was not ideal, not with Megatron's hatred for the sparklings. But together Soundwave and Starscream were confident they could convince the warlord to let them keep the little ones once victory was at hand...

And so they waited while the team moved out and Smokecreen knelt before his dying Prime.

Optimus: There... will be a new Prime

Smokescreen: Optimus, what are you saying? I have the forge, we can get you to Ratchet and have him patch you up.

Optimus: no... my time has ended... the Matrix will choose its new bearer... and I believe that bearer stands before me right now...

Smokescreen: Optimus, I can't! This- I'm not worthy.

Optimus: Nor was I... but with time, you shall grow to endure the burden... all I ask is that you bear it well and protect the little ones in my stead.

Before Smokescreen could fully process all that had been said, Optimus's spark blazed its last and his optics went dark. And in a desperate bid to save his leader, Smokescreen put the forge in Optimus's lax servo. Next every bot knew, Optimus's bond with his sparklings blazed to life, electing whoops and cries of joy from all of them as he flew with newfound wings and used his upgraded frame to aid in the destruction of darkmount.

It was a time of celebration and tearful reunions once Optimus returned to his team. Bumblebee was the first to embrace him, his door wings shaking in emotion as he clung to his Sire as if there would be no tomorrow. Jack threw himself forward next, crashing into Optimus's legs, knowing that despite the changes, this was his Sire. Miko was next as she flew out of Bulkhead's arms and straight into Optimus's chirping in joy as she nuzzled against his face and held onto him for dear life. And lastly came Rafael who was carried by Ratchet. The minicon squirmed and cooed until he too was in his Sire's arms and able to wrap his cables around them as tightly as he could manage.

The team managed to get a few hugs of their own in, rather emotional ones on Ratchet's part, but for the most part, Optimus's attention was for his young that day and for several after.

Rafael refused to leave his Sire's hold, leading Optimus to let Rafael rest on the back of his jetpack where the sparkling happily curled up, content to remain with his Sire forever. Miko grew clingy, desperate to reaffirm her bonds with Optimus after his near death. Every moment she had with him she preened his new wings, showing him how to do so as best she was able or begging him to fly with her. At the same time Jack grew hyper protective, attacking anything that could be a threat to his Sire. He even went ballistic when Bulkhead dropped a tool a little too close to Optimus for comfort, earning the warbuild sparkling several hours of cuddling to calm down. And Bumblebee, while mostly grown, joined Optimus during recharge, cuddling up against him like a newspark just to remind himself that Optimus lived.

Optimus for his part struggled to adapt to his new frame. He even grew fearful of handling his own sparklings, especially Rafael in light of his sudden boost in strength. He tip-toed around every bot, especially his little ones. He always kept the sparklings in his arms or far away so that he wouldn't harm them unknowingly and it took him several weeks to even begin to grow comfortable with his frame. It took just as long for the sparklings to calm and realize that Optimus was not going anywhere again, although the mental scars still lingered. Optimus had to spend many long nights soothing his sparklings, even Bumblebee in response to nightmares that plagued them. It hurt him to see them so distressed, but the chance to be together again was not one he threw away or took lightly.

Every moment was cherished, and even with his new frame, Optimus took care to spend as much time with his little ones as possible. They deserved his love after all the hurt they went through. And he would never deny them that affection.

#maccadam #transformers #transformers prime #tfp kids as sparklings #team prime #optimus prime #miko nakadai #jack darby #rafael esquivel #hurt/comfort #more content for this au!#Yay!#enjoy

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dewitty1 · 11 months

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Fic Recs Wrap Up - June 2023(ノﾟ∀ﾟ)ノ⌒･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*☆

A day in your life by shushu_yaoi_lj @orange-peony

Harry sees it straight away, the white trail of the comet so bright despite the lights of all the buildings surrounding him. He feels a lump in his throat as he stops and stares at the moonless sky. Is he supposed to make a wish or a prayer? He checks that no one is looking his way and then he takes his wand and points it at the bright comet in the sky. He wishes to feel whole again. To feel happy and not so bloody lonely all the time. He wishes for a new life. Rec Post

Then Comes a Mist and a Weeping Rain by Faith Wood (faithwood)

It always rains for Draco Malfoy. Metaphorically. And literally. Ever since he had accidentally Conjured a cloud. A cloud that’s ever so cross. Rec Post

Most Arrogant and Loving of Men by Lomonaaeren

Harry knows very well that he’s showing the mask of the Savior to everyone around him—his friends, his lovers, his enemies—but he doesn’t know how to stop. The part of him that wants things to be different is selfish and greedy. He doesn’t see any way to express it and not have his life explode…until Draco Malfoy, of all people, realizes it’s there. Rec Post

the complete idiot’s guide to losing your entire mind by oknowkiss @oknowkiss

A primer, by Harry James Potter, age 34. Qualifications: lived experience. OR: Draco Malfoy, Ministry of Magic Being Resources representative, accidentally invents No Nut November. Rec Post

Where I see things right by InnerLilith

When Harry finds himself unexpectedly pregnant after a one-off with Draco Malfoy, he knows he isn’t keeping it. But when actually getting the abortion turns out to be more complicated than Harry expected, he finds himself turning to Malfoy for help through the process. And that’s actually much less complicated than Harry expected. Rec Post

When Trust and Truth Collide by silvergalaxy

Harry meets Draco for the first time in the employee break room on a boring Wednesday morning and they immediately hit it off. Chance encounters turn into dates, and dates turn into feelings. Oh, yeah. Draco’s also Harry’s boss. Harry has no idea. Rec Post

Debts and Desire by Craftybadger1234

Harry thinks they are dating. Draco thinks he’s serving a life debt. Hilarity ensues. Rec Post

Sweet is the fortune you give me by toutcequonveut @cequonveut

Draco has worked hard to overcome his post-war struggles and is now the successful and proud owner of his own chain of Potions shops. Who cares if he’s lonely? Certainly not him! Then one day he comes across Harry Potter, Saviour of the Wizarding World, do-gooder to outshine all gooders and hero of the people—on the street without a Knut to his name. What else can Draco do but take him in? Rec Post

Here are a few more fics I've read recently that y'all might like to check out as well! (ﾉ^ヮ^)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧

Fool Me Twice by iota @sorrybutblog

The case seemed simple: follow the corruption, bring down the source. Draco just didn’t anticipate Harry Potter crashing in, taking a break from red carpets and nudey-rudey photoshoots to make a giant mess.

Or: Draco is an Unspeakable. Potter is an (unfairly attractive) thorn in his side. Featuring: spies, action, disguises, forced proximity, pining and more!

Inertia by cavendishbutterfly @cavendishbutterfly

It’s three months after the war. Harry has already mucked up all his plans. Draco is no longer the prince of Slytherin house. And they sure as hell didn’t both mean to go back to Hogwarts at the same time. Cue snarking, long conversations…and unexpected snogging.

This is the story of how Harry and Draco put their past aside. And then it's the story of how they finally learn to listen to it.

Eager for the Sky by oknowkiss @oknowkiss

It was announced, just as the Triwizard Tournament had been, at the start of term feast.

A year-long, international Quidditch varsity match — the inaugural Wizarding Academy Cup.

In which Harry is Hogwarts' star Seeker, Draco is on the bench, and they both have a thing or two to learn about playing for the same team.

Once Upon a (Wet) Dream by InnerLilith

Once a year, Harry has a very strange dream. Meanwhile, in real life, he’s falling for Draco Malfoy.

The Faeries, the Prince, and the Cupboard by makeitp1nk @makeitp1nk

In 1967, Roy Disney made a deal with a rare species of fae to build his brother Walt’s dream on their land. Forty-seven years later, that deal will change the lives of two wizarding families forever.

A story about stories, family, dreams, and love.

The Wonder of You by Ladderofyears @ladderofyears

A Family Man AU. In the year 2000, Harry left Draco behind in London, intent on America and Quidditch fame and never looked back. Thirteen years later, Harry gets the opportunity to see what his life could have been like, had his life unravelled in a different way. Nothing in Harry’s world is the same, but Harry soon comes to realise that fatherhood, marriage and the biggest, laziest Crup in Hogsmeade add to up a life he enjoys more than he could ever have imagined.

( •ॢ◡-ॢ)-♡ I hope you enjoy these fics as much as I have! Happy reading, y’all! xoxo Carey (◍•ᴗ•◍)♡ ✧*💜💙💚💛❤💗💕💖

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