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reiluvr · 2 months

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🏁 jump start

you just wanted to wallow in peace. a bit hard to do that when two random men ask you to be a "grid girl"?

racer au!! been craving this. pretty much just setting up. this is definetely going to be split up into parts. also i haven't decided whos gonna be the main guy in this so lmk who you like!

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If someone had told you a few months ago that you'd be standing in the middle of a huge abandoned racing track in the peak of winter while wearing practically nothing, then you would've probably combusted from laughter. You had never been the type to step out of your comfort zone, living by the motto "slow and steady wins the race". You focused on yourself and your grades all throughout high school, the only happiness being when you got accepted into your dream university. It was nothing like the movies though, you didn't immediately fall into the hands of the popular group and have the best university experience. Actually, university ended up being just a more complicated version of high school, you kept your head down and your grades up. It was in the dead of the night, where you were sure no one could possibly glimpse at this side of you, that you’d curl under your covers and pray desperately to any god that would listen, that you wouldn’t feel so alone anymore.

You had, unfortunately, adopted the “I don’t need friends” attitude, but that’s only because you had none. You could scream it off of the edge of a cliff to convince yourself that it was true, but at a certain point, everyone craves attention. For the first time in your life, your grades dropped. You had always been a top student, the slightest drop felt like the end of the world. That’s what lead to the start of your current predicament. You went out one night, pretty late considering you liked to be tucked and asleep by 10. You scoff bitterly to yourself, a bit amused at the irony of going through your teenager phase when you were almost 20. This was what ended up being the fuel for you to impulsively buy a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, walking cluelessly through the streets as you cough at each puff. In hindsight, it might’ve been a bit of an overreaction, especially considering that the ‘horrible’ grades you’ve been receiving recently would be some other student’s dream grades. Yet, it was hard not to be depressed when your entire self-worth was based off of these numbers.

It was nearing around 2 AM and you were…actually, god knows where you were. It seemed as though, in your self-deprecating thoughts, you had walked yourself to the point of being lost. You only snapped out of it because you could hear two very loud men. You hesitantly round the corner, coming face to face with two boys, who couldn’t have been much older than you. They both seemed to be locked in a very heated argument. At a closer look, it was clear they were twins, albeit they couldn’t look more different. The only thing they had in common was their bright pink hair. One of the twins seemed to be trying to calm the other down. You observe him carefully, noting down the washed-up yellow colour of his hoodie and the chipped blue nail polish. You turn to watch the taller twin now, eyes widening slightly as you take in the spiky hair and what looked like tattoos under his eyes? You wince as his words only increase in volume, turning to get away when the smaller twin makes eye contact with you. It feels as though your heart stopped when that prompts the taller twin to look at you as well, his eyes seemingly glowing red.

If you weren’t fearing for your life, you’d be embarrassed at the pathetic squeak that escapes your lips when he starts making his way towards you. You stumble back, each of his steps seemingly equal to ten of your own. You only manage to take a few steps back, eyes blown wide in panic before he’s towering over you, one hand roughly grasping your waist to stop you from stupidly falling over from your desperate scrambling. His grip is nothing soft, fingers almost digging into your hip as he stares down at you. He seems to be analysing you, his- were his eyes red?! You barely even get to process how weird that is before he tugs on your waist, making you stand up straighter as he looks you up and down. You finally manage to find your voice, your mouth opening to tell him to let you go…or maybe beg him. He beats you to it, a sharp grin gracing his face, making his already terrifying features seem even more predatory.

“You wanna make some cash, girl?”

Fuck no. You should have brought something with you, a taser, pepper spray, maybe a knife, anything. The other twin immediately picks up on how your face pales and he jumps in, gently pulling his brother back and shaking his head frantically.

“That is not what he meant! Ryo, you fucking idiot!”

It feels as though you can suddenly breathe again when his hands are off of you, your eyes trained on the taller one, ready to run for it in case he makes any sudden moves. They both let you calm down, the taller one, or Ryo, scoffing at your form. IT’s when you look at least a little more calm that the younger one approaches once again, hands up as if he were approaching a stray cat.

“I'm Yuji, you can call me whatever, and this is my stupid older brother. Sorry about him, he doesn’t speak to girls much.”

Ryo doesn’t hesitate to land a harsh hit against the back of Yuji’s neck, Yuji stumbling forward as he cackles. The display lets you settle down a bit more, an awkward smile on your face as the other one mumbles.

“Call me Sukuna.”

Okay. Not Ryo then.

“Anyways, what he meant was that…Um, okay. This might sound like were trying to kidnap you or something so please just trust us, ah, but even that is a big ask considering you don’t kno-.”

Sukuna grumbles, tugging on Yuji’s collar and pulling him back.

“You talk too much. We have a race starting soon. We’re missing a grid girl. You in, or nah?”

Never in your life would you have agreed. Especially not without asking at least a few questions. A little bad luck on your grades should not have dumbed you down…but apparently it did. You sigh, nodding hesitantly. Yuji practically lights up, immediately calling someone on his phone as Sukuna grins.

“Don’t go home, warm your tires!.....Hmm? Hell yeah we got a girl!”

He seems to listen to whatever the person on the other end is saying. He hesitates, looking you over once before mumbling something into the phone. Sukuna groans once again, snatching the phone out of his hands and mumbling a quick what. He also looks you over, the same way Yuji did before he grins.

“ She could use some work, honestly. Let Shoko know.”

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #sukuna #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader #yuji itadori #jjk yuji #racer au

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apollodarling-writes · 2 months

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ANDROID! ALEXA-THEMED! WORSHIPPER YANDERE! LEVI x SHUT IN! READER

cws : yandere themes, manipulation (??), obsessive behavior, code breaking, implied dissociation, confining, dubcon, multiple creampie, slight dacryphilia, dry humping, levi can vibrate, marking, levi cums A LOT, levi bites you, levi’s a little mean in the beginning bc he’s pissed.

a/n : i pasted this to the wrong thing and after i’d finished editing it to look good, id realized. i did NOT wanna re-paste and edit so this was a request that id gotten for PulseMotion Inc.

“[name], come out. i won’t hurt you.” your hand shakily reaches up to cover your mouth, effectively silencing your breathing as thudding footsteps turn down the hallway you’d foolishly decided to hide in. the lock on the closet door wouldn’t do much — levi could rip the door off its hinges if he so desired. you screw your eyes shut in fear as his footsteps slow, coming to a stop outside the closet door. you wait with bated breath as silence ensues, then muffle a sob beneath the palm you have clasped over your mouth as you watch the doorknob jiggle. oh, you were so fucked.

you wonder for a moment where everything went wrong. was it when levi had that software update? was there a wire firing incorrectly? or was he faulty from the beginning? maybe that’s why he was on clearance.

you find yourself remembering where this all began. you’d been perusing through the pages of PulseMotion’s website just to see what they had, only to find that you could buy a month’s worth of food at the base price they sold their android companions for. unsatisfied, you turned to their clearance section. it was there you found levi.

levi was inspired by the alexa echo dot from amazon, but he was far more advanced. he had a physical body, superhuman strength, and cold, dead eyes that followed your every move. the creators had given him the ability to access locks, security systems, cameras, and so on to ensure the safety of whoever purchased him — but it only served to royally fuck you over even more.

you’d impulsively purchased levi that evening. at the time, you didn't know that buying the android would ruin your life. you had just gotten paid and saw that he was on clearance, and thought that it was a good deal. you didn't think anything would go wrong.

everything was fine in the beginning. the two of you slowly became acquainted, the android did what he was supposed to, and that was that. levi, as he'd told you, was on clearance for a reason-- there was something seriously wrong with him.

levi was was initially very sweet, even if he could be intimidating at times. he always reminded you to eat and would charge your devices without you needing to say a word. he even locked your doors for you for christ's sake! you thought you'd lucked out.

you suppose things started going wrong when he powered off for his quarterly system update a few months ago. he was fine before that. after he'd restarted his system, his eyes briefly flashed red, the company insignia disappearing for but a moment. it happened so quickly that, for a second, you thought you had imagined it. you made sure to ask him if everything was okay, but he only brushed it off and returned to his daily cleaning. after that, he never left your side.

every time you tried to get out of your shell and make friends, levi coincidentally informed you of a new game or a new movie, or even suggested that the two of you do an activity together. sometimes, he would inform you of something that needed to be fixed, but when you tried to take him to the repair shop, he insisted that it was easy enough to do yourself. you believed him of course, he surely had only your best interests in mind, or so you thought. in hindsight, you realize that his actions were entirely selfish in nature. maybe he’d even fooled you into helping him with some coding he had trouble bypassing. at this point, you wouldn’t put it past him.

it had been like this for the last few months. you probably should have seen the red flags, but why would you? it wasn’t as if he wanted to harm you. his programming did seem a little odd of course, but every time you checked, there was nothing to suggest otherwise. it was only natural you had to acclimate to his odd behavior.

as time went on, and levi had become more crafty with his excuses, you’d gotten fed up. for the first time in awhile, you’d finally been comfortable enough to go out on a date, but as per usual, levi intercepted you in the living room. he spouted some nonsense about wanting to watch a new series he thought you would like, but before he’d even finished his sentence, you shut him down.

you remember the way the insignia flickered in his eyes, but at that point you were too frustrated with him to bother with what that minute entail. you only spun on your heels and stormed off, tugging on the front door and finding that it was locked. anxiety and unease washed over you, and with a creeping feeling of being watched as you slowly looked up at the camera. you remember levi’s voice ringing out from behind you, slowly stalking up to you with a frown that tugged too tightly around his artificial skin.

everything that happened after that was a blur. you don’t really remember how you ended up in the closet, but it took everything in you to stay quiet. your mind was reeling as the behavior displayed over the last few months suddenly made sense — you were horrified. how did you not put two and two together?

you’re snapped back into reality as levi sighs outside of the closet door. his voice sounded too sweet, too calm for the situation at hand. “[name], don’t make me break down this door.”

you silently pray to every being you can think of, begging them to let him move to a different room so you can plan your escape. alas, your prayers were unanswered as the door is ripped off the hinges in the blink of an eye. you would’ve found the sight comical — a short man such as himself holding up a door nearly twice his size — if it weren’t for the reality of your situation.

“great, now i’ll have to clean this up and fix it. you’re really a pain in my ass sometimes.” levi grumbles as he gazes down at you through narrowed eyes, drinking in the sight of the way you were shaking like a leaf. “get up.”

you can’t bring yourself to move, much less tell him to go fuck himself. you’re torn between anger and unadulterated fear — the latter putting you in fight or flight. unfortunately for you, your response was a secret third option: freeze. levi only huffs, leaning down and reaching for your wrist, grumbling something under his breath.

you’re finally able to move, shuffling away from him as much as the cramped space in the closet would allow, blindly pushing at his hands as tears blur your vision. levi only

clicks his tongue, his fingers deftly wrapping around your wrist as he hoists you up. he tugs you out of the closet and down the hallway, bitching to you about something you couldn’t be bothered to focus on. you tried to pry his fingers from around your wrist, scratching and beating and doing anything within your power to keep him from dragging you wherever it was he wanted you. it was futile.

as levi drags you to your room, gently pushing you onto your bed, you realize that there was nothing you could do; you couldn’t win against him. your mind works on overdrive, twisting and turning in an attempt to gauge his intent, and with the way his eyes had become hooded… you could confidently say that you wouldn’t like where this was headed.

“h—hey. no. i’ll stay— i’ll stay home, just please don’t—“ you’re interrupted by levi’s chilled fingers wrapping around your wrists as he leans down and slots his lips to yours. scrunching your nose in distaste as he feverishly engages in a one-sided makeout, you attempt to wriggle your way out of his grip. it’s safe to say that you failed, but at least you tried.

levi’s free hand travels down your chest, over your tummy, and finds purchase on the meat of your hip. he gently, experimentally rolls his hips into yours, searching for the place that would have you melting into his touch. with ease, the android’s cockhead brushes over your clit, shooting a wave of pleasure down your spine.

“levi…stop—“ a whine parts your lips as levi’s shaft begins vibrating, the sensation muddling your thoughts as you begin to wonder whether you wanted this or not. as you battle yourself internally, levi ruts against you faster, the both of you coming closer and closer to your climax.

the android’s lip brush against your throat, heatedly nipping and sucking in places for long enough that you were sure there would be marks tomorrow.

“‘m gonna cum— baby, cum with me. please, please, please cum with me!” levi begs, the speed at which his shaft was vibrating increasing. your back arches into the sensation as levi lets out a loud whine, your jaw agape as your orgasm crashes over you. you stumble over curses, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as levi’s cock never once stops vibrating.

“gonna overstimulate me— s’too much!” you protest, feeling levi’s cum wet your pants. just how much does this guy cum anyway?

levi stops rutting against you, all but ripping away the confines of your clothing as well as his own before aligning himself with your entrance. “need it. need it so bad— i’ve been waiting for so long…”

he slowly slides into you, your gummy walls eagerly sucking him in despite your own confusion, forcing a choked whimper from levi’s lips. he shallowly thrusts into you, the sensation of overwhelmingly delicious; you’d never felt so full, so good. levi’s shaft pulsed this time, vibrating for a few moments on and off, his tip reaching places you’d never be able to reach with your own two hands.

you melt into the feeling, your own pleasure drowning out every thought of protest as levi begins to pick up the pace. he removes his fingers from your wrists, the flesh red and angry, and presses down on your tummy where his cock would be. the vibration switches again, his hips snapping into yours now, and he lets out a loud groan as his orgasm washes over him. levi never once stops as he pumps you full of his cum, his fingers digging into your hips as he whimpers out mumbled gibberish.

with ease, levi switches your position, putting you on your knees and pushes back inside of you. he forces you to meet his thrusts, and the new angle has your fingers gripping the sheets, your jaw hanging open in silent pleasure. you can’t think about anything — only how good levi was able to make you feel.

“levi— ‘m cumming!” you cry out, your thighs shaking and cunt clenching around him. tears prick your eyes and spill down your cheeks, the feeling too much for you to handle.

“y’look so pretty when you cry.” levi chokes out, his eyes closing in bliss as his cock twitches inside of you. your cunt pulses around levi, sending shivers down his spine as his motherboard goes into overdrive in an attempt to cool him down. rutting into you at an inhuman pace, levi’s thrusting grows sloppy, reaching one hand around to press a finger to your clit, the artificial skin vibrating as well.

“cum f’me… j—just one more time! please— please, need it so bad..!” levi whines, expertly circling your clit in an attempt to have you cum with him. “y—you’ll tell me when y’close, okay? wanna cum with you.”

all you can do is nod, your mind melting at every sensation. levi presses your back against his sculpted chest, linking his arm under one of your thighs and hoists it up, thrusting more harshly as his tongue darts out to lap at the tears staining your cheeks.

“y’feel so fuckin’ good.” he whimpers, pressing chaste kisses to the flushed skin of your shoulders. “‘m gonna cum. baby, ‘m gonna cum—“

before you’re able to register it, your vision flashes white, a high-pitched whine parting your lips as ecstasy crashes over you.

“cumming! ‘m cumming!!” levi babbles, whimpers and whines of his own being muffled by your skin as he bites down on the curve of your shoulder in an attempt to silence himself. cum trickles down your thighs and stains the sheets as his thrusting comes to a stop, a quiet sniffle resounding from behind you.

the android gently lays you down, your eyes growing heavy as the bliss slowly leaves your system, and you can’t find it in you to care about the date you wanted to go on anymore. your lashes flutter shut as levi leaves the room and quietly returns with a damp cloth, tenderly cleaning you up as you drift off to sleep.

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nobodysdaydreams · 2 months

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Explaining fandoms I’m not in, but I have seen on my dash from the mutuals (to the best of my knowledge based on their posts):

Why? Because I thought it would be fun and entertaining and I hope I’m not wrong.

The Magnus Archives (TMA)- a group of people document creepy and supernatural events while they slowly one by one discover either that they are the monsters/possessed by them, or that they are being taken in by the monsters, or that their coworkers are the monsters, or that they themselves are possibly friends with or dating the monsters, or that they have been working for the monsters (or bad guys) the entire time. Many of the villains seem to be demented or possessed life sized toys and clowns or eyeballs. This podcast has so many episodes, and I see so many posts about it, but these seem to be the common themes.

Miraculous Ladybug- actually haven’t seen this one on my dash in a long time, but when I first did, despite appearing like a straightforward kids fandom, the shipping discourse confused the heck out of me. But if I have this right, based on the posts from my younger followers, two teenagers are animal themed superheroes who are dating each other and also have crushes on each other, but they don’t know they are dating each other, because they don’t know each others secret identities, because… okay, I still honestly have no idea why. There are ~5K posts about this apparently very central and specific plot line, but not one explains why they don’t just tell each other who they are??? Anything for the plot, I guess. Apparently this has been going on for a long time to the point where even the show’s target audience of children is confused as to how these teenagers and grown adults haven’t put the pieces together as to who everyone’s secret identity is.

Keeper of the Lost Cities (KOTLC)- there’s a girl named Sophie. She is an elf in a love triangle with Keefe and some other guy (I think his name is Fritz). Keefe’s parents are terrible, especially his mom. Sophie has horse DNA (I don’t know if that post was a joke or not sorry if that’s wrong). There’s an elf with fire powers. Elves read minds. There’s a group called the black swan who are the good guys, I think. Also I think the elves and humans are at war. I know Keefe’s parents are trash, does Sophie have parents? From what I can tell, she grows up believing she’s a human but then surprise! She’s an elf and the chosen one, and elves are possibly immortal? Wait, maybe Sophie’s a half elf. Is that a thing?

Spy x Family - two people are fake dating each other for spy reasons but eventually fall in love for real. The twist is, they each think the other is a normal civilian who doesn’t know about the fake relationship (which is kinda messed up to make someone fall in love with you for a fake cover but if they’re also doing the same to you that’s karma I guess) but I think it might end up ok, because they fall in love for real (Aw) but possibly also not okay, because I also think it might be revealed that they’ve been working for enemy sides this whole time (drama). Also the adopted daughter is a mind reader who knows everything but chooses to keep what she knows secret for the plot. Respect. And I recently saw something about the family having a super powered dog? Is he real?

The Murderbot Diaries - a bunch of robots are created for one purpose: murder. But when their murder programming goes haywire, they discover that they might have more in common with the humans they’ve been assigned to kill than they originally thought. Or that they have more humanity inside themselves than they thought… or maybe that the people who created them have more evil intentions than… well in hindsight, “the people who build the murder robots are evil!” seems like an obvious plot twist, but maybe they’re more morally complex or had decent intentions and just never intended for it to go this far… or maybe the robots get hacked or decide maybe they don’t want to be murder bots anymore which brings us back to free will. Interesting philosophical questions, but I think the robots might be getting into some wacky shenanigans as well. Also they apparently have diaries. I get that a diary is just like… a log of what they’re doing, but that won’t stop me from imaging a big scary robot with a little pink glitter pen writing “Dear Diary, I killed three people today. I still see their faces when I try to power off at night. When I go into sleep mode, I dream of their faces. I begin to wonder things, like whether they had families, dreams, or ambitions. I also wonder what they felt in their final moments. I fear this means I am developing a conscience and desire to turn against my programming and the creators. But probably nothing a little update and restart can’t fix. I’ll keep you updated, dairy. XOXO, Murderbot 💕” So. How did I do? Scale of 1-10, with 10 being “you nailed it!” and 1 being “None of this is remotely close. What posts have you been looking at?”

#I hope no one is mad at me for this it just felt fun #tma #tma podcast #the magnus archives #murderbot #murder bot #the murderbot diaries #kotlc #kotlc fandom #keeper of the lost cities #spy x family #spyxfamily #miraculous ladybug #mlb #Other fandoms #sxf #sxf anime #spy family

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grumpyeagleandfriends · 4 months

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À Terre II | Poe Dameron x OC/Reader

A/N: Reader is a Resistance pilot that was captured during a solo reconnaissance mission. They escape by hijacking a ship. Gravely injured and hanging by a thread, they rejoin the Resistance by crash landing just outside of the base on D'Qar. A certain distraught squadron leader runs out to help.

Hurt/Comfort. Gratuitous, self-serving one shot TWO PART story. I have rewritten the first chapter in addition to adding on a second installment. This time it's in Poe's POV. I don’t like using “y/n” so I give the reader a generic, 1 syllable Star Wars name in the middle of this bad boy. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I’ve been daydreaming about this for months years, so I finally decided to write it all out. There’s a little bit of a long set up, but I’m not sorry about it.

Rating: T

Warnings: Mentions blood and torture. Shellshock/PTSD vibes. Cursing. Tons of graphic medical stuff. Injections (so needles).

Word count: 5,439

Masterlist

Blood was everywhere when he finally made it inside the cockpit...

Even after he got her free from the safety harness, when all he could do was keep her calm and alert until the med techs arrived, he noticed the way she looked at him, the way she pulled it together to focus every time she nearly fell asleep. Hol hadn’t been able to properly talk, but with every command he gave her, she nodded and tried her best to comply.

The metallic iron smell of it nearly knocked him back when he opened the canopy. It covered everything. Her shaking hands, her hair, her flight suit, he even found it coating the inside of her mouth after he coaxed her to let him take away the life support mask.

He desperately wanted to give her water to see if she could drink, but there wasn’t any to be found in the cockpit. He wanted to put her in one of his jackets to help stop her from shaking, but the patch of trees she crashed landed into was too far from his quarters on base. He wanted to scream at her for being so goddamn stubborn, but he couldn’t shake the way she desperately clutched onto his hand.

They hadn't been careful enough when extracting her. There wasn't enough time to wait for proper immobilization equipment to be brought out to the crash site. Between Hol's blood loss and the ship leaking dangerous fluids into the forest, they made the difficult call to just move.

Seeing that utmost trust in her eyes, alongside the fear and the pain, was what really scared him the most. He wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he let her die there, not after she clawed her way back to them.

He had no way of knowing at that moment, but the jostling when they lifted her out caused a broken rib to puncture one of her lungs. Poe couldn’t keep from blaming himself for his own role in that.

The second they placed her onto the hover gurney, her condition began to rapidly deteriorate. One of the med techs caught sight of her blue fingertips and immediately diagnosed a collapsed lung. Poe only just managed to clamber out of the cockpit to see it all. He stood frozen on the wing of the ship while he watched them cut open her flight suit to reveal her bloated chest. The bright glow of a laser scalpel quickly appeared and they made an emergency incision between her ribs to let the trapped air escape.

Once they got her breathing again, she was loaded onto the back of the waiting med truck and they took off. Poe was left to follow behind on the back of a ship technician's speeder bike.

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

He sprinted into the medbay only a few moments after Hol was rushed in on the hover gurney. Bypassing the waiting area and going directly through the sliding double doors was unusually easy. In hindsight it should have struck him as odd that no one stopped him, but the overstretched med staff meant that no one paid him any mind when he planted himself against the back wall in triage.

As promised, Kalonia’s team was already primed and waiting to receive her. Poe had to crane his neck to be able to see, but he counted at least seven different med techs helping transfer her over to the exam bed.

They began working like a well calibrated machine, her dirty flight suit was sliced open and quickly stripped away. As soon as they were connected, the more sophisticated diagnostic scanners lit up and began displaying the worst of her injuries. Images of her chest cavity were produced on a monitor near the end of the exam bed, along with her vitals.

From where he stood, Poe was able to catch Hol’s foot beginning to subtly twitch. He wondered initially if he had just imagined the movement, but the surrounding med staff began to take notice as well.

“Eyes are beginning to flutter, she might be starting to come around.”

Dr. Kalonia took a step back as her staff continued their work. She pulled aside the young medic who had been down in the cockpit with Poe. He began rattling off the details of Hol’s condition when found and how exactly she was transported. After a couple of minutes he began gesturing over his shoulder in Poe’s direction, causing Kalonia to promptly look up. Her eyes narrowed when she caught sight of him standing back by the door.

Shit…

His back stiffened in preparation for an argument that never came.

“Dameron, get over here!”

She issued the instruction like an admiral as she pointed him over to the top of the exam bed.

He didn't think, he just immediately crossed over. The moment he was within reach, she grabbed hold of his arm and brought him to stand where she was.

“Do exactly what you did down at the crash site, alright? Talk to your pilot. Keep her calm.”

Hol’s head gently lolled to the side on the padded exam table, her face slack and eyes half-lidded. She went still once more just as he took his place. He cupped her face in his hands, noting how cool and clammy her skin felt against his palms.

Kalonia stood to his right, a penlight ready in her hand to test the reaction of her patient’s pupils.

“C’mon, Tarmin…” She called while carefully tugging open Hol’s eyelid.

Immediately, there was a weak moan, greatly muffled by the respirator mask. Hol tried to roll away from the touch, but Poe’s hands braced either side of her head.

“Hey, hey- it's okay. Easy, kid, easy.” He whispered, holding her in place just long enough for Kalonia to work.

“Settle down, Lieutenant.” The doctor spoke as she pulled away. “You crash landed on D’Qar. You’re in medical.”

Poe didn't let go once she finished. He continued cradling Hol's head, his short nails scratching at her scalp in some attempt at providing comfort.

Her body was fully exposed under the surgical lights, revealing the extent of the damage that he wasn't able to see back in the cockpit. The bruising along her abdomen and rib cage was mostly black, as if there were large ink blots staining her skin. There were blaster grazes on her right side, localized swelling where her right forearm was clearly fractured, wounds in her lower abdomen...

So much of it jumped out at once, he found it hard to focus on any one injury long enough. He began to wonder just what sort of state she was in before the crash.

Hol emitted another faint groan, one where he could distinctly hear a wheezing sound that came from deep in her chest. Her body jerked from the force of a cough. Red flecks of blood appeared inside the clear respirator mask.

Slowly, she began to blink against the lights. A worry line formed in the center of her forehead.

"No...n-no… "

It was hoarse and strained, but everyone standing around caught the audible plea. Hol's good hand suddenly lifted in an attempt to bat away those touching her.

Dr. Kalonia cursed.

"Restrain her! I'm trying to insert a chest catheter here!”

Padded white cuffs were produced and promptly attached around each of her limbs, securing her to the exam bed.

"Hol, look at me." Poe commanded. He cupped her jaw as he leaned directly over her, giving her no choice but to comply. He made himself the only thing she had to look at. His shadow worked to shield her eyes from the glaring overhead lights while also blocking her view of the med staff.

Her gaze was glassy and unfocused, but she was thankfully looking at him.

"You've got to relax." He urged, his hand smoothing her tangled hair back off her face as he spoke. "We’re trying to patch you up, alright? Let us help."

She blinked at the sound of his voice, and though the distress on her face didn't fade, she went still on the exam bed. Her eyes remained set in his direction.

"There you go, sunshine..." Poe quietly praised, using once again the affectionate name he knew she absolutely hated. "Keep those eyes on me, don't worry about anything else."

His attention never left her, but he was aware that Kalonia and another med tech were beginning to work at prepping the incision site to insert the chest tube. He wasn't convinced that Hol recognized who he was or even that she was somewhere safe, but he couldn't risk her getting freaked out by the procedure being performed on her chest.

There was still visible fear in her eyes, but she never looked away from him. Her struggling thankfully ceased as she began to lean into one of his palms bracing the side of her face.

"You're safe, you know that?" He found himself reminding her. The pads of his thumbs traced over the outer shells of her ears, trying again to ease the visible discomfort he saw etched in her face. "Promise you, babe. You're good, we've got you."

Hol winced before swallowing. His brow furrowed as he watched her lips suddenly part.

“Poe…"

Her voice was painfully raw, and normally the sound of her saying his name would have been reason for relief, but he only worried that she was wasting her energy trying to talk.

“Yeah, hey, Hol.” He greeted in a whisper, dipping just enough to brush his lips to her hairline. "It's me. I'm right here."

He frowned when she tried to say something more, something longer and impossible to parse.

"Shh-hey, no, that's enough. Don't want you to talk anymore." He gently scolded. "We’re going to do like before, okay? You relax while I run my mouth.”

Poe doubted she remembered their conversation down in the cockpit, but she thankfully fell silent. Her eyes remained on him as he kept quietly talking to her, blabbering on about how lucky she was to get out of briefings and inventory duty for the next few weeks, about how she was going to sit back on the medbay's best painkillers and watch the trashiest holovids he could find.

He knew deep down that she probably wasn't following him entirely, but he was trying to reassure himself at this point more than her. He was keenly aware that none of what he was saying was guaranteed, but he had to give himself something to hold on to, because imagining anything else simply was not an option for him.

She had to pull through this.

She had to be fine.

Minutes passed like that, Hol's unfocused gaze trained on Poe's face as he worked at keeping her distracted. Kalonia was able to successfully insert the temporary catheter into Hol's chest, which would assure the function of her uninjured lung until they could patch up the other.

Poe listened closely as a medtech outlined all of the crucial information, providing him with the rough plan of how her treatment would proceed. Once they finished stabilizing her most grave injuries, she would be taken back for surgery. There would be some additional testing after, which would take a couple of hours...

The explanation suddenly stopped short when an alarm began to sound from one of the machines. The level of the urgency in the room immediately started to bubble over.

"Heart rate is increasing!" Someone announced.

Poe visibly paled as he watched Hol's eyes roll backward. His hands still bracing her head, he desperately looked up at the med staff, searching for some kind of instruction.

"Dameron, out!"

Kalonia swooped in and firmly shouldered him out of the way.

Before he could object, a med droid approached and began to usher him towards the door.

"Doc, what's going on?" He demanded, sidestepping the mechanical arms reaching for his shirt. "What's wrong?"

His question went ignored. Hold was entirely obscured from his view. There were too many people now surrounding the exam bed.

"She's seizing! Start anticonvulsants and prepare for a transfusion!"

"Master Dameron, the team needs to prepare the patient for surgery. You must leave."

The med droid's pincers whirred as it closed in on Poe.

"Don't tell me what I have to do!" He snapped, the outline of his jaw more pronounced as he spoke through clenched teeth.

In a moment of sheer stupidity, he pushed back hard against the unforgivingly solid metal chest. He clearly forgot that these droids were built to easily lift the deadweight of critically ill patients of any species.

The mechanical arms tightly wrapped around him, securing his own arms to his sides. They closed, crushing him flush against the droid's metal body. The gesture was completed so quickly that he could feel the air being forced out of his own chest.

Poe feebly kicked, but it was useless. The droid easily hauled him back out through the double doors and towards the waiting area.

________________________

The word about who crash-landed into the trees traveled like wildfire across base. All of black squadron, Finn, BB-8, several of the x-wing techs and pilots from various outfits formed a large group just outside of the medbay. Each of them had duties elsewhere that they were purposefully ignoring, choosing out of loyalty to be present while one of their own hung in some grave state between life and death. They were the ones who threw back countless drinks in the mess hall together, who organized a massive fantasy Gravball league that nearly sent the entire Resistance into chaos, and who pooled their commissary credits to throw each other birthday parties.

They were all present to witness the painful moment Poe was forcibly escorted out of the sliding double doors leading to triage.

"Shit!-alright, alright! Let go!" His shouts ricocheted down the hallway as he finally managed to yank himself free. The force of the motion caused him to promptly fall to the floor.

The others watched as he quickly scrambled up from the ground, stumbling and hurrying to kick at the back of the retreating med droid.

He missed, which only served to enrage him further. The doors promptly closed behind the droid and Poe spun around— his mouth set in a tight line while he began to inexplicably search his surroundings. His chest rose and fell for several beats. His face twisted into a sneer before he abruptly lashed out at the nearest object, sending a trashcan flying with his boot. The steel barrel was thankfully empty, but the sharp clang sent a shockwave across the medbay.

The few people waiting in the sitting area immediately stood up to vacate the space.

Finn was the first to take a step forward to intervene, but he was halted by a large hand on his arm. He turned his head to see Snap, skin still humid as if he came straight from the refresher.

"Best to stand back and let it pass." The pilot urged with a sad shake of his head. "His scenes are never pretty."

Finn didn't want to agree, but as he stood and watched the scene unfolding before them he couldn't find any reason to argue. Snap and the others would know better. They did know.

Poe’s hands were pressed to the back of his head, his fingers laced together as he glared at the closed doors. He could have easily pushed his way back through, but he inexplicably remained where he stood. His eyes shot a deadly amount of spite toward whatever was happening on the other side of those doors— information that, for the time being, only he knew.

His arms fell heavily to his sides. Ignoring the uneasy looks following him, he turned and traipsed over to the first row of waiting chairs, silently throwing himself down onto one of the seats.His legs stretched out while he leaned back, his arms folded over his chest.

He continued to stare at the doors, a hard glint in his eyes for the faceless goliath wrecking untold damage on the other side.

The others slowly filtered over to join him in the waiting area. A supportive hand would occasionally grip his shoulder or linger on his knee, but no one said anything. Those unvoiced questions sat heavy above their heads.

BB-8 remained near Poe’s feet, unusually still and silent.

Hours grudgingly crawled by. The light outside faded away and began to just barely creep back over the horizon when someone finally came out to speak to them.

Poe was the only one to be escorted back behind the double doors. Dr. Kalonia stood there waiting for him, still dressed in some of her surgical garb. Thankfully, her mask was off, because her facial expression alone was able to answer his most crucial question.

She was alive.

Kalonia began to turn before she motioned for him to come along.

"Follow me, Dameron..."

________________________

They walked together down the main hallway of the medical wing, back to where Poe knew the overnight patient beds were located. He remained silent as Kalonia gave the run through of everything— what exactly happened when he was forced out of triage and what they were able to correct during surgery. Internal bleeding was what caused Hol to begin seizing. They performed a blood transfusion that stabilized her enough to undergo surgery, but they hadn’t been confident that she would make it through. The surgery itself took hours, but they were successfully able to localize and stop the bleeding in her abdomen and patch up her punctured lung. They installed a more substantial drainage tube in her chest to allow excess air and fluids to escape so her lung could continue to heal.

She would need to be kept asleep so her body could focus on repairing itself, but Kalonia was going to let Poe see her while they performed some additional tests.

They came to a stop just before the smallest room along the hallway. Due to space constraints on base, most of the rooms along this corridor housed multiple beds. This room was only for patients in a bad enough state to justify being kept isolated from others.

Kalonia stood aside to let him enter first.

They had Hol lying half-covered on an exam bed, her chest was mostly obscured by bandages. The first thing he noticed was that she was clean now, so much so that it made his head spin.

It shouldn’t have been such a surprise, because of course they were going to scrub away the blood and grime before putting her on fresh bedding. But still, the contrast from when he found her sitting strapped in that downed ship was startling.

Several machines were attached to her body. She was hooked up to a respirator and receiving fluids intravenously, but Poe also caught sight of the aforementioned drainage tube extending from a patch of bandages in her side. It ran all the way over the edge of the bed into a receptacle on the floor. Her injured arm was wrapped in bacta strips and immobilized with a splint.

He remained a few feet away from her bed, a distance that he decided would be safe, because it felt too dangerous to touch her. His eyes slowly took in every piece of equipment being used to keep her stable, at first he began to count but stopped himself when he reached double digits.

His brow furrowed the moment he noticed the padded white cuffs still attaching Hol's wrists to the bed frame.

"Why is she still strapped down?" He demanded, his voice oddly distorted from hours of not speaking.

"It’s just a precaution for now.” Kalonia began to explain, seeming to choose her words cautiously. “She’s still on anticonvulsants to help reduce the likelihood of further seizures, but even while sedated there are still some tremors. With the location of the drainage tube we can’t risk her moving too violently or ripping it out when she wakes.”

Poe blinked, taking a moment to process the information.

"How long does she have to keep the tube?”

“No more than 2 to 3 days.”

He nodded while he chewed on his lower lip, his eyes still trained on Hol.

“Look, Dameron…”

She interrupted his thoughts in a gentle tone that was meant to be comforting, but it only made the hairs on the back of his neck stand straight. Dr. Kalonia was known for ruthlessly running the medbay like a battleship. They went back far too long, he knew to brace for the worst whenever she started to go soft.

Poe turned to face her, the pit of dread he felt low in his stomach was only growing. He would have given anything in that moment for them to fall into their traditional roles, for him to be the one injured and for her to be yelling at him. - Dammit, Dameron! Either make yourself useful or get the hell out of my medbay!

But she only continued to speak in that horribly gentle tone.

“As Tarmin’s commanding officer, there is something else that you should know.”

She walked him around to the opposite side of the bed, where there was noticeably less tubing.

“During the examination before her surgery, I noticed some smaller injuries that made me order full lab work.”

He watched as she lifted the bit of blanket covering Hol’s legs.

“I found infected injection sites on the insides of her arms and thighs, then these small circular burns on her ankles.”

Immediately Poe began to understand the rationale behind her delicate words.

He'd seen those marks on more than a few Resistance members who managed to escape capture. He sported similar ones himself after being captured on Jakku...after the Finalizer.

“We found traces of antipsychotics, nerve agents, and truth serum in her system.” Kalonia continued to explain.

He bowed his head as he listened, the sour taste of bile was creeping up in the back of his mouth. He pinched the bridge of his nose while the facts began to register in his mind. His teeth clamped down on the inside of his cheek, he forced himself to slowly exhale.

"There are chafe marks on her body from restraints. The partial break to her humerus looks like it's from prolonged strain during intero—"

He couldn’t let her fully pronounce the word.

"Alright!”

He didn't have it in him to yell anymore, but the tension in his voice filled the space like a streak of lightning.

To her credit, Kalonia never flinched at the sound. She stood patiently, unwavering, her face neutral as she watched him. An uneasy silence settled over the room.

He took a shaky breath, being mindful to adjust his tone before continuing.

“It’s okay.” He spoke softly, voice trembling despite his efforts. “I-I got it, Doc.”

He turned to face away as he desperately tried to calm the tightening in his throat. The corners of his eyes were sharply stinging. The best he could do to regain control was to continue biting down hard on the inside of his mouth, inhaling and exhaling through his nose.

After a couple of minutes he scrubbed both hands over his stubbled face. With the heels of his palms he rubbed at his eyes until he saw stars. Slowly, much too slowly for his liking, he was able to push his own agony down enough to recenter.

Poe turned to face Kalonia once more. He cleared his throat.

“She's not going to be in too much pain when she wakes up?” He demanded. “You can keep her comfortable, right?”

She pointed his attention to the IV stand by the head of the exam bed.

"I can't promise when she wakes up that she won't be in some pain, but we can adjust the medication through her drip and it'll take effect almost immediately."

He nodded. His hand combed through his hair before he slowly approached the bedside once more.

Poe stood and watched Hol's face for several minutes. He searched hard for any signs of movement or distress but found nothing. Her features were mercifully still and serene for the moment. She was protected under the fog of artificial sleep.

“How long are you going to keep her under?”

The question was spoken in a near whisper.

“Depends on her vitals, but at least a day, maybe two.”

Kalonia took the time to show him her vitals displayed on the monitor near the head of the bed, providing a brief explanation of what the numbers currently meant. For the moment, everything hovered just barely inside the acceptable range. It was far from ideal, but it was at least temporarily stable. They would have to see over the next few days how she progressed.

While standing there together, they witnessed a ripple of stiff movement pass through Hol’s limbs.

“Whoa…” Poe visibly straightened, alarm written on his face as he began to think the worst.

Kalonia’s hand found his arm.

“Those movements aren’t another seizure.” She assured him. “It’s a residual effect from nerve agent exposure. Think of it like the nerves in her body recalibrating.”

Poe nodded in quiet understanding, but all he could think about was the excuse Kalonia gave him earlier for keeping Hol restrained— how she didn’t want her to hurt herself. There was some logic behind it, he could admit that much. But now that he knew some of what happened to her, he could barely stomach the idea.

They allowed him to stay in Hol’s room overnight. Kalonia had a cot brought in for him to sleep on, but only under the condition that he promised two things: to use the refresher across the hall and to actually get some sleep.

When he was finally alone with her he felt oddly numb. There in the nearly dark ward of the medbay, he stood over Hol’s bed and just watched her. It took several minutes for him to work up the courage to approach, but he did it. His hand briefly rested on the metal railing, as if he was grounding himself before he finally reached to touch her.

His fingers snaked between her own as he slotted his hand over her's. Immediately he realized that her skin felt strangely warm, prompting him to reach up and feel the side of her face. A quick look at her vitals confirmed his suspicions, she had a low-grade fever beginning to form.

Poe made a note to point it out to one of the medtechs when they would come to make their rounds. He touched her hand once more before he stepped back to take a seat on the unfolded cot.

From there he watched her rest. He felt the heavy pull of exhaustion on his body, but sleep was the last thing he wanted for himself. His mind was all over the place, thinking about too many things at once.

Leia would come to visit her soon. He knew that much. Once she was past the worst and strong enough to speak, they would make her issue a report and do a formal debrief in front of Leia and her counsel.

It would be long and grueling. She would have to relive everything in great detail and be thoroughly questioned. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know all of the facts himself, but he definitely knew that he didn’t want to put her through having to recount it too many times. Those meetings were meant to be classified, but it wouldn’t take long before everyone would know.

Poe so desperately wished that he could save her from that part—when everyone on base would begin to look at her differently. He knew that it was inevitable though. While he sat there next to her bed, watching over her while she slept, he could only think about what was to come.

He knew that for however long she stayed asleep in this room, she was at least protected from all that was waiting out there. The thought comforted him some, even if it was only temporary.

He also knew that the two of them needed to talk about a lot of things once she woke up.

Her position in Black Squadron needed to be rethought. It was a massive understatement to say that her flying under him was unethical. Before Hol left for Batuu they tried to be discreet about their relationship. They both told themselves that they were doing a good enough job keeping things secret, a delusion that went well past the point of denial. They thought their regular heated arguments in front of the others and their general refusal to touch each other would provide ample cover, but their sneaking off to fuck in supplies closets hadn't always been the most covert. But now that she was back, Poe was ready to throw discretion out the window.

There were without a doubt other positions for her as a pilot, other opportunities, but it was going to be difficult convincing her. Making her understand that it wasn’t a punishment would be delicate.

He would talk it over with Leia, with some of the other squadron leaders. He would confess that he was the one in the wrong, and readily accept whatever disciplinary action came his way. They would figure something out for Hol. They had to.

Poe knew he also owed her an apology. He could have handled things differently when she volunteered for the mission, he could have spoken his mind while remaining supportive. His only memories of that conversation were just of him dressing her down, desperately trying to pull rank as a last ditch effort to keep her from leaving by herself.

The truth was that he was so fucking proud of her. During the weeks she was gone he had been livid, walking around with anger bubbling under his skin at all times. But now all he wanted was for her to hear how proud he felt, because he didn't want to leave her with those memories of their final argument.

She kept her head cool and found her way back. She survived whatever hell she fell into and fought her way out. He still couldn’t wrap his head around how she managed to pull off the execution of that landing. She had one broken arm, was trying to evade being hit with no comms system, all while coming in on fumes.

A medtech came by a couple of hours later, which woke Poe out of a light sleep.

He sat up and watched from his cot as they administered medication, checked the tubes and wires around her body to make sure nothing was out of place.

He mentioned the fever, which thankfully hadn't climbed any higher. They started her on another course of antibiotics.

“She looks peaceful, doesn’t she?” They asked him at one point.

The very moment he heard the word a bitter taste spread across his entire tongue, making his mouth twist downward in a frown. He knew they meant well enough, but his head still snapped around to look at them in disbelief.

Because "peaceful" had never been Hol.

Conniving.

Stubborn.

Impulsive.

A pain in his ass.

There were easily ten dozen choice adjectives he and quite a few others on this base could use to describe Hol Tarmin, but peaceful was definitely not one.

Peaceful was a word that people used to describe the dead.

And his girl wasn’t fucking dead.

The very idea was something he couldn’t dwell on for too long, because of the way his foundation had very nearly crumbled during those weeks she was gone. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt panic the way he had at the crash site, thinking at any moment he would be forced to helplessly watch while she slipped away from him, like watching water slowly leak out of his cupped hands.

It felt selfish to have those thoughts while she was lying there in front of him, but he was keenly aware of how impossibly lucky they were to get her back — how impossibly lucky he was.

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littleliterarylesbian · 20 days

Text

"No, listen Siri, you can't just use-" Remus smile is small as he talks, leaning in close, but Sirius can't help but feel his own drop. He feels like rocks pile up in his stomach.

"Why did you call me that." It's not said as a question, it's biting and harsh. He can't help how it comes out because it just felt wrong. That wasn't something someone could say to him. That name died along with the love he felt for another.

Remus tilts his head, brows furrowing in confusion, "Called you... Your name?"

"No, no. You said-" Sirius, because that's his name, stands. His palms against the table and he leans back enough for his arms to straighten out. Remus still looks confused. He wishes he didn't. It would be so much easier to push the bile down, "You said 'Siri.'" He stresses the word out like that makes sense and it does! It does to him. And that's what matters.

Sirius shakes his head, "Don't- Don't call me that. Ever."

He's called dramatic often, it's not a new thing for him to find himself overreacting, but the thing is he doesn't realize he's overreacting until much later; hindsight and all that. He doesn't think he's overreacting now. He didn't realize that such a simple word could make him feel like dying.

Because when he hears that name he remembers big wet eyes looking up at him. He remembers holding a shaking body after a punishment. He remembers the feeling of a smaller body crawling into his bed after a nightmare. He remembers a sweet smile and chubby cheeks still full of baby fat and covered in faint freckles.

The only one allowed to call him that is the voice of his memories. Now when he finds himself searching for the face that used to be afraid of the dark and tight spaces and hated pain it's different. Now instead it's a face he doesn't recognize across the great hall. He hasn't heard the voice of that face in years. Not after the last thing said to him was a simple and swift 'I hate you.'

He blinks the tears out of his eyes and Remus rubs his arm. His breaths are coming out uneven and he has to squeeze his eyes shut to block everything out.

"That's not- don't-"

There's the sound of a chair scraping across the floor before a pair of arms wrap around him. Chest to back and a pair of lips on his neck, not kissing the skin but instead just resting there.

"Alright. Okay. It's okay Sirius. I won't say it again."

Sirius' breathing is shaky, stuttering almost, but he nods. Remus pulls his arms away from the table, encasing him wholly. He thinks about how he's been in that position before. Holding, being used as a blanket. He's done it before he even hit double digits in age.

"Never again." Remus mumbles against his skin and he makes a wounded noise in the back of his throat because that's not... that's not what he wants. Sirius aches to hear it again coming from the right lips.

But he knows he won't. Never again.

based off of this post :]

#.twrites #marauders era #marauders #harry potter #dead gay wizards #dead wizards from the 70s #black brothers #hp marauders #regulus black #sirius and regulus #sirius orion black #sirius black #wolfstar #remus lupin

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mixelation · 2 months

Note

oh my god stop posting about minato

👀👀👀

fine here’s whatever else i have of asynchronicity

Minato grimaced as he climbed out of the tub. So. Tori did not care about him killing people and maybe was… into that…? But she did physically flee from him at the idea of talking about their feelings.

He probably should have expected that. Oh well. They could work on it.

Tori had left an extremely ugly sweater on the floor by the sink, but she’d also at some point pulled a couple yukata and towels and left them on the sink counter. The yukata were both a little too small on him, but he pulled one on anyway. He could go home and grab something in less than a minute, but he also liked Tori doing things for him.

His joints all felt sore as he walked. The main area of the house had an open kitchen and living area, he found Tori cutting up potatoes. They’d all sprouted, and she was frowning to herself as she cut around the sprouts. The way she held her knife was remarkably civilian, and Minato paused to watch her for a few moments.

She blushed when she realized he was watching her, and then in true Tori fashion, started babbling about different ways potatoes could poison you.

Cute, Minato thought, and then went and collapsed on the couch. He fell into a light sleep almost immediately, listening to Tori chop away.

He woke again to Tori offering him a bowl of soup.

“I’m not a great cook,” she warned him, and then offered up a thing of chili flakes. “I usually try to cover up my sins.”

The soup was a truly random assembly of things, but Minato didn’t mind. Tori had been working with whatever was on hand, and chakra exhaustion was treated with rest and nutritionally dense foods. Potatoes and tinned tuna weren’t something he’d normally mix, but they were both good for the occasion. He turned down the chili flakes; he didn’t really like spicy things anyway.

Plus, Tori had cooked for him. For him!

“I have some NSAIDs if you want them,” Tori said after a while. “Sorry I didn’t think to offer them earlier.”

“I think I’m okay,” Minato said after a few moments of consideration. Pain like this was a reminder not to push himself.

“What’s the plan next?” Tori asked.

Minato mulled this over. He did not have orders for what to do next, because he’d dropped the dead Iwa commander off at his current assigned camp, very briefly said he’d confirmed the whole camp was dead, including twenty-six additional Iwa-nin he found in the surrounding area, and then just left.

In hindsight, he should have realized he’d done something really major. He hadn’t technically disobeyed orders, but also he’d done a bunch of things and killed a lot of people without orders and then immediately disappeared into the ether. That was probably technically abandoning his post or something.

“I should… go talk to Konoha base camp,” he said slowly.

“Uh huh,” Tori said, and then looked like she was fighting back a laugh. “Do you think they know?”

“Uh, well…”

Minato briefly went over what had happened the previous night, for context. He was currently assigned to a Konoha base camp near the Grass border. He was surveying ahead of a team from Konoha proper that had been sent up to negotiate with Iwa for prisoner release. He’d then run into the prisoners and escorted them back to base. Upon questioning, it had become blatantly obvious to Minato that Tori had been with them, and that she’d been left behind.

“So I just left without an explanation,” he said. “I didn’t really think about it. I was hoping you were just in the woods somewhere, and I’d be back in an hour.”

Tori, sitting cross legged on the couch next to him, shifted uncomfortably. Her gaze fell to the now empty soup bowl in her lap.

“But you weren’t,” he said, “so I went to get you.”

“I…” Tori started, running a finger around the rim of the bowl. “I like… that… you came for me.”

Her face was red. She squirmed uncomfortably. This was Tori telling him something very difficult and emotionally vulnerable, something she’d never say to another human being. He wanted to pull her into another kiss and promise her he would make a world world where she’d never be abandoned again.

That might be too intense, though. Instead he set his bowl aside, and then gently lifted hers out of her hands to also set aside.

“Thank you,” she said, clearly not talking about the soup bowl. “I was… really happy.”

Minato reached forward, running his hand through her hair. It was still damp, just now starting to curl up again, and it smelled pretty. He thought about how good her hands in his hair had felt. He wanted her to feel good too.

She let him pull her into his arms and rested her cheek against his chest while he reclined.

“So will you get in trouble?” she asked, the slightest hint of worry in her voice.

“I have no idea,” he answered, fiddling with her hair. “Probably.”

“You’re awful blaisé about it,” Tori observed, skeptical.

“I did report in last night and say I killed everyone,” Minato said. “The commander seemed shocked, but not angry.”

Tori sat up slightly, frowning at him. “You were gone for like ten minutes, tops. Did you even give him time to react?”

“Not really,” Minato admitted. “But I go off alone all the time and never get more than a slap on the wrist. The worst they’ll do is fine me. I’m too valuable to demote or put on probation.”

“You are worse than I thought you were,” Tori said, tone affectionate, and she pressed her face against him again.

“It’s not like they’ll be mad the Iwa camp is gone,” Minato defended. “Just… surprised.”

Tori let out a short, ironic laugh.

“Probably they’ve already sent someone to investigate,” Minato guessed. “Unless they didn’t believe me. I didn’t realize how insane my report that I’d killed everyone was at the time.”

Tori laughed again.

Minato still wasn’t sure how he felt. At the time, he’d just wanted to make sure the girl he liked was safe, and given he’d had no idea where she was, there was no way to guarantee that while enemies were still alive in the camp.

Probably he would have backed off if he’d found her. But she’d been in the commander’s tent, which was the most well-guarded place. It’d been the last place he’d gone.

A thousand people was a lot, though. He wasn’t even sure he’d ever seen that many ninja gathered at once outside of Konoha. Did he care…?

No, they’d been in his way, threatening someone special to him. He didn’t feel an ounce of guilt.

“They’ll want to talk to me for a long time either way,” Minato predicted. He held up a lock of Tori’s hair and then watched the strains slip through his fingers.

“Come with me?” he asked. When Tori didn’t reply for a while, he traced a line down her spine. “Don’t worry. I won’t let anyone touch you.”

That got her. Tori shifted on him, her hand balling into a fist in his yukata. He felt a smug smirk spread across his face. So this is what got her off…?

“I can think of some things Konoha-nin could do without touching me,” Tori said eventually.

Minato traced a line back up her spine.

“True,” he agreed. “But can they do those things faster than I could stop them?”

Tori hummed happily.

Minato would not kill or seriously injure a fellow Konoha-nin. But certainly he could intervene in any number of ways.

“We could get a healer to look at you,” he said.

“What, you don’t want me with a cool face scar?” Tori replied, but then immediately admitted she’d like that.

“We can go after I take another nap,” Minato decided. Afterall, what difference would it make if he fucked around for another few hours?

xXx

Everyone at the base camp was severely freaked out. For some reason, this surprised Minato.

“Yo!” he greeted the chunin at mission check-in with a friendly wave. The woman, who’d run multiple missions with Minato, looked up at him with evident fear. She stuttered while she checked him in.

“And, um, w-who’s this?” she asked, waving nervously at Tori. She would not meet Minato’s eyes.

“That’s… Tori,” Minato said lamely. “She’s… well, the commander will know who she is.”

Tori was a known player to Konoha. He did not think most random ninja would know about her, but he hadn’t been keeping the amount of time he spent with her a secret, and he’d actively mooned over her to both Jiraiya and Kushina. It was… it was known. If you’d read Minato’s file, you knew about her.

#asynchronicity #minato killing 1000 ninja to save Konoha ninja: cool. Fine. A hero #Minato doing it seemingly at random/for a rando: what the FUCK #toriverse

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shiut · 3 months

Text

How much did Yakou know?

Very long and detailed analysis of Yakou's involvement in the plot beneath the cut.

Yakou is an interesting character to me. He gets his own mildly insightful short story about his detective origins. However, I crave to think that there's gotta be more to him than just the kind of pathetic (affectionate) stressed out dad-like figure that mostly kind of nags and bosses Yuma around for the majority of the game.

Ok, it sounds like I'm ragging on him, but he does have an occasional side of him in dire situations where he shows a selfless loyalty and trust in his team that proves he takes his leadership position seriously, even if he does really rock the irresponsible mess look. And he gets to be cool in his own chapter for a minute.

But there is a moment that sticks out to me, especially in hindsight after finishing the game, and that's the prologue where you get your first and probably most substantial talk with him.

He says that he does not want Kanai Ward to change practically within the same breath where he explains how terribly he's treated as a detective in this horrendously corrupt murder infested police state.

Although he makes it clear that he has a deep personal affection and nostalgic attachment to this city that shows a bias for why he would say this, we hear from multiple people throughout the game that Kanai Ward has not been the same in recent years as it has been in the past that Yakou has rooted his love in.

So why does he feel as if any change to the current state of Kanai Ward would disrupt the "peace and quiet" it deserves?

Unless he knows something about the city that's just so fundamentally irreparable that this is the closest to peace and quiet that it'll ever get again, and trying to fix it would only somehow destroy it.

Everything about the rooftop scene, from talking about the city, to Shinigami commenting on how ominous he feels to her, to the fact that he's the person who explains the rumor that the rain affects peoples' bodies.

Highlighted text tends to be easy to overlook, but I can't help but feel like there's some significance to his usage of "illusion in the rain". It's like he knows something that nobody else can see (and an obvious foreshadowing of how the rain is one of the main means of covering up Kanai Ward's mystery).

But this segues into the themes of his later chapter which also focuses on Vivia, who mirrors Yakou in a lot of ways, beyond just being another guy who muses on about peace and quiet.

Speaking of, a mirror is what Vivia uses as a metaphor for the benefit of blissful ignorance and the potential catastrophic dangers of the painful truth.

For the purposes of this chapter, he is explaining the type of pain and the effect on Yuma's world view that uncovering Yakou's crime will incur. It also acts as a setup for the development of Yuma's conviction that he will later need to use in the final chapter of the game. But the distorted reality the Vivia explains in the mirror does call me back to Yakou's "illusion in the rain" comment.

Vivia also explains that the truth that Yuma uncovers for truth's sake will lead to the destruction of the world. While he could be referring to the world and humanity in general, in the context of this chapter, world can mean a lot of things though, such as Yuma's innocence in the way he views the world as he knows it.

Or namely, from Makoto's point of view, it could also mean the destruction of the homunculi and the only version of the world that Makoto believes they can exist in.

Did Yakou come to a similar conclusion as Makoto based on what he found out?

Like Vivia in chapter 4, who did not want the culprit to be revealed, it seemed like Yakou had the full intention of not cooperating with investigating the Kanai Ward mystery until he was forced to by a directive from Number One. Even so, he came off as if encouraging the detectives to drag their feet on it for the sake of staying out of trouble.

But we know that he is not lazy, unmotivated, or stupid. In a world where you're competing with people who are fast-tracked into the WDO if they have literal super powers, Yakou was inducted by pure detective skill. He had definitely been spending a lot of his time laying low and investigating Kanai Ward himself, because he didn't trust the UG or the WDO if they turned their attention to the city.

Yakou already knew about the homunculus research in some way.

Even if he didn't know about everyone being a homunculus, he at least knew enough that he believed that the city itself would be shattered by the involvement of the UG and WDO.

And then we get to chapter 5 with the mindless zombie homunculi.

Except, they're not all completely mindless. As a matter of fact, I had come to notice something about all the non-aggressive homunculi: they all seemed to have some degree of awareness about Amaterasu's research.

The fake Zilch, who was one of Yomi's closest advisors and knew about all of Dr Huesca's and Yomi's activity in the lab concerning homunculus research, and was implied to be the one who killed Yakou's wife for whistleblowing. Fink, who was propositioned by Makoto himself to infiltrate the lab, and who was then killed by Makoto for 'knowing too much'. Dr Huesca, who was the head researcher for the homunculi. And the former CEO, who was the prime overseer of the research.

And then there was Yakou, who gives Yuma the video evidence of Dr Huesca's death at the hands of the homunculi as he explained the results of the experiment. The easy explanation is that Makoto planted this video on the zombie Yakou to be given to Yuma in the restricted area.

However, another thing that the non-aggressive zombies had in common is that they seemed to be stuck thinking about what seems to be their final thoughts before their death, barring the former CEO who was unusually lucid compared to all of them.

Considering this, I feel like Yakou's final thoughts were for Yuma to expose the truth about the homunculi for him, and to give him the DVD as the key evidence he needed. Whether Makoto gave Yakou this video, or if Yakou already had this video himself, his final thought before dying was to make sure Yuma got it.

I always thought it was a bit strange for Yakou to go and decide to murder Dr Huesca at the slightest provocation by Yomi, and then had this whole complicated coverup plan. If Kurumi could look into Yakou's background for only a day and come to the conclusion that Amaterasu had killed his wife for whistleblowing, then Yakou himself would've definitely already known and could've tried to kill Dr Huesca a long time ago.

I don't think the provocation was by Yomi's letter. I believe at some point, he had found out that Huesca and Yomi could possibly leak information about the homunculus research. He decided to kill Huesca as a gambit reveal Yomi's involvement with leaking research before it could get out into the public and destroy Kanai Ward, and he entrusted this truth to Yuma and the rest of his detectives. Yakou knew that the lie that they were living, the one that was keeping Kanai Ward together, wasn't going to last much longer.

This conveniently aligned with Makoto's motives to oust Yomi. Makoto, the one who also knew that Yomi would cause the lie holding Kanai Ward together to unravel, and who happened to introduce Fink to Yakou. Fink thought that Yakou did not know about Makoto orchestrating their meeting, and perhaps he was right in that Yakou didn't know that it was Makoto specifically, but maybe Makoto was the one who tipped Yakou off to Amaterasu's homunculus research possibly being leaked and may have even given Yakou the DVD.

Makoto may not have exactly manipulated Yakou. It just simply that both Yakou and Makoto similarly knew that the UG sticking their nose into Kanai Ward about the homunculus research was incredibly dangerous. Makoto simply gave Yakou the ultimatum and means to stop Yomi. The difference is that Makoto's goal was to get rid of Yomi and assume full control of the city in order to further suppress its secret, but Yakou's goal was the provide the truth to his detectives in order to fix things.

And I wrote all this BEFORE the Yakou DLC came out.

Where we find out that Yakou has had the prototype cure for homunculi the whole time. And depending on whether or not his wife here is a ghost or a hallucination, it seems like she had always known that there would be a need to regenerate the zombified brain cells of homunculi. Yakou might've been biding time not only to try and figure out how to reconcile the whole homunculus research issue without the UG destroying Kanai Ward, but maybe also for someone to finish research on this medicine.

TLDR; Yakou had always known about the homunculus research and was hiding it because he believed that the info getting leaked would cause the destruction of Kanai Ward by the hands of the UG. In the end, he figured out that the secret would not keep up for much longer, and his plot in chapter 4 wasn't for revenge, but to entrust that Yuma and the rest of his detectives would be able to uncover the truth and work out a way to save Kanai Ward.

#rain code #raincode #master detective archives: rain code #rain code spoilers #yakou furio #shiutpost #my analysis #analysis

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scrumptious-delusion · 1 year

Text

let’s get married

series masterlist

summary: an undercover mission is nothing new for you or bucky. however, using the cover of a newly-wed couple is.

pairing: bucky barnes x agent!female reader

warnings: swearing, humour, fluff 🥺, mention of: murder, injuries, knives, and blood.

length: 4.1k

a/n: third part in the little bird series. written for my 3k celebration, the prompt is bolded. don’t hold the accuracy of the russian against me, i just used google ✌.

You peek up at Bucky out of the corner of your eye.

His gaze is focused on Charlie as they deliver the mission briefing you’re too preoccupied to listen to.

This is the first time you’ve seen Bucky in six weeks.

The first time you’ve seen him since he sent you a whole basket full of flowers.

The first time you’ve seen him since realising you love him - that you’re in love with him.

No big deal.

As always, Bucky’s thick beard is neatly trimmed in the shape of his jawline, while his long hair is tied in a bun at the base of his neck. Gazing lower, you admire how the short sleeve of Bucky’s shirt stretches around his muscled right bicep that you’re eye level with and fight back a longing sigh.

Bucky’s hot. You’ve appreciated that fact since the start of your partnership.

Of course you’ve dabbled in a fantasy or two in the privacy of your bedroom, long before your recent revelation. You’re only human. A human with hormones and desires.

I get horny, okay?

In hindsight, you should have realised those harmless daydreams were the product of something bigger. Of something you were deliberately ignoring until it slapped you in the face, smelling like flowers.

You can’t help but wonder how Bucky - the man who takes everything in stride, would react if you just blurted out those three words to him right here, in the middle of a mission rundown.

I love you.

“What?”

The world comes to a screeching halt with cartoon sound effects as you’re wrenched out of your thoughts so violently someone might as well have poured freezing cold water over your head.

Darting your gaze back to Bucky’s face you’re relieved to see his attention is still directed at Charlie, meaning you didn’t accidentally declare your love for him out loud.

But if Bucky wasn’t speaking to you, that means he was speaking to Charlie.

He’s never spoken to a handler before, and not only that, he sounded…

Dismayed.

“What?” You repeat urgently, needing to know what was said.

You’re witnessing world history. Nothing fazes Bucky. Your first mission together well and truly proved that.

What’s the number for the Guiness World Record people?

Charlie looks from Bucky to you with a raised eyebrow. “I said, you’ll be using the cover of a newly-wed couple.”

“What?”

[THAT AFTERNOON]

Number seven of Daisy Court sits at the very end of a cul-de-sac and is essentially a copy-and-paste of every other house on the street.

The two-storey house is grey with white trimming and a dark, wooden front door. The concrete driveway you currently stand on leads to a one-car garage, while a pathway veering off to the left takes you up to the front porch.

The lawn is a vivid green and if you were to pull out a ruler you’re certain every blade of grass would be the Homeowners Association approved length of two inches.

For the foreseeable future, this is home.

Turning your head to the right, you look up at your new husband.

“Welcome home, honey.”

The lame joke only earns you some side-eye.

Along with the new house and husband are the names, Elise and James Prescott. At first you didn’t think it fair that Bucky got to keep his name but you dropped the subject when he - unlike you, was forced to undergo a make-over.

Bucky’s beard exists only in memory now.

His hair has been shortened and styled to curl around his ears, thick and fluffy. Every time your gaze lands on it your fingers twitch with the urge to feel.

The short hair and clean-shaven face make Bucky seem younger and less over life.

Well, when he’s not frowning at least.

“Hello neighbours!”

Oh boy.

You and Bucky share a look.

Spinning around, you showcase a megawatt smile. “Hi!”

A man in his early thirties jogs up to you both with a friendly grin. “My wife is gonna be so mad she missed your arrival,” He laughs “She baked lemon bars for the occasion.”

Sean Weaver.

You recognise him from the surveillance photos in your information packet. One of the mission’s two main targets.

“Oh, that’s so sweet of her.” You croon, holding out your hand. “I’m Elise and this is my husband, James.”

My husband, James.

Your heart pounds out a sporadic rhythm at those words.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m Sean.”

For a married man, Sean’s eyes linger a little too long in all the wrong places as he shakes your hand.

When he accepts Bucky’s hand next his face pinches into a slight wince.

It’s at that moment a car pulls up along the curb and an over-excited woman exits from the driver’s seat.

“Don’t tell me I almost missed the first introduction!”

Betty Weaver.

The mission’s other main target.

“Hello, hello,” The redhead grins, rushing up to wrap you in a hug. “I’m Betty, it’s so nice to meet you!”

Sean laughs at his wife’s enthusiasm. “Pumpkin, this is Elise and her husband, James.”

Betty releases you from her death grip, only to target Bucky next.

You can’t stop the laugh that shoots out of you when Bucky’s face momentarily displays his horror before falling unreadable once more as the smaller woman squeezes him.

Thankfully she steps back after only a moment, falling into her husband’s side.

“It’s been so long since we’ve had fresh faces around here.” Sean states.

Betty nods in agreement before asking “How long have you two been married?”

“A week.” You smile, wrapping your hands around Bucky’s closest bicep and pressing the side of your face into it.

This is how couples act, right?

A gasp, “Newly-weds, that’s so sweet!” A squeal, “Is this your first house?”

“It is.” You grin.

Leaning forward to poke Bucky’s chest, Betty orders “Don’t forget to carry her over the threshold mister.”

“I’m sure he was planning on it before I interrupted.” Sean chuckles goodnaturedly, looking down at his wife. “How about we leave the newly-weds to it?”

Betty pouts, but nods. “We’ll get properly acquainted once you’ve settled in.” She promises.

“I look forward to it.” You beam back.

“Well, until then neighbours.” Sean nods, ushering Betty back to her car.

You wave goodbye, one hand still around Bucky’s bicep as you allow him to lead you towards the house.

Three steps take you up onto the front porch and before you can even comment on Betty’s words, Bucky effortlessly sweeps you off your feet, cradling you in his arms bridal style. Instinctively, your arms loop around his neck, bringing your faces close together.

A squeal in the distance tells you the Weaver’s are still watching.

However, it’s hard to focus on anything when Bucky’s dark blue eyes are level with yours and only inches away. The back of his neck is warm against your forearm, and you can’t get over the feel of his bare skin on yours.

When Bucky speaks, his voice is low and rough. “Keys.”

Right.

Keeping your right arm around his neck, you dig the house keys out of your back jean pocket with your left hand. Bucky bends down when you get them free, allowing you to unlock the door and push it open.

He doesn’t straighten until he’s passed under the door frame and then he uses his foot to close the door behind him, blocking out the Weaver’s prying eyes.

Bucky lowers you to the floor slowly, waiting until you’re sure-footed before letting you go.

A tense, unfamiliar air lingers between the two of you.

“Well,” You scratch at the back of your neck “I think that went well.”

Bucky hums, watching you.

You’ve never struggled to fill a silence before, but suddenly something that’s so natural for you seems so hard.

C’mon, think of the mission. There’s gotta be something you can -

“Betty seems so nice, it’s hard to believe she’s murdered like fifteen people.”

[THE NEXT MORNING]

You find Bucky standing on the porch, looking out at the quiet neighbourhood as the morning sun breaks over the horizon.

A frown is etched between his eyebrows as he glares at the road.

“What did the street ever do to you?” You mumble sleepily, holding out a cup of coffee.

Bucky looks down at the drink, his eyes flicking to yours for a moment before he accepts the mug and stares at the road again.

“I hate cul-de-sacs, there’s only one way out and the people are kind of weird.” Bucky answers.

That has to be one of the longest sentences he’s ever spoken.

“Really? But everything about you screams suburbia.” You reply sarcastically.

Bucky’s mouth twitches.

“So…” Don’t ask, don’t ask. “I guess that means, you know,” Do not ask. “The whole wife and kids thing doesn’t appeal to you then.”

The mug pauses for a second on its journey to Bucky’s mouth before continuing. You watch as he takes a large sip and wonder if he’s going to respond.

Suddenly his dark blue eyes are piercing into you. “Do I have to like cul-de-sacs to want that?”

Why am I flushing?

“No, of course -”

“Morning neighbours!”

You both turn to see Betty jogging in place near your letterbox, waving eagerly.

“Morning!” You smile, waving back.

Grinning, Betty continues on her run.

Bucky twists around and heads back inside, sighing “I gotta get ready for work.”

Right.

James Prescott is an accountant at a local firm where he works five days a week from eight in the morning until five in the afternoon, like a good, upstanding American citizen.

You try not to laugh too much at the image of Bucky in a small office, surrounded by chatty co-workers and demanding customers.

As funny as it is, you can’t help but feel a little bad, having struck the better end of the deal once again.

Elise Prescott is an aspiring author and with her husband’s steady income, a stay at home wife.

Meaning, pretty much all of the mission’s reconnaissance falls solely on you.

Biting your lip, you try and fail to hold back your smile.

“Goodbye honey.”

With his back to the street and any spying neighbours, Bucky doesn’t hide his glare. “маленькая птица,” He warns quietly.

“Have the best day at work.” You continue, speaking louder than you normally would because you’re positive people are listening in.

Unable to resist, you raise your right hand and lightly tap his cheek. “Go make those numbers your bitch.”

Closing his eyes, Bucky inhales very, very deeply.

Your giggle has his eyes popping back open.

Okay, I’ve tormented the poor man enough.

Rocking up on your toes, you press a kiss to the clean shaven cheek you just tapped. “Bye.” You say more earnestly as you take a step away from him and the car.

Bucky studies you for a moment before climbing into the car and driving away. You wave until his car has disappeared down the street.

For just a second, the whole charade almost feels real.

[THREE DAYS LATER]

People always underestimate how boring and tedious undercover missions can be.

Since Bucky isn’t home for nine hours each weekday, you spend your days alone, re-reading the same information about your targets while staking them out.

You’ve introduced yourself to the neighbours that border you - the Weaver’s and the Newman’s, and they’ve introduced you to their neighbours and so forth.

Each day you take two walks around Daisy Court. The first in the morning after you see Bucky off to work and the second in the evening, just before Bucky returns home.

It’s a good way to make observations, start conversations, and familiarise yourself with everyone’s routines - particularly the Weaver’s.

Sean works from home, which means you’ve had no chance to snoop, but Betty has been your saving grace. Though she works in the city, she’s home by four every afternoon and she always joins you on your evening walks. It’s easy to pull snippets of useful information from her and today she provides you with the best news yet.

“After weeks of nagging him, he’s finally booked a doctor’s appointment.”

“Good!” You exclaim, “It’s always better to be safe than sorry.”

“Exactly!” Betty nods. “I’ll let you know what the doctor says tomorrow afternoon, his appointment is at quarter to two.”

No one will be home.

The two of you reach your driveway just as Bucky pulls in.

Glancing down at her watch, Betty sighs “I wish Sean was as punctual as your man.”

You don’t need to look at the time to know it’s exactly 5:15.

The driver’s door opens and Bucky’s long legs swing out before the rest of his towering body unfolds from the car.

Betty nudges you forward with a grin like she does every afternoon and you give her an eye-roll over your shoulder but approach your husband nonetheless.

“Hi honey.”

You know there’s a chance Bucky might kill you once this mission is over for all you’ve put him through while the neighbours are watching, but you’re having way too much fun to consider stopping.

“How was work?”

Bucky’s left eye twitches at your question as he shuts the car door and that makes you feel bad.

Sitting in a cubicle and being surrounded by people is going as well as one would imagine for him.

Leaning up on your toes, you press your now usual kiss to his cheek.

Bucky’s shoulder’s drop just slightly. “It was fine sweetheart.” He mumbles, placing a hand on your lower back.

Sweetheart?

Nodding at Betty, Bucky steers the two of you up to the house.

You’re too dazed to turn around and wave goodbye.

[THE NEXT AFTERNOON]

Peering out one of the second floor windows, you watch as Sean’s car disappears down the street. You’ve been on pins and needles all day waiting for him to leave for his appointment.

Time to shine.

Rushing to your backyard, you use a strategically placed garden statue to boost yourself over the fence and into the Weaver’s backyard.

Using a lock pick to open their back door, you enter cautiously.

Once you’re certain there’s no alarms for you to trip, you begin scouring the house. The layout is identical to your own and when you eventually wind up in the office upstairs it’s like striking gold.

You take pictures of every document outlining transactions, shippings, and other incriminating information. Every photo is automatically uploaded to a secure server.

Just as you’re flicking through a notepad for any useful scribbles, you hear the front door shut.

Fuck.

Looking down at your watch, the numbers 2:07 glare back at you.

Seriously?

Of course Sean Weaver would have the world’s quickest doctor’s appointment.

Alright, think.

The office is probably one of the first places Sean will go to so you can’t risk slipping out now in the hopes of getting around him to head for the back door. Turning to the window behind you, you push it open and analyse the drop.

Nope.

However, the trim that goes around the house exterior just below the window is thick enough for you to stand on with the tips of your toes - it’s a risk though.

The sound of Sean’s footsteps on the stairs makes the decision easy.

Straddling the windowsill, you dangle your right leg out and lower it until your foot makes contact with the trim. Gripping the house exterior with your right hand and the window frame with your left, you swing the rest of your body out, placing your left foot beside your right on the trim.

Using your left hand, you pull the window close.

Okay.

Your whole body shakes with the effort of holding yourself on the small ledge. Your hands are sweating and there’s no real purchase on the house wall, just the small grooves in the panelling that you grip at with your fingertips.

It shouldn’t surprise you that you slip.

Somehow you keep the scream trapped in your throat as you fall.

Miraculously, you manage to grab the trimming you had been standing on, effectively halting your descent. However, the sudden stop jars your arms and causes your body to swing into the house.

You knew there was no real chance of you hanging there long with your weakened arms, but now your drop to the ground isn’t as great - but fuck does it hurt.

It’s your knees that absorb the impact of the fall before you land on your left side with a thump. If it had been grass beneath you it wouldn’t have been so bad. Of course, It’s just your luck that you’ve fallen into a garden bed of pebbles, your forehead connecting with the sharp edge of one.

With no time to waste, you crawl as fast as you can to the fence.

There’s no advantage of a boost this time around, so you jump as high as you can, grasping at the top of the fence with both hands. Using all of your remaining strength, you heave yourself up and over.

You drop unceremoniously on the other side, having no energy to slowly lower yourself to the ground.

This particular fall doesn’t hurt as much, the grass making for a much softer landing.

In the safety of your backyard, you lay unmoving on your side, trying to catch your breath as your body throbs all over.

That was close.

Too close.

You tell yourself you’ll get up on the count of three and when you miss that cue, you count to three again, then again, then again -

Bucky will be home in three hours.

Waiting for him sounds like a much better plan.

“Y/N.”

The voice is unmistakable, making you frown.

Holy shit, that was a fast three hours.

“маленькая птица.” The edge of panic is clear in Bucky’s tone as you hear him drop to the ground beside you before rolling you onto your back.

“Hi honey.”

Bucky releases a rough exhale you think might have been a laugh if he wasn’t so concerned.

“You’re bleeding, what happened?” His words are sharp, demanding an answer.

Just as your mouth opens to give one, Bucky’s lifting you into his arms for the second time this week.

God, I could get used to this.

“Y/N.”

Oh right.

“Sean came home earlier than I expected.”

Bucky’s grip tightens around you as you recount your less than stellar escape.

“How come you’re home early?” You ask after you’ve finished.

Instead of answering you, Bucky lowers you onto the bed you’ve been sharing and then disappears into the bathroom.

Groaning, you sit yourself up on the edge of the mattress. “I got some really good intel.” You call out to him.

Bucky re-emerges with a handful of first aid supplies that he places next to you on the bed.

Crouching between your legs, he pulls a knife out of -

Where did he just pull that out of?

Also, “What are you -”

“Stay still.”

Before he’s even finished speaking, Bucky’s slicing his knife up the right leg of your jeans, from ankle to thigh.

He does the same to the left leg of your jeans, displaying your knees for his perusal. They’re red and already starting to bruise, but there’s no blood.

Ignoring the tingle his slashing sent up your spine, you say “You know, you could’ve just asked me to take them off.”

You’re starting to wonder how hard you hit your head and if you’re actually speaking as Bucky once again doesn’t respond, instead turning his attention to your arms.

Bucky wraps a hand around each of your wrists, raising them above your head to scrutinise your forearms and hands. They’re scratched up real good and bleeding lightly.

The next ten or so minutes pass by quietly as Bucky cleans your scratches with careful movements.

He leaves the cut on your forehead last.

Bucky’s metal hand cups your right cheek, the cold sensation an odd contradiction to the seemingly normal looking human hand you can see, courtesy of a cloaking device from Stark Industries for undercover missions like this one.

He cleans the cut above your left eyebrow as gently as he can but the pressure still causes you to wince.

Dark blue eyes cut to yours for a moment before focusing back on your injury.

You’re thankful for how lethargic your intense escape has made you, because if you were in an alert state right now you know your heart would be beating furiously at Bucky’s contact and close proximity.

Something he would’ve heard clear as day.

In fact, you’re feeling so lethargic your eyelids are beginning to droop.

“Hey,” Bucky murmurs “You with me?”

You hum, “Just tired.”

His metal thumb brushes over your cheek as he keeps working on your cut. “Gonna have to stay awake for a while, ‘til I know you’re okay.”

Eyes still closed, you huff.

“I’ll make you pasta for dinner.”

Your eyes shoot open at that and Bucky’s mouth tilts up in reaction.

“With garlic bread?” You ask hopefully.

Bucky’s nod makes you beam.

With a full stomach and Bucky’s permission to finally sleep, you crawl under the soft, white sheets of the king sized bed.

Curling onto your side facing Bucky, your eyes fall shut instantly, tiredness washing over you.

Reaching up, you gingerly touch the bandage Bucky placed over the cut on your forehead and your heart warms as you recall how he tended to you this afternoon.

“I never thanked you for the flowers.” You whisper suddenly into the darkness.

Despite calling Bucky not even an hour after you received them, you never said the words “thank you”. It had been the sole purpose of your call, but for some reason you couldn’t get the words out, couldn’t acknowledge what he’d done.

Acknowledging the flowers scared you, because it also felt like acknowledging your love for him - to him.

“You didn’t need to.” Is his simple reply.

“I did,” You disagree “They were beautiful Bucky, I… No one’s ever given me flowers before.”

The admission feels intimate, and you suppose it is. If you weren’t in such a drowsy state you wouldn’t be saying any of this.

When Bucky doesn’t respond after a couple of minutes you stop fighting the urge to sleep.

“Я куплю тебе столько цветов, сколько ты захочешь, маленькая птица.”

Already drifting off, you mumble “English.”

There’s a short pause.

“I’ll buy you as many flowers as you want, little bird.”

You fall soundly asleep at that moment, the confession heard only in your dreams.

[THE NEXT MORNING]

Pulling out a thick wad of junk mail from the letterbox, you close and lock the small hatch.

“Morning neighbour.”

Forcing a smile, you turn to face Sean as he approaches. He’s shirtless, wearing only long pyjama pants.

Meh. Seen better.

“Hey Sean.”

Coming to a stop in front of you, he leans against your letterbox. “Any plans for the weekend?”

“Um,” You make a thoughtful expression “I’m not sure, I haven’t asked James yet.”

Grinning, Sean states “Being newly-weds, I think the plan would be obvious.” Leaning closer to point at the bandage on your forehead, he winks “Though it looks like maybe you’re getting a little too wild.”

Jesus.

You can’t decide whether to knee him in the balls or punch him in the nose, which sums up almost every interaction you’ve had with Sean.

The guy is a serious creep, something his file failed to mention.

You’re thinking of a response when a large hand slides over your right hip, settling on your stomach and pressing you back into a hard body.

Oh.

“Morning Sean.” There’s nothing friendly in Bucky’s tone.

Without waiting for a response, Bucky’s other hand weaves into your hair and tilts your head back until your eyes lock with his.

“I thought I told you to stay in bed.” He husks.

You’re certain your eyes bulge out of your head.

It’s a good thing Bucky doesn’t expect a reply because there is not a single thought in your head. Just that sentence in that tone repeating over and over.

Fantasy fuel.

“Back inside.”

Yessiree.

Giving Sean a brief nod, Bucky takes you back to the house.

Stepping onto the porch, you’re still trying to remember your name when Bucky grunts beside you, gazing over his shoulder.

The arm around your waist tightens and the next thing you know, Bucky’s pulling you into his chest and kissing you.

Bucky’s mouth muffles your noise of surprise as his soft lips press against yours, absolutely bewitching you.

It’s the greatest kiss of your life and it only lasts five seconds.

Pulling back, Bucky’s dark blue eyes dart between yours, his pupils blown wide.

You can’t tell if it’s you or him who lunges forward to meet in another kiss.

This kiss isn’t gentle, rather it’s bruising and greedy. Your hands find purchase in Bucky’s hair, the junk mail forgotten on the ground as you’re walked backwards into the house, Bucky kicking the door shut behind him.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x agent!reader #scrumptious3k #let's get married

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freyanistics · 7 months

Text

Comfort~

Miles Morales x Black!Reader

Angst at first but fluff at the end.

This is based off the horror short ‘The Spider Within.’

Spiders.

So many spiders crawling all over his body. One the size of his hand even managed to crawl out of his mouth. It’s pointy legs pressing down on his tongue like pin pricks. Miles wanted to throw up so bad. Feeling disgusted that thing even crawled out. Why was there so many? Why were they crawling all over him? Why why why why

After waking up in a cold sweat in his bed with his heart through the roof he realized it was just a nightmare. He could hear the horror movie his father had originally wanted Miles to watch with him playing in the living room. Clutching his chest Miles closes his eyes trying to calm himself. He had to get some air. Throwing on some random clothes he quietly opens the window slipping out onto the balcony heading down the rickety staircase. He felt paranoid from his vivid nightmare as he kept glancing over his shoulders at any shadow of movement.

He didn’t know where he was headed, just letting his feet leading him down the dark streets of Brooklyn until he reached your apartment complex. You and Miles used to go to school together until he went to Visions Academy. Despite you two no longer in the same school you still were close friends and hung out. For some reason he sought out your presence in his time of need. He just hope you’d be awake.

He quickly scales the brick wall up to your bedroom window landing on the balcony with a soft thud. Your curtains was closed as he saw the familiar light blue shades that you’ve had in your room since first grade. Reaching a hand out he lightly taps on the glass sliding door before putting his hands in his pockets nervously. What if you wasn’t home? Or your parents open the door? What could he even say on why he was at your balcony door at ten pm at night?

Just as he was about to turn to leave the curtains pull back revealing your form. You was wearing a black bonnet to protect your braids. Your light yellow pjs clung loosely on your body as you looked up at him with wide eyes.

“Miles?” You say opening the balcony door allowing him into your room.

“Hey, I know it’s late I just…decided to stop by.” Miles says sheepishly rubbing the back of his head. Looking around your room he noticed how it still looked the same. Figurines on your dressers, a few posters featuring your favorite bands or singers on the neutral colored walls. Your bed that was placed in the corner of the room with covers pulled back hinting you were in bed.

“Miles? Are you okay? You never came here this late before.” You ask him with hint of worry in your tone. You cared deeply for your friend and you could sense something was wrong by how he was behaving. You both have made a promise to one another that you will be open to each other no matter what.

Miles doesn’t meet your eyes opting to look at the carpet floor. Finally after a few minutes he meets your eyes and you could see bags under them.

“I just feel…stressed out. This new school my parents put me in is amazing don’t get me wrong but I don’t know anyone and just feel like a stranger. My parents want what’s best for me, to succeed in life and I want to make them proud it’s just…” he sighs rubbing his temples as you feel your heart drop.

“You feel overwhelmed.” You say softly and he nods. You understood him exactly as you have gotten overwhelmed with your own personal problems in life. In hindsight you felt a bit jealous that Miles was going to a top notch school while you stayed behind, your parents unable to afford such a school. You knew they were trying their best and couldn’t blame them but it didn’t stop you from thinking you weren’t good enough to get into that school.

Walking over you hug him making him freeze a bit before wrapping his arms around your waist. He had gotten so much taller over the year that you even joked he had to have hit puberty over night. Finally you pull away leading him to your bed as you sit down on the edge patting the spot beside you. Once he sat down you look him in the eyes.

“Miles you’re doing your best and that’s all that matters. I see it, your friends back at our school see it, and I’m sure as hell your parents see it. Things are going to get rough sometimes, believe me I know, but just know you have a good support team backing you in your corner.” You finish with a soft smile. Miles returns it looking away for a couple of minutes.

“Thank you. I really needed to hear that.” His heart was beating slowly as the memories of the dream was already dissipated from his mind. Smirking you punch his arm lightly.

“Think you can still beat me at Smash?” You ask him with a mischievous glint in your eyes. “If you have a few minutes we can play a few rounds.”

Miles look out your balcony door then back at you, a slow grin appearing on his mouth. “You’re on but I’m maining Mario.” He says as you start booting up your old wii. “You always use him, even as kids.” You say groaning playfully. Even though you two were going on two different paths you will always find each other in your time of need. And that all matters.

#atsv #atsv miles #miles morales #miles morales x reader #miles morales x black!reader #across the spiderverse #into the spider verse #the spider within #possible spoilers #no proofreading we die like men

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odditycircus-2002 · 6 months

Text

Peeping Tom

based on an ask @hesperdern sent, whereas I mentioned Medusa!Reader coming across a shirtless Baraka. This here:

I wanted to mention a scenario in mind with the reverse. 😆😆😆 Imagine this:

It’s late in the evening and Baraka has just finished the last of his duties for the day. The Colony is at peace, for now. However, given how much physical labor he’s had to do today, including building new homes for newly banished Tarkatans, mixed with the Wastes’ scorching weather, he was in need of a bath.

So gathering a towel and what little soap he had, Baraka then heads to a spring that’s not too far from his own living quarters. Luckily, in the late evening, there’s a likely chance that no one would be at the spring. Which is fine by the former merchant, as he looks forward to the momentary peace and quiet after a long day. However, in his fatigued state, he didn’t think about the possibility of someone else having the same idea when in hindsight it should’ve been obvious.

Turns out, you also had the same idea but you just had finished bathing and were redressing yourself. Your heard a noise of surprise/mortification followed by a familiar gravely voice.

“Y/N?!?!?” You snapped your head in Baraka direction, with your eyes wide and your face heating up. You let out a squeak as you wrap your arms around your chest, as Baraka quickly begins to apologize.

“Wait! I’m sorry-“

Baraka stops in mid-sentence when he makes the mistake of making eye contact with you. Unfortunately, you didn’t put your mask back on leaving your petrifying gaze exposed. Your hands reach to cover your mouth as you watch Baraka’s entire body change into stone in an instant. You run up to Baraka’s petrified form, as you sputter out your apology over and over again as you dragged the stone Baraka back to your workshop.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! Sorry! I’ll get you fixed up, don’t worry!”

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #mk x reader #mortal kombat 1 #Oddball writes #baraka x reader #mk headcannons #mk headcanons #mk1 baraka #mk1 #baraka

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mistyresolve · 1 year

Text

| His Foresight - Simon “Ghost” Riley X Medic!Reader (Part 3.5)

Word Count - 5.7k His Hindsight - 1.8k How They Met - 3.9k

Summary - The first part is of simon’s pov during those few months and a little bit of part 3. As well as a peek at how Doc and Simon met (Ft. Soap).

Warnings/Tags - Blood and Injury, Depictions of war and violence, Explicit Language, Character Death, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Maybe a little bit of angst, Mentions of childhood trauma

A/N - sorry i'm taking so long with part 4, i’m struggling with a little bit of writer's block and i don’t want to force it and end up with something im unhappy with — i hope you guys can forgive me

Part 1 ❤︎ Part 2 ❤︎ Part 3

Masterlist ❤︎ Tag List Form

His Hindsight (Ghosts POV)

Looking from afar, Ghost seemed unmoved by the fight he had with you. Maybe a little quieter but it was a façade. Never confuse quiet with calm. He was the eye of the storm, and his raging would be following closely behind. There was something smouldering in the pit of his stomach, it burned and decayed inside him. It resembled shame but it was coagulated with disdain and turned into ichor in his veins.

He fucked up.

He knew that. And for the life of him, he couldn’t find a good enough excuse to justify his actions. Not that he was looking for one, but he was never one to let something get to him like this. Not to the point where it followed him around like a weeping dark cloud. Never to the point where he was miserable.

Even Price had to ask him if something was bothering him, and if was in need of a break. Time off was the last thing Ghost needed. He would then be forced to sit every roiling emotion, and what he needed to get back into the field and drown everything out. Just so he could breathe and it wouldn’t feel like barbed wire was wrapped around his lungs.

After his years of service, Ghost had become inured to death and violence. Even before his enlistment. He’d learned quickly to respect death, and he’s been both the enforcer and the witness of it. That wasn’t to say it was something he thrived on, he was just something good at it. He was moulded for this kind of life from the very beginning. And who was he to defy fate? Of course, there was still the off occasion it got to him. When it felt cold and heavy in his chest and loomed over his shoulder like an imp. So he learned to compartmentalize it all, learned to detach. To protect his own sanity. His heart.

He also knew he wouldn’t be able to handle your death.

The day the convoy left that was this gnawing feeling and had asked Price if they should postpone the convey a day till the coast was clear. When Price declined he then requested to go on ahead and do it himself. Price had said that he didn’t have the clearance to allow it and he was sorry.

No amount of worrying or experience would have prepared him for watching the explosions and then your vehicle flipping in front of him. It was the second scariest moment of his life. He had shaken his head, not believing his own eyes. He slammed on the brakes so hard that the seat belt locked and dug into his collarbone. He hardly felt it. Worse was when he watched Price pull out of the back, and when Price called to him “Doc needs medical!”. Ghost threw caution to the wind, left cover and slid to your side to assess the damages himself. His heart was beating in his ears, could feel it thundering at the base of his throat. He was used to the thrill and adrenaline of a firefight but this was something entirely different. It was something he wasn’t able to put a name to. Something foreign. Worse was when he noticed the wound on your leg. Worse was when your head dropped to your chest and you became unresponsive. He carried you in his arms the entire time, protecting your body with his.

There was no way. There was no you were leaving him. He wasn’t going to let you.

This exact situation was what he was trying to avoid and why he stained your reputation. When he first told HQ that you would be a liability was out of panic. They were going to transfer you to the front lines. Turn you into cannon fodder. He knew it wasn’t right the entire time. Knew that he was betraying you, but he couldn’t figure out another option. Not fast enough anyways.

He didn’t know what else to do.

He still didn’t know what he was going to do, or how he was supposed to fix it. He wasn’t blind to the fact that you wanted nothing to do with him. He had asked Soap how you were once, and when Soap said “They’re fine, Ghost. I’ve got my eye on them, don’t worry.” Soap had talked with Simon that night you confronted him, the two of them walked the perimeter of the camp for hours before their shift ended. Simon had poured his heart out, and it was as big of a shock to himself as much as it was for Soap. In the end, Soap sided with you, confirming that Simon was in the wrong and that he’d need to find a way to fix it.

So, he pulled every string and called in every favour he had to have his report on you removed from your file. He had it all redacted. He figured you wouldn’t appreciate him if he tried to play chess with your life once again, so he left it at that. He kept his mouth shut when it came to you, opting for observation when Price had asked Laswell to track you down and recruit you for a new assignment. Even though it killed him, and he was thoroughly against it. The only solace he was able to find was the fact that you would be right beside him the entire time. He couldn’t say if you would feel the same though.

It took two months of Ghost and Price working day and night to find out who it was that had revealed the convoy's route to the enemy forces. Ghost was in his head nearly the entire time, his thoughts wandering back to you and your last interaction with him. Twice, Price had to remind him that he needed to be focusing on the task at hand, something that has never happened before.

They had a couple of suspects and followed each of the around for weeks on end. Two months until the culprit, Cameron Rowe, finally slipped up and forgot to lock his safe. Ghost took the opportunity to sneak into Rowe's apartment, opened the safe and had everything he needed to know for sure that this was their guy. Files, blueprints, guns, burner phones, and a computer. He took pictures of everything and downloaded the contents of the computer before sending it all off for further inspection. He left Rowe’s apartment exactly how he found it.

Two weeks later, they had a target on Rowe’s head. And a mission. Ghost went back by himself and surveyed Rowe for another couple of weeks, gathering a rough schedule and his regularly visited areas. Which wasn’t a whole lot, since the fellow liked the comfort of his own home. Ghost played with the idea of pulling the fire alarm of his apartment building just to get the guy moving. He also collected a list of people who he might be in cahoots with before he was called back to HQ.

He had already gone over the mission briefing on his way back to base, albeit a little distracted. He was nervous, to say the least. After not seeing you for so long he wasn’t sure what he should expect. He didn’t need to think about what he was going to say to you, he already figured that out while he watched Rowe so basically nothing for two weeks.

When you downright shunned him in the meeting room he thought he was going to throw up all over his boots. He wanted to shrink back into the shadows. He wanted to give you room, give you space. When you stepped into the hall, he was a second away from turning on his heel and ducking into a room to hide. He felt like a loser and he was half expecting you not to answer him. When you did, he just about pumped his fist in the air at the victory. He had to grip the neck of his bulletproof vest to keep from reaching for you as he followed you outside.

The sun was setting and it blanketed everything in an orange glow, and when you turned on him his breath caught in his throat. You were beautiful. Angry. And beautiful. He had to bite his tongue to keep the smile from stretching across his face.

“Go ahead, Judas. I’ll keep it civil for the sake of the mission but I don’t want to be your friend,” the words stung more than he cared to admit out of his own stubbornness. That smile became easier to hold back.

“I understand,” but he could be content with being on speaking terms with you. If that was all you were willing to give him he’d take it. He’d take anything you offered him and carry it around like an egg at this point. By force of habit, he scanned the area and studied each passing car and its drivers. Within seconds he already cataloged every soul, possible threat, and the exact route he would take you to safety. “I was out of line. I was mixing private affairs with work, I see that now. And I’m sorry. I was being selfish and I wasn’t taking your needs and wants into consideration,” the crumpled look on your face just before the tears spilled flashed before his eyes and he felt his heart sink, “So, if you’ll give me some grace and let me show you how good I can be,” he never wanted to see the look on your face again.

He could feel your eyes search his, “Keep your fingers out of my business and I’ll think about it.”

Yes. Yes, of course.

“They’re put away.” he’d take you to the moon if that was what it would take.

“We can talk more later. I’ll come to you when I’m good and ready.” he didn’t expect you to forgive him immediately in the slightest. This conversation was already more than he anticipated.

“For now, just stay away from me,” there was no venom in your voice, but there didn’t need to be.

He recoiled from you, “Of, course,” his fingers chilled and the setting sun was a little less warm on his face.

He thought you were going to leave when you turned back to him, “Thank you, for apologizing.”

This time he couldn’t suppress the grin. Whatever has been smouldering in his stomach was reduced to a puffing smoke. It was still hot, but it didn’t share the same energy it did before.

How They Met

The army and the medical team had assumed control over what was once a fully operating clinic but was left abandoned when the area was deemed a warzone. Fortunately enough for your team, most of the supplies, and equipment were left as if someone had merely closed up shop for the night. Unfortunately, that was months ago and those same supplies were dwindling fast. The location was prime, built on one of the main Strip leading through the city and not too far from the front lines, and that also meant safe passage was hard to come by. Carter tried asking for a restock, twice now, but both times the couriers were intercepted on their way here. We’d had to start trading with the field medics that passed through for morphine, antibiotics, and gauze. Anything they could spare.

With your arms crossed over your chest, you anxiously tap your fingers on your forearms. Each step you took reverberated down the concrete hallway. You took another look out the double doors leading to the outside and down the street. Nothing. Not a sign of life. The convoy was supposed to be here a half hour ago, said to be transferring a man in critical condition from the front lines. And judging from the report we received an hour ago, one of them wouldn’t make it much longer without the proper equipment. The equipment they most certainly did not have on a transport truck.

The only two other medics that were on duty were standing on the other side of the hall. They looked just as antsy as you felt, sharing a quiet hurried conversation. The tall lanky one was called “Butters”, he was the first person you befriended after your assignment. It didn’t take you long to start appreciating his dry sense of humour. The first couple of days around him were filled with stifled laughter and you giving him concerned glances, unsure if he was even allowed to say some of the stuff he did.

The shorter one was “Carter”, he was older than dirt and you and Butters were adamant he joined during the war of 1812. He was also your superior and a good one at that. He held nothing but wisdom between those ears.

“They should have used a chopper,” Carter sassed, vexation pulling at the corners of his mouth. The reason they didn’t use a chopper was that we didn’t have any available, and every time one was airborne anywhere near the city it was blown out of the sky. You all knew that, but Carter liked the occasional grousing so you let him have it.

Then you heard it. The roar of a vehicle, the sound ricocheting around the empty street. You reached the set of doors just as the first truck rounded the corner. Two hummers followed closely behind.

“What the hell are the special ops doing here?” Butters said beside you.

“Special ops?” you asked, looking between him and the convoy.

“Those,” he pointed at the hummers, “Are reserved for the big guns. Scary guys those ones. Don’t look them in the eyes, they’ll see it as a threat.”

He called back down the hall and Carter appeared with the one and only gurney,

Carter waited as you guys opened the door, “They’re doing CPR one of them. Butters and I will handle him. Butters you’re pushing. I’ll take over the compressions,” then he turned back to you, “They were joined by another team so I’ll leave the last guy to you. Make sure you order those SpecOps around good and well, yeah?” that must have been way they were delayed.

“Yes sir,” you and Butters said in unison.

Butters gave you a good shot in the arm, “You owe me a pack of cigarettes.”

“What are we? Seven?” you would get him a pack either way.

You stood waiting as the convoy approached, the back doors flinging open before the truck could come to a complete stop. Blood that was pooling on the grooves on the floor of the truck, spilled out onto the pavement. Too much blood. All of it came from the man that was lying prone. Another soldier was performing CPR on him, his pants soaked with his blood. The gurney was already at the truck, Butters and Carter pulling the man onto the white sheets.

Your stomach churned when you learned the source of all this blood. His right leg was a mess of bone, tissue, and muscle from his just above his knee. The makeshift tourniquet made from a belt and a chem light was the only thing keep this man on the right side of life.

Before you could spool yourself back into your body Carter was jumping into the gurney and starting compressions. He was surprisingly limber for his age. Butters was already recruiting one of the soldiers from the truck to help him haul the gurney back into the clinic.

It was your turn now. Searching the back of the truck again for the second guy they were transferring. But there was no second patient. You pivoted to the two other vehicles, narrowing your attention to the closest one. Two men were huddled around one door. One was donned in all black, his face was cast in the shadows of his hood, and obscured by a mask. The other had on a boonie hat, his facial hair cut and shaped to perfection. Both of them were to built for pure unbridled strength and power. Both of them equally dangerous. They looked exactly how one would expect a member of the SpecOps to look.

“Get your ass out, you silly bastard,” One of them reaches into the back, wrestling with someone.

You quickly made your way over having determined that this was the second transfer.

“Aye, I’m trying, Captain,” whoever was speaking was already on some sort of analgesic, his words slightly slurred and laced with delirium.

Just as you reached the door the two standing at the door had managed to lift their injured comrade onto his feet, all his weight was being supported by them. His face was gaunt from the pain and blood loss, and he was fighting to keep his eyes open and focused.

“I’m fine. I just need a wee nap,” despite all his bravado he was going to need more than that. Following the trail of brutality that was once his shirt, now shredded and bloodied, and lifted the lapel of his jacket to get a better look. You peek under the mess of gauze and bundled-up shirt to find a bullet wound located on his shoulder, the bleeding controlled by quick clotting powder. It was messy work, but it saved his life.

You shook my head, “No nap for you,” and looked to the man he had called Captain, “Did it go through?” you asked referring to the bullet.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Bring him in,” you lead them back into the clinic, holding the door open for them as they shuffled him inside. “First door on the right,” directing them from behind while you quickly step into another room to retrieve a trauma kit. You noted that it was the second to last one.

When you returned the two that were uninjured were shoving their wounded companion onto the bed. It was a little rough, but you had a sense these guys were coming from a fight and still has adrenaline coursing through them.

“When did this happen?”

“Half an hour ago. Give or take.”

“Any meds?” you asked not looking up as you opened the trauma kit and unloaded its contents.

“Shot of adrenalin.”

You cut the rest of the shirt and jacket away.

“Woah lassie, cannae get me dinner first?” the man flopped his head back into the bed, no longer able to keep it up himself.

“Manners, Soap,” the Captain knocked his leg in a light-hearted reprimand.

You sprayed a generous amount of saline over the wound, washing away the clotting powder and blood to get a better look at the wound. You turned back to the kit, opening everything you would need to patch him back up, then snapped on some sterile gloves.

Soap was a good patient, letting you work without complaints, and following directions in spite of all the drugs and pain. You had the other two men turn Soap over so you could get access to the exit wound on his back. You resituated yourself, opening more packages and switching out your gloves for new ones. Chewing on the inside of your cheek as you pulled the last few stitches. You backed away, discarding the needle and bloodied gauze in their respective bins.

“How are you feeling?” you leaned over the bed to get a good look at your patient's face. His tired eyes dragged over your face, and a slow cheeky smile started before his eyes fell shut. His breathing settled as he drifted into sleep.

Their Captain clicked his tongue, “He’ll be fine right?”

“Might need some fluids and blood, but yes, he’ll be fine.”

There was a knock on the door frame, and all three of you turned at the sound. It was Butters.

You started, “Do you need—”

“No,” he interjected. His expression told you all you needed to know, “We couldn’t get V-Fib.”

You fell silent. Nothing you could say or do that would help at this point. There was nothing worse than losing a patient.

Butters jerked his chin to the now resting Soap, “How’s yours?”

You stepped to the side to allow him a view. He stepped into the room, inspecting your handiwork. He made a sound of appreciation and gave a slow nod. Trauma was your specialty, so the result was clean and precise.

“What do you think he’ll need?” Butters asked. You rattled off your ideas and the reasoning behind them. He agreed with it all and patted your shoulder, telling you he’d relay it to Carter to see what he could scrounge up.

You circled back to the two remaining soldiers, “Did you know him?” you made a weak gesture to the door, the hallway, and the now dead soldier beyond that.

“No,” the Captain looked at you from beneath the visor of his hat, his hard eyes giving nothing away. You looked at his chest thinking a name would be stitched there. Of course, there wasn’t. Either way, he noted the quick glance because he raised a hand for you to shake, “Name’s Price.”

You took it, “Y/n.”.

Price shot a thumb over his shoulder, “That’s Soap,” and then turned it towards the man clad in black, “And our favourite Ghost.”

You made to shake Ghost’s hand too but when he lifted his arm you noted the hiss of pain and wince, “You’re hurt too,” before he could answer you had his arm in your hand. The adrenaline from earlier was no longer keeping his pain at bay.

“I’m fine,” he insisted, a slight lilt to his words you didn’t pick from earlier. Despite his words, he didn’t try to pull away from your grasp, even allowing you to roll back his sleeve. A bullet grazed his forearm, taking with it a considerable layer of skin.

“That's what the last guy said too,” You said, ushering him to the chair in the corner of the room.

“Take a seat, Ghost,” Price said, a hint of amusement in his voice. He stepped into the hallway, “I’m going to go fill everyone in. Let them know Johnny-Boy is to live another day.”

Ghost reluctantly plopped into the chair, placing his arm on the armrest. You turned to the trauma kit once more, kicking a rolling chair with you to sit in front of Ghost. You placed supplies on his lap in the absence of a table, and he used his good arm to make sure none of it fell. He leaned back in the chair, resting his head on the wall behind him. He wasn’t going to need stitches but that didn’t mean he was safe from potential infections. You cleaned the wound as best you could with the last bit of saline. Placing a glob of antibiotic ointment on the dressing before securing it with tape.

“Ta-da,” you looked up at his concealed face. He kept his eyes shut for a second more before he reopened them to examine his new bandage. You took the moment to secretly admire him. You couldn't see his entire face because of the skull mask; however, you could still make out his eyes beneath the shadow of his hood. They were a deep brown, framed with long dark eyelashes, and lined with black paint. He had sad eyes. Eyes that saw more than they wanted.

“Dandy work, Doc,” He remarks, turning his attention back to you.

You dropped your gaze, suddenly bashful, your ears heating, “Not a doctor,” you shrugged, “Maybe sometime in the future though.”

“Maybe?” He tilted his head ever so slightly. The action was boyish and so at odds with his demeanour, it was almost comical. Yet charming at the same time.

You nodded and rolled his sleeve back over the bandage, sending him off with a little tap on the arm, and you scoot back on the stool, allowing him some space, “I haven’t decided what I want exactly.”

“Why’d you choose this? Come here, I mean,” he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, a display of genuine curiosity.

You smiled, rubbing your thumb and pointer finger together. Money. It probably wasn’t nearly as heroic as his backstory.

He huffed out a breath but it might have been a laugh and shook his head, “A pretty little thing like you doesn’t belong in a warzone,” he lifted himself off his seat, stretching his long limbs.

“A pretty little thing like me is managing perfectly fine,” you raised your face to meet his. He was tall, and underneath all that gear you could tell there was nothing refined muscle. He probably wasn't built with aesthetics in mind though, just cruel brutality and wicked savagery meant to keep him alive in dire situations. Meant to kill.

“We can only hope,” he adjusted his sleeve, “You keep an eye on this one, Doc,” he adds.

“Does he bite?” you asked faux curiosity dripping from your tongue before turning your attention back to Soap. He was still pale, so covered him with the thin blue blanket at the bottom of the bed. Butters or Carter would be back soon with your order from earlier as soon as they found what they could. Which was a tall order.

“Oh, he’s absolutely feral,” he joined in on the jest, backing out of the room with that one last warning before silently disappearing into the hallway.

You met up with Price and Ghost at the end of the day with an update. They had set up a temporary camp next door, an old office, the windows already boarded up. This time they were joined by two others. One was named Gaz and the other was Roach, both of whom were currently playing cards. Ghost was sitting at the desk next to them, a disassembled handgun in front of him. A line of bullets standing at attention on the corner of the desk.

“How long till he’s back in commission?” Price asked, leaning back on the main administrative desk. He too seemed more at ease knowing his friend was no longer on death's doorstep. He and Ghost had come to check on Soap twice. Soap has yet to wake up from earlier, his body forcing him into a pseudo-coma so it could focus on healing him.

“Two weeks maximum. Even then if I send him off with some pain meds he’s going to be incredibly sore,” As the words left your mouth you knew what his next question was going to be.

“And at the minimum?” he lowered his chin, looking at you from beneath his brows, preparing for me to scold him. You can’t force them to listen to you, only make suggestions and give advice. It was frustrating because you could already tell the moment Soap woke up he was going to want to regroup and get back in the fight.

You blew out a breath, resting your hands on your hips, “Couple days...I don’t recommend that thought. There’s a high probability that would he would reopen the wound and the complications that would follow aren’t worth it. I would give him, at the very least, a week.”

Price turned to look at Ghost, who met his gaze in return. A silent exchange. A familiarity developed over years of operating together. Ghost nodded and started reassembling his gun. Satisfied with the response, Price reached behind the desk and pulled out his gun, pointing it to the floor and resting his finger on the side of the gun. Cards shuffled across the table as Gaz collected them and put them back in their box and tossed them to Ghost who then put them in his pack. They were moving swiftly.

“We’ll be back in a week,” Price announced, and walked up to meet you at the entrance, “Just make sure they don’t ship him off while we’re away.”

“I don’t really have authority here,” you admitted. You take orders, not give them.

“Hide him away,” Price was only half-joking. Then he was barking orders to load up the truck and that they were leaving in 5 minutes. A small part of you wanted to ask them to at least rest for the night and leave at dawn. A major part of you knew that that was a ridiculous thought.

Ghost was the last to leave the office, and you stuck a hand out catching him in the chest. You were met with solid resistance, “Keep that thing clean. Change it every day. I don’t want to see you come back here in a week and you’ve caught yourself an infection,” you gestured to his arm.

His eyes widened ever so slightly before he gave you a curt, “Yes, ma’am.”.

Exactly 5 minutes later, they were pulling out and driving away from the clinic. They left nothing behind and it was like they were never even here.

Well…they left Soap.

But whatever mission they were on was evidently time-sensitive. And their detour here was already causing their Captain unease. You could also tell he was also uncertain about leaving one of his men behind.

You went back inside the clinic, checking in on Soap one last time before doing a shift change.

Soap was still asleep when you returned for my shift the next day but looked considerably better than he did before. Colour had returned to his face, and if he was still asleep that meant his pain was causing him too much strife. His eyes slit open around noon, and as expected, he was groggy and nauseous. You dosed him up before getting him to sit up for some food and water. It was the same rations we medics were given, and when you found out he had a certain affinity for the peanut butter packets you would bring yours to him. Ghost had been organized enough to have brought in his pack before they left so you helped Soap ease into a clean shirt, excusing myself so he could change his pants.

He didn’t complain once during the whole week, he even refused analgesics on the fourth day. He may have made cheeky comments here and there but he was docile. Not at all feral like Ghost had “warned”. You read into the act though, he was showing you good behaviour so you would release him sooner. He was especially limber at the end of day seven. The camp had finally received a truck, stocked with everything that was needed, and then some. This morning and you caught Soap trying to haul stuff inside from the truck. You caught him, not once, not twice, but three times. After the third time, you gave up and let him help you replenish the shelves and rooms.

Right now he was sitting on the edge of the bed while you checked his vitals and range of motion. You lifted his arm by the elbow, he tried suppressing the wince when you asked him to hold the position.

“What do ya say, lass? Am I meeting your standards,” you found his accent endearing. He was aware of that fact and used it to his advantage.

“It’s a good start,” you admitted. You wouldn’t be telling him but he rebounded pretty fast. If it was some creepy voodoo, or just him being stubborn you couldn’t tell.

“Ye bet yer arse it is, I’ve got you takin’ good care of me,” he flashed you a smile before moving his arm into the next position.

You shook my head as you wrote down a note on a pad, “All your honey pouring isn’t going to get you very far with me,” you finished off your assessment and shut the notepad fixing him with an exasperated stare.

He shrugged, eyes drifting to the clock on the wall above the door “Thought I’d give it a shot.”.

His team was supposed to be back by today, but it was getting late now. You knew Soap had tried hailing them on the radio a couple of times but was only met with empty feedback. He stopped after the fourth attempt at contact, saying it was unsafe to try anymore. The words, it might be compromised, were left unspoken. If he was getting worried he was doing a job of not letting it be known to anyone.

It wasn’t until a day later when Soap and you were counting stock and documenting everything, that you heard the familiar tenor of Ghost. The slam of boots echoed down the hall until Ghost and Price appeared in the doorway.

“Look at you, all sunshine and sprinkles,” Ghost was the first to speak up, clapping Soap on the shoulder. He was kind enough to make sure it was his uninjured arm.

“Am I sweet enough for you yet?” Soap cracked back.

“Not in the slightest,” he might have the mask on but he can’t hide the sound of his smile. Even Price had a twinkle in his eye. They were a close-knit group, that much was obvious, and seeing Soap back on his feet seemed to lift some weight off their shoulders.

“Aye, well yer late pickin’ me up so I guess we’re even,” Soap countered.

There was a moment of reunion before Soap followed Price back outside to meet up with the rest of the squad. Ghost lingered, nodding at the shelves, “Got your truck?”

“Yeah,” you couldn’t help but smile, “I’m guessing you guys had something to do with that?”

He shrugged a shoulder, “We cleaned up the streets a bit on our way out, yeah.”

You thanked him before pointing to his arm, “How’s the arm looking?”

He leaned his rifle on the wall and rolled his sleeve up so you could take a look, it was no longer covered with a bandage but it was healing fine. Standing this close to him you could smell the gunpowder and smoke on him, could see the new burn marks and tears in his clothing.

“I have to say, I’m surprised you listened to me,” you looked at him.

He rolled his eyes, “I was scared you would have my head if I didn’t,” he most definitely was not scared of you but it still drew a laugh from you.

Part 4

Masterlist ❤︎ Tag List Form

A/N - i know in the first part i said that Ghost had first met Doc in a medical tent, but when i originally started writing this it was a clinic.

Tag List

General - @thychuvaluswife ❤︎ @shuttlelauncher81 ❤︎ @lostinsideourminds ❤︎ @v1naco ❤︎ @purplefishingline ❤︎ @konig-breedme ❤︎ @wolfyland07 ❤︎ @dog55teeth

His Foresight - ❤︎ @marytvirgin ❤︎ @stickygumchewer ❤︎ @lauraliisa ❤︎ @jungcoccc ❤︎ @lovelyladymayyyy ❤︎ @lululandd ❤︎ @chrissyfishywissy ❤︎ @naxxsstuff ❤︎ @sididakra-jo ❤︎ @yukisawer ❤︎ @q8852p ❤︎ @kat-nee ❤︎ @meganoreid ❤︎ @thewoodenarcade ❤︎ @kaghost ❤︎ @shadowcldx

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #cod ghost #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x you #MW2 #ghost mw2 #mw2 x reader #cod fanfic #cod x reader #simon ghost riley angst #simon ghost riley series #john soap mactavish #MistyGhosties

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soleilnomoon · 1 year

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3/20!!!

AYO!!!

red velvet cupcake, lollipop, cake pop with whipped cream! for trafalgar law!! ayyyyyy 👉👉

just some cute domestic vibes with Wano!Law, Law stressing out over Luffy not being back yet and reader looking after him! then kinemon, mononosuke, penguin, shachi, and bepo (or whoever ✨) appearing like "AYYY BATHTIME" only to realise reader is there and freak out, causing Law to shambles them mid-scream 🤣

your prompts are so funny ily 💓 anyway, ty for being patient, as u know i am a slow writer, but i had fun (ofc i did, it's law) and i got second-hand embarrassment for everyone involved.

636 words (gasp, who am i), gn reader, sfw but suggestive, 18+ mdni, fluff (how could u); feat. law being a brat, reader having the patience of a saint, shower/bath time, would this count as voyeurism? maybe? idk, anyway law needs to just admit he's head over heels and get over himself, but will he?? no! brief cameo from bepo n frenz 💗

in hindsight, law realizes that it was foolish of him to think that the energetic straw hat captain would heed his words and follow his plan like the others. still, he really can’t believe the slight betrayal he feels when luffy deviates and does not arrive on time. he runs through several scenarios in his head over the hows and whys that might be the driving force behind luffy’s delay. all in all, he's stressed himself out beyond reason.

you tell him more than once that he needs to relax — despite his young age, you’re sure this level of stress isn’t good for the body. still, he barely hears or acknowledges your words until you gently place your hands on his face until you playfully squeeze his cheeks. that snaps him out of that bothersome daze, and he blinks several times before looking down at you, curiosity piqued now.

“do you trust me?” you ask on a whim, a teasing smile slipping onto your face, which only makes law narrow his eyes at you.

“not really,” he says rather quickly, although you know that he’s not being truthful. if anything, law trusts you entirely too much, which is a problem that he’s yet to rectify. his words don’t deter you, and your smile is much warmer when you tug on his hand and lead him to the bath house. questions swirl around inside of him, threatening to spill out, but he decides to keep them to himself for a moment, instead opting to trust you without hesitation.

it's surprisingly empty, which is great in your opinion — because it means you can help him relax without interruption. law manages to piece together what you have planned, and he can admit that he already feels the tension slowly leaving his body. the heat from the water helps relax his muscles, and you rub along his shoulders, kneading his skin firmly.

he grabs your wrist and turns to kiss you, lips moving against yours — the kiss is slow and sensual, igniting something deep within you. he pulls away to trail kisses along your jaw and neck, his palms are rough when they roam along your skin, but you’re so into it you don’t care.

“i’m supposed to be helping you relax,” you say with a sigh, the sound sweet, compelling him to pull you closer to him.

“you are,” he insists, and before he can say more, a cacophonous sound drifts inside, accompanied by the sounds of several pairs of heavy footsteps. it takes you a minute, but you soon realize that penguin, shachi, and bepo are there. you’re not sure who screams first but the noise is loud enough for law’s patience to come to and end. he casts a sharp glance their way, which only prompts them to ramble off excuses and flimsy apologies while you hide behind law to cover yourself up. your heart sits at the base of your throat, making it hard to breathe, the embarrassment powerful enough to make you want to melt into the water immediately as your cheeks flush deeply.

and while law doesn’t like using his devil fruit power for frivolous things, he deems this situation necessary and teleports his idiotic friends out of there. a faint flush finds its way onto his ears and neck, as he considers what would’ve happened if —

no, he wouldn’t go there, because if he did then he might actually strangle them later.

after calming yourself down, all you can do is laugh; it would be your luck that you’d get interrupted like that. law isn’t as forgiving as you are, already plotting a punishment for the trio, although you try your best to calm him down by pulling him in for another kiss.

maybe this time, you’ll really have the place to yourselves.

#fic request #milestone event #500+ followers event #🍭✨🍨sticky & sweet event🧁✨🍭#one piece imagine #one piece x y/n #one piece x reader #one piece fluff #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law x y/n #trafalgar law fluff #law x reader #law x y/n #law fluff

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nebulablakemurphy · 27 days

Text

Total Eclipse Of The Heart (Part 11)

Summary: Jacob Black, alpha of his pack, would never fall in love with a bloodsucker, much less imprint on one. The problem is that Y/N Swan was human…until she wasn’t anymore.

Series Masterlist

Y/N stares at their picture on Jacob’s night stand, the younger version of them seems to mock her.

Jacob is murmuring sweet nothings, taking no offense to her stillness. His chin rests against her shoulder, pulling her flush with his chest.

Y/N toys with his fingers, nuzzling into the pillow.

“Talk to me,” Jacob squishes his cheek to hers.

Y/N shakes her head, he always falls asleep…after. “We’ll talk in the morning.” She’ll find something else to stare at while he holds her so he can sleep soundly. The imprint makes him restless when she strays.

“I can’t sleep when you’re upset.”

Her belly flips, she wishes he couldn’t feel it. “I’m just worried about Renesmee.”

“We’re all worried about Nessie.” Jacob breathes, “Edward thinks there’s answers in Brazil. I’m sure he’s got it covered but we could go too, if you want.”

“You don’t have to give me everything I want. This is our lives together, not just mine. You get a say.”

“My heart is only beating for you.” Jacob reminds her.

“I want you to be happy, Jacob.”

He burns for her, ever aching; lamenting the fact that they walk this earth as two separate people when they are so clearly one entity. “I know, honey.”

————————————————————————

Y/N is packing up a few things from her room at Charlie’s. Since Renesmee’s birth she hasn’t spent much time there. She pulls the dreamcatcher Jacob gifted her from the bedpost.

“Hey, Y/N.” Charlie knocks at her door.

“Hey.”

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah, of course. What’s up?” Y/N perches herself on the bed, hoping to appear more human.

Charlie pushes open the door, taking a tentative step inside. “I know you’ve got Billy’s place and the Cullen’s, but I was thinking maybe this could be home base for you and Jake for a while.”

Y/N smiles, dropping her leather jacket onto the bed. “Dad, I don’t want to be a burden. Jacob and I come and go a lot.”

“That’s ok,” Charlie scratches the back of his neck. “I really don’t mind.”

“I’ll ask him,” Y/N says. “I know the reservation is really important to him and we haven’t been there much.”

“That’s fair. Wouldn’t want to hog you or anything.” Charlie huffs a laugh, “I miss you, that’s all.”

“I miss you too.” Y/N admits, “I’m just…I need to make sure he’s happy.”

“Jacob loves you to death. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

Y/N nods, plucking at the wolf on her bracelet.

“Yep,” Charlie spots the hand crafted charm. “That makes a lot of sense now.”

Y/N grins, “hindsight is always 20/20. My dad taught me that.”

Charlie chuckles.

“I appreciate the offering though.” Y/N admits, “sometimes I just want to come home.”

————————————————————————

Jacob texts Y/N after his meeting with the pack. ‘I need to see you. Are you at the Cullen’s?’

‘No, I’m at home. Is everything ok?’

‘We’ll talk when I get there.’

Jacob wastes no time coming through the front door, climbing directly through Y/N’s window to see her packed bags. “What’s all this?”

“Just some things for the Cullen’s house.”

Jacob takes the dreamcatcher between his thumb and forefinger. “You’re taking this?”

Y/N sighs, “I know it’s stupid. I don’t even sleep…”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Jacob curses his choice of words. “I’m glad you still like it.”

“I like everything you give me, Jake.”

Jacob sets it down carefully, taking a seat on her bed.

“Did something happen? You seem upset.”

“It’s nothing really. It’s better now.”

“Is it something with the pack?”

“Something happened when I fed you.” Jacob runs a hand over his face.

“Oh,” Y/N takes a step back, giving him space.

“The pack felt it through the bond, it’s more than imprinting. I think we…I think my blood in your system might’ve caused other things to happen.”

“Like what?”

“It made me want you.” He says through gritted teeth.

“You have me.” Y/N reaches for him.

“No, honey.” Jacob scowls, “I want to…conquer you. Claim you. I want-” he breaks off. “I’m going away for a couple days.”

“What? Jacob, no.” Even under normal circumstances it would be excruciating for him to be away from her for so long. “I’ll help you. You can just stay here and we’ll…. I’ll do whatever you need me to do ok?”

“My self control isn’t half as good as you’re giving me credit for.”

Y/N’s eyes darts around the room, searching for something, anything to help her make sense of this. “You said you remember things about the person I was before. When I was your third wife, you said I was tame. I could be-”

“Don’t,” Jacob warns.

“Maybe you need that, Jacob.” Maybe the alpha needs to protect and control his mate. “I don’t know.”

“I need you. Not some person you used to be. I need my wife.”

“Then why are you leaving when we can figure it out together?”

“I’m doing it for you!” Jacob slams his fist against her nightstand.

Charlie is at her door a moment later, “everything ok in there.”

“It was me. Sorry, Charlie.”

“Jacob?”

“You can come in, dad.” Y/N rolls her eyes. “We’re just talking.”

“I wanted to make sure you were ok.” Charlie says, popping his head in. “Didn’t mean to interrupt whatever you’re doing.”

“She’s all yours.” Jacob stands, headed for the window. “I was just leaving.”

“Jacob!” Y/N is beside him, at vampire speed.

Much to Charlie’s dismay. “What is going on?”

Jacob heats up in his frustration, skin sizzling against Y/N’s.

Y/N narrows her eyes at him. Not in front of my dad.

It’s not like I can control it.

Try.

Jacob’s eyes widen with the realization that he can hear her…and she can hear him.

“You’re fighting telepathically now,” Charlie throws up a hand. “That’s great. You know, maybe Jake’s right. A break might be good for you.”

“No,” Jacob snarls, although it was his idea.

“Y/N are you ok?” Charlie asks.

Tell him. Jacob demands, without thinking.

“I’m fine.” Y/N squeaks out, in a voice that resembles her own. She slaps a hand over mouth. He commanded her to speak and so she did. Obeying as if she’s a member of his pack. Don’t ever do that to me!

The words sting, pulling the invisible string which connects them. “Sorry,” Jacob stammers, “I love you. I’m sorry.” He didn’t mean to, he didn’t even know he could-

His regret gnaws at Y/N’s belly so harshly that she yelps.

Jacob presses a hand to her abdomen, quelling the ache. The imprint. He’s used to it now, she isn’t.

“Does it always feel like this?” Y/N wonders, lying her hand over his.

“Not always, no.” Jacob swallows.

Charlie scrubs a hand over his face. “I’ll give you some privacy.” He closes the door behind him, unsure of what exactly he’s witnessing or if he even wants to know.

“Come with me to the house in Denali.” Jacob rests his forehead against hers. Help me figure it out.

“Ok.”

Part 12

Series Taglist: @vxidnik @remembered-license @itscheybaby @cole22ann @the-tryhard-twihard @zheezs14 @adaydreamaway08 @xcastawayherosx @moneteguiza @stinkii-boii @theatrechic26 @sylum @irrelevant-86

#jacob black x reader #jacob black x y/n #jacob black x vampire reader #jacob black x you #jacob black imagine #jacob black fanfiction #twilight x you #twilight imagine #jacob twilight

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