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sansxfuckyou · 7 months

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Aurora

Summary: Kyle underestimates how easy it is to just say whatever comes to mind when you're tired, so does Kenny.

Warnings: swearing, accidental confessions, check Ao3 port for full tags

Authors Note: the stargazing fluff won the poll, so I hope ya'll enjoy it. it took me a bit longer to write than expected, but I'd say the visualizations turned out pretty good. I was sort of going for a warm feeling, like, home cooked meals 'n fuzzy blankets, but in written form- it's just a soft and fluffy fic, with a very specific vibe I tried to emulate.

Kyle really wishes he was a heavy sleeper when the sound of his phone vibrating atop his desk wakes him up. He just listens for a brief moment, staring at the dull ceiling of the bedroom he's been trapped in for so many years. He reaches out to answer it and pulls it relatively close to his ear.

"Whoever's calling, you're going to get kicked in the nuts so hard your heart skips a beat," Kyle threatened, his grogginess counters it easily. For a second he thinks they hung up, then their voice comes across the receiver.

"Damn okay, never call the smartest guy I know ever again," Kenny said, a bit of a chuckle on his voice.

That hot-wires something in Kyle because he's sitting up and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. Any previous sleepiness is easily stifled and snuffed out. He glances to his clock, "Your sleep medication wore off early again?"

Kenny gave a hum, "Yep, can't have anymore until two AM because it's a prescription, and I can't have it off schedule. And, and, and- you know how it is."

"Right, so you decide to call me at midnight because why?" Kyle asked as he stood up and made his way to his closet. It's not like he's falling asleep again anytime soon, might as well slip into something more practical. He grabs a jacket and his hat, pajama pants are perfectly practical.

"There's like, northern lights tonight man, they're supposed to start at twelve forty," Kenny explained, Kyle found euphoria on his voice. The McCormick gave a light sigh and Kyle could perfectly envision his expression, "It's kind of dumb, but, I think it's cool."

"It is cool," Kyle said defensively. He tugged on his jacket as he spoke, "Super cool. And I'm not just saying that either," He is. A little bit. But Kenny doesn't need to know that.

"Thanks," Kenny said quietly, "The other guys said it was lame when I brought it up earlier. I'm getting off track."

"You are," Kyle said as he reached for the door handle.

"Basically, I'm on my way to your house right now. Meet me out front so we can go to Starks Pond and look at the sky?" Kenny asked nervously.

Kyle can feel the heat rising to his face at the connotations of Starks Pond. He's stunned into silence as his mind races with the fact that Kenny's asking him to go to Starks Pond. The place where many confess, or go fishing, or confess, or kayak, or confess-

"So, that's a no?" Kenny asked, snapping Kyle from his thoughts with ease.

"Should I grab a blanket?" Kyle answered with.

"If you're too weak to handle a little bit of cold," Kenny said, a playful challenge to his words.

Kyle gives a pleased hum, "I'll meet you out front man."

"Yes! Thanks in advance! Love you bro!" Kenny exclaimed, words assaulting Kyle's ears at a slightly higher decibel than the rest.

"Love you too bro," Kyle said, hiding the crack in his voice as best as he could before Kenny hung up. He heaved a full body sigh as he grabbed a light, fuzzy blanket from his bed.

What has he gotten himself into?

Well, to start, a night outside with his best friend slash long time crush. Of course, no one knows about his absolutely debilitating crush on Kenny aside from his journals. So, he's roped himself into sitting around Starks Pond, fucking stargazing with Kenny. And he has to be normal that entire time? He just, he has to stay on his side of the line, and not, under any circumstance, cross over onto Kenny's. Which is a lot easier to do when Cartman is standing around, or if Stan is in the room. This time, there is no one to stifle him from getting a little bit too close to play off as 'just friends' and he knows, deep down, that he will fuck this up.

To reiterate, what has he gotten himself into?

-/-/-/-

"I never took you for a starry kind of guy," Kyle said as he tugged the blanket over his shoulders a little tighter.

Kenny shrugged, "I just think they look cool," He leaned his head back, hands rested behind it, "I don't know a whole lot, but, I know enough."

"Neat," Kyle answered with.

Snow crunched under their boots as they crossed from somewhat icy concrete to snowy grass. There's almost a serenity to it. The stillness of the air, the clouds only faintly spread across the sky, the deafening sound of his heartbeat ringing in his ears. It's silent, and for Kyle it isn't a comfortable one. Kenny looks rather fine with it, a hint of a smile on his face as they circle Starks Pond to the old gnarled tree that's long since lost it's last leaves.

"When are they starting?" Kyle asked, the abruptness caught Kenny off guard. He tilted his head to face Kyle so face he's sure it gave the blonde whiplash.

"What?" Kenny answered with, a perplexed look clear on his face. He shoved his hands a little deeper into the pockets of his parka.

"The northern lights. The reason we came out here. When does the light show start?" Kyle asked, he was laughing a bit, he didn't know why. He's pretty sure he's grinning, he can feel wisps of cold on his teeth. He shuffles his blanket a bit.

"Right! Northern lights, fuck man. Nearly forgot. Should be starting soon," Kenny said sheepishly. He brings the heel of his palm to his forehead in one brisk motion. He gives Kyle a bit of a smile, "Thanks for reminding me, I swear to god man, those sleep meds are messing with me."

"You're never this out of your mind man, never," Kyle said with a nod of agreement as tapped the steel tipped toe of his boot against the trunk of the tree. He did it until a chip of bark came off.

"It feels like those things are keeping me up at night, not down," Kenny rambled back as he paced around the tree. He was running out of things to say, "You don't mind getting wet?"

"What?" Kyle asked, bluntly at that. He just stared at Kenny.

"Like, sit on the snow. It melts. It's wet. We could lay out the blanket," Kenny offered, he gesticulated vaguely as he spoke. He clasped his hands in front of his chest, "I'm not standing up as we watch the light show."

Kyle leaned against the tree before sliding down, the blanket caught on the bark. He kept his knees hitched, he patted the spot beside him and Kenny dropped down. The snow crunched as it compacted under his weight, one leg outstretched and the other bent. He leaned against Kyle a bit, the redhead threw some blanket over his shoulders.

"Thanks," Kenny whispered out, and the cold biting at his face was the only excuse Kyle could form for the red rising to his cheeks.

He murmured back a soft, "You're welcome."

Kyle let his head rest on Kenny's, the blonde barely repressed a smile. He leaned his head atop the redhead's shoulder just a bit more, arms crossed over his chest to hold in the heat. The fabric was thin, worn down over many years of use, and restitched where it tore. He glanced up to the sky, the faintest wisps of green were starting to show amidst the inky ocean of stars.

He pointed to the part of the sky where the color was starting to waver, "Dude."

Kyle followed where he pointed, "Cool."

The green hues curled and splayed across the sky in rivulets of neon color. The headiest almost silvery greens lay at the bottom and faded up into a deep pink. The further out he looked, it almost turned to a golden haze, still distinct in striking patterns.

"I love you, Kyle," Kenny said, words coming out seamlessly as he pushed himself against Kyle a little bit more.

"Love you too, Kenny" Kyle echoed back, he barely registered what he saying until Kenny lifted his head up.

The blonde reared back on his knees, catching Kyle in eye contact, "Really?"

Kyle nodded, "Yeah," Why bother lying? He knew he'd fucked it up.

"Cool," Kenny said, there was a short circuit somewhere in his head as he wedged his way between Kyle's legs. He was on autopilot and Kyle wasn't shoving him off. He slumped back, Kyle's chest pressed flush against Kenny's back, "Cool."

Kyle paused to let the word soak in, "Cool?"

"Yeah, cool," Kenny echoed back, "It's pretty damn cool that you love me. Because I love you."

"Yeah, that is pretty cool," Kyle said quietly, he rested his hands at Kenny's abdomen. He pressed a kiss to the top of Kenny's head, "Pretty fucking cool."

#south park #south park k2 #k2 south park #kenny mccormick #kyle broflovski #south park fanfiction #writing #fanfic #fanfiction #tw swearing

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iheartgod175 · 10 months

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Multo's a Psychic? - The Zula Patrol Explained

Edit (4/24/24): Updated this with some more information, and cleaned up some things!

NOTE #1: This post contains some spoilers for events that will be appearing in a few of my Zula Patrol fics—namely, The Zula Patrol: Dreamscape Crusade Remastered. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

NOTE # 2: This contains mentions of death, blood, and disturbing imagery as well as mental torture.

Well, here I am, back with another lore post! I totally didn’t write this so I could yell about one of my favorite characters of all time. I SWEAR. XD

But yeah, this is going to be a fun post talking about an obscure fact about The Zula Patrol that was removed from the actual cartoon. As soon as I did some more digging, I knew I had to bring it back for this fanfic!

Alright, stop stalling. What IS This Cool Thing?

Glad you asked!

In the original books that Deb Manchester wrote for The Zula Patrol, the stalwart alien team was a little different than we know them. For one thing, they weren’t stupid like they are in the cartoon series (well, stupid would be too strong a word, but I can't think of another one to justify how they constantly fall for Truder’s schemes even though they SHOULD’VE figured them out by now). Oh, and neither was Dark Truder, but I'll get to him in another post. Their personalities were kinda set in stone, though, so there’s that.

Another way that they were different ties to their abilities—specifically, the ability of the team’s scientist, Multo.

Yes, you saw that right. In the original books, Multo could see the future. In addition to his smarts, he'd be called upon by Bula to use his visions to help the team (in this case, helping Zeeter navigate out of the dark side of an eclipse before she crashed). It’s an ability that is nowhere to be seen in the cartoon. My guess is that some things had to be changed before making it to television, and his future seeing ability had to go. After watching the show and reading a few of the books, I realized how hard they kinda nerfed the team, namely Multo. His psychic powers along with his smarts would've made him the most OP member of the force by default!

Once I learned about this, I knew I had to include it in the Remastered edition of Dreamscape Crusade, albeit with its own twists. Multo's psychic powers make a return in DCR under a new name: the Third Sight.

What is the Third Sight?

To put it simply, the Third Sight is an innate psychic ability that allows its holder to have short visions of the future. It cannot be taught; one has to be born with it, and it develops at a young age through an initiation process known as a “Breach”. It’s so named because many aliens consider this to be a “third line of sight” (kind of like the proverbial "third eye"). There are many advantages to it, such as predicting events and preventing horrible situations, like the one described above.

However, Third Sight is a tricky, fickle thing. For one thing, the “Breach” is a dangerous process that deals with the recipient fighting the inner demons and struggles of their minds—some are so horrifying that those who undergo it have fallen into comas they can never awaken from. Those who do wake up are changed completely by the experience, in both personality and thought process, and are unable to share their thoughts for weeks. Some visions can cause pain to users’ nerves and can disrupt sensory perception as well. Even experienced users are known to suffer from debilitating migraines. While it's terrifying to undergo as a child, those who go through it as an adult face a more harrowing process. Those who were "late bloomers" have said they wouldn't wish pain like this on their worst enemies.

The second trouble with the Third Sight is its accuracy, which varies from person to person. It's not always accurate, and some aliens have abused their power to con others out of their money. This is actually so common that those with surprising accuracy are considered rare. Those who have near-perfect accuracy in their visions of the future are heralded as visionaries, and are highly sought after, often by other aliens who want to use them for their nefarious purposes.

Many had this ability, though their abilities differ in power level. While the Third Sight is generally used strategically, truly powerful (or psychotic/sadistic) wielders can utilize it in a way that can assault their victims' minds. This vicious attack, known as Flashpoint, is also known as the "Mind Melt" due to its ability to break someone's psyche to an irreversible degree.

One way to tell that someone is developing the Third Sight ability is that they develop a very high sensitivity to touch, and/or experience mental fog and increased pain in their head/behind the eyes. For those who are just starting to see visions, the Third Sight provokes a condition known as haemolacria (crying tears of blood). While humans see this as a rare, but benign condition, Zuleans see this as an omen of coming trouble.

So, what about Multo? How does he use it and how did he get it?

Multo’s Third Sight puts him at a visionary level, something that he’s aware of. As for how he got his Third Sight, I'd love to share how, but I'd be spoiling my fic at this rate. Chapter 4 of DCR will definitely explain all!

Multo uses it like he did in the books, often when the Zula Patrol needs to prevent disasters from happening. His particular set of skills allows him to feel people's emotions and mental states through touch, allowing him to sense the true intent and meaning behind their words. He's also sensitive to changes in the environment, with those having brought about sudden visions without having to touch anything/anybody. In some cases, he's even events (namely the past), though not the complete thing. For him, though, he suffers terrible pain upon having these visions because they come to him suddenly, barely giving him a moment to process them. As he explained to Bula and Zeeter, it feels like flash bombs go off in his mind and eyes. For this reason, he'd try to avoid physical contact unless necessary, which changes later when he gets into relationships (with Precipito in DCR, and Zeeter in Love Language). When he has a truly horrendous vision, it causes him great physical agony. Thankfully, this has only happened once, as read below.

Being someone who doesn't like to worry others, he kept his powers hidden for years, as he knew that people would try to use him for their own selfish gain. He told his close friends Autofocus and Precipito, naturally, but didn't tell his teammates because he was worried about how they'd take it. He'd come clean to his teammates later, however, when a gruesome vision of his friends dying in an accident caused him to collapse, bloody tears coming from his eyes. When he came to, all he could tell them was to run away, and they did...right as a rocket crashed where they were standing. He was relieved when they didn't hate him for his ability, although they were freaked out when they saw his physical pain and urged him to get help for it.

How he uses it in Dreamscape Crusade Remastered is much, MUCH different. But you'll get to see more of it as the story progresses.

Out of curiosity, who's the most powerful?

The most powerful one is Ungor, a mysterious being who lived during the Previous Zulean Era, and is tied in with Paragor’s past (for context, this character is mentioned in chapter 3 of TZP: DCR, and debuts in chapter 4). He's rightfully considered to be the father of Third Sight, as his accuracy was unparalleled, and second to Paragor himself, there was no equal. On Zula, he’s regarded as a god…something that he finds strange since for all intents and purposes, he's agnostic. As of the moment, he’s only slated to appear in TZP: DCR, though he MAY appear in that ZP/SW/MQ/DS idea I had.

There are a few more people that have this ability, but I’m going to save them for when I update this post after chapter 4 is updated. There will be quite a few surprises ^^

I hope you guys like this post, and do leave a like/reblog if ya did!

#the zula patrol #zula patrol #Multo #fan fic stuff #fan fic ideas #psychic powers #obscure characters #lore post #kinda lol #headcanon

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astoldbydavina · 3 years

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⋆ pedro pascal + being the cutest human ever.

#pedro pascal #pedropascaledit #swcastedit #star wars #ppascaledit #listen.. we must protect this man at all costs !!#🥺#like am i falling too hard for him? yes. and is it debilitating? yes. yes indeed.#also the coffee gif is me on a daily basis sksks #gifs*

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lazysimp · 2 years

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Little Runaway /// Uzui Tengen x Male reader (18+)

✧Click Here for Fem version✧

Rating: Explicit

Summary: A debilitating injury leaves you bed-bound at the Butterfly estate as you recover from your injuries alone, or so you thought

This is a continuation of Little Slayer

Word count: 5.5K

Warnings/tags: !Some Spoilers from manga! Somnophilia, dubious consent, Exhibitionism, Reader is bisexual, Poly ship, Facesitting, Oral sex (giving and receiving), Spanking, Group sex, He/Him pronouns, All characters are adults, SMUT 18+ Only

masterlist┃AO3

•─────⋅💎⋅─────•

“It does not look too terrible,” Aoi mumbled, her fingers running our the large bandages covering your arms, “In a few weeks it will barely even be noticeable.

You do not bother to hide your trembling lip from her, “How can I be a slayer with useless arms? I cannot even feed myself let alone lift a sword.”

She sighed, putting away the excess cloth, “You will have to stay here a few more weeks to recover, and then you should be mostly back to normal. Even though Shinobu managed to create an antidote, the poison tore up the veins in your arms. It is going to take your body some time to heal.”

“I should be out there helping, not sitting in this bed,” small tears gathered in the corners of your eyes. You have already been recovering for two weeks, the thought of being trapped in this bed any longer was going to drive you mad.

Aoi awkwardly rubbed your back, “Don’t be so hard on yourself, you assisted in taking down two powerful demons. Even if you had not been injured you deserved a break, we were all beginning to wonder if you ever slept.”

“I have slept plenty, I am ready to get back out there,” You lift one bandaged arm, trying to ignore the pain the movement caused to examine the damage. “Are you sure there is no way to speed the healing up, I am willing to try anything?”

“No slayer, the only thing that will make you better is rest and food. Thought if you would like to recover more efficiently I do have one suggestion.”

Your upper body lurches forward, your nose almost touching Aoi’s face, "What, what is it?”

“Well, you are not the only slayer I am caring for at the moment, this means you do not get the full attention you need to heal quickly. If you knew someone who could care at all times your body would heal much faster.”

You groan falling back to the bed, “Not this again.”

“All I am saying is you should tell them what happened,” Aoi grabbed a washcloth and brought it towards your face, “I know they would come in a heartbeat to help with your recovery.”

“I already told you, I don’t want them to see me like this, I look pathetic.”

“You look like someone who was injured slaying a demon, there is nothing pathetic about that.” She wrings the water out of the cloth and wipes down your chest, “What is pathetic is to continue to write them pretending nothing is wrong because you are too scared of rejection.”

Your upper lip curls up, “What makes you so sure they would come to care for an injured slayer.”

Aoi scoffed, lifting your arm to bring your wrist to your face, “Last time a checked Uzui does not gift a gold bracelet to every slayer that visits his house to recover.”

You could not wiggle your arm free from her hold, the muscles still too weak to respond to your commands, “It was a parting gift, nothing more.”

“A parting gift really?” She pulls your arm closer to her face examining the intricate engraving on the gold band, “A gold band that is a match to the gold bands on his arms is only a parting gift.”

“Yes,” you growl trying fruitlessly to pull your wrist free.

She rolls her eyes, releasing your arm, “You are so deep in denial. Are you really able to convince yourself that they feel nothing for you? They practically begged you to become theirs, the only reason you are not recovering in their bed right now is that you are too scared to ask.”

“You can’t know that for sure,” you mumble, looking at the stack of letters by your bedside.

“Really, then let’s test my theory,” She pulls one of the blank sheets of paper off of the small table and hands it to you, “tell them what happened to you and where you are staying, you do not even need to ask them for help. I guarantee by tomorrow they will all be here fighting for the chance to take care of you.”

“And if you are wrong?”

She rubs the bottom of her chin, “Hm, If I am wrong I will clear my schedule and wait on your hand and foot until you are fully recovered.” A sly smile spreads across her face, “But if I am right you must buy me a new hair clip, a nice one, not one of those cheap ones at the market.”

“I feel like this is a lose-lose situation,” you groan, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Nu-uh, you have nothing to lose because they will come to take care of you. Well, you will be out at least five yen, the hair clip I want does not come cheap.”

“How is this not extortion,” you growl, trying to find a way out of this.

“Oh please, you can so dramatic. All you have to do is write a short letter telling them you were injured and will not be able to see them for a few weeks. Don’t you think they deserve an explanation for why you have not been visiting?”

You open your eyes to glare at her, “that was a low blow.”

“Well I am tired of hearing your whining, it was pathetic a week ago, not it is just sad.” She throws the rag into the bowl of water, “I am trying to be sympathetic but honestly you are being dull. They are in love with you, they want you. The only reason you are alone is that you are acting like a coward, and that is coming from me.”

“What if they had changed their mind while I was gone? I could not handle going back to being nothing to them.”

Aoi's eyes softened, she reached out and laid her hand over yours, “And this is better? You only ever speak to them in letters, exchanging small talk about demons and the weather. I cannot guarantee they have not changed their minds but can you really lie there and tell me it is not worth it to ask?”

You open and close your mouth, you could not argue with what she was saying. Truth be told they were worth the risk, even a day with them would be worth a lifetime of pain but a small ounce of self-preservation still held you back, “I’m scared,” you whisper, “I don’t think I could survive their rejection.”

“Uzui already told you how they felt, the only reason they are not at your bedside right now is that you have not told them you are injured. They would drop everything and travel here, all you need to do is ask, I promise they will not say no.”

“Aoi,” you whimper, “please can we drop this.”

She gave your hand one gentle squeeze, “Fine, I will drop it, for now, you are due for your meds anyways.”

Fuck, “Do I really need to take all of those? They make my head feel funny.”

She laughed, “Trust me, the only reason you are not screaming in pain is because of these meds, your nerves are still very inflamed from the venom, missing even one dose will make you wish you had let the demon finish you off.”

“Here,” she raises the small cup to your lips, “drink up.”

You hold your breath and open your mouth letting the bitter liquid slide down your throat. “Ugh, that is terrible.”

“It tastes awful but there is nothing we have found to even be half as effective.” she stands up, wiping her pants, “You make sure to call for assistance if you need something, this medication has a strong impact on the level of consciousness, some people report dreamlike states where-”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” you wave off her speech already having heard it a dozen times. “Don’t stand up by yourself, don’t sign anything, don’t talk to strangers, make sure you are not hallucinating before you go to the bathroom.”

“Alright I’ll check on you in a bit,” She points her finger, her lip curling up, “But so help me if I find you out of bed, I refuse to have a slayer injured on my watch.”

You nod, too weak to even think about leaving the bed the medication already making the world around you spin. With nothing else to do you work on controlling your breathing, each small breath allowing you to lessen the effects of the drug in your system.

The sky outside your window darkened leaving you in complete darkness, you try to fight off the heaviness of your eyelids but each blink was a battle. Soon you had no choice but to allow them to close, your mind finally resting.

You used to love sleep, allowing your mind to turn off was heavenly. But ever since you left the Sound estate you found your mind wandering places it should not. Tonight was no different once sleep finally overtook you.

The dreams always started out the same, you would arrive at the large estate exhausted and starving. Each member would swarm around you, now having the routine down you were in a warm bath only moments later while food was being heated.

When your skin was clean and hair groomed they would listen to your adventures as you eat, Suma flinching whenever you even mentioned a demon getting too close. Hinatsuru would ask about the places you got to see while traveling and Makio would want to know all about the demon you slew. Tengen always ended up pulling you into his lap after you finished your meal, gently rubbing your thigh as you talk with the girls.

When your eyes grew heavy and your head starts to nod forward Tengen would gently guide you back to their room. Your breathing would grow haggard, already trembling with excitement, the exhaustion fading away.

You bring your hand down your stomach, there was no harm in letting yourself feel pleasure as you dream, after all, no one has to know what you are doing while you think about a married man and his wives.

Dreaming was your only escape from the cruel world you lived in, here your arms were not injured and you were surrounded by the people you love.

Tengen would be the first in this realm to take charge, using his hand to position you exactly where he wanted. Your legs were spread open wide, one knee held by Suma whose eager eyes watched as Tengen’s lips traced up along your thigh avoiding your obvious need.

“Tengen,” you whine, your voice cracking, “Please don’t tease me.”

“Shh little slayer, I want to savor my meal,” Tengen groaned, using his tongue to tease your other thigh. Your dreams always felt so real but tonight was different, before his touch felt muffled, as if someone was touching you through a sheet. As his hot tongue runs up your inner thigh its warm wet heat nearly has your back arching off the bed.

Your head falls back, now resting in the lap of Makio. “Relax,” she muttered, her hands trailing down your chest to latch onto your swollen nipples, “We have all night.”

“Have to take my time with you,” Tengen cooed, one finger slinging down the length of your cock to circle around your tense hole, “Your pretty hole needs to be nice and stretched if it is going to take my cock tonight.”

His spit slick fingers circle around your entrance, giving you a moment’s warning before breeching your tight ass. Your thighs shake, your muscles working to close but Hinatsuru joins in holding you open, leaving you completely exposed to Tengen as he got to work.

“My, my, one finger and you are already leaking,” He tsks his tongue, “Such a needy boy, how long have you been walking around with the mess?” His curious red eyes gazed at the erect cock before him, admiring how your hole twitched around one finger.

“Is it our fault you are this messy? Were you thinking about us on your walk here naughty boy?”

“Tengen, don’t talk like that,” you order weakly, barely able to speak your cheeks flaming with embarrassment.

His lips curled into a devilish smirk, “You don’t have to pretend with us,” the finger inside you curled up. The entire room could heat the vigorous thumping of your heart against your chest, nearly ribbing from its cage. “Relax your legs, little slayer, let us see this sweet ass.”

You could deny him nothing, your thighs fell open completely. You were breathing heavily, too nervous to be in control as they all admired your pulsating cock. Your fearful eyes scanned each member, watching their reaction carefully.

“Fuck,” Suma moaned, her hands gripping your knee tightly, “It is not fair you get him first Tengen.” Her mouth was already drooling at the sight of such a beautiful man spread open in front of her, a beautiful just waiting to be feasted on. She was half tempted to push Tengen out of the way and fulfill her craving.

“Wait your turn Suma,” Tengen growled, adding another finger to tease you, “little one will need your tongue to clean up the mess I am about to make.”

You want to bring your hands up to hide your face too embarrassed to focus on but for some reason, you could not move the appendages so you had to settle on looking up at the ceiling. Only that proved to be even worse as Makio’s full breasts now filled your vision.

“Hey there,” she smiled, her fingers pinching your nipples and pulling on them until they grew stiff, “Like the view.”

Your train of thought crashed at her teasing smile, you look down only to see Hinatsuru slip off her own dress, her blush rose nipples hardening when exposed to the air. Taking advantage of your distracted mind Tengen’s clever tongue flickered across your tender head of your sex, cleaning away the precum that had gathered. Your body jumps shocked at the immediate pleasure his mouth brings.

He seemed to enjoy your flavor, his hand settling under your hip so he can tilt it up giving him even easier access. He breathed in the scent of your arousal, preening as the sounds of your moans filled his ears, your head thrown back in pure bliss.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Suma trail one hand down her own abdomen, circling her small clit frantically as she watched Tengen lap up your cum.

“Oh, it feels so good,” you pant, your back arching up as he sucks the tip onto his mouth, widening his tongue to drag across the underside.

“Fuck,” He mumbled, releasing the suction. “I could feast on you for hours. Your taste is divine.” His hot breath fanned against the tender flesh. “How does that sound, do you think you could handle me for a few hours?”

You shake your head, already at the end of your rope.

‘Mmh, shame, we will have to work on building up your endurance,” he lowered his mouth again, adding another finger to your ass loving the vice grip you had around the digits. Fuck his cock was already throbbing at the idea of your pretty hole spasming around his length as he stretches you out.

“T-Tengen, please, I-I think I am going to come,” you screamed, your back arching off the bed.

Makio pushed down on your shoulders, holding you steady as your legs started to shake. Having no mercy Tengen increased the pace of his fingers now scissoring inside you as he worked throbbing cock with his lips. It was not long until the strong tingle in your abdomen rapidly spread throughout your body.

You could feel your hole clench around his fingers as your body convulsed, your mouth open in a silent scream. Tengen continued to milk the pleasure from your exhausted body, only stopping when you fell limp under him.

The only sound in the room was your frantic breathing. You always woke up like that, startled awake by what you had been dreaming about. Only tonight was different because instead of waking up cold and alone you were surprisingly warm.

“I know you are awake little one, open your eyes already,” a deep familiar voice laughed.

Immediately your eyes slammed open but nothing could have prepared you for the sight you encountered. Tengens' lips were glistening, his eyes full of hunger you have never seen. On each side of you were Suma and Hinatsuru holding open your limp legs. Your head falls back onto a pair of soft thighs.

“I was beginning to wonder if you would ever wake up,” Makio laughed from above you, her hands on either side of your head.

“W-What is happening?” you look down at the unimaginable sight of Tengen in between your spread thighs, your mind nearly breaking as you try to piece together everything.

“Aoi sent us a letter saying you were injured,” Hinatsuru brushed her hand up your thigh, “We rushed here as quickly as we could once we heard the news. We did you not tell us sooner you were hurt we would have been here the day you arrived?”

“You were here for a week and you did not bother to let us know you were hurt,” Makio growled from above you, the lust decorating her face now gone. “Were you ever going to tell us?”

“I-I,” your breathing starts to grow frantic, what in the hell was happening? One minute you were dreaming and the next your dream becomes a reality. “I don’t understand what is happening,” you mumble your mind fuzzy, “When did you all get here? Why are you in between my legs?”

“Shh,” Suma moved up from her place at your legs and grabbed one of your bandaged hands, “I know you are probably really confused so let me explain.”

You nod, eager to understand the world around you.

“We arrived here less than thirty minutes ago, we all rushed here when we heard the news of your injury from Aoi’s letter,” she paused to give you time to process the information. “When we got here you were sound asleep, Aoi said you would not be up for hours, we were going to take turns watching over you, but when Tengen tried to leave to get some food you yelled out for him to stop teasing you.”

Your breathing stops, your mind replaying the events of earlier, “I spoke out loud,” you whispered.

Tengen snorts, “You did more than speak little one, you begged me to touch you.”

Your mouth falls open in horror, “What happened after that?”

Tengen looked down at your exposed sex, “Well, we tried leaving, wanting you to get some rest but we are only human, how could we resist those little whimpers begging for more?”

“Y-You mean-”

“That I sucked your cock while you begged me for more?”

A startled squeak left your lips at his confession, “You did?”

A wolfish grin spread across his face, “Oh yes darling, I did.”

Your face was so hot you were sure you could fry an egg on your cheeks, “You mean my dream was real, it all really happened?”

“Regretfully I cannot see into your beautiful mind but judging by what you were whimpering I would say your flamboyant dream matched pretty well to what we were doing.”

You wanted to bury yourself in a hole, the noises you had been making were mortifying, the idea that anyone heard them, let alone the four people at your side was enough to make you combust.

“Don’t look so embarrassed,” Hinatsuru cooed, “Watching you find pleasure was beautiful, I could watch it every day and never grow tired of that sight.”

Tengen hummed in agreement, “And the flamboyant sounds you made were enough to nearly push me over the edge, if not for my training I would already be staining the sheets with my seed.”

“Wait, you all arrived here to help with my recovery after Aoi sent you a letter telling you about my condition?”

Hinatsuru nodded, patting her hand gently against your, “We left as soon as we heard, we were so worried, she told us how close you were to-to dying.” She choked out a sob, “Why would you not call for us,” her lips pressed into a thin line, “Did you not want us to come here?”

“No,” you try to reach out but your arms could not respond, “That is not it at all,” You look down wishing you had on clothes, you already felt so exposed, “I did not want to bother you.”

“Bother us?” Tengen echoed, lifting himself up into a sitting position between your legs. “Is that what you think you are? A bother.”

You take advantage of his move, pushing your thighs together to gather some privacy, “Not exactly-”

Tengen runs his hand through his loose hair, “I thought I took care of your doubt the night you left but it seems you still have some doubts where you stand in this relationship.”

He looks over at the woman by your side with a new, darker look in his eye, “Darlings would your hold his legs for me please, I believe we need to teach the little runaway here his place.”

“Hey wait,” you try to scramble away but Suma and Hinatsuru locked onto your legs anchoring you in place.

“Hm,” Tengen’s hand rested under his chin, “On second thought flip him around, I want that flamboyant ass in the air.”

“Ah,” you squeak as you are tossed in the air and gently flipped around, landing on the bed with your arms held behind your back, your cheek squished against the mattress.

“W-What are you doing,” you try to look over your shoulder but the position they place you in prevents you from being able to see anything.

“I have tried being a patient little one, I waited weeks for you to finally confess your feelings, and what is my reward for this? A letter telling me how you almost died. Can you even imagine how that made us feel? You almost died having never been ours.”

His large hand runs up your slick thigh, “And now you lie here in the bed speaking about not wanting to bother us!” His large hand comes down across your ass laying a sharp spank. “I refuse to believe the only reason you did not ask for our help is that you did not want to be a bother.” Another sharp sting spreads across your ass as his hand descends, “So tell me the truth, why are you running away from us?”

“I-I can’t” you sob, burying your face into the sheets.

“Wrong answer,” Another precise slap arrives on your skin, the sharp tingle spreading through your body, lighting your skin on fire.

“Please tell us why you do not want to be with us,” Hinatsuru whispered, her lips kissing away the tears gathered in the corner of your eyes, “What did we do wrong?”

“Nothing,” you sob, “you did nothing wrong, it’s me that is wrong.”

“What is wrong with you?” Makio asked, shoving Hinatsuru out of the way, “Because from my viewpoint you are perfect.”

“I’m not,” you turn your face to bury your head onto the mattress needing to hide, “And one day you will see that and want nothing to do with me. And then what,” your chest heaves, too tired to resist letting it all out, “I will be left all alone.”

“Darling,” Tengen cooed, his hand running up your naked back where your loose shirt had ridden up, “Do you really think we would leave you?”

You nod your head, your throat too tight to let you speak.

“But that is not true, I could never get tired of you!” Suma yelled, pushing Hinatsuru out of the way for her turn. “The way you hold me when I cry, and how you make sure Hinatsuru will buy my favorite food when at the market. The way you make sure that each of us feels included, can’t you see we will never get enough of you?”

Tengen’s hand settled on the flaming skin of your ass, massaging the sore tissue, “If you think for one minute I am ever letting you go then I have failed at making you feel appreciated.” His hand stops at the back of your neck, gently squeezing the column, “Because this is something I could never live without. Your smile, your kindness, your love, your flamboyant attitude, I need all of it.”

His bodyweight presses over you, his long erection settling in between the cheeks of your ass, “Now little one, I am going to show you how you belong to me,” the head of his cock slides down to settle on the outside of your entrance, “After this, there is no question you belong to us do you understand?”

You glace back in shock, watching helplessly as his hips thrust forward, the large head piercing into your tight hole.

A small whimper leaves your throat as the burning stretch nearly becomes too much, he was so fucking big that even with his fingers stretching you earlier there was no way he was going to be able to fit all of it inside you.

“Fuck,” he hissed from above you, his hand braced against your tailbone as he sank into your warmth. “You are so tight.”

Your hands reach out looking for something to hold onto and two warm hands answered your call, their fingers intertwining with yours.

“You are doing so perfect,” Hintsuru hummed, kissing your knuckles. You squeeze down around their hands as hard as you could, your legs trembling as another inch slides inside.

Just when your thought It would all become too much his cock finally kissed the end of your hole. He froze for a few seconds giving your poor ass time to adjust to his intrusion. This gave Makio just enough time to fulfill her plan.

Manipulating your body she adjusts your arms until your weight was settled onto your hands, your elbows locked and your ass in the air where Tengen was buried to the hilt. With the help of Suma she carefully lifted your body until she could easily slide under you, her mouth now directly under your dripping cock.

“H-Hey,” you whine, Makio’s pussy now directly under your face, her breasts pressing against your upper thighs, “What are you doing?”

“This,” She groaned, using her fingers to wrap around your length and guide your sex right into her waiting mouth. You nearly fall forward, the combined attack overwhelming.

Tengen, not one to be outdone drew his hips back, his cock slowly withdrawing from your abused hole only to slam back in. The strength of his thrusts had his balls collide with the top of Makio’s head but she did not seem to mind, in fact, it seemed to egg her on, she grew even more aggressive in bringing you pleasure. Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked on your length, her evil tongue tracing your leaking slit.

The tongue on your sex vibrated as Makio let out a low groan. Tengen continued to plow into you in a purposeful rhythm, each thrust well aimed to nail the upper part inside your hole making black spots appear in your vision each time he hit it.

Your fingers dig into the sheets as you hold on for dear life.

“You feel that,” Tengen growled, his entire length now stuffed inside your hole, “Feel how deep I am?” His hand came down to slap your ass, “This hole is mine little one, not yours, mine, and if you think you can keep me from this then I will have to fuck you until you are too tired to argue.”

“Tengen,” you sobbed, your head falling forward. Suma shifted forward, giving your head a comfortable place to rest your head on her thighs as the pair behind you worked to drive you even higher. Your legs were shaking uncontrollably, as the throbbing in your cock started to spread. Your chest grew too tight for you to even breathe.

Tengen kept his movements steady while Makio’s tongue worked wonders on your length, sucking on the tip whole flicking her tongue. It was not long until your mouth opened into a pitiful moan, your entire body tense as you come all over Makio’s face, your cum coating her tongue as you convulse.

Makio greedily lapped up the mess as you continued to come in her mouth, the pleasure too strong to let you relax until another mind-shattering sensation overtook you. This time the tingling spread to your head making the world begging to grow hazy as your breathing stopped. You were sure you were screaming but you could hear nothing over the sound of your own pounding heartbeat.

With the high gone your breathing decreased slightly but Tengen was still going, his fat cock continuing to stretch your clenching hole. You lie there and let him lay his claim, too tired to even speak.

When it almost became too much mercifully his cock started to pulse and seconds later his hot cum began to fill you, leaving no inch uncovered. Only when he was sure every drop had emptied inside you did he pull his hips back, admiring how your gaping hole clenched around nothing, his cum already leaking out.

Makio’s magical tongue gave one last long lick up your slit before she shuffled out from under you. You close your eyes for a few seconds, trying to collect your bearings while the world around you spun. One strong arm wrapped around your waist, gently manipulating your body until you were settled on your back.

You did not even jump when a soft tongue began to clean your throbbing sex, lapping away the mess Tengen had created. Another careful pair of hands brought your head into their lap, their fingers tracing the lines of your face. The last pair of hands dragged a warm cloth across your drenched body.

You snuggle into their hold, letting them each care for you in their own unique way. Only when the cloth grew cold and the tongue on your cock stilled did you crack open one eye.

“How are you feeling?” Hinatsuru asked, wringing out the wet cloth into a basin.

“Fuzzy,” you mumble, turning your head to bury your face deeper into Makio’s lap.

“Do you understand now?” Tengen hummed, his callused fingers rubbing across the back of your injured hand. Do you understand how much we love you little one?”

“I-I,” you press your lips together, how could you make them understand what you were thinking. They all knew early in life they would belong to each other forever but they have barely known you for a year.

“I want to,” you whisper, “I want to believe more than anything that you love me.”

You press your thighs together wincing at the ache in your ass, “But I don’t think I will ever be sure of your feelings for me. It is just too good to be true.”

Tengen barked in protest but you continued, “But the one thing I am sure of is my feelings for all of you. The days I was able to spend with all of you were the happiest of my life and I want nothing more than to give you all of my days. I am yours.”

Hinatsuru shot forward her arms wrapping around your shoulders, pulling you into her chest. “We love you so much,” she sobbed, burying her face in your shoulder, “And we will spend all of our time making sure you never doubt that.”

Suma joins in on the hug, her body pressing against your back, “I won’t let go until you believe us.” She declared, tightening her arms even more.

Makio laughed, pushing Suma to the side so she could have room to join in, “I think it will be fun to convince you our feelings are permanent, I love a good challenge.”

“Hm,” Tengen’s large hand settled ontop of your head, urging it back until his gaze was able to meet yours, “I agree Makio, getting little one to believe us sounds like a very interesting challenge,” he leans in closer, his lips brushing against your forehead, “One I am happy to spend the rest of my life on.”

#uzui x male reader #uzui smut #kny x reader #uzui tengen #uzui x reader #kny smut #tengen uzui x reader #suma kny #makio kny #hinatsuru #demon slayer smut

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ekaterinatepes · 3 years

Text

Nothing but the Best

WARNING: nsfw (oral m and f receiving)

MINORS DNI

XIII.

(Part 2/3)

He stood up and set you on the table, standing between your legs Satoru moved his hands over your body, he opened your jacket thankful you were so thoughtful as to have places heaters on every corner of the gazebo so you wouldn’t freeze. With a smirk he pulled back “I am ready for desert” a mischievous glint in his cerulean eyes told you he wasn’t referring to the food. You moaned in answer while your hands also started taking off his clothes until he was left only in his pants and you completely naked before his predatory gaze. “Toru…” you moan against his lip when his index finger moved between your thighs to collect the wetness already pooling in between. “Mmm… better not let this go to waste..” he whispered before he knelt in front of you. Sucking his wet fingers before his mouth attached to your leaking entrance making you scream. You were so ready for him that the slightest stimulation had you tethering over the edge. “SATORU!” Screaming his name you placed a hand on top of his head caressing the his platinum strands while he ate you. He moaned sinking his tongue as deep as it could go within your womanhood. “Oh fuck!” You cursed when he added two fingers inside, pumping them slowly, making a come here motion at the same time he licked and swallowed everything you had to offer “come for me princess…”, “come for daddy…. I want my desert now” his husky and demanding tone sent an electric current down your spine making you tense right before you released in his mouth. Satoru groaned in delight sucking and slurping your juices “good girl” he praised you in between kisses until you were completely clean “I love desert” with a big smile he placed himself between your legs making you chuckle “well… I will have you know, I like my own desert too…” with a grin you switch places. Kneeling between Satoru’s legs you stroke the hard bulge under the tight fabric of his trousers. He moans at the stimulation letting you do as you pleased with him. Unzipping his pants you pull them down along with his boxes. His cock springs free hitting your face, Satoru groans louder at the sight. “You look so fucking beautiful right now” he praises you. Licking his member from the base to the tip you finally wrap your lips around the swollen pink head and suck hard. Bobbing your head you start a steady rhythm. Satoru’s sounds of pleasure encouraging you to take him deeper and faster until he is fucking your face, bucking his hips but avoiding pushing your head. “I’m gonna come baby… I’m gonna come” he moans desperately. To which you respond by deep throating him, inviting him to come down your throat. “oh Fuck! Y/N!” He came hard, a spray of warm cum shot down your throat. “Take it all princess! Take all of daddy’s cum down hour throat! That’s a good girl” Satoru encouraged you. Pulling your mouth back you suck at the tip of his sensitive member, making sure that you swallowed it all. “Oh fuck! Y/N! You are so fucking hot! My sexy and hot wife” a stupid smirk spreads across his lips making you chuckle when you stand up again. He pulls you in for a deep kiss “I love you princess” he says before grabbing a blanket from the small ottoman in the corner “you came prepared!” He observed chuckling, making you blush. Yeah, you were married for almost 4 years and that moron still managed to make you blush like a virgin. “Well it’s winter, I wasn’t sure the heaters would cut it.” He pulled you in his arms, kissing you once more while he accommodates cushions and a mat on the floor to then have you sitting on his lap. Serving each of you a glass of champagne you kissed and spent the night there in each other’s embrace. ~~~ End Flash Back~~~

On the other side of the world a sorcerer opened his blue eyes after a dream. The best dream he’s had since you left. It felt… so real; he dreaded the moment he woke up. He could feel you in his arms, taste you on his tongue. But it all had been just a beautiful dream, a memory from past times when you both were happy.

Sighing he sat upon his bed, alone again. Not that he wanted any of his one night stands soiling the sanctity of his home. Satoru never took them back home, it was always some hotel or their place. NEVER your bed, the one you both shared for the happiest years of his life. He had even bought your perfume ‘Ballet Rose’ by Philosophy to spray it on the bed and sleep surrounded by your familiar and comforting scent.

The dream was a memory of his last birthday, the one he spent with you. Making love and eating sweet things until the break of dawn. Closing his hand tightly in a fist he swallow hard. He missed you so badly, lately it felt… debilitating. How pathetic! The strongest jujutsu sorcerer reduced to a ghost of himself since you kicked him out of your life.

He had to do something. Even if he didn’t get to talk to you, he just wanted to see you one more time. Make sure you are alright, that you are happy…. Safe.

He grabbed his phone and looked for the phone number of the Chair Woman for the American School of Ballet. “Yes, good evening Mrs. Mazzo I am aware it is late where you are but I have a question for you. Is there any upcoming shows where Miss Petrova is performing?” He asked remembering you were a student still under a false name. The woman on the other side of the line sighed and sleepily answered you would be performing for 2 shows of The Nutcracker for the NYC Ballet Fall Gala at the David H. Koch Theater in three days time. “While you are at it I will need a ticket for the best seat on the right balcony. Private access, don’t care about the price just make it happen” the woman agreed and then hang up.

Satoru’s plane landed at night time in New York City and just like the last time he had s limousine waiting for him to take him to his suite at The Plaza. It felt it had been a lifetime ago when he last saw you in this very city.

He wanted to go find you but he swore to himself he would refrain from doing something stupid. He was here to see you in secret, without bothering you. He promised to himself he would respect your wishes and wouldn’t intrude your space.

He prepared himself for the Gala, wearing a black Armani suite, choosing to wear his dark Versace round sunglasses to match his style. Giving himself a good look in the mirror he smirked, well… at least he still got it. He was handsome and looked literally like a million bucks.

With a little boost to his confidence he left the suite and went to the theater where he would watch you perform that evening. As he walked towards the entrance to the main hall he saw your picture on a two gigantic banners, the advertisement for tonight’s show with your beautiful face, smiling and your body on a ‘grand battement’ pose wearing a beautiful cream colored tutu with golden roses carefully sown, your shoulders naked and the deep v cut of the corset showing off slightly your beautiful breasts, you were perfect… an angel. His heart stopped for a second. You were… absolutely gorgeous. He noticed on the picture that you had returned your hair to your favorite tone and your eyes shone brightly accentuated by an alluring cat eye make up that complimented your features, the image was enchanting. Truly a vision.

——-> Chapter 13 / Part 3

Tags: @sleepyamaya

@cloudsinthecosmos

@jxvajxy

@okkotsuoasis

@my-reality-is-in-my-head

@dok-ja

@jscarlet06

@fiona782

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@actualdeemon

@janenks

#gojo x you #jjk #gojo saturo x reader #jjkgojo #gojo x female reader #gojo smut #gojo x y/n

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not-me-simping-for-blasty · 3 years

Text

I Melt With You - Bakugou Katsuki

All Parts:

Part 4:

You’re paranoid.

Terribly, terribly paranoid, and even if you’re aware of it, there’s nothing you can do to stop it. Nothing you can do to quell the anxiety that wells up every time another person enters your space. Every time their skin nearly brushes yours, even accidentally, just for a split second.

It’s maddening. Nearly debilitating the way you’re flinching away from people. You can see your co-workers notice too, fellow nurses suddenly giving you odd looks every time you reject a high five. Even when you’re wearing your gloves. It’s just a panic reaction at this point- a fixation on trying to keep your quirk as least exhaustive an experience as it can be.

On one hand, you still really dislike Bakugou- nearly hate him for bringing it up to you- but, on the other hand, he did manage to figure it out. He somehow managed to figure out what you never could, and all in a matter of minutes from your relatively short interactions. It made you think that maybe he could be really smart- if he didn’t spend so much time killing his own brain-cells with every juvenile insult he spewed at you.

You wondered if that was just him, or he really did hate you that much. Surely he couldn’t be that much of a monster to other people, right? Right?

Wrong.

You remember Kirishima, how he apologized for Bakugou nearly the second he walked through the door. It hits you then that you’re definitely not the first person he’d seemed to mercilessly terrorize- you’re not sure if that makes you feel better or worse.

Actually, on second thought, maybe it makes you feel worse. No, it definitely makes you feel worse. So much worse, in fact, that just the sight of his face nearly sends you into an irrational rage. Even now, weeks after the last time he’d personally ruined your day, you were still mad. Still angry. Still cursing every time you saw those red eyes on every billboard, newspaper, and billboard in town.

Well, lucky for you, you didn’t have to look at those printed eyes anymore. Not when the real ones were right in front of you- scaring you shitless as you leave the hospital.

You had left the hospital from the back exit, tired and crabby from your late shift, grumbling as you stepped out into the alleyway. You’d hardly seen him, just the slightest glimpse of movement behind the tall dumpsters, before he’s practically in your face.

“Jesus!” You gasp, curling your arms around your stomach. Your legs feel like jelly. “Don’t do that! Scared me half to death!”

“Oh, chill the hell out, ya fuckin’ baby. You’re fine.” Bakugou rolls his eyes, falling into step next to you.

He looks worse for the wear, just like every other time you’ve seen him, exhaustion coloring his complexion something sickly. There’s an angry purple bruise covering his cheek, a few cuts, and even more bruising dotting his scarred knuckles. A tiny, vindictive part of you thinks it serves him right, but you keep it to yourself. You’re better than that.

You want to be nice to him, truly you do, but he’s made it pretty hard. Concerning you, Bakugou’s pretty much dug his grave at this point, and he only makes it worse with his next works.

“You need to do something for me.” He orders suddenly. “Now.”

“A-are you asking me? For help? Is that what this is?”

“What? No- obviously fucking not.” He sneers, nostrils flaring. “Why the hell would I go and do something like that. That’s stupid. Weak.”

“Oh. Okay. So then two seconds ago, when you were telling me that I ‘need’ to do something for you, what was that?” You squint your eyes at him, eyebrow twitching with annoyance. “That wasn’t you asking for help?”

“No. ‘s an order.”

“Oh. Yeah. Okay- an order. Because you’re totally in a position to make those.”

“I am.”

“You’re not.” You spin on your heels, nearly crashing into his chest since he followed so closely behind you. Still, you figure the promixity is all the better for gesturing, so you don’t miss a beat, waving your hands emphatically. “My shift just ended, alright? That means I’m not on the clock, and you’re not a patient. I don’t have to suck it up and help you unless I want to. Understand?”

Bakugou seems to bristle at your tone, eyes narrowing as his lip curls. You just try to shrug it off. If he wants to be mad in the middle of the alley, fine- but you’ve had a long day and you’re going home. You spin around again, walking briskly into the street, and it takes him a few moments to catch up.

“I told you, Bakugou, I’m not helping you just because you tried to order me to.”

“I know.”

“Then what’re you doing?”

“Walking.”

It’s his tone; that same needling, challenging edge to it that has your blood boiling. If anyone else said that, you’d probably believe it. But he’s not just walking and Bakugou’s smirk makes that very clear.

“No. You’re following me.”

“Same fuckin’ direction. Sue me, leech.”

The street lamps cast spots that yellow out his already pale skin, and the longer you walk the more withered he looks. Bakugou seems utterly burnt out, and when you look really close, all his features are slumped. It’s a stark contrast to Dynamite’s turbo-charged public persona, and it makes you wonder why he’d even let you see him like this at all. You figure whatever it is must be making him pretty desperate.

Suddenly that same, sinking, sympathetic feeling has you letting up a bit. You slow your pace, catching his gaze as you internally curse your own soft heart.

“Okay. Fine. What’s up. What can I help you with?”

Bakugou squints his eyes, almost like he doesn’t believe you. You think that’s a little fair- most times, even you can hardly believe all that you’re capable of forgiving.

“Sleep.” He finally says, bitten out tightly under his breath.

“You want me to help you sleep?”

“Yes. Obviously.”

“Not obvious.”

“Would be if you weren’t such a shitty nurse.”

“If that’s supposed to be a dig- save it.” You roll your eyes, trying to tamper down the irritation. “I did notice. That you look tired. Just didn’t mention it out of kindness, so don’t think you can start bringing my skills into question.”

You turn down another side street, and Bakugou follows. There’s less light so you miss the way his eyes scan the lurking shadows; intense and immediate, like a habit he can’t help himself from indulging in.

“You really live around here?” He suddenly asks, voice low and gruff.

“Yep. In the apartment complexes just up there.” You point off into the distance. “Why-”

“And your shift always end this late?”

“Yes?”

“God,” He laughs something disbelieving under his breath, rolling his eyes at you. “I was fuckin’ right. You really are the stupidest goddamn person walking the planet.”

“That’s- Do you ever think about your words? Seriously!” You huff, curling your fists. You hope it’ll quell your sudden urge to hit him. “Just because you think it, doesn’t mean you should say it! And who the hell are you to judge anyway-”

“You’re fuckin’ asking to be attacked. That’s stupid. ”

“By who?”

“Weirdos, idiot.”

“You’re the weirdo! You’re the one following me home right now!”

“I’m not following you-”

“Really? You’re not? Because right now, the way you’re walking? Maybe all of two steps behind me? On a dark street? At night? Sort of seems like creepy following is exactly what you’re doing!”

“I told you, you need to do something for me. Not leaving till you do.” He grumbles, digging a bruised knuckle into his temples. “And keep it the fuck down. Your screaming sounds like a dying animal.”

“My-” You seethe for a moment, hardly able to stand his attitude. Then you take a breath because you prided yourself on being a kind person, and kind people do not kill national heroes- even when they’re being asses. “You know, it is almost unbelievable how bad you are at asking for help.”

“Told ya, already. ‘m not fuckin’ asking for help.”

“Then why are you even here bothering me? Go bother someone else!”

“If fuckin’ anyone else could do anythin’, believe me, I’d go to them instead.”

“God, do you even understand how rude that is?” You ask him incredulously, hand grasping at the door to your apartment building. “No, seriously, are you even aware of what you sound like to other people?”

“Not my fuckin’ problem that other people are sensitive.”

Your eyes bulge at that, mouth nearly dropping in disbelief. You couldn’t believe him. You just couldn’t believe that a single person could possibly go through life with that callous of a mentality. It was insanity. Pure insanity.

“So, leech, you gonna put me to fuckin’ sleep or not?”

Just kidding- that was insanity. That sentence alone was proof of just how ridiculous your life had gotten since he’d crash landed into it.

Bakugou seems to realize his words simultaneously, his cheeks flushing red under the outdoor lights. You almost laugh, but then he’s glaring, eyes sternly set and murderous. For a moment, you really believe he was gonna blow you up right where you were standing.

“Say a goddamn word. Do it. I fuckin’ dare you. Leech.” He sneers. “Try me.”

“At this hour? No, uh, no thanks.”

Bakugou does seem to relax at your joke, albeit begrudgingly. He drops his shoulders, rolling his eyes, and clears his throat. “Now, seriously, you gonna fuckin’ do it or not?”

A part of you wants to say no- to hold your gift over his head, to lord it just out of reach until he figures out how to not insult you with every breath. Then you think of your job, of all the civilians who come in swearing up and down that Dynamite was a hero. And you believe them, truly, but you think that Bakugou has a long way to go. An especially long way.

But, even so, your fingers are itching again in your gloves. There’s that urge coursing through your veins, your thoughts a constant loop of heal, help, save and so it’s decided. Quickly. Almost like it was never even a question in the first place- and, knowing yourself, you suppose it never really was.

“Fine. I will. On one condition.”

“Condition? When the fuck did I say it was a negotiation. It’s not.”

“It is and I’ll tell you why.” You spin to face him completely, jumping back when you find him much closer than expected. Your retreat till your back hits the door, but you feel no less cramped than before. “You need me. You do. Don’t bother denying it because you wouldn’t be here otherwise. And the funny thing is, I would’ve done it! Would’ve done it entirely free of charge if you just asked nicely, and-”

“Will you get to the fuckin’ point already?”

“See! That! That’s why there’s a condition! Because you’re needlessly rude! All the time from what I’ve seen. And that’s got to change. Especially if you’re gonna ask for my help more than just this one time.”

“God- how many fuckin’ times do I need to make this clear to you? Hah?” Bakugou growls, leaning in even more. You can see it in his wild eyes- he’s trying to scare you, crowding you against the door. “I’m not asking. I’m telling you- You don’t make the fuckin’ rules here.”

“In this I do.” You swallow nervously, trying not to let your intimidation show. “So you’re gonna listen. My condition is this- if you want me to help you, then you have to learn to play nice. That means no names, no insults, no threats, no complaints, and no attitude. That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”

Bakugou swears under his breath, eyes blazing as he holds his stare. Truthfully, it makes you nervous, but you’re not one to back down. At least, not when there’s no threat of job loss involved. So you just squint back at him, jutting your jaw out in defiance. There’s a tense few seconds of silence, his eyes searching, but then he backs off. Nostrils flaring like a bull, Bakugou relents.

“Fuckin’ fine. Whatever. Jesus.” He swears, hand curling into a fist at his side. “If you’re gonna be such a bitc-”

“I said, no names, Bakugou.”

He just rolls his eyes, face so very pinched, and you briefly wonder if he’s going to explode. There’s anger as he suddenly shoves you away from the door, yanking it open and letting himself into the building. Then he’s stomping through the lobby, and you’re hardly able to catch up by the time Bakugou stops in front of the elevator.

“What fuckin’ floor, leech?”

“Once again, I said no names. None. Especially not that one.” You tell him sternly, trying to keep your voice down. “And you didn’t agree. You’re not following me and I’m not helping you unless you agree.”

If possible, you think Bakugou’s expression grows even more irritated, his eyes widening as he sets his jaw. Another few seconds pass, and when he sees you won’t relent, Bakugou nods. It’s tight and strained, stunted like the acquiescence physically pains him.

“God, you’re lucky I’m nice.” You tell him, nearly stabbing the elevator button as you press it. “Really lucky.”

“And you’re lucky I don’t have enough energy to beat the shit out of you right now.”

“No threats, Bakugou. You agreed.” You say easily, stepping into the elevator as it opens.

“Had to. Because your fuckin’ terms are bullshit.”

“Hey, no complaints. You agreed to that too.”

You think you hear something strangled leave his mouth, but it’s swallowed up by the sound of the elevator ascending.

Now that you’re standing in better lighting, you can see Bakugou’s face clearly. He looked bad before, but he looks worse now. There wasn’t just one bruise on his face, there was multiple- his jaw colored burgundy and his nose and lip split open. There was no blood, but there wasn’t a lot of scabbing either. It was new. These injuries were new.

You think back to that first visit- when he told you he never really got hurt. You wonder what’s been going so wrong for him lately. It seemed like all he’d done since you’d met him was get hurt.

“Stop fuckin’ staring.”

“I-I’m not. Not like that.” You say. “I’m assessing. You’re gonna need a butterfly bandage, on your nose- skin moves too much. And a cold compress for your jaw. Maybe some disinfectant on your lip. Probably should get your knuckles wrapped too and-”

“Jesus, I fuckin’ get it.”

You roll your eyes, ready to retort, but then the elevator dings. You walk out into the hallway, Bakugou trailing behind you like a shadow. It’s not until you’re at your door, twisting your key into the lock, that you pause.

You’re about to enter your apartment, with Bakugou of all people. A guy you’re not even sure can tolerate you. And yet you’re doing it- because he needs help. Because he looks like walking death and you’ve got a first aid kit under your bathroom sink. Because he’s pretty much proved himself to be an irredeemable asshole, but yet you still can’t bring yourself to leave him out in the cold.

Because you’re an empath, and that, by default, makes you an idiot.

You turn the key. Bakugou, to his credit, looks a little uneasy, but then you’re waving him through the door, and pushing it shut behind him.

“So, you wait here.” You gesture towards your couch, moving aside a few pillows to make him room to sit. “I’m gonna go get all that stuff I talked about.”

“So, what, you’re just like playing fuckin’ nice nurse again, now?”

“Bakugou. No attitude please- I am nice, okay? All the time. Or, at least when others are nice to me.” You say, levelling him with an unimpressed look. “And even if they’re not, I still don’t like seeing them hurt. Not if I can do something about it.”

“I don’t want your fuckin’ help.”

“No, but you need it. And since you’re too stubborn to ask for it, I’m just gonna have to force it on you.”

“Do you even fuckin’ hear yourself?” Bakugou prickles, voice rising. “Acting like a goddamn savior. Like you’re so fuckin’ good and holy. It’s bullshit.”

“It’s not.” You say flatly. Then you’re pivoting on your heels, leaving him behind and you grab the first aid kit. You open the bathroom door, calling over your shoulder. “And if you have such a problem with it, then leave. Nobody is keeping you here.”

You hear Bakugou swear again, so angry and seething that you almost believe he’ll take you up on your offer; but then you hear footsteps across the floor, the creaking of your couch.

You reach under your sink, pulling out the kit and a few extra rags for a compress. When you look in the mirror there’s exhaustion lacing your features, your eyes worn and dark with bags. The sight makes a part of you want to forget it all- makes you want to surrender to the ache in your bones and tell him to leave; but that’s just a small part. The larger part is telling you that you’re not spent until you’re unconscious, and that right now, Bakugou looks a whole lot worse than you feel. It’s telling you to hurry up and help him and you agree.

When you walk back out, supplies in hand, Bakugou’s slumped on your couch. He’s got his head tilted over the back, one hand resting on his stomach and the other thrown over his eyes. He shifts at the sound of your approach, dropping his hand and as blinks blearily. You think his eyes look a little duller than before- less like raging wildfire and more like smothered embers. If you didn’t know any better it would look like begruding acceptance- but this was Bakugou, and you knew better.

“So,” You start, setting all of your things down on the couch next to him. “You wanna go to sleep now? Or wait until after I fix up pretty much the entirety of your face?”

He looks at you unsurely, eyebrows creasing.

“Wait, actually- how are you planning to get home?” You continue, hands on your hips. “Where do you even live? Around here? Close? Because you were out in like, 10 minutes, maybe, the last time I touched you, so it’s gotta be close. You live close right? Because-”

“God, cool it with the fuckin’ word vomit. Shit’s annoying. Shut up.” He grumbles. “I’m sleeping here.”

“Who decided? You?”

“Yeah. Obviously.”

“Bakugou.” You balk, striding closer to the back of your couch. You lean over him, forcing him meet your eyes. “This is what I’m talking about! With the learning to play nice thing! I would’ve let you stay here, I would’ve, had you asked. You can’t just bulldoze your way into my house and refuse to leave!”

“Yeah? ‘n just what the fuck are you gonna do about it if I do?” He scoffs, curling his lip as he snarls. “Nothing. Because you’re so fuckin’ nice, right?”

“Don’t say it like that. It’s not a bad trait and I won’t have you insulting it. I’m not embarrassed of who I am.” You try to work through your frustration, centering yourself with a deep breath. “Look, bottom line is, ask next time. Or I’m not helping you until you do.”

“Fine. Whatever.”

You try to shrug off his petulant response, taking another calming breath as you shuck off your gloves. You replace them with latex ones from the kit, pulling the material over your fingers as you grab the antiseptic wipes. You decide to start around the cut on his nose. It’s the largest and widest, spanning over the entirety of his bridge and into his right cheek. It’s a nasty thing, deep and red, all exposed nerves beneath a thin scab and you can tell it hurts him. Bakugou fights to keep from wincing, eyes scrunching slightly as you wipe the remnants of dirt and oil from his skin.

“This from another villan?” You ask calmly, finding an easy peace in performing familiar tasks. “One today?”

“Cuts are from today. Bruises were yesterday.”

Blinking down at him, you’re a little surprised by how easy his answer was. You expected him to fight, to be difficult just because he could, but Bakugou wasn’t doing that. He was lying relatively and still and sated under your fingertips, the only sign of any tension are his minutely pinched eyebrows. Briefly, you check your gloves- for a moment there you were sure you’d accidentally touched him.

“Oh. Okay.” You reply, taking a small butterfly bandage from your kit. You press it over the cut with gentle pressure. “How’s the other guy look?”

“Fuckin’ terrible. Beat ‘em to hell.”

“I’m sure you did.” You snort, moving on to clean the cut on his lip. “Hey, you wanna know something?”

Bakugou peeks a red eye open, studying your face above him. He nods.

“I actually end up treating a lot of your victims, you know.”

“Criminals. Not victims.”

“Mhm. Sure. Well, either way, they’re always covered in burns. Mostly minor, but sometimes pretty nasty ones.” You try to keep your voice light, even and steady as you dab at his lip. “Honestly, at this point, I’m pretty sure you’re entirely responsible for the hospital’s chronic burn-cream shortage.”

Bakugou does seem to smile at that, exhaling through his nose as his eyes flutter briefly. “Wouldn’t be fuckin’ short if people just stopped tryin’ to pull stupid shit all the time. ‘s not my fault they’re so fuckin’ bad at running away.”

“Bakugou.” You balk, unable to keep the laugh from bubbling out your lips. “You can’t say that!’

“Why the fuck not? Hah? It’s true.”

“Because! You’re supposed to be playing nice, remember?”

“Yeah. To you.” He mumbles, voice rough and raspy. “Because you fuckin’ schemed your way into forcing me. They didn’t.”

“Okay- First, I’m like, pretty sure schemed and forced are the same thing, so we definitely don’t need to say them both. It’s just overkill. Second, that’s a borderline insult, so I’m gonna need you to watch your mouth. And third,” You cradle his jaw in your fingers, turning it to the side. “How the hell did you manage to get a bruise behind your ear?”

“I don’t know- probably the same way you somehow managed to become a nurse; even with such shitty fuckin’ bedside manner. You suck, leech.”

Your jaw drops.

“Bakugou!”

He cracks his eyes open, something small and pleased settling at the corner of his mouth. There’s almost as much venom in his voice as before but his eyes are softer now. They’re kinder, crinkling just slightly at the edges.

He’s joking. You realize. He doesn’t actually mean it. Not this time.

“You dick.” You reprimand, flicking his hairline lightly. “You absolute dick.”

His eyes just seem to grow a little brighter at that, just for a second, and then he’s shutting them again. There’s still a smirk on his face though- one you’d swear you’d slap off if he wasn’t actually being somewhat pleasant right now. For once in his life, it seemed.

“Alright,” You announce, rounding the couch quickly. “Your knuckles look just as bad so give ‘em.”

“No thanks.”

“It wasn’t really a suggestion.”

“I don’t need anymore of your pity help, leech.”

“It’s not pity. Not even a little bit.” You sigh. “Look, I know you’re not gonna understand this, but I seriously cannot chill the hell out without at least trying to take care of people. My quirk makes my fingers literally itch when I see injuries. They itch and they don’t stop itching until I do something about it. Helping people, healing people, is hard-wired into me- it’s as much something I do for me as it is something I do for others.”

Bakugou’s eyes widen at that. He sits a little straighter, fists clenching as he presses them into the cushions. A few beats pass and then he’s grumbling, throwing himself back as he thrusts both of his injured knuckles forward.

“God, you’re so fucking irritating.” He gripes. “If you’re gonna be such a weirdo about it, then get the hell to it already.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, instead kneeling next to your coffee table and settling on the ground. You take his hands in yours, bending all his fingers to make sure nothing is broken. When nothing is, you look up at Bakugou, planning to tell him the good news, but he’s already looking at you. Your eyes meet, and he blinks, once, twice, before averting his eyes quickly. You think that maybe he blushes too, but he turns his head so sharply you’re almost convinced you imagined it.

You just try to shrug it off, focusing your attention back on his hands. You notice how warm they are again, nearly feverish and strangely unblemished. When you start rubbing bruise cream over knuckles, kneading the joints between your fingers, Bakugou sighs slumps back into the couch. He closes his eyes once more.

“Are you falling asleep?”

“No. Can’t. Fuckin’ told ya already.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t tell me why.” You set his hands back on the couch, moving instead to unravel a bandage. “Not that I won’t help you, but have you tried any other remedies? Melatonin? Or lavender? Maybe chamomile? Any of those?”

“Mhm. Falling asleep isn’t the problem.”

“Then what is?”

He opens his eyes, squinting at you from above. “None of your fuckin’ business.”

“Bakugou, I’m trying to help here.”

“I don’t want-”

“Yeah. I know. You don’t want it. Or you don’t want to rely on it. I get it. But you wouldn’t have even came here if you didn’t absolutely need it, right?” You insist, grabbing his hands into yours again. “God, you know, I’ve had toddlers who were more cooperative than you. Why’re you so difficult?”

“I’m not fuckin’ difficult.”

“No. You’re difficult. Very difficult.”

“And you’re fuckin’ annoying. Do me a favor and go back to being nice.”

“Nope. Sorry. Pretty sure you didn’t like me then either.” You start wrapping the bandage around his knuckles, taking extra care to apply the right pressure. “And I was only nice to you because I was working, you know. I’m only actually nice to the people who deserve it.”

Bakugou rolls his eyes at that.

You finish wrapping the bandage, securing it into place with a bit of medical adhesive. All things considered, Bakugou looks better than before. Or at least, better than the death incarnate he’d been portraying himself as.

“All done.” You smile, turning away to start packing up your supplies.

“Finally. Took ya fuckin’ long enough.”

“God, you are literally devoid of manners, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. ‘s part of not bein’ an absolute bitch.”

You gawk, spinning around to face him. Bakugou’s relaxed into your couch, arms laid across the back leisurely as he smiles. There’s that same softness to his eyes from before, the crinkling just at the edges.

“Wow.” You scoff, smiling sarcastically. “You really think you’re so funny don’t you?”

“I do.”

“Well, I don’t.”

“Yeah. Because you’re fuckin’ brainless.”

“Brainless? Me? Swear to god, you only know, like, three words and all of them are probably swears!”

Bakugou just shrugs, looking abnormally pleased. Content even. You figure that’s probably right for someone like him- only happy when everyone around him is devolving into chaos.

“Actually, you know what, I think I’m done yelling for the night.” You say, shucking your gloves off. You wiggle your fingers at him, a smirk plastered across your face. “I think it’s time you’re euthanized, don’t you?”

Bakugou just blinks, minutely shrinking away from you.

“Because you said you wanted me to put you to sleep, right? To put you down. Like a dog.” You continue, nearing him, coming close even as his lip curls up. Bakugou is glaring fully now, fists clenched, and you stop just a few inches out of his reach. “Or, you know, in ruder terms- not a dog, but a bitch.”

Bakugou snarls, lunging at you as you duck away. He’s fast but you’re faster, vaulting behind your couch to create some distance. There’s fire in his eyes, blazing and hot in his irises, but it isn’t scary. If you look close enough, you’re almost sure it’s just warmth. That same rare amusement from earlier.

“You leech. Swear to fuck I’ll make you regret that. Say your goddamn prayers!”

“Touch me and you’ll fall asleep!” You tease. “Or I’ll use my quirk and see into your brain. So I guess it’s more of a ‘pick your poison’ for you, really.”

“It’ll be the same for you.” Bakugou growls, hands grasping the back of the couch as he leans in towards you. “Open casket or closed, it’s still gonna be your fuckin’ funeral.”

“Really?”

“Really. Leech.”

“No thanks.”

“What the fuck do you mean ‘no thanks’,” Bakugou mimics your voice, his features twisting. “I’m killing you. You’re dead. You don’t get a choice.”

“No, I really think I do.”

“And just what the fuck makes you so goddamn confident?”

“This. You not attacking me.” You smile easily, voice daring as you stare right back at him. “If you really wanted me dead, I’d be dead. Isn’t that right, Dynamite?”

The name sends Bakugou recoiling, shrinking backwards and scoffing in outright shock. You watch him stumble, legs hitting your coffee table and nearly causing him to fold. He recovers quickly though, albeit with his cheeks flushing wildly.

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Nah. Thanks for the offer though.” You smile brightly, before throwing your arms above your head and yawning widely. “As fun as that was, I’m pretty tired. You ready to fall asleep, yet?”

“Jesus fuck, yes. That’s the entire goddamn reason I’m even here. Idiot.”

“No name calling. You agreed.”

“I didn’t agree to shit.”

“You did.” You affirm. “Now, c’mon, like last time, hold your hand out.”

With surprisingly little dramatics or resistance, Bakugou listens. He thrusts one of his bandaged hands forward as he sits on the couch again. When you touch his fingers, you feel that faint warmth again. Like fire and embers coursing through your bloodstream. It’s uncomfortable, a relentless sensation that has you cringing. You briefly wonder what it would be like to always live with it. Like Bakugou seems to.

His eyes flutter shut just like last time, and you can see the way he staggers. It’s like the fight leaves him entirely, and then he’s falling boneless into the couch. You can hardly place a pillow onto the cushions before he’s driving his head into it.

“Jesus,” You mutter in disbelief. “How long has it been since you slept? You look dead.”

“Weeks.” Bakugou mumbles.

“Since the last time?”

“Mhm.”

If his words alone didn’t confirm the severity of his sleeplessness for you, his response time did. Bakugou answered quickly, without fight, like he’d been wanting to spill for the entire night. And, you suppose, maybe he did; or was trying to. In hindsight, you begin to realize a lot of his screaming could just as easily have read as cries for help- not that you’d ever tell him that. You’d probably have to prepare a will if you ever tried telling him that.

“You want a blanket?” You ask a little unsurely, not exactly confident in your approach to this entirely different Bakugou. “All you’re getting is the couch, but I could probably scrounge up a few blankets.”

Bakugou doesn’t respond. All you hear in response are tiny little snores and slow breathing.

You find it reminds you of the last time- the way you’re reaching into a cupboard and grabbing out a blanket for him. Except this time, it’s a little bit different. Somehow you’re settling the blanket over him with a little bit of genuine kindness instead of begrudging sympathy.

After all, you can’t help but feel a little bit of pity- no one would ever fall asleep that fast unless they really needed it. Especially not in a stranger’s house.

--/--

enjoy my lovelies :))

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dakotafoster · 4 years

Text

ᴅʀᴜɴᴋ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ

ραιяιиg : katsuki bakugou x g/n reader

ɢɛռʀɛ: fluff ♡ crack humor

աօʀɖ ƈօʊռȶ : 2.1k

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: a bit steamy

𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪 : When your boyfriend comes home intoxicated, he shows you a side of him that is reserved for only you. ✰

This will be my first one-shot on this blog, so please any constructive criticism will be really helpful! Hope you all enjoy. ッ

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

It was a chilly starry night. Japan from the balcony window had never looked so serene until now. The bright stars that dotted the dark velvet sky, giving the gloomy canvas a little bit of life--of light. It was somber yet luminous, they drew the lights of heaven and gave the citizens of below a meager taste of something so divine and sublime, a measly fragment of the beauty we long to see in ourselves and the world around it. It was magnificent.

A heavy knock interrupted your attention on the black before you, muffled whispers and giggles could be heard from the opposite side of the chestnut door. As you lifted yourself from the glass railing you took a brief gander at the clock sitting on the desk beside your TV. It read 2:43 a.m.

Wrapping a small nearby cardigan around your frame and rubbed your eyes of sleep before making a beeline toward the door, the muffled voices becoming clearer as your got closer.

“Dammit Bakugou, quit messing around and give me your keys!”

“Gotta find it in my ass first shitty hair!”

Swinging the door open your (e/c) optics landed upon a frustrated Kirishima who was wrestling a very drunk Bakugou for a silvery white ring of keys right outside your flat doorstep. Bakugou seemed to be having an absolute blast, giggling like a little school girl as he evaded Kirishima’s attempts to swipe the item from his grip, and Kiri was having none of it. They both seemed rather oblivious to your presence and persisted to look like complete idiots in the halls of the complex.

“Both of you stop it before you wake up the neighbors!”

Your harsh tone is what finally received their attention, gazing timidly at you with wide eyes frozen. In one last attempt to get a rise out of Kirishima, Bakugou swiped his palm brutally on the back of his friends head, his head flung forward rough smack and a grunt, mumbling something about Katsuki being a dick. You heaved out a sigh at the sight of your boyfriend, his face sheen with a thick layer of sweat and a radiant red flush adorned his cheeks and across his nose. His eyes still the blazing crimson you had come to adore so much puffy and irritated.

“Sorry ‘bout this (y/n)... I didn’t mean to wake ya but Bakugou has had too much to be alone right now, and I still have to take care of Kaminari so...”

Kirishima timidly began to caress the back of his spiky locks, giving you a sheepish grin and gave a quick glance at the blonde next to him who was struggling to keep himself from tumbling forward. Too exhausted to even argue, you simply waved Kirishima off and moved to grab hold of your intoxicated boyfriend. The strong aroma of what was seemingly Fireball mixed with rum made your nostrils flare in distaste, far from his usual caramel scent.

“It’s fine Kiri. Just get home safe ‘kay?”

“Yeah, have a goodnight (y/n)”

You slammed the door behind with a swing of your foot, you then proceeded to lead Katsuki into your bedroom with an arm wrapped around his bulky torso to keep him straight. He stumbled over his feet a couple times along the way there, leaning on you for support so he didn’t face plant or dive to the floorboards in any way. He was mumbling incoherently to himself, slumping against your shoulder which led to his breath brushing up against the side of your face and into your ear, the hot sensation produced a shiver down your spine. Katsuki interpreted this rather well, because he immediately attached himself to your neck and pressed soft, open-mouthed kissed to your soft spot. He knew exactly how to drive you crazy even if he couldn’t even fucking walk straight.

“I need you babygirl.”

“Not tonight ‘Suki, maybe tomorrow.”

Your eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of his searing hot lips against your pulse, his wet tongue slipping out everyone and then teasingly. You hummed softly and weakly cupped his scalding cheek to pull him from your nape, cursing whatever deity that made him so goddamn tempting.

“C’mon lets get you ready for bed hun.”

“Mmm... Babe...”

He groaned lowly as you sat him down at the foot of your bed, his large frame slouching over his knees. Crouching down you gripped his ankle and raised his seemingly massive leg into your lap, silently untying his shoes whilst feeling his vivid gaze burning holes into your skull. Placing his shoes to the side you began to fumble with his belt to get rid of his ebony jeans. Amid doing so, Katsuki had graced with a lazy smirk and casually reached his generous hands to your head, running his fingers through your (h/c) strands.

“Hell yeah, this is what I like to see baby.”

Fuck. The way the words fell from those lips made you utterly weak. Your face felt like it was on fire with how carnal his gaze was, you were sure you looked like a fish out of water with the shock and overwhelming arousment you were feeling. Nevertheless, it was short lived when Bakugou dropped onto the bed and burst into a fit of laughter and giggles just by your reaction. You couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle with a twitch of your brow, you gave a quick smack to his thigh and tiredly tugged at his jeans once he had calmed down. His endless taunting was never so apparent until now and frankly, it was debilitating and instigating all at once.

“Stay here. Please don’t try and get up, I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“Yeah.. Sure.”

He released a small giggle and his head rolled to his left shoulder, laying tired on his back upon your white duvet. You rose from your spot on the floor and exited the bedroom to get him a glass of water and some ibuprofen to somewhat relieve his hang over. You didnt think you’d return to find a very naked and very erect Katsuki laying splayed out across the bed, the remainder of his clothes discarded on the side of the bed and his arms crossed behind the back of his head, his sculpted six-pack presented to you in such a way it made you drool like a fucking dog.. And the same arrogant smirk he’d been adorning for entirety of his stay among your apartment, the same enticing glimmer in his optics.

“Oh my god Katsu! What the fuck?!”

You shrieked, averting your eyes to your feet and stumbled around to find his boxers or at least something to conceal his manhood. Bakugou cackled our in delight before he was met with his boxers on his face, picking up on a faint grumble and your feet stomping toward the nightstand next to him.

“Put on your damn boxers Bakugou! I’m too fuckin tired for this shit..” You hissed at your dopey, idiotic boyfriend as he just began to fumble with the garment and mishandle them up each leg, snickering throughout the whole process. “Okay okay... No need to yell. So much for trying to serve it to you like a Hot ‘n Ready Hotpocket.”

You’ve never laughed so hard in your damn laugh at that. He grinned at your shaking form, watching intently as you struggled to breath through each laugh and chuckle, snorts coming out every few seconds. God, you hated him and loved him simultaneously for doing this to you. You wanted to give in to his desire because Jesus the sex was with him was down right unbelievable. Man, did this hunk of a man know how to pleasure a woman and fuck was he exceptional at doing so. Although, at the same time you were tempted to knock his ass into sleep. Either way you couldn’t officially decide. After several moments you composed yourself, taking deep breaths as you made your way into your restroom. You managed to stifle a few chortles in the process of grabbing a rag and moistened it with lukewarm water from your sink, then returned thankful you hadn’t walked in on another naked Bakugou. Making your way around the king sized mattress you were pleased to find he had already taken the ibuprofen and the water both absent.

“Let me clean your face baby. It’s all sweaty and sticky.”

You mumbled out drowsily, sitting down beside Katsuki and tilting his chin up to face you and nimbly wipe his face clean. You looked up at him to make sure we wasn’t falling asleep and you froze, your heart erupted at the sight you were provided with. Katsuki’s face was free of his usual scowl, instead his eyebrows were relaxed, tilted upward and his lips in a small, soft smile. Those dazzling vermilion eyes staring into you, glistening with so much adoration and passion for you. You choked, mesmerized with how calm and serene he looked. The next words to tumble from his lips could’ve sent you melting onto the floor like wax.

“I am really really... Really in love with you (y/n).”

You believed every single word. You never even questioned it for a second in that moment. Really because you had no reason to discredit his love for you, he was a genuine man with a sharp and palpable tongue 24/7. You both were aware of that, and you didn’t complain. It was nice to have him so honest with you, and yes sometimes he wasn’t always nice with the way he expressed such honesty you had grown accustomed to it. Which is why you had been so shocked to see the brash and usually loud brute suddenly become so hushed and tender.

“I mean it princess. I love you so fuckin’ much. I know I don’t really show you how much I do like normal shitty couples, and i’m really fucking sorry for that but I love you with everything I got babe.. I know how much I can be a pain in the ass sometimes.. But.. I promise I’ll never stop lovin’ you, and I’ll show you every damn day just to fucking prove it. M’kay? Your fucking stuck with me until you’re too damn old to even try and fight me on it. I’m so happy I met you and I’m terrified at the same, ‘cause fuck babe I never knew I wanted love until now, until you. I never saw the fuckin’ point. So please jus.. Fuckin’ stay and be in love with me too.”

He refused to give you a chance to reply before he gingerly took your face into his hands and brought his lips to yours. The world fell away as you felt his soft, chapped lips against your own. The kiss with just as delicate as his words and touch, moving smoothly and overwhelming emotion. You immediately raised your hands to weave together behind his neck, pulling him in gently to deepen the kiss. In response to this, Katsuki rolled his tongue across your bottom lip in a silent request for an entrance. You whimpered, opening your mouth as his tongue began to explore your wet cavern, faintly tasting the alcoholic beverages from just hours before. His thumbs swiping tenderly across your cheekbones and your fingertips tangled themselves around his strong neck.

It wasn’t rushed or rough in any way, not like the many nights were he would intend on fucking you senseless, this is when he would truly let himself be vulnerable. Moments like these when he was so damn soft and loving toward you, and only you.

The kiss lasted for what felt like only a minute when in reality lasted 15 minutes. He left you seeking for more. Heaving for breath at the mere intensity of the make-out, resting his forehead against yours, noses brushing against each other gently. You both stayed like that for a moment, just basking in each other’s loving glow with stupid grins across your lips. You took your time taking in this hidden side of your boyfriend, loving each second of it while you still could before he would return to his sullen self. You reveled in every moment you lost yourself in his soft caress, were it was nobody but the two of you acting almost as one. In which you could feel close to him away from intercourse and instead with sensual kisses and grazes. Nonetheless, he was certainly the half that made you whole.

“I’m in love with you too Katsu’.”

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

Thank you so much for reading! Request are open, and feel free to leave feedback or ask any questions! ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔ

- 𝖑𝖎𝖟 ☾ ✩

𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙙 : (𝟔/𝟐𝟏/𝟐𝟎 - 𝟏:𝟓𝟓 𝐚.𝐦.)

#katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou fluff #mha x reader #bnha x reader #katsuki bakugou oneshot #bakugou x reader

635 notes · View notes

vulturhythm · 4 years

Text

the wolf den

this is literally so fucking horny i’m so sorry guys but hey jaskier/all witchers is sexy as fuck am i right @dinahdarling

- - - - -

jaskier is no stranger to combat... mostly in the sense that he has watched geralt fight countless beasts and fend off nearly as many angry bar brawlers or highwaymen. yes, it’s true that he was trained in sword-fighting when he bore the name of julian, but, well, that was years ago now, and surely he can’t be expected to remember all of those moves?

well, in geralt’s mind, he can, evidently.

when the witcher invited him to make the trek back to kaer morhen over the winter, jaskier hadn’t expected for said trek to be full of many, many self-defense lessons. not that he’s complaining - admittedly, there have been many times when it would have been nice to know some proper techniques when fending off angry lords, and, well... it is rather exhilarating, fighting geralt and letting him win.

letting.

obviously.

when they had arrived at the keep, nearly a full month ago, jaskier had thought geralt was merely teasing when he suggested eskel and lambert assist him in training the bard.

he guesses he should have known better.

- - -

jaskier has spent the last two hours of his life being beaten in combat in every feasible fucking way, and, quite honestly, he is tired of it.

he is tired of always being just a hair too slow for eskel as the scarred witcher lunges for him, knocking his dagger from his hand with a well-placed bow to the wrist.

he is tired of always being just too slow for lambert as the prickly bastard knocks him to the ground and pins him there, hands wrestled behind his back and wrists squeezed until his dagger falls.

“you’ve got to make use of your own skill,” geralt has said quite nearly a thousand times now, “you know you’re more agile than them,” and the them in question always snort and laugh at jaskier’s indignation.

it’s a game to them, nothing more.

they break for a few minutes at geralt’s insistence, and although jaskier insists he’s fine, really, he’s grateful for the respite.

he’s dripping in sweat, for one thing, but more than that, he is sore, and not in the good way.

it’s as he sinks straight to the floor, panting for air and wiping sweat from his brow, that he realizes lambert is watching him.

that in and of itself is nothing unusual, certainly, as the witcher has been observing his fights with eskel throughout the afternoon, but now... there’s something different in his eyes, something that takes jaskier too long to recognize simply due to how out of place it is here, now.

when realization finally strikes, he pauses, just as lambert cuts his eyes away and goes to trade his swords for a dagger much like jaskier’s own.

it’s lust.

not full-blown, not yet, but lust nonetheless, the kind born of prolonged exposure to something you can’t help but find appealing. he doubts lambert will act on it, particularly with geralt sitting on a stone bench nearby, watching them all like a hawk, but... there it is.

jaskier glances to his lover then, not at all surprised to find that geralt is watching lambert, golden eyes hard and wary. right, of course - geralt can probably smell it hanging off lambert’s skin. clearing his throat, jaskier waits until geralt’s gaze returns to him; the witcher cocks an expectant brow, and jaskier offers the slightest shake of his head.

don’t worry about it. he won’t do anything.

before he can gauge geralt’s reaction - a tired stare - eskel is rounding to stand in front of him again, bending low to catch his eye. “ready for another round?” he asks, grin sharp.

jaskier groans, but lets eskel pull him upright.

- - -

he has only just begun to fall into a rhythm of parrying eskel’s attacks and ducking and weaving to avoid the rest, and has only just begun to feel perhaps a little bit smug about it all, when, without warning, eskel spins away, and lambert’s dagger is at his throat.

jaskier stills immediately, holding his own blade where it’s plain to see. the youngest witcher has an arm braced around his upper chest, the edge of the dagger set to his skin. he breathes in once, then stops, eyes on eskel as the other witcher gives his sword a lazy twirl.

“never get complacent,” eskel is saying, the same sharp grin on his face once more. “you may think you’re fighting one-on-one, but you’d be surprised how often other people or monsters come out of the woodwork to get in on the fun.”

“lovely,” jaskier says, and his voice is a little strained, largely due to how out of breath he is, now that he’s allowing himself to acknowledge it. more than that, though, he’s gone tense, hyperaware of lambert pressed up flush against his back, of the way lambert has him drawn in close. “great, no... no complacency, got it, can we, ah - can we move on?”

against his ear, lambert snorts. the puff of air sends a tremor down his spine, and he breathes in sharp, feels lambert’s grip change. the witcher turns the flat of the dagger to press against his throat, and jaskier resists the very demeaning urge to whine, tipping his head back to avoid the pressure and finding all he’s done is lay back on lambert’s shoulder. “what do you think, eskel?”

eskel is watching them close, arms folded, sword once again sheathed. there’s a glint in his eye, one that makes jaskier tremble. “again,” he decides, and nods to geralt, off behind jaskier. “lambert, your go.”

lambert lets go of him with enough abruptness that jaskier stumbles on his feet.

fuck.

- - -

eskel fights with speed, twisting and slashing in a flurry of motion designed to catch his opponent off-guard - the type of movement jaskier is already beginning to favor.

lambert, however... lambert fights with strength. he makes up for his slight decrease in agility with powerful, debilitating blows that hurt like hell whenever they land - always the flat of the blade, always angled so it can’t truly harm, but goddamn, does it hurt.

jaskier thinks he’s catching on, though - thinks he’s learned that it’s best to fight brute force with nimble movements, thinks he’s figured out that copying eskel’s style is the best counter to lambert’s... and then, as he spins low beneath a sweeping blow, a blade slams into his lower back, and he falls forward, having the sense to drop his dagger before it spears his palm on impact.

there’s a heavy weight on his back within seconds, firm hands wrenching his own behind his back, one keeping them pinned while the other presses his head to the stone - not hard, not really, but firm. jaskier breathes in, recognizes geralt’s musk, goes still.

“yield,” his lover purrs, amusement plain in his tone. geralt shifts above him, and movement draws jaskier’s eyes upward. lambert is striding closer, only his boots visible. the second set of footsteps must be eskel, he realizes, approaching just out of sight.

jaskier says nothing. he closes his eyes, tries to calm his racing heart and heaving lungs... his aching groin, too, the thrill of being fought, bested, caught and pinned rushing south. knowing lambert wants him, imagining eskel does, too... having geralt above him, their hips almost aligned...

“jaskier,” geralt is saying, squeezing his wrists to draw him back to the present. he sucks in a breath, squirms beneath him, and, for a moment, geralt falters, but then his grip goes firm once more. “yield.”

“no,” he breathes then, and he can feel, just as much as hear, the moment geralt scents the air.

his witcher goes tense above him. “jaskier - “ he begins, voice rough and raw with disbelief and something more.

“no,” jaskier repeats, and this time, the way he draws away is entirely deliberate, straining for freedom in a way that has geralt’s thigh rubbing right up against his own. geralt’s grip tightens. “come on... come on, please, i want - “

“we’ll leave,” eskel says, sounding strained. there’s another edge to his voice, something that mirrors the tension in geralt’s own, and it makes jaskier tremble, fists clenching. “i didn’t think this would... happen, geralt - “

geralt cuts him off, his hand clenching tight in jaskier’s hair - no doubt to keep him still, but it serves only to make him whine. “neither did i.”

as his eyes fall shut, jaskier sees lambert shifting his weight, hears him clear his throat. “should we go?”

“no,” jaskier gasps then, and, fuck, he knows he sounds easy, he knows he sounds like a whore, but it’s difficult to care when he’s this high on adrenaline, this desperate for geralt’s cock, this eager for the other two to - fuck, to do what? to watch?

it’s as this thought crosses his mind that another spike of lust rushes through him, and, fuck, that’s it - he wants them to watch.

he fumbles out as much to geralt, tripping over his words, begging, “c - come on, geralt, let them - let them stay, please...”

“jaskier,” his witcher is saying, trying for firm and landing somewhere closer to disbelieving, but he’s not saying no, “we can’t do this out here, we - we shouldn’t - “

but jaskier cuts him off with a whine, rolling his hips into nothing, and, fuck, he’s already hard, already eager and ready and willing, and he knows he must smell like a fucking whore, so damn needy, but he can’t bring himself to care, not when geralt’s grip on his hands and head sends sparks of desire through his blood every time it tightens, not when he can hear eskel’s breath coming shorter, not when he can hear lambert shifting his weight in place.

geralt is quiet, his fingers flexing where they hold jaskier down, but do little to keep him still. he’s quiet, and jaskier takes that as maybe, not no, and jaskier arches and twists and moans, shifting in place as best he can manage to let his legs splay, open for geralt now. “please,” he repeats again, and then, “i s - saw them looking, they want me, geralt, you know they do, c’mon...”

his witcher curses; above him, eskel is already scrambling to explain, saying, “we wouldn’t ever do anything, you know that, it’s just - he’s so - “

“i know,” geralt grouses, and eskel knows when to shut up. “i know.” another beat of silence, another rough inhale, and then, at last, geralt readjusts his grip, holds jaskier more firmly by the hands so he can let go of his head. jaskier sucks in a nervous breath, holds it, releases it all at once when geralt gets to work on pulling his pants down past the swell of his ass. “watch if you want,” he mutters, “but don’t touch.”

“thank you,” jaskier is gasping, opening his eyes to crane and watch as the other two draw back a step; lambert is the first to settle, sinking slowly to the floor a few feet away, eyes on where geralt’s fumbling with jaskier’s underclothes. as eskel hesitantly kneels, their eyes meet; the witcher goes red, and jaskier purrs out another weak moan of thanks before he drops his head, brow to the floor, lips already parted as he heaves for air.

geralt is usually a kind lover, even his roughest nights full of murmured praise and reassurance; jaskier knows better than to think he’ll get anything of the sort now, not when he got here by pushing every button available, not when he got turned on by the most innocent fucking thing. all things considered, jaskier isn’t surprised in the slightest by the force with which geralt presses two fingers into him, dry and without warning. he knows geralt wouldn’t dare try it if they hadn’t had a bit of fun the night before, and even still, the pain has him gasping, arching away.

geralt holds him firm, leaning down to growl at his ear, “you’re sorely mistaken if you think this to be for anybody’s benefit but your own.”

“you say that,” jaskier breathes, laughter in his tone as he does his best to rock back onto the fingers buried inside him, “and yet you’re just as hard as me, geralt, you truly think i can’t feel it?” for the fact is that he can; geralt’s cock is a hard, hot line within the confines of his pants, pressed against the back of jaskier’s thigh where geralt has shifted to straddle it, keeping him pinned. “y - you can’t lie, a - ah...”

geralt’s fingers are twisting within him, crooking upward to rub cruelly over the bundle of nerves inside his heat as the witcher adds a third; white-hot pleasure flares up his spine, and jaskier bucks into the feeling, moaning aloud. he meets eskel’s gaze when he lets his head drop once more, turned sideways now so he can watch them watching him. the scarred witcher is frozen in place, but as jaskier holds his gaze, he moves at last, one hand pressing its way between his closed thighs. jaskier shudders at the implications, closing his eyes.

“i’ll fuck you once,” geralt is muttering, as if that’s meant to be a threat or deterrent, “and then that’s it. i’ll take you to bed, treat you properly there... let them have their show for now, but tonight, you’ll pay for this little stunt in full...”

jaskier gives a weak and ragged laugh, one that devolves into a moan when geralt spreads his fingers wide, twists them, pulls them away. “i expect to,” is all he manages to say, halfway distracted by the sound of geralt tugging his own pants out of the way, before he’s choking off into a little cry, fists clenching tight at his back as he feels the head of geralt’s cock press to his hole. fuck, it’ll hurt, he knows it will - geralt’s big enough that he’s hard to take even with proper prep - but he’ll be damned if he lets that stop him.

“are you sure he can - “ comes a voice, no, lambert’s voice, just to the side. jaskier trembles when he hears the blatant desire in the witcher’s tone, forces his eyes back open to glance over. a little whine escapes him when he sees that lambert is already fisting his cock, slow and nearly lazy, pants undone enough to take it out; his mouth fucking waters at the sight of precum beading at the head.

geralt’s answering laugh is nearly a snarl as he rocks his hips forward; jaskier moans aloud, eyes on lambert’s cock as geralt’s own sinks deep into his aching, empty heat. “he’s begged for it dry before,” he rasps, and jaskier can’t tell if he’s irritated or aroused, decides it’s both, decides he really doesn’t fucking care when he hears eskel’s voice break on a little gasp, a softer groan. “begged for it over and over...”

another sound from eskel drags jaskier’s blurry gaze back to him; the witcher is palming himself through his trousers, thighs still pressed tight, lips parted for breath. jaskier gives a high and reedy whine, squirms beneath geralt’s weight as his witcher draws back out, only to thrust in deep, setting a pace that’s just as cruel and brutal as it is slow. “most people can’t just take us like that,” eskel is murmuring, sounding so damn disbelieving that jaskier can’t help but be proud. “gods, geralt, how fucking often have you done this?”

geralt spits out a laugh, his hand coming back to tangle in jaskier’s hair; the bard moans out as his head is pulled up and back, as geralt thrusts in deep enough that he swears he can feel his cock in his fucking throat. “he’d take me every night if i’d let him,” geralt replies, and he still sounds agitated, still sounds like he’d rather not be doing this, but there’s something else in his voice, something almost like possessiveness, almost like pride. “he’d beg for me to fuck him senseless, wake up and do it all again...”

“look at him,” lambert breathes; with his head pulled back, jaskier struggles to cut his eyes to the side, his mouth hanging open as he gasps for air. lambert’s cock is big, not quite as thick or long as geralt’s, but big enough that he can’t help but whine at the thought of swallowing it down, of letting the witcher fuck his throat while geralt takes him from behind. “where’d you find yourself such a pretty little whore...?”

those words have jaskier shaking, an answering moan falling from parted lips as geralt thrusts in deep. his cock is aching, trapped between his squirming hips and the floor; the only friction he’s allowed is from the movement of geralt’s hips, fucking him into the cold stone hard enough that he’s seeing stars. “he found me,” geralt is correcting, though jaskier barely hears, “would have let me fuck him that first day, if i’d offered.”

jaskier gives a keening little noise in response, whimpers aloud when he glances back to eskel and sees that the scarred witcher has let his legs fall, has taken to stroking his cock through his half-open trousers as he watches geralt fuck jaskier into the stone. “bet his mouth is like heaven,” eskel is murmuring; he seems not to even remember that jaskier has eyes, his own fixated on jaskier’s open lips and eager tongue. at the thought, jaskier jerks and whines, strains against geralt’s grip on his hair, opens his mouth wider as if to beg for splashes of cum that will never arrive. “gods, geralt, let me - come on - “

“no,” geralt snarls, and it’s so forceful, so territorial that jaskier can’t help but moan, arching back into the next thrust because he knows he’s being mounted by a beast. “i said don’t touch.”

off to the side, lambert is panting now, working his cock faster to match the pace geralt has set. when geralt lets go of jaskier’s hair, lets him slump back to the ground and gasp into the stone, jaskier looks over again, holds the witcher’s gaze - watches with hooded eyes and parted lips as lambert’s fingers tease over the head once more. precum strings between his cock and fingertips when he sets back to work, and jaskier’s mouth is fucking watering at the sight, at the thought of swallowing him down...

he’s so lost in his fantasies that he doesn’t realize geralt’s adjusting him until, suddenly, he’s kneeling, ass up high, head to the floor, straining arms still pinned at his back. positioned like this, geralt can mount him properly, can pull out almost entirely and thrust back in with enough force to have jaskier sobbing his name. it hurts, it fucking burns, he should have never begged for this, and yet - and yet -

geralt is fisting his cock with his free hand now, giving him a tight sleeve to fuck into, and as he ruts mindlessly into the circle of his hand, he notices geralt’s skin is going slick. he’s that fucking wet, he realizes, cock weeping enough precum to lube his witcher’s hand. jaskier chokes out a cry as the head of geralt’s cock drives into his prostate, merciless strokes making him shake beneath the pressure. he can do little more than squirm and writhe, than fuck back onto his wolf’s cock and forward into his fist, than ride the high, and, fuck, already he’s close, and -

“let me clean him when you’re done,” lambert is saying, “come on, look at him, he’s so wet, let me - “

geralt simply snarls, and jaskier arches into him with a keening moan when his witcher leans down, sharp teeth sinking into the curve of his throat, just above his collar. he feels his wolf rock in deep, feels his cock jerk as he spills inside him - sobs for the feeling of geralt’s seed. he hears eskel break next, hears it in the way the witcher tries to stifle a groan, smells it in the air as he spills into his own hand.

geralt is spent, and jaskier is not - jaskier is not, and as he cranes his head to the side, he holds lambert’s gaze, whines for the way lambert’s jacking off to mirror geralt now, for the way geralt’s fingers twist and tug, the way lambert’s do the same. he breaks mere seconds later, thrusting into the tightness of geralt’s fist and moaning aloud as his orgasm finally crests. his eyes drop shut, every sense overwhelmed, but he doesn’t miss the way lambert spills simultaneously, coming into his fist as jaskier does the same.

only when jaskier begins to tremble and whine does geralt let him go, and even then, there’s cum-wet fingers pressing to his lips seconds later. eyes shut and world all hazy, jaskier merely groans, licking his spend off of geralt’s hand in a slow and lazy fashion. “good,” geralt murmurs at last, and jaskier winces when his wolf pulls out. he lays still there, hands at his back and ass in the air, only relaxing to the side with geralt’s guidance. there’s hands smoothing over his flanks and thighs, parting his legs so two fingers can push the leaking cum back inside his hole, but he lacks the strength to react.

“leave now,” comes geralt’s voice, seconds or minutes or hours later; jaskier doesn’t know. he’s aware of little more than the pleasant warmth of cum inside him, of geralt’s fingers still smoothing over his hole to keep it all in. as eskel and lambert stand, as their footsteps slowly retreat, jaskier lets himself sink, purrs out a breathy moan in response to the fingers that press inside him once more.

he knows he won’t rest.

he knows he doesn’t deserve to.

#jaskier/all witchers #jaskier x all witchers #geraskier #gerlion #geralt x jaskier #geralt x dandelion #jaskier x eskel #jaskier x lambert #my fics

539 notes · View notes

cherry-gemz · 4 years

Text

Healing Hands: Chapter One

Summary: You find yourself abroad in London as the Chief of Pediatrics. Everything has been running smoothly until you are faced with an undiagnosed case and the doctor assigned is anything but willing to face defeat. Will you be able treat the child's unknown disease in time, along while facing uncharted waters with love in the workplace?

Parings: Henry Cavill {Dr. Cavill} x Y/N {F!Reader}

Rating: Overall series 18+ only, Chapter is PG

Word count: 2200 +/-

Tags: @evansamericanass @meowpurrbooks @lilithpaijiee @pterodactylterrace

A/N: Trying something new at writing Henry fanfic. IDK if it’s any good, but either way wanted to start writing. LMK if you're interested, comments and tags welcomed! 💜

P.S. I am no means in any medical field or sorts, so if I get something incorrect on a term or process, bear with me xo.

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

You knew that it was a gamble moving to the UK for the Chief of Pediatrics position. But it was time for a change. You needed to leave Eugene, Oregon. Start fresh. There was too much pain there and you had to get away. So when your cousin, who was a nurse from Brighton informed you that there was a need at her hospital for the highly-visible role, you thought why the hell not? You'd score a free round-trip to England of anything and actually see some family you've never met if it didn't pan out.

Little did you know that you'd fall in love with London: the weather, the people, the imagery of it all. Oregon weather wasn't all too different, so you acclimated well. It had been a few months of you settling in: understanding more of the language barriers despite it still being English. Knackered, cuppa, trollied.

That is until you had a run in with the division chief of Pediatrics, Dr. Cavill. The staff adored the renowned and painstakingly handsome doctor. And while you could appreciate the view as well, you never were on the same page with his ideals. His defiant behavior of undermining your direction of the unit was becoming a thorn in your side.

But this time, this time you'd had enough. He mentioned to a patient's parents, while with the speciality case, the hospital could take on their son's situation as priority and receive around the clock care. You threw down the patient's file on your desk and pinched the bridge of your nose. It was a lost cause, you had looked into the patient ever since you started the role.

The child seemed perfectly healthy and lab tests may show no signs of illness. But the chronic pain and fatigue were unexplainable. You empathized, but the poor child has undergone so many tests that at this point it was about providing facts to the parents. And right now, there was no cause of alarm. You weren’t a Dr. House, this wasn’t television. You didn't have the staff to dive into any research or clinical studies. You had a hospital to run, employees to pay, other lives needed saving.

You picked up the phone to the case nurse on the pediatric floor.

"Hello? Yes, this is Dr. Y/LN. Can you please remind Dr. Cavill of our 5pm? He's late. Thank you."

Slowly hanging up on the phone, you turn back to the patient's file. The boy, Jon Foulger, was just shy of his ninth birthday. No positive results for Lupus or Guillain-Barré syndrome. But This case had been bothering you, poor Jon had been in the hospital for three months and still no progress on a diagnosis. While you were never known to give up on a patient, you knew giving false hope to the parents was detrimental not only to the family, but to the same of the hospital's integrity. You were in a high esteemed role now, you knew that you had to discuss further with Henry on his actions.

Twenty more minutes passed by and you checked your watch. Fuming, you stood up from your desk and headed down to the pediatric floor by the lift.

As you briskly walk down the hall corridors you can't wait to give Cavill a piece of your mind. You turn the corner and ram right into a brick wall, or so you thought. Your hands instinctively pick up and see placed on the doctor's firm chest. You immediately flush and lose composure.

You knew he was a good-looking man, but this up close and personal was a whole other level. His dark hair and curls were fluffy and good enough to touch. His piercing steel blue eyes looked at yours and made immediate contact. His bone structure made the Michaelangelo's David blush.

"My apologies, Dr. Y/LN. Didn't see you there," his voice was like butter.

You straightened out your white coat, "Ahem, yes. Well I seemed to have been lost in thought. My apologies as well."

"You wanted to see me?"

"Yes, almost an hour ago…" you shifted your weight to stand a bit taller. He towered over you with his muscular frame and height.

"Patient...Jon Foulger. We must discuss the repercussions of your current actions."

"Jon-Jon," he replied stoic.

"Excuse me?"

"He likes to be called Jon-Jon."

"Well yes, let's go to my office and discuss further, please Dr. Cavill."

"As you wish," he replied and pivoted his heel to the nearby lift.

The rise up to the 12th floor was a quiet one, awkward overall as you knew you had to give a coaching and hated the notion. You missed practicing medicine; while you enjoyed the administration of your position, the thrill of helping others and using your hands were erased with cases of employee performance reviews, reports, budgets.

He coughed into his fist and then held his strong hands in place in a clasp.

He finally broke the silence, "Enjoying London?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Have you had any time to take a holiday?"

"Um, no. Been too busy."

"It might do you some good," he replies as he looks to check his watch.

You huff, "Somewhere you need to be, Doctor?"

"No, just checking the time."

His arrogance irritated you and now you weren't feeling as badly to give him his coaching.

The lift opened as you arrived at the floor and he held out the door for you to exit first. You nod and walk to your office, your kitten heels clicked on the hospital's linoleum floor and the sound echoed through your ears.

As you both enter your office you stride quickly to your desk to assume dominance of the room.

Henry stood near the doorway, admiring your photos and certificates on the wall.

"I knew you were American, but Stanford Medical? Interesting, thought you were from Oregon. When will you be returning?" You can't read him if that was a compliment or sarcasm.

"Dr. Cavill, would you be so kind to shut the door," you state firmly and sit down, ignoring his comment about your return to the states.

His brow peaks and he nods, turning to close the door.

"Please, have a seat," you say.

"I'd rather stand, thank you," he replies and you know this is going to be a difficult conversation.

"Well this will only take a moment then. Your recent behavior with the Foulger family, while I commend you for your dedication, has been slight askew with the hospital's protocols."

"Is that so?" His voice dropped and his brow arched. "In what way, Dr. Y/LN?"

You cough as the drawl of his mouth turns upward and you can swear there's a smug smirk across his face.

"Well...for one...you've promised around the care of the child. Now simply put, we've exhausted all efforts for a diagnosis and until Jon...Jon-Jon…shows any new symptoms, we are at liberty to provide him comfort care for the remainder of the evening, but he will need to be discharged in the morning. We've exhausted him enough with MRIs, blood tests. I'm at a rock in a hard place, Dr. Cavill."

"The rock or the hard place where you give up on a child's well-being simply because you haven't thought to see him as a person? Rather as a number on your statistical analysis of how functioning this hospital is?"

His eyes pierce through you and make your knees grow weak. The nurse staff usually talks about him being a cuddly bear, always making the children laugh and smile. But this man before you, why he's no cuddly bear. He was a beast of a man. A grizzly in fact.

"Now see here, I will let you know that this case is very important to me. All the children are. But what you fail to see is that for whatever reason you've gravitated to this particular case, you're chasing something that doesn't exist."

His broad shoulders and strong neck tense at your words. He blinks methodically, as if he's scoping out his prey. No, don't let his charm and rugged good looks distract you. This is a man who is used to getting what he wants and you are a woman who knows perfectly what to do with that.

"And I believe you're blind, Doctor."

"Excuse me?" Your voice was shrill and short. "This is borderline insubordination. I'd be careful with your next words, Cavill."

"Pardon my frankness, Dr. Y/LN, but I've been here longer and know these patients in and out," his voice raised and you could see the hint of a vein showing on his thick neck. "Some of the children come from very poor and debilitating environments. We can't just cast them off once a diagnosis doesn't stick simply because we need the bed or we're done trying!"

"DR. CAVILL," you exclaim and let out an exasperated sigh. His demeanor changed and his upper lip curved slightly.

“Dr. Y/LN. With all due respect, I think you’re making the wrong judgement call here. Things are not adding up with Jon-Jon, if we just give it a few more days...I feel like we’re making progress and I’ve labored enough research into it-”

"Again, while I appreciate your passion...”

“Passion which you need to show for the patient-”

You raise your hand to silence him, “This is not up to you, Dr. Cavill. As Chief of Pediatrics, this is my call. We will discharge Jon tomorrow if he does not show any new symptoms. If you disobey any further protocols, I will have no other choice but resort to disciplinary action. Do I make myself clear, Doctor?"

You press your hands on your desk and lean inward, portraying your stance.

"Perfectly," he responded.

"And another thing, I -" you start, but he turns and abruptly walks out of your office, leaving your door open.

The nerve! Did he really just do that? Where does he think he's going? Didn't I just tell him I'd resort to disciplinary action?!

You rush out of your office and you see him striding through the hall. His strong posture, shoulders back eluded to years of boarding school perhaps or military. You noticed his fists were clenched and it gave you slight satisfaction that you chipped away ever so slightly at his ego.

It was going to take a lot more than that to send you packing, you thought.

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

The next day came and went. You had confirmed that Jon-Jon was discharged with the floor nurse and while you were relieved to have handled that quite professionally, you knew it did not bear well with the rest of the staff.

You were still getting your feet wet and learning more about your team. It was solid overall, many years of expertise collectively, but they treated you like the outsider you were. No requests to meet for lunch or drinks after work. No camaraderie birthday cards seeking your signature or date night advice. Just the normal days in and out, pulling many late nights in your office, up to the point of exhaustion. You'd collapse in your double bed after work, stare at the ceiling of the small room you rented from your cousin, Laura, and try to drown out all the bustle of seven people in the same 3 bedroom flat.

Just like any other day, You sat alone during lunch. But that never really was ever a bother being used to it now. You were excited about an audiobook you were meaning to dive into and right when you were about to use your airpods, that's when you noticed him enter the cafeteria.

His presteen, crisp white lab coat was tight around his build. You could tell he took fitness seriously and wondered what he was hiding underneath it all. You unknowingly licked your lips as you watched him search for a fruit out of the bowl off the commons counter. Curious to know what he fancied: was he into a sweet apple or something more tart like cherries.

He picked up a peach and squeezed it with his massive hand, making it look quite comical considering his size. His eyes met yours and you quickly looked away, trying to now draw any attention to yourself. You fumbled with your phone as you connected to the audiobook and heart his footsteps approached your empty table.

"Good afternoon," he said. His voice was deep, smooth, and inviting. Not at all like the day before in your office.

You play coy and don't bother to look up, fidgeting with your sandwich.

"Hello," you reply distantly. He made you nervous. Would he bring up yesterday's conversation? Will he continue to look that delectable each day?

He smirked and took a bite of the fuzzy peach. There was a slight crunch as he dug his pearly whites into the rounded fruit. The velvet and thin layer of skin eased off and entered his mouth; he chewed slightly and let the piece swirl around with his thick tongue.

You peered to look at him and his stare hadn't relented. He took another bite. This time the luscious juice slips out of the white-yellow fleshed fruit and down slightly on his chin. Oh, to be that piece of fruit and have him ravish you that way. How he’d expertly use his hands over you and taste you with those lips.

He can tell you're still distant, however he notices you're unable to tear your eyes away from him.

He walks over, closer to you now, and you can smell his cologne: a woody aromatic scent tied with a hint of suede. It's downright delicious and with the mix of the peach, your senses are in overdrive.

What is it with this man and his ability to excite and anger you all at once? You not only want to put him into his place, you want to do so right here on the cafeteria table and have your way with him.

"Lovely day, isn't it?" He smiles devilishly and places the half eaten fruit on the table next to your phone and walks away.

Your cringe and use all your might to not look back at him. He's going to make this very hard for you, very hard indeed.

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill fics #romance #london #Healing Hands #enemies to lovers #doctor romantic

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thefeelswhale · 3 years

Text

The Nervous Energy in Everything - Part 4

Author’s Note: TW for narcissist parent.

It was the most magical moment of his entire life so of course Hitoshi’s dad had to barge into it.

“Why don’t you show Hitoshi your room?” He said to Izuku who jumped guiltily at the reminder that other people were in the room.

“Oh! Um.” Izuku turned bright red and some of Hitoshi’s instant and embarrassed irritation with his father must have leaked through their connection because he gave Hitoshi a concerned look before tugging him away. It was clear to everyone involved -except his father who didn’t question it when he got his way- that Izuku wasn’t obeying an adult so much as he was getting Hitoshi away from his dad. “Here, it’s this way.”

Izuku’s room was little and would have been plain except for all the All Might posters.

“Wow.” Hitoshi turned a slow circle. They were still touching, but switched to holding hands. To his surprise they were still getting a little bit of transmission, but not to the degree they’d gotten from touching their marks.

“Ah, haha.” Izuku rubbed the back of his head. “I’m a little bit of a fanboy.”

Hitoshi had a strong recollection just then of when he was twelve and still had his bedroom walls plastered in band pictures. They’d been torn down after he turned thirteen and got into a fight with his dad. Hitoshi didn’t remember what it was about, but he remembered what came after. It was one of the few times his uncles had been forced to intervene. Uncle Shouta had appeared in the doorway with a kind of stillness about him that Hitoshi never wanted to see again, took in the wreckage of the bedroom, and quietly said “I want a word” while maintaining eye contact with Hitoshi’s father.

Hitoshi never found out what they talked about, but his dad never set foot in his room again. They didn’t even make eye contact for a week afterwards. His dad had offered to replace the posters a couple of times, but Hitoshi hadn’t trusted him not to do it again the next time he got mad so his walls had been bare for the past two years.

“It’s good.” He said, unable to convey his weird gratitude that his soulmate was allowed to like what he liked at home.

Izuku cupped his own cheek with his free hand and Hitoshi was enveloped in something that felt like a hug from the inside out.

“Woah.” Hitoshi wobbled on his feet and landed on the bed, hard on his butt. “You’re going to have to show me how to do that.” It felt amazing. “I had to sit out of bond management class in grade school.”

“It’s not hard.” Izuku sat next to him. “I’ll teach you whatever you want.” He promised. “I don’t have a lot of practice though. Ka… my old soulmate. He wore a cover all of the time.” He rubbed his wrist like it was an old aching wound.

No guesses about where his first mark used to be. The skin was a little paler there when Hitoshi caught a glimpse of it.

His heart sank a little bit at the reminder that he wasn’t Izuku’s first. It didn’t matter, he reminded himself, because he was going to be the only one from here on out and anyway who in their right mind wore covers? Izuku’s old soulmate sounded like an asshole.

Hitoshi had had his soulmark for less than a day and it was amazing. He never wanted it sealed off. If the material of his shirt wasn’t thin enough to transmit bond contact he’d be shirtless at that very moment. Maybe it just went to show that any level of privilege could be taken for granted if you were born to it.

“What happened to him?” Hitoshi asked, but Izuku shook his head.

“Nothing. He’s fine.” There was a rich and terrible vein of unanswered questions in that statement. Hitoshi had no idea where, if anywhere, to start. “We just broke.” Izuku looked down and started to fidget with his hands. “You don’t have to be jealous.” He turned his face away. “I’m the one who gave up.”

Interestingly, Hitoshi realized he could tell when Izuku was telling the truth and when he was lying. That hadn’t exactly been a lie. Izuku didn’t really believe he’d been the one to break his old soulbond, but he didn’t have any better answers either.

Hitoshi remembered the feeling that had crossed over to him when his soulmark came in; the grief, the disbelief, the… he didn’t really have a word for it. It had been like falling in love, but in reverse. ‘Giving up’ was one way to describe it, but to feel like that and then be able to truthfully say the other person was ‘fine’? He couldn’t believe it had been so simple.

“Hey.” Hitoshi had no idea what he was doing except that he didn’t like the idea that his soulmate’s first instinct was to not touch him. He caught Izuku’s wrist and gently tugged him closer. “C’mere.”

Izuku hugged like he’d heard of the concept or maybe seen it on TV once, but had rarely put it into practice himself. He was reluctant and awkward at first, but sank into Hitoshi’s side with enthusiasm as soon as he’d figured out where his arms went.

He’d meant to keep the conversation going -to learn everything about his soulmate that he’d missed before they found each other- except he didn’t have a lot of experience with this kind of hugging either. He got plenty of affection from his uncles and his mom whenever she could slip it in past her quirk; turns out it was very different when the person you were hugging was both a cute boy and your soulmate. His brain shut down and it was kind of like being affected by his mom’s quirk, except way nicer and he was aware of everything going on.

Someone tapped at the door and Izuku sat up to say, “Yes?”

When the door opened Hitoshi was aware just long enough to recognize his mom’s pinched and unhappy expression before everything whited out.

He came back to himself alone in the room with an unhappy, anxious Izuku.

“You’re back.” Izuku cupped his face and titled Hitoshi’s face this way and that; checking his pupils, Hitoshi realized. When his mom quirked someone their eyes went totally white.

“I… what happened?” He looked around. “Where did my mom go?”

“She left.” Izuku wet his lips. “I don’t know what happened. She wouldn’t talk to me.”

“No, she wouldn’t.” Hitoshi shook his head to clear it. He felt weird. Usually his mom’s quirk felt like the first few seconds of waking up from an amazing nap. This time it was… not like that. “Her quirk activates whenever she pays attention to someone.”

It was an amazing villain’s quirk if you were inclined that way, but super debilitating if you were an ordinary nice person. There were lingering side effects too if she accidentally used it on someone too many times. Hitoshi was immune to that part. He already loved his mom as much as he could, but strangers got weird obsessions with her. As a result she didn’t get out much and was totally reliant on her husband, who was also immune to her quirk by dint of being her soulmate.

“Oh yeah? Is it eye contact or just any amount of…” Izuku clapped a hand over his mouth. “Not the time.” He muttered and refocused on Hitoshi. “She hugged you really tight. Then she left. Maybe…” He gave the bedroom door an uncomfortable look. “...maybe we should check?”

Hitoshi was starting to get a bad feeling too. His dad had been trying to get rid of him earlier. That wasn’t a good sign, but he’d been too blissed out by meeting his soulmate to pay attention. His mom couldn’t intervene whenever he started acting up without making it worse. She was stuck as a bystander.

“Yeah.” He grabbed Izuku’s hand. “Just for a minute.”

Only, his parents were gone by the time they went into the living room. A little round lady with Izuku’s features, softened by age and gentleness, looked up from where she was locking the door.

“Oh, there are my boys.” She went over to pat their cheeks. “What an exciting day! How do you feel about something special for dinner? Do you like pork, Hitoshi-kun? We like katsudon for celebrations here, but I’ve got a full fridge. We can probably make anything you like.”

“Am… am I staying for dinner?” Hitoshi asked with a sinking stomach. He was pretty sure he knew what had just happened.

“Well, your father mentioned how much you’d like living with your soulmate.” She chuckled. Yup. She’d been Persuaded. “I just knew Izuku would love having you around too so I offered to let you live here.”

That… person had hustled him out of the room so there was no one around to stop him from manipulating Izuku’s mother into taking Hitoshi off his hands. His dad’s quirk, Persuasion, was incredibly difficult to protect someone against. The only way to stop him was to know about his quirk in advance. Usually Hitoshi knew to interfere before it was a problem --just, not today.

For whatever reason, Hitoshi’s dad had never liked him and made no bones about the fact that Hitoshi needed to have a new living situation lined up as soon as he turned eighteen. He was jovial most of the time and seemed to be kind of aware that he wasn’t acting right. Sometimes he’d try to make half-hearted overtures or make up for whatever awful thing he’d done or said recently. He wasn’t violent --much. He hadn’t ever hit Hitoshi, but he would break stuff or call him names or misrepresent him to people; making Hitoshi seem stupider or more trouble than he was in reality.

Hitoshi knew the root of the problem was his mom although he could never blame her for it. She was the one who’d wanted a kid and his dad, for all his other faults, would move heaven and earth to get her anything she asked for. It just turned out that sharing her attention was the one thing he absolutely could not do or fake.

“Ma’am. I’m really sorry.” He gulped, realizing he didn’t know her name yet. “My dad used his quirk on you. It’s called Persuasion. He can talk anybody into agreeing with him or into doing something to make him happy.”

“I… what?” Izuku’s mom blinked slowly; the artificial happy buzz leftover from giving in to Persuasion was fading. Sometimes telling a person about his dad’s quirk right after helped them shake it off. It looked like this was one of those times. “I… I may need to sit down.”

“Mom, over here.” Izuku seemed to know what to do when she wobbled on her feet. “Hitoshi, there’s a little bottle in the end table over there. Could you grab it?”

The bottle contained honest-to-god smelling salts when Hitoshi got it. Izuku accepted it and cracked it open under his mom’s nose. The smell was ghastly, but startled her into clarity. She blinked hard and patted Izuku on the shoulder.

“Thank you, dear.” She patted her cheeks to settled herself. “Did…” She looked at Hitoshi and something in his expression made her pivot from upset to concern. “...honey, are you okay?”

His dad had just ditched him with strangers. That hug from his mom had been goodbye and he wasn’t even awake for it. No, he was not okay.

“I can call my uncles.” Hitoshi swallowed on a hard, sore lump in his throat. “You don’t have to worry.”

“I’ll let that pass because we don’t know each other that well yet.” She got up and patted his cheeks with both hands. He had to bend over so she could do it, she was that tiny. “I’m going to worry. Ask Izuku. I worry about everything and this is definitely worth worrying about. Call your uncles please. Then we can discuss the situation.”

“It might be a bit before they can come get me.” Hitoshi apologized. “They’d have been here, but they had to work.”

“That’s fine, dear. You can have dinner here and we’ll work everything else out as it comes.” She glanced at her son. “Izuku, don’t forget to make that other call.”

Izuku’s shoulders turtled up. “I won’t, mom.”

They had to split up to make their phone calls. Izuku seemed no more enthusiastic about makin his than Hitoshi was to call Mic’s station office.

Ami-san, the agency-side receptionist, picked up on the first ring. “Present Mic agency and radio station!” She chirped. “If this is an immediate emergency then tap the line and I’ll start a trace on your number.”

“It’s Hitoshi.” He usually liked chatting with her, but his heart wasn’t in it right then.

“Oh, hi, honey!” Ami-san cooed. He’d known her since he’d been born and had spent more than one afternoon in a bassinet under her desk as a baby when his uncle’s station/agency had been located in the back of a garage. “What can I do for you? Mic told me the good news! Did you want me to slip him a note?”

“Could you?” He decided to just rip the bandage off. “My dad used his quirk on my soulmate’s mom.”

“You’re joking.” Her good mood evaporated. “He’s on probation! He knows he’s on probation!”

“He talked her into offering to take over custody of me.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” She got real quiet. “I… I’ll let Mic know. Don’t call Eraserhead until Mic can talk to him first. If she presses charges….” Ami-san let the sentence trail off without finishing it.

Quirk misuse laws operated on the three strike principle. If they reported it, this would be his dad’s third strike within five years. He’d gotten off with petty fines the last two times he’d gotten caught; convincing a cabby driver to pick him up over someone else and talking a panhandler into leaving him alone. Most people didn’t notice Persuasion, but sometimes someone with a really stubborn will or certain mental illnesses could shake it off by themselves and if they did they knew he’d tried to quirk them. If Izuku’s mom pressed charges then his dad was going to jail this time.

Hitoshi didn’t actually care about that much except for the ways it would affect his mom. She couldn’t work. She couldn’t talk to people. She had a small disability stipend and did some work as a freelance writer, but it hardly brought in anything. If his dad went to prison, even for a few months, then she would be the one who suffered most.

The one thing his dad could be counted on was to not work against his soulmate’s interests. This time he either hadn’t thought far enough ahead or was banking on Hitoshi protecting his own mother over a stranger.

“We’ll make it work.” Hitoshi decided out loud. His uncles were proof she could live with other people. It wasn’t ideal, but they used a whiteboard and messenger apps to talk.

“I’ll have Mic call you as soon as he’s off the air.” Ami-san promised.

Hitoshi sat in the little tatami room he’d used to make his call. Someone had turned it into a computer room at some point, but it had a curious empty feel to it; like it belonged to someone who was long gone.

Izuku was finishing up his own call when Hitoshi went looking for him.

“...not yet.” He was saying. “The officers took my statement and samples off me at the second incident. The paramedics didn’t say anything when they sent me home, but Death Arms and Kamui Wood were… um… yelling so it was hard for them to talk. I’ll go if you think I should… yes, sir. Under the Dooku foot bridge. Through the manhole there. No, he had to leave once I came to. He left his autograph.” He paused and gave a dry little laugh. “Yes, sir. It was in two soda bottles. I noticed the one with the eyeballs in it was still moving. That’s why I hit it in the eyes afterwards.”

What.

“Bakugo Katsuki.” Izuku was still talking. “Yes, it probably got into his mouth. That’s how it happened to me; the nose and mouth. I wasn’t… I couldn’t breath. I don’t think he meant for me to live.” He wrapped his free arm around his knees. “He said something like ‘twenty seconds and it’ll all be over.’”

WHAT.

Hitoshi stood frozen in the door. He’d thought what his dad did was the worst thing that could possibly happen to him that day, but as he listened he realize Izuku was describing a villain attack; an attempted murder on himself.

They had been within inches of never meeting each other in this life.

There were a lot of reasons Hitoshi wanted to be a Pro Hero. His uncles were a huge influence on him, but part of it was to prove to himself that he was nothing like that man. Now there was a whole new third reason.

“Yes, I’ll come in tomorrow after school if that’s okay.” Izuku said to the police officer he was apparently talking to. “Oh, um, the registry matched me up today. Ah, haha. Yes. Thank you. It was really good timing, actually. Okay, thank you. Goodbye.”

He ended the call, tossed his phone onto the bed, and flopped face first onto the mattress.

Hitoshi suddenly understood why Izuku’s first instinct was to comfort him through their bond before. He had no idea if touching was good or bad right now. It looked like he had a lot to learn about being a soulmate.

He tapped on the doorframe and Izuku looked up at him. The helpless smile that eased across his face did a lot to sooth Hitoshi’s exposed nerves.

“Hey.” He sat up and smiled, a little tired looking. Now that Hitoshi was looking he noticed a line of road rash up the outside edge of Izuku’s forearm, ending just below his elbow. It looked red, angry, and fresh. “How much did you hear?”

“Enough to have a small heart attack.” Hitoshi felt like he was getting a green light to go over there so he did. Izuku catted into his touch so that his palm skated over the handprint on Izuku’s cheek. He got a brief window into his soulmate’s state of mind: he was tired for sure and running out of steam, but secretly (guiltily, even) glad to have Hioshi around for even just a little bit longer. “How did I not feel you get attacked?”

“Oh, that was me.” Izuku squirmed guiltily. “You’re supposed to pull away from the bond if you’re in danger and you don’t know where your soulmate is or what they’re doing. What if you were on stairs or handling a knife or something?”

This was getting complicated.

“I guess I’ve got a lot to learn.” Hitoshi admitted.

He was kind of angling for another extended hug, but a faint call of ‘supper!’ echoed down the hall. He could smell food too; really good food too. His mom tended to cook really healthy and he liked that, but the smells coming from Izuku’s kitchen were rich, fatty, and indulgent; comfort food on a day when no comfort could possibly be enough. Maybe he needed to move in with them after all…

Uncle Mic called while he was helping clean up. Izuku waved him off with a smile.

“Where are you?” There was wind in the background. “That son of a bitch isn’t answering his phone.”

Oh boy. Present Mic was swearing. This was bad.

He rattled off Inko-san’s address. “I’m okay.” He said. “My soulmate’s mom is mad at dad, but she seems okay with me. She fed us and said I can stay as-as long as I need to.”

“Okay, that’s ---good?” Mic took a breath and Hitoshi could picture him tugging on his hair. “Then I’ve got time to get out of costume. She’s probably not up to having a pro hero showing up on her front step, huh?”

“It’s been a rough day.” Hitoshi agreed and shielded the receiver so his voice wouldn’t carry. “Izuku, um ---my soulmate. He got hit by a street killer today. He’s okay. There was a hero in pursuit, but Inko-san almost fainted earlier. I don’t think it’d be a good idea to push it.”

Present Mic was, objectively, A Lot.

“By a… a what?” Mic snapped. “I thought you were in Aldera?”

“I am, I am.”

“Hang on.” Mic carried multiple phones and Hitoshi could hear him get out the one he used exclusively for internet. It had a distinct noise when you unlocked the screen. “Aldera… street attacks…” He was quiet for a moment. “...well, alrighty then. This went down while I was on air. No wonder I missed it. Your boy is scrappy. He beat the crap out of some guy trying to kill a middle schooler with his backpack. All Might was responsible for the takedown. Okay, I’m a little less worried. The villain was a purse snatcher who escalated. That’s less terrible than a possible serial killer in the area.”

Hitoshi compared that to what he’d heard. “That sounds about right.” If he was right then that was the second incident. The first incident must have been when All Might caught the guy the first time. “Could you… could you talk to him about it? I don’t think the police really interviewed him.”

Hitoshi only had second hand knowledge of working with the cops, but he’d never heard of one taking a statement over the phone. Plus there was the matter of Mic’s official report only mentioning the second attack. There was a good chance that officer had just pretended to take the report and had really blown Izuku off. It wasn’t entirely negligent. People sometimes tried to insert themselves into big incidents, especially if it showed up on TV or a big name hero was involved.

“Sure can, buddy.” Mic’s tone went concerned. “Are you all right?”

Hitoshi couldn’t find words to describe how he was feeling. It had been easier to have opinions about Izuku’s problems. “It’s nothing I didn’t already know.” He said at last.

“We’re coming to pick you up.” Mic promised. “If Hiroshi thinks he can kick you out of the house then he’s got another think coming. We’re gonna make this okay.”

“Okay.” Even Hitoshi could tell he didn’t sound convinced.

The doorbell rang about thirty minutes later. Izuku had pulled him over to the TV to watch the nightly Hero Report and got super into it. Hitoshi liked getting his after action breakdowns from spotter blogs and podcasts. Listening to his soulmate talk about the action on TV was like that, but better. Inko-san watched with them -alternating between that and an embroidery project- and seemed to amuse herself by asking her son questions about what was going on even though she clearly knew the answers.

Uncle Shouta stood at the door sans Uncle Mic and he looked pissed.

“Hitoshi.” He stared into the house over the top of Inko-san’s head. “We’re leaving.”

Hitoshi started to look for his shoes, but drew up short when Inko-san san said, “No. I don’t think you are.”

She sounded like she was just barely keeping her knees from knocking together and when she stared up at Hitoshi’s uncle she looked like a bunny trying to stare down a Balrog.

“Excuse me?” Uncle Shouta was dressed down for the evening, but spiritually channelling Eraserhead more than he normally would when faced with a middle-aged homemaker.

“I am not comfortable sending Hitoshi-kun back into that house.” She didn’t back down and Hitoshi’s heart did something complicated and painful. “How does that --man act at home if that’s how he treats a stranger? Hitoshi-kun is my son’s soulmate. That means I have equal rights to him and I don’t want him back under that man’s roof.”

“It’s not his roof.” Uncle Shouta’s tone was a little less obstreperous than before. It might not seem like it, but Hitoshi’s maternal uncle responded best to logic and that was a good counter argument. “It’s my roof and all his shit’s gonna be in the yard as soon as I get home.”

That… answered some questions Hitoshi had been nursing about his family’s living situation. His dad had a good job and made good money, but he deferred to Hitoshi’s uncles in ways that made no sense --unless he was living in their house.

Inko-san’s chin wobbled, but firmed up. “Then you can have Hitoshi-kun back as soon as he’s gone.”

Uncle Shouta’s unsettling black gaze slid towards Hitoshi. “You okay with that?”

Hitoshi found the strength to nod. “Don’t kick mom out.” He probably didn’t need to ask. Uncle Shouta had been looking after his sister long before her soulmate or son came into the picture. Like Hitoshi, he wasn’t totally immune to her quirk but he didn’t get the creepy side effects from it.

“I can’t stop her if she decides to go.” His uncle warned him and that was exactly what Hitoshi was afraid would happen. He looked back to Inko-san. “I’ll be back with an overnight bag for him.”

“Thank you.” Inko-san relaxed slightly. “I don’t know if we have anything comfortable to lend him for the evening.”

“It’ll be taken care of.” Uncle Shouta stepped back into the shadow of the open air corridor outside Inko-san’s door and vanished like Batman. She carefully shut the door when she realized he wasn’t going to say goodbye and was quiet until she got into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water.

“Your uncle is… an intense person.” She said at last.

“He’s an Underground Hero.” Hitoshi explained and Izuku bopped a fist into his open palm.

“Eraserhead!” He realized out loud. Somehow it wasn’t surprising that Izuku knew about Eraserhead. He didn’t have a big following and was mortally embarrassed by what fandom he did have, but the people who knew about him at all often knew him very well.

“Is he?” Inko-san relaxed a little further. “Well, then I hope he punches your father right in the nose.” Both her hands flew up to cover her mouth as she realized what she’d said.

“He might.” Hitoshi was a little worried about that. As ever, he didn’t really care if his dad had to deal with negative consequences except for how it affected his mom.

Mic showed up with a packed overnight bag and his school stuff right about the time Hitoshi was wondering if he was going to have to sleep in his boxers. The upshot was that Inko-san had laid out a double futon in the living room floor without having to be persuaded to let them bunk together. She might have even let them share Izuku’s bed, except there was no hope in hell that they’d both fit on his undersized twin mattress at the same time.

Izuku did not recognize Mic, who was harder to spot out of costume because -unlike his husband- he actually put effort into it. He swept in and dazzled Inko-san straight off. Turned out she was weaker to a megawatt smile than to intimidation.

Despite that, Mic looked tired and kind of sore. Hitoshi REALLY hoped it wasn’t actual physical soreness from beating someone up. He still swept Hitoshi up in one of his big bear hugs. “Heya, kiddo.” His voice was a little raspy. “We’re working things out at the house. Shouta’s with your mom. Your dad… well. He’s, uh… he’s checking into a hotel.”

Inko paused as she set down a cup of tea on the coffee table for Mic. “Without Ayame-san?” She asked, confused.

Mic coughed. “Yeah, without Ayame-chan.” He sounded a little down. “She locked herself in the bathroom and wouldn’t come out unless he left. Shouta was still getting the story out of her when I had to leave. I think your dad still has her phone. I’m gonna go get her a new one after this and then you guys can text again.”

His dad keeping his mom’s phone for her wasn’t quite as creepy or controlling as it came off as, but Hitoshi couldn’t deny his dad liked gatekeeping his mom’s access to other people more than he should have.

Hitoshi’s mom’s quirk was called ‘Siren’ for a reason. She could stun anyone she concentrated on, but the more subtle obsessive secondary effects weren’t universal. Hitoshi, Uncle Shouta, and Uncle Mic were immune because they were all either related to her, super gay, or both.

They’d figured out some loopholes that let her talk to other people. She could text so long as she didn’t hit ‘send’ herself or carry the phone around. Emails were safer, especially if they used a service that routed her outgoing mail through a couple of servers before delivering it.

“Oh my.” Inko-san sat back on her heels. She glanced at Hitoshi. “I’ll let you two talk.”

“No, I…” Mic took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “...sorry, this actually concerns you too.” He glanced at Hitoshi. “I don’t think there’s a good way to bring this up so I’m just gonna do it.”

Well, that wasn’t unnerving at all.

Izuku leaned into his side. He’d been quiet since Mic showed up, but stayed very close to Hitoshi. His presence was more settling than words could describe.

“Your mom says she wants a divorce.” Mic spoke slowly and carefully “Your Uncle Shouta is prepared to ram it through as soon as he possibly can. Knowing your dad though, he’s going to make it as ugly as possible. Some stuff is going to come up and we didn’t want you to have to know about it, but if I know Hiroshi he’s going to drag it all out into the open.”

That was how his dad operated when he wasn’t getting his way or felt under attack so Hitoshi didn’t necessarily agree. He knew his family situation was weird and most of it could be explained away by the fact that his mom needed a lot of support, but could be exposed to too many people.

Not all of it.

Hitoshi’s dad made really good money. He could afford to buy whatever services she needed. They didn’t need to live with Hitoshi’s uncles, but they did.

“You’re not worried that he’ll try to get full custody of Hitoshi-kun, are you?” Inko-san asked. “I’ve heard of men doing that sometimes, even if they don’t get along with their children.”

“That’s, uh, not a concern for us.” Mic coughed and rubbed the back of his head. “That’s what I came to talk about really. You see… ah…” He squinted at Hitoshi and tried to smile. “Hiroshi isn’t your father. I am.”

Izuku reached over without a word and clapped a hand over Hitoshi’s sternum, squelching his first furious response before it could even happen. Hitoshi covered his soulmate’s hand with his own, holding it there and making use of the soothing vibrations of their bond for a couple of seconds before he could ask questions that weren’t ‘Are you out of your goddamn mind?’

“It’s not what it sounds like.” Mic hastened to reassure him. “You see, Ayame-chan wanted a baby really badly. Hiroshi turned out to be infertile. I was just a donor. You were born through IVF.”

That was way less bad than what Hitoshi had first assumed, given the way Mic had phrased that. For one awful moment he thought Mic had cheated on Uncle Shouta ---with Hitoshi’s mom no less.

“We thought Hiroshi was okay with it.” Mic went on to explain. “He seemed to look forward to you at first, but things changed when you were born. I think it wasn’t real to him before that or he hadn’t thought about what it would mean to be a father so…” He fought to keep an uncharacteristically grim look off his face and only met with middling success. “...he refused to let his name be listed on your birth certificate. Normally it doesn’t matter, but he made such a stink about it that the hospital agreed to put my name down. I’m your legal male parent and I share custody of you with Ayame-chan. Hiroshi isn’t involved.”

Holy crap.

Did that mean Uncle Shouta was both his uncle and stepdad? How did that even work?

“It’s going to be hard to get the divorce decree.” Izuku piped up. “I heard there’s precedent now for not granting separations to soul mates if one of them has a quirk disability and there’s no evidence of abuse.”

“Oh believe me, little li--guy...” Mic slid his glasses back on. “...my lawyers are used to way higher stakes. They’ll chew him up and pick their teeth with his bones. Shouta’s been after this for a long time too. No one was going to take her soulmate away from her, but if Ayame wants him gone then we’ll run him out of town on a rail.”

#shindeku #the nervous energy in everything #soulmates #bnha #shinsou x midoriya #erasermic #dadmic #dadzawa #Inko has had A Day ok?#wip #unbeta'd #tw: narcissist #tw: narcissist parent #bnha fluff

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specialsituationsgroup · 3 years

Text

In Your Care

Vetinari singed off on the palace supplies bill, then handed it back to Drumknott.

"Satisfied, sir?"

"Quite."

Drumknott smiled shyly.

Vetinari got up to stretch his legs and clear his mind. He froze, staring unseen through the desk.

"Sir."

Vetinari grabbed the desk, turning the fall into a kneel. Drumknott dropped the file and kneeled next to him.

"Are you all rigth, sir?"

Vetinari's eyes were closed. He was shaking. Drumknott grabbed his shoulder. He swallowed his nerves and brought the back of his hand to Vetinari's forehead.

"Sir, you're burning."

"I think I’ve come down with a cold. I've been feeling faint since this morning."

"This is not a cold, sir. You need to rest."

"I do not have time. Lord Rust will be here in an hour."

"I will move all your appointments for three days. He will think you are making him stew."

"In three days there will be a backlog too great to ever catch up with."

"Then let me help."

"... How?"

"To start with, you don't have to read through every report to find the important parts - I can filter them for you."

Verinari looked at him, eyes hard. "Dangerous phrasing, Drumknott. You could keep things from me and I would never know."

"I could, sir. And you could be defrauding the city."

But we wouldn't.

Vetinari sighed. "Start with the reports then."

Drumknott smiled faintly. "I'll tell the kitchen to make you chicken soup."

"That will start rumors of the unwanted kind."

"Then I'll say it's for me."

"But you will be seen eating your usual lunch."

"Then we can eat togeather."

"Very forward of you, mr Drumknott." Vetinari was sly.

Drumknott shrugged.

"Help me to my room."

"Of course."

Drumknott let Vetinari lean on him. He made to move to the door, but Vetinari did not budge.

"This way, mr Drumknott." He nodded at a random bit of wall. "Remember what I do excatly."

Drumknott understood, torn between pride and fear. "Yes, sir."

Vetinari showed him how to open a sectret door and navigate the hidden pasages safely, Drumknott soaking up every minute detail.

Suddenly, they were in a spartan bathroom. Drumknott realized he was in the patrician's private chambers. He took over, helping Vetinari through the only door, to a room barely larger than his own.

Vetinari sat on the bed and instructed him to his nightshirt. Drumknott went to make tea while he changed. When he returned, Vetinari was curled up under the covers, sweaty and shivering. His eyes were shut tight and brow creased. Drumknott left the tea on the side table, then covered him with all the blankets in the room. The shivering stopped.

Vetinari relaxed. He had a strange look on his face.

Drumknott waitied.

"The last time someone took care of me like this, I was fourteen." Vetinari, no, Havelock, began. "Madam was fussing around me and I told her not to babybe me. But secretly I was glad that she did." His voice had gone hoarse. He shut his eyes, swallowing thickly.

Drumknott sat beside him and took his shoulder through the covers. Havelock calmed down.

"I need to cancel the meetings and order soup. Do you need anything?"

Havelock shook his head.

"Get some sleep."

He nodded.

Drumknott gave a little reassuring squeeze and left. He sent Brian to inform the lords, then feigned a cough in the kitchen, asking for chicken soup and mouldy bread. The maid Jenny looked at him like he was Duck Man, but directed him to the leftorvers destined for the bin, no waste to her. Soup wouldn't be ready by dinner, on account of asking for it so late. Drumnkto thanked her profusely. With a tablecloth bag and a ream of reports, he faced the unassuming wall. A deep breath later, he walked the gauntlett alone, his heart thudding.

At the last step, he stopped to compse hismelf. It felt odd coming in through the bathroom. He half expected to catch the patricain in the tub, butt naked and glaring. Of course, he found Vetinari asleep, doused in sweat but not in pain. Leaving bread by the tea, he pulled a chair over and started to read.

Half way through, Vetinari stirred, blinking at him.

"You're here." Vetinari was surprised.

Drumknott looked up. "I didn't want you to be alone."

Vetinrai gave him a tired smile.

Drumknott bit his lip in hesitation.

"Sir, the rumors that you live on bread and water and don't sleep, is there any truth to them?"

Vetinari took a deep breath. "I eat plainly, compared to other lords, and I sleep with a candle burning to confuse would-be assasins."

"But?"

"I regularly get engrosed in my work and forget to eat or sleep. Or rather, I ignore hunger and drowsyness."

Dumknott's heart sank. "You can't do that, sir."

"Can’t I?"

"Unless you want this to happen again. Or worse. " He klutched the papers.

"Indeed I do not."

"I can help." He offered, again.

"How very kind of you." Vetinari replied, but something was off.

Drumknott couldn't tell what, but the idea of Vetinari not being patrician made him feel like the ground had dropped form under him and he was in free fall.

"If something were to happen to you-"

"Ah. You are offering out of self interest." Havelock rolled over, turning his back to him.

It felt like a gut punch. On reflex, Drumknott opened his mouth to deny, but stopped himself. He fiddled with the corner of a paper.

"I am." He admitted.

Vetinari watched him over his shoulder.

Drumknott met his gaze. "I also hate to see you like this. A man can have more than one motive."

"... Indeed." Vetinari turned on his back, but stared at the ceiling.

Drumknott glanced at the reports, thinking. "Can you sit up?"

Vetinari did.

Drumknott left the papers on the chair and checked the tea. It had gone teppid so he mixed a litle honey in it. When he offered the mug, Vetinari met his gaze. The patirican took it in both hands and sipped. Curious, he opened the cloth.

"Mouldy bread?" He eyed Drumknott.

"A family remedy, sir."

"And you believe it works?"

A shrug. "No Drumknott in living memory died of illness."

"Curious." Vetinari picked up a slice. "The scholars should look into that." He was turning it over. "Perhaps there is something to it."

"Wouldn't know, sir."

Vetinari snifed at it. "Smells vaguely of blue cheese." He gave an experimental nibble. "Not very appealing but then medicine harldy ever is."

"As you say, sir."

Vetinari washed it dwon with a sip, alternating between bread and tea.

Drumknott sat back down.

"Anything of importance in there?" Vetinari nodded at the reports.

"Lord Rust is visiting the guild masters."

"Is he having any luck?"

"Not with the seamstresses."

"Ha. And has he tired the thieves yet?"

"No sir."

"Then he has more ambition than brains."

Drumknott chortled.

Vetinari smiled. "We need not worry then."

Drumknott turned to him, daring not hope. "We?"

"You lied for me, Drumknott. I am eting spoiled food on your assurance. We."

Drumknott blushed and looked away, his eyes falling on the papers. Rust's plotting watched back, sudden like the silence of Old Tom. He sobered.

"People like me are not figthters, sir." He didn't know why he was admiting weakness. Cowardice even. "We endure."

"I know." Vetinari was sympathetic.

Without looking, Drumknott knew his eyes were gentle. "I didn't hide the clerks just to protect them, sir."

"Oh?"

"I didn't want Wonse to be able to call on them."

"You wanted to punish him."

Drumknott shook his head. "No. I just didn't want him to get away with what he's done."

A nod in the corner of his vision. "Perfectly understandable."

He took a deep breath. "People like me, the worst we can do is not give our help."

Vetinari considered him. He picked up another slice. "That can be just as debilitating."

Face averted, Drumknott mumbled "I know."

#discworld #vetinari #drumknott #rufus drumknott #lord vetinari #gnu terry pratchett #pterry

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jamespotterthefirst · 4 years

Text

Little Miracle

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 1,900 Warning: A few curse words.

Author’s Note: This is part of the canon scene where Ethan and MC watch over Dolores’s baby, from Ethan’s POV. I was inspired by the line from the book that says they “talked long into the night.”

Catch up here.

The sterile room of the NICU feels stifling that night, the fluorescent lights shining on them both almost blinding. Ethan had been in that room many times before, but never like this. Never with a strain on his mind and heart so painful, he thinks he might burst from it. Now, sitting in the love seat, counting each of the baby's breaths, he feels as though he is in a foreign place—a vastly terrible one where his dearest friend does not exist anymore.

The knot in his throat returns.

Dammit.

It threatens to constrict his breathing in the most debilitating way and he hates it. Urgently, he suppresses the flood of emotion at once, turning instead to glance at Lilac next to him.

The young doctor is not looking at him. In the silence that stretches between them, she stares at the linoleum floor, her tear-streaked face is pale, her eyes bleary and red. The weight of their previous conversation hangs over them and he is surprised to discover it is not an unpleasant one. Instead, her quiet presence at his side feels oddly… comforting. More so than the many glasses of scotch he was planning on drowning in had he not stayed.

Sensing his eyes on her, she glances up and offers him a tired smile which Ethan returns without hesitation. The moment lingers and before either of them can say anything, a soft cooing distracts them as the baby stretches.

An inexplicable warmth pierces through Ethan as he very gently offers Dolores' baby his hand. Small fingers close around his, weakly, yet powerful enough to steal his breath away.

“She named him after you,” she informs him tenderly, as though the words she is offering him are made of the most delicate crystal.

A small wave of shock courses through him as he looks at the name.

Ethan Hudson.

His throat tightens painfully yet again and all he can do is swallow.

“I...see she did.”

A small silence.

Her soothing, kind voice saves him from his thoughts when she comments, “You must have known Dolores a long time.”

Ethan busies himself with carefully removing his hand from the baby's grasp. Despite the painful ache in his throat, he finds the words. “Over ten years. When I first emailed her I only meant to check in. But she was recently divorced, feeling alone, so she insisted on coffee.” In spite of himself, he smiles at the memory of the lively yet persistent young woman who had been so determined to befriend him. “And then it turned into more emails and meeting once every couple months for Sunday roast.”

“She sounds like a good friend.”

She was, he thinks before his mind catches up with him. When it does, the past tense stabs him like a knife to the side.

“I didn’t make friends easily when I started here,” he begins, pausing only briefly to keep his voice from breaking. “So I was always grateful to her for that.”

The words finish ringing out in the quiet room and he swallows, suddenly exhausted from fighting back the excruciating pain of Dolores's death. As he falls silent, prickling eyes moving to the baby she fought so fiercely to protect, Ethan allows himself to mourn. The torrent of sorrow hits him is like the opening of a floodgate.

He is certain he will drown in his grief until a soft, warm hand slides over his, looking small and delicate against his own.

Ethan remains very still.

“I’m so sorry this happened,” she murmurs, the sincerity her voice offers something akin to a caress.

Ethan's eyes remain locked on their joined hands. Something about the sight and the feel of her soft skin against his tears away at his pride until all he wants to do is hold on to her desperately. Instead, he looks up to meet her eyes, unprepared for the quiet compassion in their depths. It hits him so abruptly that he is unable to look away, feeling something foreign stir in the depths of his chest, as consequential as the first blooms of Spring.

“Me too.”

As the seconds tick by and he becomes very aware that her hand remains on his, his pulse picks up, clamoring at his ears. With much effort, he forces himself to pull away.

“I think we need coffee.”

“I can get some,” she says, already rising to her feet, unaware of the scorching trail her touch left behind on his skin.

Ethan shakes his head. “No, I’ll go.”

He leaves the room in quick strides, grateful for the brief moment of solitude. Being alone, however, proves to be a small torment since he is unable to suppress thoughts of earnest, kindhearted eyes breaking down every barrier he had stubbornly built that evening. Steaming mugs of coffee in hand, he returns to the NICU with an eager haste he refuses to acknowledge, missing the tendrils of her soft companionship.

When he enters the room, Ethan finds her lovingly murmuring to the baby. “That’s it little tadpole. In and out.”

Lilac notices his arrival, offering him a sheepish smile at being caught. Cheeks blazing, she accepts the coffee gratefully. “This doesn’t taste like the cafeteria coffee,” she observes approvingly.

“This is from my private coffee machine. As soon as I got an office, I vowed never to drink that caffeinated dishwater again.” He watches her take this information in with knowing amusement. “Nobody knows I have it so…”

Quite seriously, she vows, “I won’t tell a soul.”

Ethan chuckles, shaking his head, the first true flash of amusement that evening.

They fall into a comfortable silence after that until the attending overseeing the case during the night shift strolls in to check on the baby. Satisfied with her findings, she quickly jots down the information on his chart.

“Our little miracle,” she comments quietly, both to the baby and to them, before leaving the room.

Ethan snuffs the urge to scoff at the word miracle. Lilac, of course, catches this and arches a brow at him.

“You don't believe in those,” she says, not as a question but as an undeniable observation.

Ethan hesitates to answer until he glances at her. There is no trace of judgment or derision on her lovely face, just fatigue from already spending several hours keeping watch.

“There is no scientific basis to account for them,” he allows. “Frankly, I'm a little surprised you believe in them despite choosing to spend your career with facts and empirical evidence.” He is careful to keep all sarcasm out of his tone though he doubts he is successful. Years of being a sardonic little shit are hard to break.

Lilac doesn't seem to mind, however, because she gives him an indulging sort of smile. “It is because I have studied science and facts that I am hesitant to dismiss their existence,” she explains. “Even with everything we know, there are some things science or reason cannot explain.”

“There are too many variables at play in a single minute, Rookie,” he counters. “When something occurs that we cannot explain away, it means a plethora of those variables aligned to create a perfect outcome.”

Lilac takes a careful sip of coffee, watching him over the rim of her mug. Not for the first time, he can see her mind working, formulating an argument. And like many times before, he longs to know the mystery of her thoughts.

“And getting that outcome despite all the innumerable possibilities,” she begins thoughtfully. “Isn't that a little miraculous?”

“No.”

Lilac laughs at the resolute way in which he shoots her down, though the sound is far from mocking.

“Are you then crediting what science cannot explain to coincidence and luck, Dr. Ramsey?”

He briefly pauses at that, thoughts stumbling. The haughty way in which she lifts the mug to her lips, concealing a smug smile, tells him she had intended to stump him. Instead of feeling annoyed, as he should, he feels a thrill of approval and something else entirely.

“Not at all,” he returns when he recovers. “I am merely pointing out that there is still much we don't know as a species. When something inexplicable takes place, the real cause is most likely attributed to something we haven't learned yet.”

Despite looking utterly exhausted, her eyes glint, as though she had expected that very answer.

“'If he is confronted with a miracle as an irrefutable fact he would rather disbelieve his own senses than admit the fact.'”

Ethan blinks.

“Are you seriously quoting Dostoevsky at me, Rookie?”

This time, she dissolves into self deprecating laughter. “Sorry,” she says, scrunching her nose in the most endearing of ways. “I studied him as an elective when I was in my undergrad program so it's hard to break out of the habit of being a pretentious ass.”

“A pre-med student with a penchant for world literature,” he observes, allowing himself to relax into the air of amusement her laughter catalyzes.

“I was downright insufferable.”

“So not much has changed.”

Lilac throws him what is meant to be an unamused glare, but she ruins it by losing the battle against a smile. Ethan grins, unable to help it.

“What else do you walk around quoting at people who disagree with you?” he asks, genuinely curious.

“Nothing as severe as Russian literature,” she quips. “I save that for the most stubborn of the people I argue with.”

Ethan rolls his eyes though he too fails to stifle a smile. He begrudgingly accepts that he enjoys bantering with her, though he would never admit it out loud.

“Be lucky I didn't quote Harry Potter at you,” Lilac continues sagely. “I am notorious for that, too.”

“There's nothing in the Potter books about miracles,” he points out.

Lilac shoots him a surprised look. “You've read them?”

“Yes, I read the few that were out when I was in high school. They had midnight release events at bookstores when a new one was published.”

She stares at him in stunned silence.

“You went to that? That is so…”

“Don't say–”

“Cute.”

The word sends a jolt through him, made worse by the sound of her tired but giddy laughter. Ethan allows her to enjoy the mirth, even if it's at his expense. If he was being honest, he thoroughly enjoyed it too, feeling his anguish ease with each passing moment.

“Did you dress up?” she asks, eyes alight with excitement.

“We are not speaking of this anymore.”

“You did, didn't you?” she manages to say through a wave of fresh laughter. “Who did you dress up as? Harry? Dumbledore? Snape?”

Ethan makes a disgusted sound. “Don't insult me.”

Her laughter is uncontrollable by now and he can't help but join. “Good answer,” she commends.

Bodies close on the love seat, they both relax further into their seats, contentment lingering in their fading smiles. Ethan allows himself one good look at her as she becomes momentarily distracted by her phone. The harsh lightning of the NICU washes her out, especially in her sleep-deprived, exhausted state, but somehow she still looks unfairly beautiful. Yet, there is something entirely different about her, though he is far too tired to decipher what.

Lilac glances up to catch him staring.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Her previous words echo in his mind.

“There are some things science or reason cannot explain.”

Ethan thinks of Dolores and the unwavering friendship she offered him despite being surly and unapproachable. He thinks of the unconditional love she held for a being she had not even met yet, so profound she gave her life for him. He thinks of Lilac, offering him compassion and companionship despite his every effort to push her away.

Lilac glances glances his way, beaming at him radiantly. As he returns the smile, his heart feeling ten times lighter than it did an hour ago, he admits to himself that she was right.

______

Author’s Note: I don’t know what that was but if you made it here, thank you!

I think I will skip the baseball game scene and go on to the fMRI scene. I might have that be slightly AU and have Ethan ask MC the questions. Let me know what you think <3

______

@dulceghernandez | @lion-ess24 | @emotionalswift2 | @the-soot-sprite |

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #playchoices #my writing

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bittersweetlikecoffee · 3 years

Text

Like shout-out to my forever partner. He's the best and real, real, real one. Get you a man who won't judge you for admitting to having nightly panic attacks and night terrors but instead supports you without any judgment whatsoever. And, bonus, no matter what refuses to leave your side no matter how much you insist you're too damaged.

Y'all this year has been a lot on me--mentally, emotionally and physically. Hell, spiritually. Losing my grandmother...moving...job hunting...trying additional options in the meantime while job hunting...grappling with the reemergence of my mental health issues...on and on...trying to look for apartments...stressing over money issues. It's been a lot and tiring and I'm so fucking tired I want to cry. I'm so tired. I'm so angry at everything symptom wise crippling me. This feels like it's honestly too much. I wish I could like tear this out of myself at times, but... I know I can't give up. So I won't.

But y'all I'm just so thankful for my fiance. He's held me down. Seriously. This is like recompense for me holding him down when he mentally and emotionally needed it. This is what a strong and healthy relationship is all about. I'm so incredibly thankful that he keeps me calm and can hold me and soothe me. I'm thankful that he allows me to vent and doesn't pressure me on my really, really bad days. I'm thankful that he's understood me when I told him I needed help. It's hard to admit that because for awhile I was stabilizing and things were looking up. I want to cry, seriously. Just...support systems are so, so, so important when it comes to mental health. I want to thank my friend too because she's been super sweet and loving and just there for me. She's been very kind and never turns me away or anything. She's almost always willing to listen and these past months have been loaded.

The ability to have someone in your corner when you're regressing and you can recognize it is imperative. I know I won't be hospitalized. I just believe that I won't regress that badly ever again. I cannot. I cannot do it again. It's too much to hit a reset button again at this interval of my life. To be truthful, I'm fucking terrified of that possibility so I'm avoiding getting to that stage. But I also know that I need help. I need to find a therapist and I need to journal again, and I know I cannot manage this on my own anymore. There's too many variables that I won't go into for personal reasons that have brought me to this place.

I'm rambling. I don't even know wtf the purpose of this is anymore, tbh. I guess that chronic anxiety and depression can suck a lot sometimes. Not being able to get out of bed or struggling to, not being able to fall asleep and stay asleep for days and weeks on end, and not being able to leave the house...can be debilitating. So...idk...I won't post about this for a while.

Why?

My blog isn't centered on my mental health. I didn't create it with any centrally focused topic in mind. It's literally supposed to be as the description entails: reblogs and the very occasional personal post or life update. That's it. I already felt like I've divulged too much. I'm not looking for advice. I appreciate it all the same but I'm really not looking for it. I'm just tired...mentally and emotionally. I might need to go back on meds and that's fine. I'm at a time in my 10+ years of having mental illnesses in my life that I can wholly accept that. It's liberating to be at a point where I can admit that trying to go med-free worked for a bit and now... I've realized it's not anymore and that's okay. It doesn't make me weak. It doesn't make anyone weak.

And I just want to say that this applies to literally anyone else that's in the mental health community. If you need to go back on medications or decide to then it's YOUR decision. The same applies if you decide to stop, it is YOUR decision. There's nothing wrong with regression or relapse or whatever you want to label it as or term it. It's part of the process. Therapy has armed me with that and it's keeping my head above water right now. Years ago, I would have been in a way worse headspace at this junction than I am now, had it not been for group and individual counseling. But yes, for a while now I've realized I need medication again to help balance me out.

As for anyone wanting to quit medication? All I would say is to make sure you stop with the consent of your psychiatrist/doctor and to do it in steps. Titrate down. Don't stop cold turkey. Don't ever stop cold turkey. Psych meds can have lasting side effects that are both unpleasant and can be harmful and dangerous if you do.

Anyway, I'll lurk here and there. I will continue to post however infrequently. I will pop in every now and then. I'll reblog content I like or find interesting. I just don't think anything else needs to be said really. 2020 was shitty. The pandemic was horrid. 2021 was emotionally draining, at one time cathartic, angering, saddening, lonely, and incredibly difficult most days for a lot of personal reasons. But I'll get through this because I'm strong. And you will too. It will get better. 🥺🙏🏾

Xoxo

#personal #my writing #mental illness #mental health #depression #tw depression #tw anxiety #avoidant anxiety #general anxiety #anxiety disorder #panic disorder #ptsd problems #ptsdwarrior #ptsdlife #inner thoughts #support #ramblings

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choices-love-affair · 4 years

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Fever Pitch - Part 1.

Eek! So I’m back! This WIP has been sitting in my files for so long and I finally found the groove to finish and post it! I hope you guys enjoy it!

I anticipate this to be a two-part story, set between the ethics hearing and Ethan returning from the Amazon, it’s your much-loved angst fest that we all know I love writing!

Shoutout to the absolute wonderful @drethanramslay, who helped me get this over the line with her contributions, I’d so lost without you and everyone else who is always so wonderful and supportive.

(also, if you want to be taken off my taglist, just holla)

Anyway! Please be kind (heh) and I hope you enjoy!

WARNING! One swear word, plenty of angst.

This is a Ethan x F!MC story (Lorelei Stannaway).

The scuffing of Lorelei’s slippers bounced off the walls of the eerily quiet hallways of Edenbrook; at 2am, the graveyard shift had well and truly taken a hold of the otherwise bustling precinct. The nurses had dimmed the hallway lights and quietened the machines in an attempt to keep their patients asleep, the on-call doctors all retired to their offices, many closed doors accompanied with the glow of light illuminating the bottoms of them as she walked past.

Whilst the hospital was quiet at this time of night Lorelei’s mind was racing, and her dilemma so loud inside her head, it was almost debilitating. Before she realised, she was face first with the office door labelled: Dr Ethan Ramsey, and after taking a steadying breath of air, she entered the room. She glanced up to see Ethan with his back to her, leant over his desk taking a phone call, yet her vision quickly blurred his form out, as she noticed the bookcase behind his desk, usually filled with journals, accolades and framed certificates was now bare, the grained wood now a stark and confronting brown that took her very much by surprise.

“Wow…okay. You sure don’t waste anytime” Lorelei scoffed, the words sounding much more immature than she had initially anticipated, spilling from her mouth before she could even register that it had happened. She couldn’t back down now, she had initiated the battle and she was determined not to lose it.

Ethan sighed loudly, “Naveen, can I call you back? … Yes, I know. I already know. Naveen! I get it. I will. Why you’re even here at the hospital when you should be home resting is beyond me, go home.” He chastised the older man before ending the phone call and glancing across defeatedly at the woman before him.

“Really, Lorelei? We’re still here?” he bit back “please don’t make this any harder than it needs to be, Rori. They need me, I want to be there and help. Surely you can understand that?” he reasoned, turning his back on her once more to continue packing, a silent indication that it was no longer up for discussion.

Lorelei’s blood boiled at his silent gesture.

“Ethan…” her voice was calm, controlled and laced with promised absolute as she stared at the back of his head, although her eyes resembled that of a tumultuous storm, her heart was racing and her breathing erratic – she was petrified of what could possibly eventuate tonight. Lorelei knew she had his undivided attention now; she could tell by the increased heaving of Ethan’s shoulders with each breath he took that he was waiting for what was about to follow.

“Ethan, if you leave here and get on that plane. If you leave this country, this hospital… Ethan, in a time that I really need you the most, if you leave me…” she paused, preparing herself to say the next words and willing herself strong enough to follow through on them “I won’t be here when you get back”.

That was it, her last-ditch effort to persuade him to stay. She was out of options and yet felt so very ashamed of how disreputable she had become through sheer desperation. She knew her attempts were feeble however, nor did they serve any purpose, for Ethan had checked out long before she could have convinced him otherwise, and that was what destroyed her the most.

Ethan visibly bristled as he registered her words, and slowly, he could feel himself becoming indignant at her ultimatum. He stood and weighed the reality of her words with his back to her for what felt like a lifetime before he eventually spoke, his voice barely above a whisper “you don’t mean that… “ he replied, though he was doubtful, and he knew the waver in his voice betrayed him.

“Then why are you so eager to test its credibility?” she whispered back, too afraid to speak louder in fear of her voice breaking, tears threatened at her eyes, warm and prickly, as she tried to blink them back. Instead they cascaded down her cheeks in silence as she wiped angrily at her face.

Ethan leant heavily against his desk and hung his head, as though it was the only thing capable of withstanding the weight currently crushing him “what do you want me to say?” he sighed exasperatedly “that I’m sorry? That it isn’t beneficial for my career and I should just stay in order to keep you happy? Lorelei, this isn’t going to be some happy ending for us, I’ve already told you how I feel…” he broke off, carefully measuring the next words in his mind, acutely aware of the damage they will do, but knowing that they’re very much mutual “…you’re getting too attached. If I don’t leave now, Lorelei, you’ll only suffer, longing for something I’ll never be able to give you. At the end of the day, I’m doing this for you.”

“I’m sorry what?!” Lorelei raised her voice incredulously, her eyebrow cocked as she felt the confusion and anger bubble in the pit of her stomach, seeping into every crevice of her being and consuming her, removing all rational thought from her mind “Jesus Christ, Ethan! Could you be a man and at least turn around and look me in the eyes if you’re going to break my heart?!”.

Ethan’s fear got the better of him as he exploded at her provoking and accusatory tone, implying that breaking her heart was his main priority, without realising, his sub conscious projected him into panic mode as he became reactive and emotional “I said I’m doing this for you!!” his voice quickly reaching the same volume as hers as he whipped his body around to look at her, his eyes glowed with a burning intensity, a silent warning for her to back down.

“Oh for fuck sake, E! That’s bullshit and you know it!” she rebutted, fresh hot tears spilling down her face yet her voice not betraying her this time “you don’t get to make those decisions for me!”

“I am not doing this right no-“

“Then when, Ethan? In six hours when you’re on the way to the airport? In nine when you’re on the plane? When will we do this because I don’t know about you, but I don’t think there’s much time left to do anything!”

Ethan looked at her in desperation, eyes filled with so much pain and angst, his ocean blues were now stormy greys, as he pushed himself off the desk and toward the door.

Desperation reaching fever pitch as she followed him out the doors and into the hallway “Ethan! Where are you going?!” her legs struggling to keep up with his strides as she followed him to the elevators, he stared forward, not once wavering or hazarding a glance at her in fear of his resolve crumbling.

The loud ping of the elevator doors opening reverberated throughout the otherwise silent hallway, Ethan stepped inside and turned around, not quite managing to meet her eyes “please… don’t follow me. It isn’t forever, Rori. I’ll be back soon and by the time that happens, you would have gotten over your ridiculous crush and we can both move on and do our jobs” his heart shattering as the words left his mouth, as he finally looked up and locked eyes with her as she stood there, bewildered, speechless and rooted to the ground. A sob choked in the back of her throat as she noticed the tears welling in Ethan’s eyes, reflecting her own.

“stay” she quietly pleaded “because if you don’t, I won’t. If you leave, I can assure you I won’t be here when you get back.” her final warning hung heavy in the air between them as Ethan assessed her face for any sign of relent.

“You’re being unreasonable”.

“the feeling is mutual”.

The pair stood either side of the elevator doors, not once breaking eye contact as they each waited for the other to surrender, yet neither having any intention of doing so. As the doors slid shut on Ethan’s broken-hearted face and carried him away, Lorelei was left staring at the harsh metal, a stark reminder of the metaphorical wall that Ethan had so meticulously placed between them, and continued to leave up.

She stayed rooted to the spot, bowing her head as the warm tears began falling hard and fast down her face again, and the sob she had been keeping in finally escaped.

“Lorelei…” a warm, gentle voice cooed down the hallway, as she turned to see Naveen approaching her “my sweet girl, come. Let’s go sit down” he shushed as he collected her in his arms and rubbed her shoulder empathetically “it isn’t forever” he reassured.

“he just... he just left Naveen? What if he never comes back? What if he stays there and we never see him again?” she spoke aloud, her mind racing.

“He’ll be back, Dear. If I’m positive of nothing else, it’s that he won’t be able to stay away for too long, not from you anyway” he smiled a warm and knowing smile at the young doctor, as he gently led her back towards his office.

Taglist: @ethandaddyramsey @trappedinfandoms @openheart12 @mvalentine @beloved-ode @kaavyaethanramsey @newcolonies @missmiimiie @nooruleman @drethanramslay @agent-breakdance @angela8756 @utterlyinevitable @maurine07 @professorkingslay

#ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #OpenHeart

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riversofmars · 3 years

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Chapter 10: The Lesser Evil

Tranzelore

“Don’t go, please my love, it’s too dangerous.“ River pleaded, grabbing her husband’s arm as he headed for his time stream that pulsed and flared in the middle of his supposed tomb.“You can’t cross into your own time stream.“ It was done, Vastra, Jenny and Strax where back, so were Amy and Rory. Clara had done it, jumping into his time stream, she had stopped the Great Intelligence at every turn, keeping the timeline intact. There was nothing left to do.

“I’ve got to get her out.“ He insisted stepping closer to his time stream.

“You could die, you could cease to exist.“ River argued trying to stop him.

“She’s always there, all over my time stream, that is why she is important.“ The pieces were falling into place. This was why they had been encountering Clara over and over again. He had been so intrigued and finally, he had figured it out. “Run you clever boy and remember.“ He echoed the words she had said to him many times over.

“Darling.“ River could sense she wasn’t getting anywhere, her husband was in a world of his own thoughts.

“Finally I’ve worked her out.“ He grinned, pleased with the accomplishment. Initially he’d only kept her close out of curiosity, trying to work out how she could be appearing and dying again and again but what a nice surprise that she was actually a loyal friend all along. Sacrificing herself by jumping into his time stream, he could hardly think of a greater proof of loyalty.

“Then leave it at that.“ River tried to reason with him. “We’re safe, the timeline is intact, don’t risk it now, making her sacrifice pointless.“

“I won’t fail.“ He reassured her, a confident smile on his handsome features.

“But what if you do.“ River exclaimed. “You can’t risk your life for hers!“

“Why not?“ He looked back at her confused.

“Why not?!“ River echoed his words in disbelief.

“There are only very few people we can truly trust River, we need to keep them close. She’s just proven her loyalty.“ He looked back to the pulsing energy as if he could see Clara within it. “I owe her to get her out of there.“

“Is that all? Loyalty?“ River’s words were sharper than she had intended, revealing more than she meant to.

“River.“ He groaned in annoyance. Jealousy was not an attractive quality.

“I think it’s a fair question, you’d make me a widow of me in a pointless attempt at saving her?“ River retorted accusingly. Surely he had to know how this would make her feel.

“River, I love you, you must know that.“ He started reaching for her hand, trying to reassure her.

“Then listen to me!“ River insisted, her expression one of both anger and fear. What if he did, in fact, lose himself in there? She couldn’t bare the idea of losing him.

“I always listen.“ He told her and pulled her into his arms. “You’re the one that always here by my side, you’re the first thing I see when I wake and the last when I go to sleep. And I always listen.“ He pressed a kiss to her hair. “But sometimes, you have to listen to me too when I tell that this is what I have to do.“ He took her face in his hands and kissed her, hoping to convey his love and devotion. “Trust me?“ He asked softly as they parted.

“Always.“ River smiled. That impossible, infuriating man.

“See you in a minute, Professor Song.“ He gave her a wink, straightened his bowtie and jumped into his time stream.

——

“Now isn’t that a bit forward, seeing as you’re still fully dressed, Doctor?“ River smirked as she grabbed the Doctor by the collar and ripped her shirt open, buttons flying everywhere. The Doctor jolted back, colour draining from her face. She was too shocked to respond and River took advantage of her stupor. She pulled her around, knocking her into the wall face first. The Doctor tried to pull away but River pinned her against the wall with her own weight. “What? Should I not have said anything? Would you like to keep going and we pretend I don’t know who you really are?“ River hummed against the shell of her ear as she pressed herself against her. She brushed her hair aside and pushed her other hand around her, fumbling with the button of her trousers.

“You knew.“ The Doctor groaned as River trailed kisses up the side of her neck. She tried to pull away from her touch. This had been a terrible idea. She was already regretting her moment of weakness. “When did you realise?“

“About five seconds in.“ The amusement was audible in River’s sultry voice.

“Then why did you…“ The Doctor tried to throw her off, anxiety building as River succeeded in unbuttoning her trousers. She should have realised this was a trap, she should have questioned why River had fallen for her act so completely. She should have known she wouldn’t be able to imitate the Emperor well enough to fool her own wife.

“It got you here, didn’t it? Also… I was curious to see how far you’d go…“ River chuckled as she buried her hand in the Doctor’s hair and pulled her head back. “Maybe I should have let you carry on, now we will never know.“ She ran her hand along the waistband of her Doctor’s pants, clearly enjoying the Doctor’s near-panic as she fought against her. “But alas, I couldn’t do that to my wife.“ Unexpectedly, she let go of her and took a step back, tying up her nightgown. “I didn’t think that I would have to be the one to stop.“ She tilted her head in amusement as she watched the Doctor turn around quickly doing up her trousers, she tried to pull the shirt shut to cover herself up but the buttons were all but two ripped off. Her eyes darted around the room for a way out as River regarded her like a lioness her prey. “Don’t even think about it. I triggered a silent alarm ages ago when I went to get changed.“ River smirked, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“Of course you did.“ The Doctor groaned, annoyed by her own stupidity, she really should have known.

“Well, I didn’t know how much time I would have. How was I to know you were that easily to keep close.“ River chuckled. “The guards are outside the door and my wife should be home any minute. You think you had a hard time last time? Just wait till she finds out what you’ve been up to.“

——

“Fine, no more games.“ Clara chuckled, there was no need for theatrics now that she had got River out of sight of anyone else. “I think that’s quite enough of that.“ Somewhere in the other room the squark of a raven sounded making River look around for a second. As she looked back to Clara, her tattoos began to blur, rising up into the air.

“A quantum shade.“ River jerked back, immediately realising what she was dealing with.

“Aren’t you the perceptive one.“ Clara replied patronisingly as she pushed River’s hand with the knife away. “Now, I suggest you stop this.“ She tried to shove her off and River obliged, she got to her feet and stepped back, keeping the swirling darkness in her sights. She knew when something could be fought and when it was better to take a step back and reevaluate her options. “There’s a good girl.“ Clara got to her feet as River tried to formulate an escape plan.

“You’re trying to use me to get to the Doctor. Is she even here?“ River tried her best to control her anger, as she realised what was going on. She wanted answers. She didn’t do well at the mercy of others. She threw the butter knife across the room in anger.

“Oh she’s here alright.“ Clara said softly. “And yes, I am going to use you to get her help.“

“Her help? If you need help, you just ask for it! You don’t have to blackmail the Doctor, the Doctor always helps if…“ River exclaimed but Clara started laughing, interrupting her.

“The Doctor always helps.“ She mimicked her. “I bet she does as well… You’re so naive. Both of you are. It’s laughable. Just between us girls, River, I don’t think it’s the sort of help she’ll want to give.“

The Raven burst out of the other room making River take a step back. It landed on Clara’s shoulder as she held out the note she’d written earlier.

——

“Alright, fine, shouldn’t have done this, I get it.“ The Doctor tried her best to steady her voice. “Brain short-circuited, physically you could be my wife after all.“

“Yes yes and since she’s dead, it’s not really cheating, is it? You tell yourself that. I thought you were someone who would be kept up at night by this sort of thing but maybe I underestimated you after all. Or I overestimated your devotion to your wife.“ River hummed with no small measure of gratification in her voice. “Do you still want my hand between your legs, Doctor?“

“That’s quite alright, I can sort that out for myself later.“ The Doctor bit back, trying to give as good as she got and gloss over how much her words stung.

“I very much doubt you’ll get the opportunity.“ River grinned briefly glancing to the door. The Doctor couldn’t be sure if she actually expected her wife to return any moment now or if she was only trying to intimidate her by acting like she would. Either way, she needed to get out of here now.

“You really are remarkably like my River, witty, determined, strong… but there’s just one thing, one mistake my River never would have made.“ The Doctor said as River returned her attention to her.

“Yeah? And what’s that?“ River laughed.

“My River never let’s me keep my sonic when she doesn’t want me to get out of handcuffs.“ The Doctor grabbed her sonic screwdriver from her back pocket and blasted River with it. It wasn’t much, not harmful, not debilitating but for a moment, she blinded her, disoriented her, scrambling the signals from the nerves in her eyes to her brain. A moment was all the Doctor needed to bolt and rush to the TARDIS. River screamed, not in pain but in anger as she needed a moment to recover. The Doctor wasn’t even paying attention to her anymore, she didn’t look back, when she found the TARDIS wasn’t locked. She rushed inside and the lights came on. It wasn’t the warm golden light she knew, it was red and garish against the black walls.

“Really bloody cheerful.“ The Doctor mumbled to herself as she hurried to the console. She started pressing buttons and pulling levers but the TARDIS revolted. The humming and wheezing was loud, unhappy, the Doctor got an electric shock and she pulled her hand back. The TARDIS knew she wasn’t the Emperor and she was refusing to cooperate.

“She won’t let just anyone fly her.“ The Doctor whirled around to see River heading for her. The diversion had been even less effective than she had hoped. “You’re going to regret this, Doctor.“ River snarled.

“Emergency teleport then!“ The Doctor used her sonic to blast the TARDIS console. Sparks flew and River lunged forward but the TARDIS control room around her disappeared. It wasn’t ideal, she didn’t have the TARDIS like she had hoped, but it was a way out.

When the Doctor materialised she looked around panicked, trying to orient herself.

“Great, it worked!“ She exclaimed as she recognised Clara’s quarters. “Clara! We need to talk!“ She looked around for Clara but froze when she found a second person with her. “River…“ The Doctor’s eyes widened in shock. There was no way the Emperor’s wife would have been able to get here before her. She wouldn’t have known where the teleport went and this River was wearing the environmental suit she had worn in the Library. There was only one explanation. The Doctor’s head was spinning, she felt sick as her emotions overwhelmed her. The extraction chamber had worked, River was here.

River looked back at her in surprise. This woman had just appeared out of thin air and judging by the look on Clara’s face, she hadn’t expected her sudden appearance either. The blonde looked at her as if she was a ghost or perhaps a wish come true? There were all sorts of emotions painted on her soft features and tears were welling up in her big eyes that were so impossibly deep and old, not at all matching the youthfulness of her pretty face.

“Doctor?“ River asked slowly remember what Clara had told her. The Doctor was a woman now and this woman looked at her as if she was her sun and stars.

“River, you’re alive!“ The Doctor exclaimed and throwing caution to the wind she rushed to her, flinging herself around her neck. River was overwhelmed, she nearly knocked her off her feet but she pulled her close, held her, reflex more than anything else, as she tried to wrap her head around what she already knew to be true.

“Is it really you?“ She asked tentatively as she pulled back and looked the blonde up and down.

“Oh right, you haven’t seen this face before.“ The Doctor smiled as she took a step back and wiped away a few stray tears in embarrassment.

“Can’t say that I mind…“ River chuckled. “What have you been up to?“ She raised her eyebrows at her barely buttoned shirt.

“Ah… uhh…“ The Doctor blushed and a crushing wave of guilt came over her, overshadowing her joy for seeing her. What had she done? How could she? She struggled to breath as she was searching for the right words.

“Sorry to interrupt this touching moment, but you are in my quarters.“ Clara interrupted at last, fed up of being ignored. She scrunched up the note she had been about to give her Raven. There was no need for it now. This was even better than she could have imagined.

“Clara.“ The Doctor pulled River behind herself as she turned to face her.

“How nice of you to join us, Doctor.“ Clara smirked, observing her protective gesture with amusement. Yes, this would work very well indeed. “It seems as though you forgot something in the extraction chamber.“

“What’s going on here?“ The Doctor demanded to know.

“What’s going on is that I was just trying to work out what exactly happened when you came here, Doctor, and as I was having my look around the extraction chamber, your wife appeared.“ Clara explained with a smug smile.

“River, are you okay, are you…“ The Doctor glanced to her wife and grabbed her hand to assure herself she was here.

“Alive? I think so. As alive as one is coming out of an extraction chamber…“ River replied giving her hand a squeeze. “I know what it does Doctor, you sentimental idiot, you couldn’t just let me die, could you? I’ll have to go back eventually, you know, unless you want a paradox ripping time apart… again…“ She knew the sad truth behind what the Doctor had done. As much as she appreciated the sentiment, there was more heartbreak to come for them, it couldn’t be avoided. And yet, she was grateful for every moment she got to spend with her husband… wife.

“But not for a while. How about we deal with all that when we get out of here.“ The Doctor suggested, trying not to think about what she was implying.

“Sounds like a good idea.“ River nodded looking around for an escape route again.

“You are not going anywhere, Doctor, not just yet. Mind you, we probably haven’t got long to have this conversation. Your teleport, I’m sure they’ll be able to trace it.“ Clara pointed out.

“I don’t think there are any guards at the door.“ River said and the Doctor nodded, having come to the same conclusion.

“Run?“ The Doctor suggested as they inched away from Clara.

“Let’s.“ River agreed and they bolted to the door but Clara had other ideas. The Raven took off and sailed in front of them, barring the door.

“I don’t think so.“ Clara hummed and the tattoos dissolved, swirling into to air and jolted forward. The dark smoke struck the back of River’s neck forming a quantum lock.

“No!“ The Doctor shouted whipping back around to Clara.

“Do I have your attention now, Doctor? I said we need to have a conversation.“ Clara crossed her arms in front of her chest expectantly.

“Take it off her.“ The Doctor yelled taking a threatening step towards Clara who grinned:

“I will, eventually, if you agree to help me with a little something.“

“What?“ The Doctor asked and looked to River with great worry. River touched the back of her neck her expression darkening. Of course it wasn’t going to be that easy.

“I would like your help, Doctor. Your wife assures me one only needs to ask for your help? Well, I thought it would be more convincing if I had your wife as collateral.“ Clara revealed and the Doctor squared her jaw.

“What do you want?“

“You’ve been here long enough now to know, Doctor, that this is not a nice place. You’ve been to the streets, you’ve seen the poverty, the state of the Empire? Perhaps you will reconsider what we talked about before?“ Clara smiled.

“You want to topple the Emperor.“ The Doctor concluded with a sigh.

“I’d never be able to do it by myself as you know and it’s unlikely I’ll ever be able to convince her that I am a far more suitable match for her… so I’m left with few options.“ Clara confirmed with a shrug.

“I won’t kill anyone, not even her…“ The Doctor retorted firmly.

“I realise that and I don’t expect you to. What I do need you to do is play a role. It looks like you have been having a practice run already. There is a ceremony tomorrow, celebrating the Emperor’s return to Gallifrey, it’s the most important holiday. That is why the Emperor has been so eager to get information out of you so quickly, I presume she was trying to announce the next big chapter for the Empire tomorrow.“ Clara explained crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“That’s never going to happen, I would sooner die than tell you how…“ The Doctor shook her head. River looked on in confusion. Who was this mysterious Emperor they were referring to? It sounded like the Doctor had been here a while already and was one step ahead of her.

“Oh I know and I’ve accepted that. I want you to announce the next big chapter in the history of the Empire in her stead tomorrow.“ Clara clarified and the Doctor understood:

“Transfer power to you.“

“Exactly. Not so difficult, is it? Small price to pay for your wife’s life isn’t it?“ Clara glanced to River who still had confusion painted all over her face.

“And how are you going get rid of the Emperor?“ The Doctor asked which seemed to be the one big catch.

“You leave that to me. You just be back here tomorrow at noon. I would keep you here but you’ve ruined it now with your teleport trick. It they find you here we’re both done for, they need to see you fleeing the palace so the don’t suspect me.“ Clara sighed, what an inconvenience. Likelihood was they had traced the teleport by now and were on their way here. She had to wrap this up.

“And what if I don’t agree?“ The Doctor huffed.

“You will do this for me, Doctor, or your wife, who was so very fortunate to get a second lease on life, will die.“ Clara shrugged as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s really a very easy decision to make. I will contact you with the details, my Raven will find you.“

“Take off the lock.“ The Doctor demanded, her voice firm.

“Once I can be sure of your cooperation.“ Clara smiled giving River a wink.

“Fine, alright, I’ll do it, but you leave her alone.“ The Doctor threatened.

“I’ll take the mark off her once it’s done.“ Clara clapped her hands together in excitement.

“No! You take it off her and you take it off her NOW!“ The Doctor yelled jabbing her finger at her.

“Alright, fine. Just remember I can put it back whenever I please.“ Clara huffed and with a wave of her hand, the chrono lock disappeared from River’s neck. River gave a sigh of relief.

“And you take it off the Monk.“ The Doctor went on, remembering why she had come here in the first place.

“The Monk?“ Clara frowned confused.

“Sign of good faith. If you want my help, do it.“ The Doctor insisted.

“Alright, fine, don’t care about him either way.“ Clara gave another wave of her hand. It wasn’t like the Emperor had any way of finding out about this.

“Doctor, you can’t help her…“ River spoke up. She wasn’t sure what exactly was going on but the Doctor was being blackmailed into doing something she didn’t want to do, and that in itself was enough information for her to protest.

“It’s a matter of the lesser evil, River. You haven’t met the Emperor yet… and her wife.“ The Doctor replied, hoping she never would come across them. “They deserve it.“

“Yes they do, Doctor. I’m glad you have come to your senses.“ Clara agreed.

“When it’s done, I’m taking the TARDIS. You can’t fly it anyway. I will need it to find a way home.“ The Doctor realised this was the right moment to bargain. If she wanted to find a way back to her own universe, the TARDIS would be her best bet.

“Fine.“ Clara smiled at her graciously. She had no use for the TARDIS anyway. The Emperor and her wife were the only ones that could fly her. She couldn’t imagine the Doctor would even find a way of using it. “See, the things we can accomplish when we work together.“

“Then you have yourself a deal.“ The Doctor nodded. Her best and only cause of action right now was to agree. She could reevaluate her options later when her and River had got to relative safety.

“Now, I suggest you go, before the guards turn up.“ Clara engaged a screen on the wall, surveillance of the corridor outside.

“River…“ The Doctor grabbed her wife’s hand again but Clara cut in:

“…will be my honoured guest until tomorrow. No harm will come to her, I need her as assurance and you know I wouldn’t harm her, else I would have nothing to pressure you with.“ The Raven squawked for emphasis. “You know I’m right.“ She extended her hand to River. “Unless you’d like that chrono lock back?“

“I’ll be fine, Sweetie.“ River gave her wife’s hand a squeeze before letting go and joining Clara though ignoring her hand. “I’m sure Clara and I have a lot to talk about.“ Perhaps she could find out more about this place.

“We’ll braid each other’s hair and drink champagne, nothing for you to worry about, Doctor.“ Clara smirked at the Doctor who balled her fists, feeling anxious. She didn’t like the idea of leaving River here but under the circumstances she might not have another choice. She glanced to the screen and spotted guards heading their way. They were running out of time. “Now be a dear and make sure they see you as you bolt down the corridor so they leave us alone in here.“ Clara said going her a little wave.

“Everything will be fine, River, I promise, I will come back for you.“ The Doctor looked to her wife who gave her a little smile.

“Well, you better, what good was all that business with the extraction chamber if you don’t.“ River winked. “Go before they catch up with you.“

“I will be back.“ The Doctor insisted. There was so much she wanted to say, she had played it out so many times in her mind of what she would say if she ever got to see River again, but now there was no time. And very little hope. But she took what she could from the little smile and nod River gave her. There was time for words later.

The Doctor had hardly pulled the door shut behind her, when she heard voices. She hurried towards the hidden passage way but hung on by the corner where she could still see the door to Clara’s rooms. She couldn’t allow for River to get caught. If they had in fact traced her teleport signal, they would be searching for her there. When she realised the guards indeed headed straight for the door, she knocked over a nearby bust that crashed to the ground and drew their attention. Calling “Oi! Over here.“ would have been too obvious, they couldn’t realise she was drawing their attention on purpose. When she was sure they’d seen her, she bolted down the corridor. Luckily, she knew more than one secret shortcut to the city below.

——

Clara knocked over a table and some vases, creating traces of a struggle. She picked up a shard from the broken vase and cut her own arm, barely flinching. River raised her eyebrows, concluding that she had to be very scared of the Emperor to go to such lengths to not be found out.

“I don’t think I have to explain to you what will happen if anyone finds you in here.“ Clara caught the questioning expression on River’s face and ushered her to a small room further into her quarters.

“No, you don’t but there is something you do need to explain to me: the Emperor, who is she? And why do you need the Doctor?“ River asked.

“Miss Oswald, please open up.“ There was knocking on the door.

“We haven’t got time for this, get in here and not a sound.“ Clara pushed her into the room and locked the door. River didn’t struggle, she didn’t trust Clara but she trusted the Doctor and if she was concerned for her safety should anyone find her, she know she should try her best to hide. She looked around the room, a small spare bedroom by the looks of it. Nothing much to it, nothing that she could fashion a weapon out of if needed. The vase on the dresser appeared to be her best bet so she grabbed it and stood against the door, pressing her ear to it. She had to find out more about what was going on here.

“Emperor…“ Clara’s voice was distant but clear.

“Don’t even start, Clara! We know she was here. Using my own TARDIS, she’s going to pay for that!“

River froze when she recognised a voice that sounded exactly like the Doctor’s, only with an icy edge to it. Suddenly, Clara’s demands were making a lot more sense. The puzzle pieces were falling into place and River didn’t care for the picture they were revealing.

#Really hope you like this next chapter!!#Doctor Who #river song #river x thirteen #river x 13 #thirteen/river #thirteenth doctor #thirteen #dark!13 #Mirror Universe #mirrorverse #fanfiction #yowzah #space wives #eleventh doctor #clara oswald

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