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brewed-pangolin · 5 months

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Salvation at the Shelter

This is my first entry into the Soap It Up Challenge by @glitterypirateduck, and apparently I'm feeling angsty. I don't write angst well, but that doesn't mean I won't try. I only used one prompt for this, and I'll let y'all find it. Sorry for the feels on for this Super Soap Sunday.

cw: mentions of loss. also a few callbacks to mwiii if you look closely

Johnny. Your beloved Johnny.

Gone.

Taken away too soon. Leaving an emptiness in your heart and a hole within your soul.

You grieve for what feels like years, yet only turns out to be days. Time standing still as you continually waist away into a fetal crouched mess alone on your tile floor.

Friends, family, and colleagues all tell you to move on. You have to.

But you can't.

For how can one heal from the pain of losing the other half of your soul?

It takes you a solid six months to even begin to feel anything again. Feeling everything and nothing all at once. Overwhelming. And not enough.

The emptiness both devours you entirely while continually spitting you back out like a relentless living turbine.

You try to hide the pain behind a smile. It's futile, but it works with most nonetheless. Most.

A few take notice. Those with their own scared hearts and broken stitched souls underneath a practiced expression.

And that's when a coworker confides in you what she did when she lost her husband many years ago.

"Go to the shelter," she says plainly over the rim of her glass.

"The shelter?" You question, raising a brow while fumbling with your lunchbox.

"Like, the homeless shelter?"

"No, silly. The animal shelter. Lots of lost souls needing a home. Maybe one there will help fill that hole inside you."

"I'm fine." You bite back. Swallowing your emotions with a gulp of Orange Fanta as you briskly rise from your chair.

"Mhm. Just give it a shot. Might help." She says before turning to walk down the carpeted hall to return to the solitude of her cubicle.

And you're suddenly left alone again with your thoughts, staring aimlessly at the brightly colored face of the vending machine. The color of the Fanta bottle in your hand so reminiscent to the Irn Bru that was consistently stocked in your apartment, you thought you'd break down right then and there. In the middle of your office hallway.

Subtle reminders of him strewn about all through your day you'd nearly become numb to the constant memory of him.

You choked on your emotions once more. Walking as casually as possible back to the devoid walls of your cubicle. Busying yourself in a desperate attempt to rid the tight entanglement of Johnny's echo buried deep within your mind.

You'd take the advice. Go to the shelter. Fill the emotionless void within your soul with at least something. Anything. Hell, even a goldfish would do.

The sound was defeaning.

It made your ears ring and your bones tremble. The constant barrage of barks, howls and wails nearly made you spin on your heals and exit before even entering the double doors.

Yet you stood fast. Pushing forward. Perhaps somewhere in this cacophony of canine chaos, you could find solace from your unrelenting heartache.

"I'm just here to look," you tell the attendent with a stern brow. It's a lie, of course. But you muster the strength of poise and composure as your heart and spine wither to dust with every passing moment.

"That's what they all say," the keeper, Jared by the nameplate and probably no more than 18 replies. A wisdom in his voice as he's seen the world come through those doors a thousand times.

"C'mon. And don't get too close to the cages."

You follow close behind. Eyes scanning back and forth between metal bars, taking in the mirage of fur covered lost souls while somehow searching for one that may pull at your broken heart.

German shepherds. Pit bulls. Weimaraners. Jack Russels. Dachshunds. Every breed you could name and so many others you barely could identify.

And they all seemed to mirror your expression perfectly.

Searching. Waiting.

Waiting for an absolution that would never come.

You felt their pain. Their loneliness. Their betrayal.

Still though, non called to you. Marked you.

You were told not to look into their eyes, but how could you not. It had become so second nature to get lost in his eyes you nearly forgot what it felt like to be without them.

You were rounding the corner to the main exit, only a few cages remaining, and a sickening feeling began to boil within your gut. Choking on the bile in your throat with a fruitless attempt at speech.

"That it?"

It was a total loss. Heart sinking to your knees as Jared, the wayward keeper, opened the doors to escort you out of the wing and down an adjacent hall.

"I can show you one more. He's scheduled to be euthanized tonight. He's young. But he's very high energy. And a stubborn little shit. Which is why no one wants him."

He knitted his brow, opening the door to let you in as the overwhelming sound of aggressive barking and growling filled your ears.

Reluctantly, you stepped into the confined room. The solitude had made the poor animal more ruthless and hostile to anyone who stepped through those heavy doors.

Yet something pulled you in. A feeling. A tug at your heart that swiftly moved to wrap around your spine and move you forward.

And as you shut the door, the barking steadily began to settle. The blur of furr and teeth slowed and gradually transformed into a more discernable figure.

And as you stepped up to the cage, you cautiously crouched down to meet the animal at its level and finally met the eyes of a soul you had thought was lost to you long ago.

Blue. A blue so pure yet somehow so misunderstood. An icy cerulean wrapped around tan fur and sharpened teeth topped with blacked edged ears and darkened socks on his feet.

His, because it was obvious. He hadn't been fixed yet.

"Yeah, he's got a thing with doors. He's fine while they're closed but goes ballistic at the slightest movement."

You take note of the dogs calming demeanor. Keeping a close eye on him, scanning across his back and hindquarters, inspecting his conformation for any obvious or detrimental abnormalities.

"Poor thing seems pretty docile once he's settled down," you remark. "Why'd the last family give him up?"

You slid slowly along your feet, edging closer as the canine's demeanor shifts to become more open and submissive. Ears perked with a gradual pull of its paw to expose its tender underbelly.

"They lived next to a railroad or something. Apparently, he hates trains, too."

"What's his name?" You inquire, unable to break the stare as you gently move your hand between the bars in an attempt to gain a physical connection.

"He doesn't have one. And I wouldn't do that, ma'am. He's got-"

He chokes on his words as the fearful pup inches forward to bring the top of his nose your fingertips. You remain calm, quiet. And so does Jared. More out of sheer terror of the inevitable bite that was surely to come.

With a few curious sniffs of your scent, the dog pulls himself forward and against your hand in a desperate attempt to feel your touch.

He curls his back into your palm, rolling his spine underneath the tips of our fingers while moving to lay on the concrete floor.

It's in that moment you know you've been marked. Two lost souls finding one another in the cold and metal walls of a heartache and rekindling the vigor of life within your devoid souls.

"Damn. Never seen him do that before."

You acknowledge his voice, but the only sound reverberating in your ears is the constant strum of your beating heart. Alive once more as the ancient connection between man's best friend heals the scars of an unending loss.

"How old is he?" You ask, turning to face the man standing next to you. Comfortable enough to trust the newly found bond forged as a feeling of warmth and rejuvenation bellows from within your abdomen.

"About six months, I think. Give or taken a few weeks."

Six months. It's purely coincidence.

"I'll take him."

"Alright then. I'll get the paperwork."

You retract your hand just as Jared opens the door, and the frightened pup bolts to cowar in the safety of the corner once more.

But he remains silent. A searching stare locking into your gaze to gauge how to move forward with this unknown terrain.

Slowly, you extend your hand once more into the cage to coax him back to your touch. Rebuild the bond of trust once more as you wait for the inevitable to blow through the door.

With a solemn yet comforted look in the pups eyes, he gradually crawls over and rests his chin within the palm of your hand. Soul blazing eyes staring up within the confines of furr, having a certain familiarity you hadn't seen since so painfully losing that love so long ago.

"That's it. I'll take care of you," you whsiper in a voice akin to haunting within the walls. Rubbing your thumb along his bristled jaw line, not to dissimilar to the affection you showed once before to another blue eyed angel.

The heavy door swung open once more, yet you both remained entwined within an enamored bond as the attendant gently turned the metal knob.

"Think you've found yourself a dog there, ma'am," he muttered with a smile, extending the pen and paperwork for your newly attained ownership.

"You think of a name yet?"

You remained silent for a moment. Knowing full well his name was bestowed upon him the moment you walked through that door.

With one quick glance into his eyes once more, you fell in love with him all over again. And uttered the name you'd thought was destined to become nothing more than a distant memory.

"Johnny. Gonna call him Johnny."

This is hit me just before going to bed and I had to get it out. Love them furbabies. Boop all the snoots.

@deadbranch @sofasoap @d3athtr4psworld @writeforfandoms @punishmepunisher @glitterypirateduck @homicidal-slvt @jynxmirage @obligatoryghoststare @shotmrmiller @astraluminaaa @ghosts-goldendoodle @kkaaaagt @mykneeshurt @simpingoverquestionablemen @queen-ilmaree @thetrashpossum @designateddeadend @luismickydees @foxface013

#soapitup #salvation at the shelter #angst some comfort #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #john mactavish #soap x you #soap x reader #SoftSoap feels #call of duty #cod #cod fanfic #call of duty fanfic

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koshkamartell · 2 months

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summary: DDDNE one shot. You run away from Joel Miller after he holds you captive.

warnings: dark! Joel, physical abuse, verbal abuse, noncon PIV, degradation.

You should've known you couldn't beat him. You should've known that it was hopeless. He was Joel Miller, after all. He had made a living off hunting and killing people. You didn't stand a chance.

"Come on out now, little girl," his voice sang out, echoing through the quiet darkness of the forest. "Ain't gonna hurt you."

He had already hurt you in so many ways; now that you had tried to escape, there was no telling what he would do to you. The mere thought of returning to his cabin and facing the consequences of running made you tremble with fear. You covered your mouth with your hand and tried to concentrate on steadying your breathing, hoping to God that he couldn't hear you.

"Just wanna talk to you, is all," Joel's placating voice called. "Let's work this out together, darlin'."

Rivulets of tears ran down your cheeks as you silently wept. Your heart was pounding in your chest so fast you thought you'd have a heart attack. You dare not move despite the itching bark of the tree on your back and the pine needles on the ground poking so uncomfortably into your bare legs and feet.

Joel was walking around the forest in slow, calculated steps, a hunter stalking his prey. You could hear the faint crunch of leaves under his boots. He wasn't close but he was in the vicinity of your hiding spot.

"Come on, don't keep me waitin'."

You could recognise the underlying impatience in Joel's tone. He would stay composed just long enough to hunt you down and snare you - for he loved the thrill of the chase - then he would unleash his wrath. You had witnessed the brutality of his anger many times.

You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to stop your body from quivering but it was futile.

"Come out now and I won't go hard on ya."

You struggled to suppress the sob clawing it's way up your throat. There was no such thing as 'going easy' with Joel; the purple rings around your neck and the many bruises and scratches littering your body were testament to that. He was a man not capable of being gentle. He took too much sadistic pleasure in dominating you to be gentle.

"Okay girl, have it your way." Joel hollered.

The forest surrounding you seemed to go eerily quiet. You held your breath as you strained to listen to any sign of life around you. Nothing. You couldn't hear any movement.

Had he gone?

Surely not?

There's no way Joel would give up that easily. You were his, his property since the very first day he ambushed your group and slaughtered everyone for their supplies. However, he had decided to spare your life, when he spotted you cowering by your best friend's bloodied corpse. Joel's hungry eyes had trailed all over your face and body, a smirk slowly forming on his mouth. Staring up at him, helpless and terrified, you could not possibly imagine just how much your life would change. From that moment on, you belonged to Joel.

Now you were huddled behind a massive tree in the middle of the forest, waiting for any sign of his presence. You opened your eyes wide to try adjust your vision to the darkness of the night but your tears made everything blurry. There was no movement before you, and still no noise.

You couldn't tell how long you stayed hiding for but the aches throughout your body screamed at you to move. It must have been a long time. Maybe Joel really did leave you alone. Perhaps he thought you weren't worth the exertion of his energy - he often called you a "worthless slut".

Your body still shaking, you slowly rise from the ground and take a tentative step from out behind the tree. Your heart thunders in your ears as you whip your head around to survey the area. There's no one about. You need to keep going, gain more distance between you and the cabin that Joel must have returned to, empty handed and defeated.

You are far too weak to properly run, so instead you take leaping strides. You try to ignore the pebbles and twigs that dig into the soles of your feet. You manage to keep moving continuously for several minutes, becoming more confident with each step.

You're safe. Finally.

No more chains or rope around your wrists and feet. No more slaps to your face or bites to your flesh. No more being suffocated by his weight while he fucks into you mercilessly. No more tears shed as he degrades you and violates every one of your holes.

You are free.

But then ---

A loud bang suddenly thunders in the air, scaring you and causing you to trip over a stone. The gunshot reverberates throughout the woods and rings in your ears. You gasp and try to push yourself up from the dirt with the little strength remaining in your body.

You somehow manage to pull your body off the ground. But you only blindly stumble a few steps forward before you come to a crashing halt. You knock into something large and firm that propels you backward.

It is him.

Joel.

He stands infront of you, his tall frame towering over you, still and stoic as ever. In the moonlight you can see the terrifying snarl on his face and the fury glinting in his eyes. He holds his rifle in one hand. The other swiftly grabs hold of your throat and squeezes.

"Gotcha," Joel mutters.

Your mouth falls open in a silent cry and your eyes widen in horror. Your stomach roils.

It is over. He caught you.

Your eyes are locked on his and your body automatically goes limp in his grip like a rabbit in the jaws of a wolf.

"Where were you gonna run to?" Joel sneers. He leans down so that you are eye level with him. "You got no one but me. Ain't nobody left in this world who gives a shit about you."

Tears cascade down your cheeks. He's right. You have no one.

"Little bitch like you wouldn't survive ten minutes by herself," Joel gives your head a rough shake. "Think you can fight off an infected or a raider, huh?"

He releases you and tosses you down onto the hard forest soil. You land on your ass and instinctively shuffle away from Joel, sobbing and shaking your head.

"Show me," he growls, staring down at you with menacing ire. "Show me how you'd fight."

"N-n-no," you weep.

Joel bends down and captures a fistful of your hair in his hand. He uses it to pull you up so you're kneeling before him. The sting of your scalp makes you hiss in pain.

"I said show me!" He roars, slapping you firmly across the face with an open palm.

Your head jerks to the side and you wail loudly. Your vision goes blurry for a few seconds. He backhands your opposite cheek, then slaps you once more. You teeter from side to side like a ragdoll and your ears ring from the force of the blows.

"Run away from me?" Joel spits. "How you gonna do that when you can't fight, baby?"

He untangles his hand from your hair and lets you drop to the ground again. You are too exhausted to move; all you can do is weep.

Joel removes the strap of his rifle and places it down against a nearby rock. You can hear him hurriedly unbuckling and unbuttoning his pants before spitting in his hand.

You aren't surprised. You've come to know that Joel gets turned on by your cries and your fear. The adrenaline from the hunt would have excited him even more. He is like a feral animal possessed with the need to claim every inch of you.

His large hand wraps around your ankle and drags you to him.

"Open your fuckin' legs," Joel barks. "Or I'll tie you up and throw you to the infected."

You know it isn't an empty threat. There is no use in denying him. With your tattered dress already rucked up to your hips, you part your shaking legs and show Joel your naked pussy.

He dictated everything in your miserable life and never allowed you to wear underwear.

Joel sinks to the ground and spreads your thighs wider with his knees. You stare up at the moonlight filtering in through the treetops above you. Joel doesn't bother preparing you - he likes to see your face contorted with the pain he inflicts upon you. He lines the blunt head of his cock to your entrance and pushes himself inside you quickly.

Despite Joel using your body constantly, sometimes several times a day, you have never gotten used to the burning stretch of him. Combined with your lack of wetness, the feeling is overwhelming and agonising. You wince and cry out raggedly, digging your fingers into the dirt beneath you.

Joel sheathes himself fully inside of you and groans wantonly from the sensation of your tight heat around his fat cock. His hand finds your neck and wraps around it once more.

"Look at me," he grunts.

Joel squeezes once in warning and your eyes shift to gaze at his face. His dark eyes bore down into yours, his mouth curled into a snarl.

"Ya can't escape me. I'll find ya every fuckin' time."

He begins rocking his hips back and forth, gradually building up to a hard, pounding rhythm. The hand around the column of your neck tightens until you can barely get any air. Joel's hips snap into yours. His torso presses down onto your body and makes your pelvis ache.

"Hunt ya down and take ya apart bit by bit like the fuck pig you are."

Your nostrils fill with the smell of Joel's sweat and the scent of gun powder and leather. The skin of your backside scrapes against the twigs and pebbles beneath you as Joel violates your pussy over and over. Your brows knit together as his thrusts become more powerful, making your walls throb.

"Dumb slut should be thankin' me for keepin' this cunt full."

You begin to disassociate, just like so many times previously, your mind floating up from your tortured body. Joel hates it - hates the mental escape you are able to delve into, the reprieve you can find from his punishing hands and cock. He recognises it now and starts to crush your throat even more, completely restricting your breathing. Your fingernails claw into the soil and your legs thrash. Your mind is cruelly pulled back to reality and races with panic, but your limbs are heavy and weak, your body completely incapable of fighting.

You're going to die.

Joel's broad body brackets you as his thick cock pummels into you relentlessly. He continues to stare down at you with intense focus, panting and groaning while you spasm around him.

"Already told ya - ain't no escapin' me."

Your vision rapidly turns fuzzy and your lips go numb but your lower half still feels every spearing thrust, every savage crash of his hips against yours. Joel spits a wad of saliva onto your face.

"Go ahead and thank me, slut."

Then you black out.

#dark! joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller dark #dark! joel miller #joel miller dark fic #joel miller x reader #dddne

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baddieladdie · 26 days

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♡ Companion Shorts ♡

Fallout companions react to depressed vault dweller

Rating: Teen

Part 1 of 2 Charon ➼ Arcade Gannon ➼ Hancock ➼ Nick Valentine ➼ Deacon

Charon [FO3]

"What are you doing?" Charon grumbled from behind you, annoyed at the sudden stop in broad daylight. The view was nice from this vantage point, but it also meant they were in clear view of any hidden antagonists.

The burden of your loneliness beckons you to the ground. You fall to your knees, though the weight off your legs does nothing for heaviness in your spirit.

Why? You didn't know why.

Perhaps you had been too optimistic. Believed so wrongly that you could bring change to the wasteland. Or at least bring some minor degree of improvement. It was futile, all along. The wasteland was ever hungry, taking everything it was given and reducing it to rubbish. Even with the few good deeds done, the Talon company just kept sending mercenaries to kill you for the very slight of fighting the good fight. No good deed goes unpunished, right?

You look down the chasm below, half-hearted imagining your mutilated body on the rocks. Would even your death make a difference? Or would it just be one more life taken by the wastes?

"Hey," A familiar firm hand gripped your shoulder, "It's not safe here."

Tension swelled up in your sinuses as you shrugged his hand off. You clenched your hands together, digging your nails into the palm of your hand. The subtle pain was refreshing against the agony in your mind.

Charon was a victim even before the bombs fell; a constant reminder that humanity was corrupt well before apocalypse. Perhaps you really weren't so separated from the innate evil nature in the human spirit. You relied on Charon in nearly every fire fight. Taking advantage of his experience and strength through a contract you knew was akin to slavery. He obeyed every command, helped with every request. Never questioning you for a moment and always risking his life. You felt sickened on your reliance on that bloody contract. You should be finding a way to free him, and yet....where would that leave you? Dead? And what future what that be? Dead now or just dead later...

Charon grumbled as he sat beside you on the chasm's edge. He had seen ages pass, experienced more agony than he could ever be bothered to explain. For some employers, he'd leave them to their devices. But you? You are one of the few bastards crazy enough to help others selflessly in the wasteland. Even if wasteland was utterly indifferent to your efforts, it certainly be a darker place without the hope you brought others with each intentional good dead. Their very existence showed a brighter side of humanity that was a rarity in dark times.

"Tell me what troubles you," Charon's familiar gravelly voice was laced with an unfamiliar tone of... genuine concern?

"I just," You sigh heavily. "I don't know how much longer I can keep going on like this."

"I've wondered the same thing myself." Charon nodded with an empty stare.

You felt a pang of guilt at the possibility of bringing up painful memories for him.

Charon continued hesitantly. "I feel I must remind you; I am honor bound to keep you safe. From threats and, if necessary, from yourself"

"I don't want t-"

Before you can finish your thought, Charon scoops you up into his arms and walks you away from the ledge. "You need to be more careful," He complained. "You won't make a difference out here if you're dead."

He carries on walking through the awkward silence. "We passed a shelter not far from here. We could rest until you feel ready to continue again. We could uh, listen to that radio broadcast you like you so much."

"Maybe play game?" you tease.

"Don't push your luck, kid."

-Charon carries you to the shelter where he watches over you diligently until the worst of your depression episode passes-

Arcade [FNV]

You stare blankly at the ceiling above. Small particles of dust lazily hung in the air of the abandoned cabin you and Arcade took shelter in a few days ago. You really should leading the charge back out into the Mojave, but you simply couldn't find the energy to do so. Therefore, you simply rested.

Arcade knocked on the door and patiently waited for a response you couldn't be bothered to provide.

"Alright, guess I'm just going to let myself in then. I'll give you to the count of three," Arcade raised his voice from behind the wooden slat door. "You better be decent by then." you head him mumble.

Arcade cracked open the door, peering around to see your still body in the same position as when he gave you a mug of coffee hours before.

"In another one of our spells, are we?" His sarcasm brought you little comfort.

"Sorry. I just lose my heads sometimes," you sigh with a heavy heart.

"If by 'sometimes' you mean 'a lot of times', I agree. Please just....go easy on yourself, okay?"

You nodded, the vague emptiness you felt threatening to swallow you whole. Taking everything with it 'til you couldn't feel nothing at all.

"This is worse than before, isn't it?" Arcade pulled up a chair next to you. It creaked under his weight as he sat down. "Was it something I said?"

You shook your head. "No, nothing like that. I'm just....tired, Arcade. I'm fine, really." You gave a meager fake smile, hoping to appease the kindly doctor.

"Mmhm," Arcade paused for a beat. "Is that all?"

You could have sworn you were just tired, but now that you think about it, there were some troubles on your mind. Arcade waited patiently for you to open him to him about it. He did enjoy lengthy conversations more than most and always had his opinions ready.

"Ready to get back out there?"

"All right, let's not waste any time!" Arcade rested his doctor's bag on a shoulder, the enthusiasm in his voice giving away his excitement. "There are people out there to help, things to learn. Maybe not in that order, but let's get to it!"

Hancock [FO4]

Hancock chuckled, lounging on the couch next to you in the old state house. "I don't buy that shit for a minute." He shook his head, "No way, you can't fool me, sister/brother." He casually rested his hand on your thigh, immediately drawing your attention to him. "It hasn't been easy transition ya, has it?"

Your eyes began to water as Hancock looked you over with care. He nodded slowly with genuine understanding, "I didn't think so. No one should have to go through what you've been through." He gave your hand a little squeeze. "Ya always give me hope for brighter future. Cause I get to have you in my life." He smiled, "Cause the odds, it's practically impossible our paths would ever meet. I mean, you're pre-war, baby. The freshest smoothskin around and you wanna be a drugged out, dragged out ghoul?! That's how I know all that karma shit is bull, 'cause there is no way someone like you could ever end up with me."

You granted him a half-smile with the compliment. But the mayor didn't quite seem to grasp yet that you had burdens, very real and unconventionally heavy emotional baggage. Not that there was a trauma competition in nuclear wasteland, but you would have at least won a medal in most-fucked psyche. Your smooth nature stopped at skin level.

"It's been a Hell of road that brought us together, but aren't I glad I took up with you? 'Cause this person," Hancock paused, waiting patiently until you returned his gaze before continuing, " - the one I'm looking at right now. They're the one I love. I don't want to be without them ever again."

You wince slightly, his words a little too sweet. "You sure about this, Hancock? I mean, with everything I've been through...." You sigh heavily, your chest falling. "People are going to talk, Mayor" You give him a sly look, knowing how he enjoyed the occasional call to his title.

"Can't say I care much about what others think. Half the opinions out there aren't worth listening to anyway. The only opinion I care about, is yours." He grinned.

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable. Are you sure?" "You kidding me? So long as I got you at my side, it doesn't matter the capacity. I'm with you all the way, rain or shine" "You're a damn fine man, Hancock. I'm lucky to have you at my back." "And God help any of 'em who get in our way."

Nick Valentine [FO4]

"In my line of work, you usually see folks at their worst. I can tell there's something troubling you. You want to talk about it?"

"Not particularly." You grumble. You swirled with antagonistic emotions, unable to tell where one pain started and the other ended. Guess that's just what happens after you go through one too many impossible tragedies. Losing the love of your life and child alone was unimaginable. Your years of service in the U.S. army gave you the 'gift' of surviving the nuclear attacks that transformed your home and country to a primitive wasteland. You've always tried to make the best decisions possible for your family. But if you hadn't signed up for Vault 101, would you have died peacefully alongside your love? Would that have been better? You stared into your hands, agonizing over the conversation you had with the Vault-tec sales rep.

"Not enough people out here are willing to try and do what's right. I consider myself awful lucky I fell in with one who is," Nick paused, the smoke from his cigarette seeping from the metal cracks in his feature. He glanced around the Boston shore, checking for any ne'er-do-wells. But the coast was clear, perhaps due to their combat efforts earlier that day. He cleared his throat, and continued with some insistence, "If there is something bothering you, I'd like to be the one to help lighten the load. I happen to know a thing or two about find yourself after losing the life you thought you had."

"Thanks, Nick," You snap out of momentarily. The Boston harbor air was foul. You couldn't escape the reality you were in, no matter how you tried. The smells, the sounds, the food - none of it was familiar. "I'll be fine. I just don't sleep well." That wasn't much of a lie. Whenever you try to sleep, the memory of your love screaming your name returned. Their blood painting the inside of their frozen coffin while you watched helpless from inside your own. When you eventually fell asleep, the unfamiliar sounds of gunfire, screams of terror from the wasteland, and shouts of mutants would wake you. It was all just too much.

"I think it's time we take a break from the case, friend."

"What?!" You jump up from the bench, "We can't stop now! Not with the progress we've made!"

Nick flinched in surprise, but quickly settled to a concerned frown. "You haven't been yourself lately. We-," Nick sighed, committing to genuine honesty as he often did. "Partner, I need you at your best to solve this case. Come on, let's go back to the agency. I'll review the case files and you get some rest."

You look away, anger and guilt fuming within you. "I don't feel much like resting, Nick. I want to finish this."

Nick let your words marinate in the pregnant silence. "Is that what you want? To 'finish' this?" He gripped a metal hand your shoulder and looked down into your eyes. "I understand, you must feel angry. You have every right to be. But hurting others won't bring them back."

You simply couldn't hold it in anymore. Tears of grief, rage, and pain streamed hotly down your face, pooling at the apex of your chin. Nick pulled you into a tight embrace, rubbing your back as you cried into his signature detective trench coat.

"I'm sorry, friend. Truly."

Deacon [FO4]

You take a long drag off your cigarette, savoring that ever-so-familiar lightheadedness. The weather was shit, as it always was in Boston. Cloudy, and damp. You wrapped your cloak a little tighter around yourself, but it didn't do you much good. The bitter cold you felt reached deeper than your bones and left you frozen to your core. Just an icy fraction of the vibrant person you were before. Before you lost everything you had fought for, everything that had mattered to you. It all was gone. And along with it, any reason to carry on.

You exhaled slowly, watching your frozen breath drift aimlessly away from your cracked lips. Deacon watched quietly from aside, nursing a chilled Nuka-cola. He cleared his throat awkwardly. Genuine words never did come easily to him. Deacon had always found it more comfortable to flirtatiously avoid the truth. Kept him safe from every getting hurt....and ever making close friends. Deacon, being a loner himself, recognized the loneliness you dwelled in.

"I know what I feels like to wear a mask. That kind of protection only ambiguity can give you. But really - are you feeling okay? Cause you can talk to me"

"Another one of your little lies?" You sigh, tapping the ash off the butt of your cigarette.

"No, not this time," Deacon kept an uncharacteristically straight face

You pause, stirred by the sincerity present in Deacon's voice. He loved the way lies could crack your usual composure. You watch his expression carefully, checking for any usual hint of his usual mischievous nature. But all that saw on his face was genuine concern for a companion he cared deeply about.

"Well, look who's acting out of character now," you tease. "Thanks, Deacon. I appreciate that. And I'll be fine. It just, uh...." you take in a deep breath. "It takes time, building up this new life. Making these new memories. Building these new relationships. Just sometimes, I uh, miss my old life. My old friends. Sometimes I see something, and I just know my spouse would have loved to see it."

"I know. But we'll stop the Insititute. For them."

"Right," You nod, filled with determination. "For them."

To.Be.Continued...

#hurt/comfort #fallout companions #fo3 charon #fnv arcade #arcade gannon #nick valentine #fo4 hancock #fallout 4 #fallout #fanfic writer #companion shorts #charon #john hancock #fo4 deacon

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coldshare · 11 months

Note

A word To build a scenario around... Steam

thank you for the prompt, anon! ♡ here it is (with some gratuitous references to contagion... you know me)

a character who's the type to prioritize self care over everything... who lives luxuriously, the type to resort to everything from expensive spa days to unwind, the type who's familiar with every natural remedy in the book, because really, even the slightest ailment is a perfect excuse to take it easy and even pamper themselves a little bit

the same character who feels themselves coming down with a terrible, incredibly contagious cold. but for whatever reason - maybe their boss urges them to come in (it's just a small cold, after all, and so much work still needs to get done), or maybe because they're just so confident in their home remedies to do the trick - they head to work anyways.

their desk becomes a mini pharmacy for the day - soft lotion tissues, three different tins of tea specifically meant to relieve cold and flu symptoms, herbal cough drops, a few cooling salves for their red, irritated nose, hot packs for their sinuses, a humidifier for the congestion. after all... if they're going to have to work with this cold, why not make their time here as comfortable as possible?

but still, despite every remedy, their cold turns out to be annoyingly persistent - they're just so congested they can hardly breathe through their nose, plagued with a tickle (not severe enough to catalyze a sneeze, in most cases, but present enough to be very distracting) in their nose which won't leave them alone no matter what. even worse, every sneeze is irritatingly unproductive; it does nothing to relieve the tickle - in fact, it almost seems to make it worse...

they make it to halfway through the afternoon where they decide they can't stand it anymore - they're not feeling too terrible, but this is certainly annoying, and that's enough of a reason for them to put an end to it once and for good. breathing in steam can be therapeutic, and even better, it's supposed to relieve congestion, right?

after a few moments consideration, they swipe the small vial of lavender essential oil off their desk. they've never been fond of this particular vial compared to the other essential oils they own - it always leaves them sniffly and teary eyed - but perhaps that would be a welcome side effect, just this once.

from there, they head into the break room and boil some water using the coffee machine (so what if they end up sneezing a few times, all over the coffee machine, misting the company countertops? it's not like they can control when they sneeze... with this cold, every sneeze just sneaks up on them; it's not their fault that they're not always able to cover.) they pour the boiling water out into a large bowl, drop a few drops of the lavender essential oil inside, and take a seat at one of the tables in the break room, which - aside from them - is thankfully empty.

the first breath of hot, fragrant steam does wonders for their congestion, which they can feel start to loosen for the first time, making their nose run. they haven't brought any tissues with them... perhaps that was an oversight, but the steam is just so relieving, they can't just stop now...!

the next few breaths, they can really start to smell the lavender, and... oh, the tickle in their nose sharpens with such intensity it takes them off guard.

"heh... hEhh... HIH-! hheh-Hhehh... heh... hehH..."

god, their nose tickles so badly; it's practically begging for relief. they lean their head down, taking another deep breath in through their nose.

"hehH... hehh-HEH-!" fuck, so close, just a little more... "hheh... HehhH.... hh-heh-Hehh-HEHh-!! HEHH'IIHHSHIEEEW!"

it's as if that first sneeze completely opens up the floodgates, snapping them forward - only for them to inhale a huge breath of hot steam. they wipe their nose on one palm, but even the slightest pressure against their nose seems to increase the tickle tenfold. everything smells like so strongly of lavender, it's - HEHh-! making them - heh-HEHh - h-have to -

"HEHH'ISSSHHIEw! hHAH'IITSHuUH! heh... heh-hEhh-HEHh-hHEH'TCHIIIEEEW! hH... hHIh! hahh-HAh-AHH.... AHH'IIIITTSCHHUueE!"

every sneeze absolutely drenches the table beneath them. they lift their hands to halfheartedly shield the first couple of sneezes, but with the number of particles that escape through their fingertips regardless, does it really even matter? it's not like anyone else is in the break room, after all. they turn their head aside to keep from spraying the table (even if all that accomplishes is spread their cold in the other direction.)

besides... don't they deserve to sneeze after having not been able to sneeze all morning, aside from the few terribly unsatisfying sneezes they'd had to put up with? isn't it only right that they get relief from this annoying cold as soon as possible? they need to get all the viruses out of their system to get rid of this cold... each messy, spraying sneeze sets them closer on the path to recovery. the tickle in their nose is really just there to help them sneeze out their cold as soon as possible, so why not coax it even further, make this process a little faster? really, they're doing their body a favor as they breathe in more steam, as they give in to the tickle in their nose, as they sneeze and sneeze and sneeze...

(maybe that's what they think, but they've left the air so utterly saturated with their cold viruses that it's no wonder that half the office comes down with the same miserable, messy cold in the weeks following, leading to more than a few dirty looks... after all, they brought their cold to work, and they hadn't exactly been subtle about it)

#snzblr #snz kink #contagion #contagion kink #snz scenario #snz prompt #sneeze scenario #snzfucker #sneeze kink #snzario #the research i did to write this sneeze post (what a sentence) says #apparently it is possible for essential oils to make you sneeze if you're allergic to the scent #i also spent like 15 minutes researching humidifiers (usually it's harmful to drop essential oils into the water tank) and diffusers #(neither of which i have ever used but i just wanted to write a character with this archetype ahaha)#before settling on this method which i can only hope is logically sound #also i think this is my longest post thus far? totally got carried away

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larsisfrommars · 4 months

Text

The Light Won't Die (Part 3)

Halsin x Tav

Rating: E for Everyone

Chapter: 3/??? (<- Prev Chapter • Next Chapter)

Word Count: 1401

Genre: Adventure, Hurt/Comfort

Content: Halsin x Tav, Male!Tav, Fighter!Tav, more grappling with PTSD, someone let Shadowheart have too much wine, hc Karlach is Tav's 2nd in command, cliffhanger

"The group was ready to move on, save for one Druid. He knelt, staring intently into the empty eye sockets of the tragic traveler. As if searching for something, recognition. As if he could reconstruct a familiar face from the contours of the humanoid skull."

———————✨🌿✨———————

“Stay close to me! Keep your torches lit!” Tav commanded, the party obliged as their crew band of eight tread carefully through the beginnings of Shadow Cursed Lands.

They were every bit as grim and grueling as the Druid had warned. Still they were well warded against the gnawing darkness. Between two strategically placed Daylight spells cast upon weapons courtesy of Halsin and Shadowheart, and The Blood of Lathander which bolstered their torches. Even when Wizards with bad knees straggled behind or overeager Barbarians bounded ahead.

Still, it did not eliminate the possibility of attack. With Moonrise Towers looming gloomily in the distance as a constant reminder. Though perhaps it did leave room for some curiosity.

“Something over there.” Tav muttered signaling the rest of the group to follow.

It was the scraps of a campsite, a very old one at that. A failed solitary venture into this accursed place. The skeleton was completely bare of flesh, any weapons or armor it had carried long since picked over or shredded, despite the unsettling lack of living animals in the area. Still, perhaps there was something worth scrounging for by way of torches or provisions, maybe even some magic if they were lucky.

And so they were, to a degree, they made short work of sifting through old rotten rations and scraps of cloth to pocket a modicum of coin, tools, even a few potion ingredients. Not that’d there’d be a place to sell such things for a while yet.

The group was ready to move on, save for one Druid. He knelt, staring intently into the empty eye sockets of the tragic traveller. As if searching for something, recognition. As if he could reconstruct a familiar face from the contours of the humanoid skull.

“You alright Halsin? I’d say let’s Speak With the Dead if you’re curious but uh, I hear it doesn’t work well on skeletons.” Tav called back from a pile of freshly emptied crates.

“This is true.” Halsin replied absently “Perhaps we shouldn’t dawdle. I suspect there may be Blights about, if memory serves.”

The great elf stood up, pocketing the small tattered book that laid beside the remains. Ready to move forward, Tav noticed but said nothing. Halsin had asked for no share of the pickings, the Druid was entitled to a bit of light reading. Maybe he would glean something from the text they could not.

It was not too much longer before a weariness worsened by the curse bade them make camp. Torches around every tent, and a fire at its heart. Tav hoped it would be enough, it seemed every edge of the camp had something shadowy skittering just beyond his line of sight. It was unnerving, he prayed it was just the stress of the day.

They ate and drank well; wine, bread, sausages, fruit, and so on. However, normal fireside chatter was dampened by the warning their first encounter with a shadow curse victim bore. Save for that of one particular party member.

“I know it’s rather, intense” Shadowheart continued, after perhaps a little too much wine. “but you cannot deny there is a certain beauty to the depth of silence here, the weight of the shadows. The Mistress of The Night has total control here. She has blessed me with the ability to walk safely through it, to ease you all safely through it. The Lady of Sorrows will guide us towards the answers we seek, I’m sure. She rewards all who appreciate her dark embrace.”

“Well, at least someone’s chipper.” Karlach muttered in a mixture of amusement and exasperation, finishing off the last of evening’s rationed bottles.

Most of the group chose to humor or to ignore her, politely listening or getting distracted among their own conversations. Tav strove to be the former, hoping for some nugget of truth or doubt in her recitation of words that did not seem like her own. Yet he found himself capable of neither. For he wasn’t the only one who could neither sit and listen to her impromptu sermon, nor bring himself to make conversation.

Was Halsin… scowling? The Archdruid had been withdrawn, brooding even, ever since they’d left that body behind. Flipping through the pages of that book he’d found on the day’s hike toward Moonrise. Perhaps he should say something about it to him.

Perhaps it was too late.

“If it is all the same to you. I think I have heard enough of the virtues of Lady Shar for one evening. Good night.” Halsin growled sharply.

Though he had not raised his voice nor spoken to the Cleric directly. The rest of the party was shocked into silence. Even Shadowheart had snapped out of her wine-addled religious reverie. Her expression soured into an ineffable wall of inner turmoil. The Druid had given no inkling of his distress to anyone save for Tav… until now.

“You alright bear man?” Karlach asked gently.

Halsin’s expression flickered with the faintest hint of regret before hardening into frustration. Unable to form a reply, he gave a heavy sigh, and meandered away to his own tent.

Tav couldn’t bring himself to leave well enough alone. He shot Shadowheart an exasperated glance, and Karlach an apologetic one for leaving her alone with the tension. Still, finding himself uncaring as to whether either were received as his feet willed him towards Halsin’s tent for the second evening in a row.

This time he’d knock, given what happened last time he approached the Druid’s tent unannounced, especially now that they were in this wretched place.

“Halsin? Can I come in?”

No answer, better if he’d leave then.

“Please.”

Halsin’s voice betrayed a mountain of emotions so grand Tav could not possibly name them all.

So once more Tav’s reflexes won the day as he near instantly slipped inside. In Halsin’s lap was the tattered journal he had found. It was open to what seemed its final passage, damp droplets smearing its last writings somewhat.

“His name was Saryn.” Halsin rumbled, his voice thick with grief, as it had been in the Mountain Pass.

Everything snapped into place, the book, the body, the concern over Blight presence, the outburst by the campfire. It was all so painfully obvious in hindsight. That sorry sight of a corpse was one of the Halsin’s own. He felt stupid for not seeing it sooner.

“I pleaded him not to come to this cursed place, not alone. I warned him of its danger and still he left. He was barely an initiate at the Grove… I could have stopped him. I had it in my power.” Halsin let out a ragged sigh, opening his clasped paw to reveal a tattered emblem of Silvanus. All that remained of the fallen’s long since decayed armor.

Tav wanted so badly to touch him, to be of some warmth or comfort in this terrible place. A place that brought this man more pain than any magic could neither inflict nor heal. He’d draw it out of him with his bare hands like poison from a wound if he could. But he feared any attempt would break the spell of Halsin’s confidence in him in this fragile moment.

“It takes an old fool to make as many mistakes as I have. Too many times now have I been made to abandon those in most need of me… but no longer.” Halsin’s fist tightened around the emblem once more, broad shoulders trembling with barely bridled emotion.

Halsin opened his eyes now, agitated, gold skittering across hazel-grey. Not quite ready to look upon his abiding and quietly watchful companion. Who had since come to kneel beside him.

He let out a deep, slow breath, back straightening. His rigidity from the past few nights having melted away into something much more familiar to Tav from the Archdruid, confidence.

They’re eyes finally met, a warmth there where once there’d been a wall of painful memories.

“But I have allies now.” He concluded, “Greater than any I had before. A pocket of light against the darkness, and a welcome one. I fear I could not survive without it.”

The first genuine smile Tav had seen bloom across the wood elf’s face since they’d approached this awful place felt enough to banish any lingering affects the Shadow Curse could or would ever befall Tav again. He reached to take Halsin’s hands in his own.

“Shit!”

Fun Fact!: The inciting incident is not only the inspiration for this entire fic but it's something you can actually find in Act 2 and I just thought of how mortifying it would be if Halsin could've been with you when you find it!

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adiprose-abernath · 10 months

Text

Proof is in the Pudding

Content Warning: Hypnosis, long term weight gain, fit to fat, slob

Chris was your example of your basic gym rat. Wake up at 5am, start your grind and get your protein shake on. Then, it's the gym for 3 hours and then it's out for a jog. By end of day, he was burning thousands upon thousands of calories carelessly like the gaunt slip of paper of a man he was. One night, however, he gets an advertisement for Adiprose Adipudding, a new product from Adiprose Enterprising that was said to contain "4 times the calories as the leading brand and twice the protein. No need to worry, so whats youre hurry? Try our Insta-Pudding, Today!" Unfortunately for our skeletal sucker the word "protein" was all he needed.

4 days pass and a big box arrives at his doorstep with the logo of a friendly bespeckled werewolf giving a sly wink and grin. Excited for his delivery, he's a bit confused by the portions in small, individually wrapped packages of powder and a flash drive that says "WATCH ME" on it. Supposing its an instructional video, he pops it into his computer and presses play. The video begins with a superimposition of the company mascot and a recipe on how to create the Insta-Pudding mixture followed by a step by step tutorial. Regardless of how redundant a tutorial is for a 4 step process, Chris can't help but be drawn in the by the beautiful baritone tones of the narrator, mesmerized by mindless mixing and making and building and baking and, by its end, he seems to snap out of a trance. He looks back at the box and sees nothing but empty wrappers and...wait...what is this? He feels a grumble in his stomach and touches it to feel his flesh. Did he eat ALL of the puddings? That couldn't be. He rushes to the bathroom to discover his face covered with the chocolate and frosting. How is this even possible? Then the voice in the advertisement seems to waft in his ears. "No need to worry." And he finds himself relaxing and hungry. Perhaps another order will calm his suspicions

A few weeks go by with thus and changes begin to appear on our pitiful protagonist. His pecs begin plumping as a big billowy belly replaces the abs that were there before. His biceps melt and hang with gravity as flabby flesh hang from both sides of his arms. His legs, once lithe and lanky, thicken and turn tubby the thighs like tree trunks. His face isn't spared either as a small double chin rests under his lonely single. His cheeks puffen out and his face fills with fat. Every part of him grows and, though he won't admit it, he's starting to enjoy it?

Ever the dutiful rat, he decides to head to the gym again. Maybe that'll clear the headfog he's been experiencing. As he walks that way though, the adiprose jingle chimes along the street as a delivery van lazily drives along. A red flag in his head is ignored as begins to turn to the fast food parlor right beside the gym and go in instead. Then, after ordering food for people twice his size til hes scarfed it all down in a piggish panicked display as though hed never tasted food in his life.

This activity repeats itself every week for another two months, his belly ballooning bigger and bigger, sagging lower and lower His A cups turn to B and nearly crest C as his bloated breasts become heavy with fat and flab. His steps, when he can make them, are thunderous as his thighs, wide as oaks and nearly as heavy carrying a porkish portly poundage. His body is rarely covered in clothes but it is certainly covered in crumbs and frosting and sauces and food, his smelly form like a buffet of the food he's eaten. He wheezes, his poor lungs having difficulty managing a land whale 3 times his original size. Once a small gym rat of a meager 180 pounds, he flattens his former form with a fantastic five hundred and twelve, practically an inflated ironic icon of his greatest fears made manifest.

This is, of course, not the only case. For you see, the distribution of Instapuddings came with a special hallucinogen that would encourage the consumer to be consumed by calories and cakes and confectionary craze so powerful it made twinks into bears in no time at all. After all, what's the harm in a little self indulgence every now and again, and again, and again.

#male weight gain #gaining fiction #fittofat #hypnosis #slob #fat belly

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unknownfacelessfanfictions · 7 months

Note

Hi! I saw that your requests were open, so I was wondering when if you can do where the team meets Fem! Y/n who is mute and is La’an’s twin sister?

Two Parts of a Whole

Pairing: (familial) La'an Noonien-Singh x fem!mute!reader; Crew x fem!mute!reader Fandom: Star Trek Strange New World Words: 4.5K Warnings: Mentions of La'an's Gorn trauma, Spoilers towards season 1 A/N: Thank you so much for requesting!! I hope it's satisfactory because this is the first time I wrote something like that. To be honest, I'm not entirely satisfied with it, but it won't get better. And I'm sorry that it took so long

The promenade of the space station she was currently on was packed and she was grateful that she had been able to get an empty spot on one of the pillars near the airlock. Not only several freighters had arrived almost simultaneously, but also two Vulcan research ships and an Andorian battle cruiser of the Imperial Guard. She had only noticed them in passing, however, as her focus was on the huge Federation starship. The USS Enterprise, NCC - 1701, Constitution Class and the flagship of the fleet. She, however, only cared about, one person on this huge ship.

Searchingly, she bobbed up and down, heel to toe and back again, hands clasped behind her back. Apparently she seemed to be so conspicuous that people were worried, because she was approached by an Andorian woman, quite brusquely, asking if she needed help, but she had quickly waved her aside. She was doing fine, even better than that, after all, she would be able to see her sister for the first time in months.

Perhaps it was a little paranoid of her to worry after such a short time, but the meeting with the Gorn had also left its mark on her. Unlike the rest of her family, she had not been on the SS Puget Sound because she had contracted Bolian smallpox, which was highly contagious, on the space station where they had stopped. Accordingly, she and her aunt, who was also ill, had been left on the station, with the expectation of returning to collect them after two weeks. At that time, no one could have guessed that it wouldn't come like that.

Her world had collapsed that day and, believing she had lost her entire family, she had spent days crying and refusing to eat or drink. And she probably would have gone on with it, had it not been for her aunt, who had begged her that her family had not wanted it that way and that she should not leave her alone. So she had carried on with her life as best she could, but it had seemed hollow and empty to her. Her siblings, but especially her twin, had been her motivation, her joy of life. A life without them had become unimaginable for her.

But just when she had convinced herself that it might, just maybe, be possible to survive without her family, the news arrived. La'an had survived. Her sister was alive. At first she hadn't wanted to believe it, the fear of raising her hopes unnecessarily was too great. Even when they were standing at the airlock, she had vehemently refused to even consider the possibility that she might still be alive. It was only when La'an had thrown herself around her neck, crying, and she had realised that, yes, La'an was alive, that she had been unable to hold on any longer and had cried just as unrestrainedly as La'an.

For the next few months, the twins were inseparable. Neither could last more than a few minutes in a room without the other, and their aunt had caught them both lying close together in bed at night to feel each other's body heat. Over the years, the situation had improved, but she still felt an uncomfortable feeling in her stomach when they were apart for long periods of time. She had been all the happier when she had learned that their paths would cross on this space station.

She herself was only nearby because she had been assigned by Starfleet to look more closely into the culture of Jitrav IV, with which it had only recently made contact. Strictly speaking, she was not a member of Starfleet in the sense of travelling the galaxy, but more in the sense of gathering information and reporting it back. In the past, she might have enjoyed flying through the quadrant in starships and getting to know new civilisations, but after the disaster with the Gorn, she had developed a real phobia about starships.

So she had devoted herself to exploring alien cultures from the safe distance of her home on Earth, but her work had been so distinguished that Starfleet had taken notice and wanted to hire her on one of their ships. She had decided against it, but in the end had gotten a relatively good deal out of it: Although she had to travel by starship from time to time, she would spend longer periods on other planets to learn about their cultures and languages. She documented her research thoroughly and sent it to Starfleet, whereas they paid for all her expenses as long as they remained within reason.

But this fear had not stopped her from getting into the first shuttle to this space station when La'an had told her that the Enterprise would dock there. She had been standing at her spot since early morning so as not to miss her sister. A few minutes ago, the first stream of Starfleet officers had poured onto the Promenade and she had to do her best to calm down. She knew La'an. She would not disembark until she was truly one hundred percent sure that there were no further duties. Knowing that her sister would need some more time, she began to observe the crowd of officers.

Frowning, she realised that most of them were human. She had expected this, but she had also been convinced that there had to be more non-humans on board. She noticed two Tellarites, a handful of Bolians and she thought she caught a glimpse of a Vulcan in a blue uniform out of the corner of her eye.

After twenty minutes of waiting, she saw an Aenar in a red uniform who was accompanied by a young woman in an equally red uniform who was talking intensely to him. Although he seemed grumpy and annoyed and gave the impression that he was not listening, she could see from his antennae directed at the young woman and the fact that she had spent two years on Andoria among Andorians and Aenar that he was listening more than attentively to her. Smiling, she shook her head and turned her attention back to the airlock. What a strange combination.

All in all, it took almost three quarters of an hour until she finally spotted her sister's dark braids, which were tightly braided back, but by then she could no longer be stopped. The promenade had emptied out a little in the meantime, so it wasn't particularly difficult for her to make her way to La'an, who fortunately noticed her in time. The latter fortunately noticed her in time to put her bag down before she crashed into the security officers. " Oof-" La'an groaned, but chuckled softly in response and after a short time of stiffness also put her arms around her to press her twin sister against her.

For a while they held each other tightly, even if it earned them some strange looks from bystanders. When she broke away from La'an, she noticed that she had blushed a little, but she didn't care. You are late, she signed. La'an nodded and smiled a little stiffly. "I know. However, I wanted to make sure everything was ready myself before I went to disembark." The young woman raised an eyebrow. Besides, you had to keep your reputation. La'an rolled her eyes. "Maybe a little."

La'an picked up her bags and followed her. They had agreed in advance to share quarters, so she just followed her to her quarters. Since it was difficult to converse while walking if one had to sign, they walked side by side in comfortable silence without another word to the other. It didn't bother her, as she knew that she and La'an would have plenty of time to talk. At the moment, it was simply important to her that her sister was with her again. Halfway to the lift, however, a voice stopped them. "Lieutenant Singh!"

They turned and she saw two women running towards them, whom she didn't know, her sister by all appearances did. One was slightly taller, had chin-length white-blonde hair and had apparently been the one who had called out to La'an. The other was smaller, had short dark hair and a cheeky grin on her lips. La'an just raised an eyebrow. "Yes?" "We were going out for a drink. Care to join us?" The taller one added with a quick glance at her" That goes for your...girlfriend too of course?" La'an narrowed her eyes. "She is my sister. And no thanks. I'm busy."

However, the two of them seemed not to have caught the last sentence, as the anthropologist and linguist was now the focus. "I didn't know you had a sister, Lieutenant." The blonde propped a hand on her hip as La'an took a deep breath. "Now you know." The shorter one held out her hand, which she hesitantly accepted. "My name is Erica Ortegas, Erica will do. And this is Christine." The blonde waved, but before she could do anything, La'an had placed a hand on her shoulder and hastily introduced her. "She is pleased to make your acquaintance, however we would like some time alone." Christine frowned. "Why don't you let her speak for herself?"

La'an's eyes only narrowed more, whereas she merely smiled in amusement and opened her mouth. Erica and Christine looked at her expectantly, only to look even more surprised when she began to sign instead. I'm mute and La'an translates for me, so it's all okay. She nodded her thanks to Christine. But thank you for your concern. After giving La'an a prompting look, she translated what her sister had said through clenched teeth, clearly annoyed at having been stopped by her colleagues.

Christine smiled but at the same time turned red in the face. "I'm sorry. Didn't mean it." She just tilted her head and nudged La'an. "That's all right. However, I would like to spend some time with my sister now." Erica and Christine, who was obviously still embarrassed by the whole thing, nodded and said a quick goodbye and she gave her sister a reproving look. You could have been a little nicer. La'an didn't respond any further.

Once in their quarters, La'an just barely took off her shoes and threw the bags on the floor before she fell backwards onto her bed and groaned. Her sister smiled slightly and snapped her hand to get her attention, whereupon she opened her eyes languidly. That bad? La'an sighed and sat up. "Well, I wouldn't know how to describe two run-ins with the Gorn any other way." She flinched and if she hadn't needed her hands to sign, she would have reached for La'an's. How? That was all she could bring herself to say, so much were her hands shaking. She knew how much the incident with the Gorn weighed on La'an, even more than on her, and the thought that her sister had had to face those monsters again did not make her feel at all comfortable.

La'an's voice broke several times before she was able to reply. "There were four Gorn ships. On Memorial Day. We barely got away, but we lost several crew members." She swallowed, but when she was asked if she wanted to stop, she replied in the negative. "The second time, we were on a planet, Valeo Beta V, responding to a distress call from a ship that had landed there. There weren't many of us, just a handful, and Enterprise had to move on and..." La'an broke off and her sister, who was now sitting next to her, squeezed her hand. In a shaky voice, La'an continued. "We found two survivors, however one was infected and before we knew it we were dealing with three hatchlings. Cadet Chia and Lieutenant Duke died. We almost lost our chief engineer as well."

But only almost? La'an laughed shakily. "It was more luck than good sense, really. We found out that the Gorn reproduce via their poison and Hemmer, our engineer, was hit. It didn't look good and without Doctor M'Benga on site...." She broke off. Gently her sister patted her back. He's all right though, isn't he? He's alive. "He was willing to sacrifice himself." La'an's voice was no more than a whisper and she had trouble understanding her. "I was the only one in the room with him, I could have stopped him, but I didn't do anything. I was too scared. If it hadn't been for the captain..." She tried to make calming noises to reassure La'an, however this seemed to have the opposite effect as she jumped up.

"No! You don't understand! I was ready to let a colleague, a friend, die because I was too scared! Because if I had thought even for a moment that he was from bloody Andoria, it might have occurred to me that he had a lower body temperature and consequently the process of hatching would be slowed! My fear almost killed Hemmer! How can I be head of security if my fear doesn't allow me to think clearly to protect the people who are under my protection?!"

She was shocked to see tears in La'an's eyes, which she resolutely wiped away. It's not your fault. She stood up and went over to her sister. Do you hear me? It is not your fault. He's alive, that's all that matters. "But I-" She clapped her hands loudly and interrupted La'an. No. It's not your fault, she repeated. Her gaze softened and she stroked La'an's shoulder. You have experienced traumatic things. No one blames you for being afraid. Most would have hidden in your place. Not you. No feelings of guilt. Please. La'an smiled bitterly before hugging her sister. "Thank you."

It took a while for the sisters to let go, but when they did, La'an seemed a lot more relaxed than before. At least, as relaxed as she could be. You have an Andorian as chief engineer? La'an frowned. "What makes you think that?" You said Andoria. "He's Aenar. They run even colder than Andorians. Don't ask me why though, I'm not a doctor."

I know. She grinned cheekily at her and they both had to think back to the incident in their childhood where La'an had tried to treat her wound with baking paper that did not absorb liquids. La'an smiled slightly. "I was six." So was I. Knew better anyway. She frowned briefly. Think I saw your chief engineer. "Oh yeah?"

She nodded. About that tall? She raised her hand. Red uniform. Grumpy? La'an smiled. "Sounds like Hemmer. Was he in company?" She nodded. Woman, small, short hair, black, red uniform. Talked a lot. La'an chuckled softly. "And that would be Uhura. She's a cadet, but one of the best linguists around. And she's somehow managed to befriend the grump of the ship." I didn't know you guys were friends. "Haha."

But he looked okay. Not hurt. A little grumpy, but healthy. "If that's your attempt to tell me it's all okay, stop. It's not making it better." She gave a silent sigh. Fine. But you need distraction. And relaxation. Her mind wandered back to the conversation from before. Fancy a drink?

~**~

It was like pulling teeth to convince La'an to go to the bar, but in the end she won and, followed by a somewhat grim-looking La'an, went down to the promenade, which by now, due to the hour, had filled up again. Which one do you want? Take your pick. La'an sighed and finally pointed to a larger establishment that formed the centre of the promenade. "If we're going to drink, let's do it properly." Her sister grinned and together they entered the room.

It was already well filled, yet she was still able to grab a small booth for them while La'an went to the bar to return with two colourful drinks. "Well then," La'an sighed as she slid into her seat and raised her glass. "To a wonderful evening." Her facial expressions were far too exaggerated, yet she didn't care. Cheers, she signed back, before picking up her glass herself and clinking her glass against her sister's.

The glasses clinked softly, the sound drowning in the noise around them, and in sync the sisters downed the drink. But while La'an remained expressionless, she screwed up her face and hastily put the glass down. What is this!!! La'an smiled to herself, which caused her sister's expression to darken further. "A little bit of everything." She screwed up her face. I'm going to have the hangover of my life. "Probably." Thank you for your compassion.

La'an grinned, however that smile faded as she looked past her sister. "Oh God." She turned, following La'an's gaze until her own gaze lingered on a group of people in Starfleet uniform. There were four people, three men and one woman, if she was so free to take that in. One of the men seemed to be "leading" the group. He wore a yellow and gold top, had silver and grey hair and a cheeky grin on his lips as he talked incessantly to the woman, also dressed in yellow. The latter had tied her dark hair into a high plait and did not look very impressed, but had a narrow smile on her lips. The other two were dressed in different shades of blue. One was slightly shorter, had a beard and was giving her dad vibes, whereas the other was clearly a Vulcan, his arms behind his back and one eyebrow raised sceptically.

The first man seemed to notice them because his face lit up and he waved at La'an before turning to the others, whereupon the group of four came towards them. La'an narrowed her eyes. "Just what I needed." Her sister gently slapped her arm and gave her a reproving look before the group was already beside them. "Hi." The man smiled broadly at her and briefly she wondered if this man had ever considered becoming a model for dental advertising, so white did his teeth appear. "Would it be okay if we joined you, La'an." The woman interposed. "Unless of course you'd like some time alone, which would be perfectly understandable." At that she gave the man a stern look, under which he shrank but his smile did not.

La'an glanced briefly at her sister before, in the face of the hopeful smile, she sighed in surrender and slid up a little to make room for the four. As everyone looked at her more or less expectantly, she took over the introductions. "This is my sister. She is currently working on Jitrav IV as a xeno-anthropologist. This is Captain Christopher Pike, Commander Una Chin-Riley, Lieutenant Spock and Doctor Joseph M'Benga. We serve together." She grinned at La'an. Oh really, I would never have guessed. La'an just rolled her eyes, however, she seemed to have caught the interest of the others.

The Vulcan, Spock, raised his eyebrow. "You use sign language." Mockingly, she raised her eyebrow in turn. Oh do I? I hadn't noticed. La'an snorted into her drink and tried to suppress a laugh. "What did she say?" Pike looked at her as if she was the most intriguing thing he'd ever seen, which flustered and confused her in equal measure. It wasn't that special now. La'an cleared her throat. "That she is pleased to make your acquaintance." Indignantly, she slapped La'an's arm. I didn't say that! "Subtext," La'an added, which earned her a snort.

She then turned her gaze to Spock. I am mute. Sign language is therefore my only way of communicating with others. It has been done that way for centuries. La'an translated for her without twisting the words in her mouth this time. Well, hands. M'Benga cleared his throat. "I thought there were treatments by now." She shook her head. No long-term ones. Besides, the risks are too great. After that, the four of them left it at that and they returned to a more relaxed conversation. At least they tried to, since most of the conversation was really just Pike and her, La'an's translations excluded, and the occasional comment from M'Benga. Una spoke up from time to time, as did La'an, but Spock was silent almost the entire time.

After half an hour, their drinks were empty and Pike offered to get more, which everyone agreed to, but he came back with two more people in tow, though she had already seen them. "Look who I ran into. Thought it would be nice to add to the fellowship," Pike grinned as he placed the drinks on the table, pointing to the Aenar and the young woman standing behind him. While the Aenar, Hemmer if she remembered correctly, looked just as grumpy as before, the young woman, Uhura, smiled all over her face and instantly locked eyes with her.

"Hi, you're Lieutenant Singh's sister, aren't you? The Captain had mentioned it." She held out her hand. "I'm Cadet Uhura, but please call me Nyota. This is Hemmer and don't worry," she leaned down a little towards her, "He's only half as grumpy as he looks." Hemmer scoffed. "I'm blind, not deaf, Uhura. I heard you." Nyota blushed but didn't apologise and on closer inspection, she could see that Hemmer didn't really look mad. She smiled at them both and quickly introduced herself. To her surprise, La'an didn't even bother to translate, as Nyota seemed able to do so herself.

"Oh, that's a beautiful name." You know sign language? Apparently one could see the surprise on her face, because Pike laughed softly. "Uhura is quite talented with languages, you might say." For the first time in half an hour, Spock spoke up. "Cadet Uhura speaks over thirty-seven languages, so by human parameters, she is more than 'quite talented'." Her jaw dropped? Thirty-seven? You're too good for this ship. That elicited a laugh from Uhura and after they had all scooted up, the other two had also squeezed onto the bench, Hemmer a little more reluctantly than Uhura, which was why she was now squeezed between La'an and Pike. There were worse things.

In time, they were joined by Erica and Christine, who had a young man named Sam Kirk in tow, which was the moment they decided to move the whole thing to a larger table. Now seated between M'Benga and Hemmer, facing La'an and Uhura, she noted with relief that her sister seemed to be starting to warm up. She knew that La'an would have preferred to be alone with her, but they would have plenty of time for that and at the moment she simply enjoyed being among so many people, which was not really common in her job, with the constant changing of places.

However, after almost another half hour of the crew telling their stories in Starfleet, including the amusing part of the Gorn disaster where Hemmer and Uhura were shot off the ship (Uhura confessed, admittedly a little drunk, that Hemmer had looked like a meerkat. The latter had protested, but his antennae and dark cheeks had betrayed him), they turned their attention to her and her profession. Patiently she answered, with La'an's help, until Uhura asked a question that made her think of something. "How do you manage to do your job with people who don't speak SSL (standard sign language)?"

For a moment she paused and frowned. What do you mean? La'an quietly translated for the rest and Uhura shifted back and forth in her seat. "Well, you meant that you were getting to know the native inhabitants of the planets to study their culture and the intricacies of their languages more closely, but how-" -can I do that without speaking myself? Uhura nodded and she smiled at her. One moment.

She rummaged in her trouser pocket and pulled out ten rings, each of which was connected to another, smaller ring with thin steel bands. She slipped them over her fingers so that the larger ring sat on her knuckle and the smaller one just below her fingernail. She then rolled up her sleeves to reveal two bracelets, one on each wrist, which she tapped on for some time until they beeped briefly and began to glow blue.

I don't need to speak. I have these. She signed, but a tinny female voice spoke for her. The people around her stared at her with wide eyes and of course Spock was the first to catch himself to ask a question. "Why didn't you use that before." It isn't complete. She regarded him with narrowed eyebrows as the voice continued to translate for her. It's missing the sensors for the face, arms and torso that I usually wear. Sign language is not just language of the hands. Is complex.

She looked down at her hands. It's not exact and I have to sign very slowly and clearly for the right thing to come out. Besides, it's slow. Takes longer than living translator. Not a problem with speeches, awkward with conversations. With that, however, she seemed to have caught Hemmer's attention. "Sure the whole thing couldn't be calibrated more sensitively?" She shrugged. Don't have a clue about such things. Starfleet takes care of that sort of thing. However, this is just a prototype, better is to come soon. Apparently she had signed too quickly and uncleanly this time, because the voice didn't spit out "Starfleet" but "Stargazer". Annoyed, she frowned and deactivated the bracelet.

"I think it's cool," Nyota declared, smiling broadly, which earned her a slight smile as well. Quite a bit.

After that, the conversation turned back to more mundane things and no one talked about the bracelets, even though she sensed that Hemmer was tempted to get his hands on them. He did not say so, but his antennae twitched conspicuously in her direction. After two hours, however, La'an and she decided to leave. This was accompanied by a series of disappointed noises, but they did not let themselves be brought down. After promising Uhura to polish up her SSL and Hemmer that he could look at her speaking aid tomorrow, she and La'an wished everyone a good night before they left the bar.

In the lift, they leaned against the wall and La'an heaved a sigh. "This is not how I had imagined my evening to be, if I'm honest." But it was still nice, wasn't it? La'an pursed her mouth. "Tolerable." She grinned at La'an. I can live with that. She pinched her sister's cheek to keep her attention. I like them, all of them. They're nice. La'an shook her head with a smile. "Especially Uhura though, right?" It's always nicer to talk to people who understand you without you. The lift doors opened and La'an pulled her behind her. "Come on. You owe me another game of cards and this time you won't be able to wriggle out of it."

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

@bigblissandlove1 @akamitrani

#star trek #star trek strange new worlds #star trek snw #snw x reader #snw crew x reader #la'an noonien singh & reader #la'an noonien singh x reader #mute reader #la'an noonien singh #spock #christopher pike #hemmer snw #nyota uhura #christine chapel #erica ortegas #joseph m'benga #sam kirk #una chin riley

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vandelopa-x · 4 months

Text

Hiii guys! THEORY TIME

So um I've been thinking quite a lot about the new DS2 trailer, I rewatched it like 20 times and also the first trailer again and I wanna make a theory about the possible timeline of the second game + some other ideas in the middle. It probably won't be accurate at all cause Kojima's brain works in mysterious ways but hey, I wanna try cause I just keep thinking about it night and day.

So! The scenes in trailers aren't really in any order (duh) so I tried to figure out the timeline.

This scene. A lot of people were worried that there's no Sam here and is Fragile the one taking care of Lou? I would say that she's just babysitting. Maybe Sam had to leave for something (Go to town grab food, supplies, who knows, maybe it was all planned and someone orchestrated the whole situation so Sam would leave the base so he wouldn't be a threat.) Since Fragile is a person he trusts, he might have asked her to come by and take care of Lou. The place where Sam was cooking food in the 2nd trailer and the place from the 1st one looks similar, so I would say it's the same.

Listen, I don't know anything about little kids, so I used the internet. The measure here is in inches, and the first smallest handprint is at 18 inches. According to an article I read, newborn girls measure at around 19.4 inches, and Lou was still a fetus when she came out of the pod, so it makes sense she would be a bit smaller. The biggest mark it at 28 inches, and the same article stated that babies can grow 10 inches by their first birthday, so I would say Lou is around 1 years old when the whole attack happened. Is it relevant? Who knows.

Then we have the whole this situation. By the look of this person, and the color of the gun, it appears to be red. Who else has everything red?

Higgs' lovely cult friends in black masks. I don't think its Higgs himself, it might be someone he send, but also it could he Higgs? I don't know.

I mean, the hood, the everything, the golden shine on the hands that reflects in the light, his hands appear to be more smooth than fully robotic like the other guys? If you look very hard the crimson color is still there in the first photo, it just appears dark.

No clue what the hell happened here 😭 But there we see that Lou is on the ground and then she dies? I have a theory that Lou could be a repatriate like Sam. Sam became a repatriant because Amelie/Bridget ressurected him on the beach. If I remember correctly, Sam did the same to Lou when the crater exploded at the beginning of the game. That's why they both "survived it". It could be possible that because of that, Lou also gained the ability to become a repatriant. But what if something went wrong?

Here we see that Lou "appears" in the pod. But her silhouette looks very similar to a BT. BT's don't age. What if little Lou tried to repatriate by herself but by accident she split her Ha and Ka. Her soul ended up trapped in the pod, or near Sam, and her body was taken by Higgs/to Higgs. He wanted ravage from what was said in the trailer, and what better ravage than taking his beloved kid's life? It would hurt Sam way more than actually doing anything to him directly.

This is when Sam notices that Lou's soul is trapped in the pod perhaps. See the red lightning? It could be when Sam got back to his base.

Since after the attack the lights in the base turned red.

If we look at the 2nd trailer more, we can see that Sam I walking with an empty pod, so he is aware that Lou's soul is in the pod, thanks to it Odradek can still detect threat. This is so interesting!

When Sam and Higgs meet and Higgs takes the empty pod in his hands, touches it and feels something, he's like, kinda in awe?

Then there's the big red cyborg ninja (lmao). It has Odradek's face and we already figured its "possessed" by Lou and tries to protect Sam. I've also seen a theory about Higgs calling himself a ghost and the Ghost in the machine thing, I forgot the user but y'all are genius 🙏🙏

If Higgs is a ghost in a machine, so his soul possesses the cyborg suit, then Lou also can posses a machine, right?

Also I wanna talk about the whole puppet thing and control stuff here because I have thoughts. I don't know if I remember everything correctly 100% so feel free to fix my mistakes, but in the first game Higgs was sort of Amelia's puppet, right? He was the tool she used to get Sam to her, a tool that would push Sam to go thru America and connect it, to connect all the beaches together so she could destroy the world, as it was her destiny. She have Higgs these crazy DOOMS powers. That's why I keep wondering if in the second game Higgs is still a puppet, or did he get tired of it and decided that this time he will be the puppeteer? We see the strings that are on older Lou, we see the strings of the robots that Sam fights with a gun, I'm wondering if Higgs is also pulling the strings of something much bigger.

What if Higgs is responsible for APAC? The private corporation, the patron that gave Fragile the money and tech for the ship? They apparently never saw face-to-face (Higgs' mask), Higgs has a factory with tech, he has all kinds of robots, weapons, he has to have money, and in the 1st trailer it's said that APAC made the final decision, whatever it means. If Higgs sponsors the whole thing, he can also make the decisions. But that's just the thought that I had.

Also the "chrysalis" in which Lou'a body was in kinda reminds me of the sarcophagus in which Higgs was in, just a thought.

Also these weird ass trypophobia inducing things on Lou's arm remind me of the octopus' suction cups on their arms. It's quite similar to the octopus arm in the pod in one of the photos above.

Alright, that's it for now!!! I have no brain cells left, I probably didn't write everything that I wanted cause I forgot, but tell me your ideas if you want, I would love to read your theories!! Does any of it make sense? I don't care because it's a Hideo Kojima game so common sense or any other kind of sense doesn't apply 😍😍

I love analysing this shit it's like crack with some other good stuff

#death stranding #higgs monaghan #death stranding higgs #death stranding 2 #ds2 #death stranding 2 on the beach #death stranding theory #sam porter bridges

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lunart-06 · 6 months

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Good day, I have a request to make regarding your current ao3 that you wrote.

Ok imma stop with the fancy English. I read your ao3 titled "there was nothing left for me" and absolutely adored it so I want to ask if you could write a good ending.

Like when izuru was outside talking about how unpredictable the ocean is and no amount of luck will ever bring makoto back, immediately he said that, up in the sky, is it a bird? Is it a plane? No! Its a heavily damaged helicopter hurdling towards him at mach 4. The helicopter crashes right next to him with rubble from the helicopter flying everywhere without hitting him. His curiosity gets the best of him and you'll never guess what he finds inside. A very beaten up and bloody scars makoto who looks like his on the brink of death.

That was the idea I've been brainstorming ever since I finished ur fic. So thanks for reading and incase u actually take this into consideration (I'll be very glad if u do) please take your time I don't mind waiting

(Ur fic has done crazy stuff to me like once in every 10 scenario sessions I have it's based on this fanfic Thank you so much for writing it)

ARCK TY SM!!!! That fic was the only thing that made me feel like I can't possibly write anything close to that quality anymore and needed to get more deeply into my zone but I'm glad you liked it!!!

And for the ending, it was extremely inte ded for me to make a very open-like kinda ending to ensure something like these! You can imagine ANY scenarios regarding of what happened and with the kind of ending I go for COULD lead to tons of possibilities!

It could be Kamukura destroying the foundation and still feeling empty inside, or who knows maybe he find Makoto's coffin while at it? Or maybe Makoto is *still* alive yet just wandering aimlessly after escaping and tricking everyone of his death? Who knows who knows, that's what fun about them!

And to indulged in your one of many scenarios of ending for this fic.

Kamukura wouldn't pay attention to anything else, as said, the agonizing turmoil crashing on everything he had build up for. But he *does* aware of the sound above him, and just like that his ultimate talents switched without command and stood aside a few good feet away, in a certain spot, as a vehicle crash down next to him.

I don't believe Makoto could even still be standing after surviving an execution from *Munakata* of all things, that man won't let him breath. So in this case, some of his other friends and sister had helped him out of the dire situation. Judging from Byakuya's scowl towards Hagakure it seems that it was the teller's responsibility in controlling the helicopter, but knowing Byakuya's distrust over something so life-threatening to someone like Hagakure, it seem he was suppose to be temporarily held control over it until some *bad luck* happened.

Toko was there, Komaru was there, Byakuya left his knot tying rushed to go over to Hagakure, leaving the body—

The body that was still moving. *breathing*. Though shallow and slow, definitely in pain, slightly trembles perhaps from the large injuries and the shock from literally falling from the sky. The sight of it managed to make Kamujura's skin pricked, muscles tightening, and eyes frozen to one sight of one subject. Komaru calling onto the body she held is when Kamukura can feel the freezing water washed over him and wiped the toxins in every parts of his molecules.

"Makoto please hang on—"

Makoto. He can see it clearly now, the messy hair of brown with strands sticking out in multiple places, damped with sweat, paler than necessary to be consider healthy, the while shirt soaked with red, his whole figure is writhing as if cold and taking shallow breath as if drowning, he couldn't see the calming olive eyes when the lids clenched shut, eyebrows pinching together closely that the skin wrinkles, his teeth grits and released from pain and to breath, holding onto the major blow of the injuriy that could have really taken his life dearly.

"Kamukura?" The sister called out, and for once, he paid attention, "please— please, help him– help my brother please, h-he's—"

He doesn't let her finished before his whole body moved in instinct, swiftly picking the deathly cold body that's far more than Kamukura's own, and as he made contact with Makoto, he can feel multiple talents surge through him all at once; ultimate hunter checking any possible threat on his surroundings, ultimate bodybuilder to properly hold Makoto without shaking too much of his injuries, ultimate medic to check anymore major wound aside from the one Makoto covered.

And when Makoto finally squint an eye opened to stare directly on Kamukura's clouded crimson ones, smiling in a shaky manner with a relief undertone (for once, Kamukura *understood* that. Instead of *knowing*), he spoke, in an exhale, his voice whispered; "I..... tol' you.. that I'll–.... be......back..—"

And ultimate runner to quickly take Makoto back to the base of the island.

#danganronpa #lunar ask yippe #kamuegi #a helicopter falling casually like that seems very breaking the ambience but #I have a feeling that theres some way to make that work #then fucking it up from giggling too much #I need to be very sad to write this!!!! to get into it #so I'll leave it just that

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alittlextrathatway · 6 months

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Lyric: (from WHAT I HAVE by Kelsea): "Cause I got a roof over my head

I got a warm body in bed

I'm doing alright right where I'm at

With what I have"

Location: Bedroom

Going canon again, here we go.

***

After an emotionally trying day, Matt wakes up the next morning to the soft sounds of humming. He turns toward where his favorite person should be asleep next to him and finds the space warm but empty. Groaning in a wordless complaint, he cracks one eye open. It's just enough to see the bedroom door is open and the light is on in the hall bathroom. As he sits up, his eyes drift to his phone on the nightstand. It's morning, for sure, and he has an early afternoon flight to catch. He knows he should get up and get on with his day.

But getting on with this particular day means leaving someone behind and his instincts are screaming against that idea. He just got her back, he can't leave her now.

Still, putting it off won't stop the day from beginning.

He swipes his boxers off the floor, putting them on as he walks. Following the gentle melodic humming, he finds Sylvie just inside the open bathroom door, brushing her teeth.

She rinses, spits, and then smiles at him as if showing off her newly cleaned pearly whites. He chuckles lowly, reaching out for the bottom hem of his t-shirt Sylvie seems to have borrowed. He uses it to tug her forward, within arm's length, and then hugs her to him.

"Good morning," she says as her arms go around his waist. "Future husband."

"Good morning," he mimics, dipping his head to kiss her slowly and intrusively. She tastes like toothpaste and he loves it. It reminds him of all the mundane daily rituals he missed while they were apart and how he won't have to miss them for too much longer. "Future wife."

"I didn't wake you, did I?"

"You didn't but the lack of you did."

"Missing me already, huh?"

The teasing nature of the conversation escapes him for a moment as more somber thoughts intrude. She truly has no idea how deeply he struggled all these months without her. "Always." He lets that statement sit for a poignant beat, and then locks his arms around her back and lifts. As her feet leave the ground, he walks them out of the bathroom and down the hall. "Come back to bed. I'm not ready to start the day yet."

She laughs and grabs onto him, despite them both knowing he would never drop her. "Ready or not it's gonna happen, Matt."

"Just come and lay down with me for a few more minutes," he begs. "I wanna enjoy holding you while I can."

Her smile grows but her eyes start to water. The smile tells him she's not holding back tears of sadness, but rather tears of joy and perhaps disbelief. "Well, how can I possibly say no to that?"

He sets her down on the bed and then quickly joins her. They climb under the covers and then meet in the middle of her bed, arms instinctively going around each other.

"I really thought I'd messed us up forever," Sylvie admits as she rests her head on his shoulder, her arms wrapped around his middle.

After pressing a kiss to the top of her head, he offers her comfort by rubbing his hands up and down her arms. "I messed up first, Sylvie. I'm the one who let you believe there was any version of a future where I wouldn't choose you over Portland."

"I should've talked to you about it though, not shoved it all down and tried to reconcile it on my own."

Maybe she should have, but in his mind his offense was worse than hers. "And I should've made more of an effort to see you and talk to you. We both had something to work on and room to grow. But I don't want to spend this moment thinking about the past. I want to spend the morning in the present with you."

She nods against his shoulder and then tucks herself further into him. "You're right"

He lifts her left hand from his chest and kisses her fingers, just above her engagement ring. "In this moment, I'm as alright as I've ever been. I've got you in this bed with me to keep me warm, a roof over our heads, and I'm home in my favorite city in the world. I have everything I've ever wanted and more."

"Me too," she agrees, kissing his shoulder. "You, the boys, Julia, and the job are all I'm ever gonna need. Nothing in this world makes me happier than any of that."

After years of trying, they're finally on the same page at the same time. His life has never felt more fulfilling than it does when he's waking up with her. They have a few more months of separation to get through, but once that's done he'll never have to wake up without her again.

#brettsey #sylvie brett #matt casey #matt casey x sylvie brett #tvaddictandolicitylover #prompt fic #my fic #angellwings writes

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1eoness · 11 months

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i literally cant stop thjnking abt joji ever since i got tickets to his concert so ... can i request an angst that's based on his song glimpse of us :') leon and reader are dating and all leon can think of is ada ( OR VICE VERSA IDEK )

okay flexing on me i see u anon.......... /stares condescendingly/ jk

and sure let me just put the song on repeat until i start convulsing and oh wow an actual title that is only mildly shitty? go me.

also, i received this request like probably over a month ago im sooo sorry about that TT

cw; angst, depressed re4remake!leon x gn!reader. shitty toxic relationship, super fucking short bc im uncreative.

blind glances

synopsis :

deep down, leon aches for his ex-girlfriend. you're the gauze of a heart that does not bleed for you. you're looking at him but his affection does not rouse at the sound of your name.

it's eating at him. he'll never escape the realization that even a lifetime of getting used to you won't ever amount to having a brief glimpse of ada wong.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

if guilt is a penalty then leon is a man for the guillotine. he wakes up beside you, warm skin on just skin when he reaches over to gently kiss you on the forehead for a love-empty greeting. does he like doing it?

no.

leon has a blurry count of how long it has been since he last felt the high of love.

he will never deny it. leon is a fool for tying tight strings for a woman that kissed him with lies but you just don't know anything. you don't know the raw care that lingers on ada's face, her stoic tendencies, her slender shoulders that carry the burden of a past he'll never know of. he's a fucking idiot for keeping scores with a bossy woman and finding love in her during a citywide bloodshed.

but because of the wrong of it all, shit, he felt the most human in the fucking world. leon deserving a healthy relationship after the incident in raccoon? bullshit, he doesn't deserve that; not when he's just going to end up hurting you with his pain. it won't ever change the fact that a part of him shudders at the sheer thought of ada.

and the naive look on your face will always remind him where it hurts.

during the first few weeks of trying to rehabilitate from a forsaken and true love, leon has already told you his issues and tendencies. you came with the guess that "it's most likely the trauma, leon.. you know i'm here. and let's hope ada is okay." and he nods quietly, kissing your cheek in mechanical reflex.

so you've had this discussion with him before—you were so open, so warm. but leon does not let himself relax around you. you're both a manifestation of his culpability and a cognitive drug to him— it drives him insane sometimes he cries at night and he doesn't even tell you why, just nuzzling into your skin and staining it wet with the depression that seeps in his nerves.

leon's never the smoker but you're a cigarette to him—he needs you when he feels like you're all he's got and he needs you to disconnect from a world that won't give him his ada back, even if it's just for a little while.

you wanted to be so mature but no, you're just a fucking human being as well. you desperately wanted to help leon but what if this is it? what if this is all you might be?

so, you both try to reconcile.

he's blind to the eager light in your eyes when you ramble about your day. he's smiling and playing with his straw while your words go from one ear out the other; because when he locks eyes with you he doesn't see you. he only sees a reflection of himself using you to his mending. and it's anything but your fault.

he somehow still has the audacity to feel some sort of affection towards you; but who will ever tell him he's just guilty and sympathetic? or, no. he just thinks that way.

is it possible? god, is it possible to care for someone you don't love? perhaps, but was that the care you needed?

you needed leon to care for you.

you wished ada was just here to whisk him away and maybe you wouldn't find yourself here. you know it, deep in your stomach. but you are bittersweet, you love to fucking convince yourself leon loves you. he loves you, doesn't he?

he felt like dying that night he saw your face drop when he opened his wallet to pay. he still had a picture of ada in his wallet. why was he so blind? why was he so careless?

...

"...i think i left the faucet open."

you utter begrudgingly after you stood up, calculating your share quickly and dumping it on the table with a rush. he stares at the table with horror gorging at his heart, watching his 'love' walk away from him with tear-blurring eyes. the faucet doesn't stop running when you reach the car. leon knew this, your heart was just too big for your own good.

you felt like a fool; you're the one trying to prove that leon loves you. how stupid does that fucking sound?

so later that night he's at home, inebriated out of his fucking mental while he's hunched over the sink. slightly sunken eyes stare back at him blurrily.

leon tries to rinse the guilt off his face but when he sees himself it's hard to even look—he doesn't know himself anymore, he's just the husk of a man that has his love taken away from him and stuffed in an abyss that stares back. and you don't have to guess which 'love' he's thinking of.

love. the word is so simply ridiculous, isn't it? one minute it's warm and gentle but it feels like a whole war when you try to conquer it. love always wins, it wins over him when he tries his fucking best to just be a better boyfriend for you.

it's like that one quote from that one book. "love is the only rational act."

what leon feels for you is right. he cares for you enough not to bring your hopes up anymore. he should just leave, but he doesn't want to abandon you. but what good is leon if he stays? if there was a god up there, leon pleas, tell me what to do to make it hurt less for them.

temptation is non-existent. his heart belonged to ada. ada ada ada. he's sorry but he can only think of her. even the name sounds right to him. it's a poisonous solace, the way his sombers connect with ada's.

he sleeps before you. you both stopped having the innocent intimacy before bed and now it's just restless individuals sharing the same comforters, desperately finding a warmth in the cold room you both soak in. it's so cold. you reach over to hold him. leon feels so cold.

it gnaws at your heart when you're constantly visualizing a scenario of him choosing whether to save you or ada if it ever came down to it. and you know who he would pick.

"..." leon turns over.

"bad dream?" he whispers but his voice is empty of projected care. but he still cares. he still fucking cares. but why should he?

you answer anyway.

"yeah."

you answer anyway because you still want to be wrapped in his safety. you find yourself pressed to his heart, the back of his hand on your head. soak in the comfort all you want,

but leon still feels cold.

#im eating fried rice while writing ths #MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM #leon kennedy angst

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thebreakfastgenie · 4 months

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Songs are often not about just one thing I'm not saying I have a deep spiritual connection with Billy Joel that no one else does, but I do have a good track record at understanding the meaning of Billy Joel songs, even when they're widely misunderstood (because I have a deep spiritual connection with him that no one else does) and I think at least to some extent Turn the Lights Back On is about his music.

[Verse 1] Please open the door Nothing is different, we've been here before

The door to the recording studio perhaps... it's also less literal, just opening something back up. It's something familiar! He knows about writing lyrics and recording songs. It's this reassurance that he remembers, that it isn't new.

Pacing these halls Trying to talk over the silence

Silence... from the lack of music.

And pride sticks out its tongue Laughs at the portrait that we've become

Pride could refer to a lot of things, but it's certainly a feeling that can go with creativity. Taking pride in his work... In some ways he has become a portrait of himself. He's been playing music that reflects who he was thirty forty, fifty years ago.

Stuck in a frame, unable to change I was wrong

He hasn't changed, he's been playing, in his words, the same old shit. He thought he was done writing songs, that he had nowhere left to go artistically, but he was wrong.

[Chorus] I'm late, but I'm here right now

His last album was in 1993. He's also been touring and playing his residency for over ten years now, and he hasn't released any new music. People have asked, and he's always brushed them off. So maybe he's late. It's been a long time. But he's here now.

Though I used to be romantic I forgot somehow

He used to write a lot of love songs. He hasn't written any for a while, or any lyrics. He feels like he forgot how, or forgot what he liked about it. He's also used romance and being romantic as somewhat of a metaphor before.

Time can make you blind But I see you now As we're laying in the darkness

It's easy to forget how much you loved something when you haven't done it in so long, but he remembers now.

Did I wait too long To turn the lights back on?

He wonders if it's too late. After all, it's been decades, and he's turning 75 this year. Turning the lights back on evokes literally turning the lights on in a long empty room, like a recording studio, but also more generally suggest starting again, starting back up.

[Verse 2] Herе, stuck on a hill Outsiders inside the homе that we built

Maybe the hill is an obstacle, a thirty year bout of writer's block. Or maybe it's a peak. Maybe he hasn't written songs all these years because he felt like he'd already peaked creatively and there was nowhere left for him to go. He feels like an outsider in his own career now, because he's not writing. He's also influenced a lot of younger musicians, so maybe the home we built refers to that too.

The cold settles in It's been a long winter of indifference

He hasn't cared much about writing songs in a long time, but now he's starting to notice it feels like something is missing. The Genius annotation also tied this lyric to the early fall references in Famous Last Words. The teaser video showed him turning a page from Famous Last Words to Turn the Lights Back On so there's definitely some level of connection there. Famous Last Words was about feeling he had nothing left to say, but even then he left hanging the possibility of other words some other day. These are the words.

And maybe you love me, maybe you don't Maybe you'll learn to, maybe you won't

I think you here refers to both the personification of music--his muse--and the audience. Maybe his muse will be good to him, maybe not, maybe he'll get back in the swing of it, maybe not, this is new and he's trying. Maybe the audience will love his new music, maybe they won't like it and won't buy it. I think this also works in the reverse, where he's the second person. Maybe he realizes he loves songwriting again, or maybe he doesn't at first but he does with time, or maybe he doesn't and this song is it, just one experiment.

You've had enough, but I won't give up On you

He had previously had enough of writing songs, maybe his muse had had enough of him, but he's not giving up on doing this art.

[Chorus] I'm late, but I'm here right now And I'm tryin' to find the magic That we lost somehow

He wrote some really magic songs. As much as he claims lyrics are just what you have to write to sell songs, he wrote twelve albums worth of songs over twenty years, there must have been some magic in it for him. He lost that along the way and he's trying to rediscover it now.

Maybe I was blind But I see you now As we're laying in the darkness

He couldn't see what he liked about songwriting for a longtime, what the draw really was, but now, after all this time in the darkness not doing it, he sees it.

Did I wait too long To turn the lights back on? [Chorus] I'm late, but I'm here right now Is there still time for forgiveness? Won't you tell me how?

He's wondering if he still has a chance to go back. He's old, he's been away a long time. But he wants to figure it out.

I can't read your mind But I see you now

It's not easy to understand. Maybe it's his own mind he can't read, he can't understand where his creativity comes from or how to turn it on and off. But he sees that it's there.

As we're layin' in the darkness Did I wait too long To turn the lights back on? [Outro] I'm here right now Yes, I'm here right now Looking for forgiveness

He affirms that he's here now. Maybe the thing he's looking for forgiveness for is how negative he's been about the songwriting process, and how dismissive he's been about the idea of going back to it.

I can see as we're laying in the darkness Yeah, as we're laying in the darkness Did I wait too long To turn the lights back on?

Putting all of this in the context of his first new song in decades and the deliberate connection to Famous Last Words, which is also about his music, I think it makes sense. He's also done a lot of things in the last ten years or so that at one point he thought he was done doing: playing concerts, getting married, having children and now, writing songs. Or at least this song. It's about trying to find the lost spark in a relationship, not with a woman but with music. I think it does suggest the possibility of more music from him, although it's very far from a guarantee.

#billy joel #turn the lights back on

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lvminosityy · 3 months

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seungho sighs packing the last of his things into a box. he'd been working at infinite for years, now he feels lost leaving without anything else to fall back on. he manages to keep it together while saying his goodbyes but before leaving he wanted to see just one more person- perhaps the only person who could truly comfort him at this time. before anyone could say he needed to leave, he sneaks down to the floor he knows tidal usually practices on. maybe he should've sent ren a text before actually going down there to make things easier but he didn't exactly think this through. seungho instead quietly walks around in hopes of spotting the idol, but the second he does he almost wishes he hadn't.

his steps come to a slow stop as he processes what he was looking at. to most it was just two people talking but seungho could tell, could feel there was more going on there. the bright pink hue on ren's cheeks, the sheepish smile, and the gaze ren couldnt hold for more than a few seconds...the tension between ren and noah could be felt a mile away. he was already feeling so low but now he felt utterly defeated. immense exhaustion taking over and he cant seem to fight back his overwhelming emotions. his lip begins to quiver signaling it was time to leave before anyone could see him. in just one day he'd managed to lose his job and ren. everything. scratch that- how could he possibly lose something, or rather someone, that was clearly never actually his?

the following days felt so empty. apart from the few hours somi and seo managed to lift his spirits when they came by to visit, he felt so alone. despite that, his phone remained untouched. he couldn't look at social media without feeling like he was being left behind. and it's not like he wanted to talk to anyone else either so he lets his phone battery die. if not for binx, he wouldn't actually be leaving his apartment. it's only to buy cat food. binx would never forgive him if his bowl was left empty for more than a few seconds past his meal time. "be back in a bit. please don't scratch the furniture or I won't get catnip." he almost bargains with the feline before grabbing his keys and opening the front door. seungho freezes when he looks up to see ren standing there. he's almost tempted to close the door. he's not sure he's ready to talk to him just yet, but he knows he can only avoid him for so long. "what're you doing here?" he asks, skipping the pleasantries. @soulfm

#c; ren

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bluemoondust · 2 years

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✮Day 10✮ Cockwarming

˚⭒· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ft. Aizawa Shōta/Eraserhead — BNHA

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: I didn't think I would write this much just for the slow burn to the prompt, but I actually do want to make a part two of this with it actually happening, so oof. But yeah,,, this is basically a slow burn.

Summary: It was a long time coming, if Aizawa had anything to say about this whole situation.

General + Warning(s): Stalking, Drugging, Noncon Touching, Kidnapping

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Aizawa can say he's a patient man, if asked, though he will admit that on certain days that patience runs thin. He can wait for what he's looking for without complaint; all good things come to those who do as the saying goes. What he didn't anticipate is how careless you were.

Every second he glances at you, it's the same. Someone who clearly doesn't know the true nature of the world... Or perhaps you do, but you certainly can't handle it on your own. It's a pity to hear about the little things in your life. A pro hero, living alone, in constant danger to potential people who could simply overpower you if you weren't careful enough. The downside of being a known hero, whether big or small, everyone knows who you are. Your name is out there, and that's all that someone needs to track you down.

It wasn't like Aizawa was putting you down, no, you misunderstand. Well, maybe he does view you as someone who doesn't know better in some aspects. He respects your somewhat wary nature. It's obvious that you're very aware of the potential dangers of the world. He's seen it when you refuse to give personal information to anyone like the press and such or when you keep your drink extra close to yourself. He chuckles at the sight.

No, there is some endearment towards you when he puts so much regard into the life you live. It's only because he cares, is what he tells himself. So, he tests you.

Aizawa wonders if you ever catch the little hints of someone ever trailing around you or how certain things in your home are shifted. If you did, then you're good at hiding that fact. He could imagine the possible expression on your face once it clicks to you. What measures will you take to calm your paranoia? Will you keep these concerns to yourself? Fight them on your own?

If you do, he simply shakes his head as he clicks his tongue. Well, aren't you careless. It's like you're begging for someone to help you. He just wished you'd use your words more than just give silent signs.

Oh, but what does get under his skin is when you're stubborn.

Empty promises of getting better sleep or remembering to eat causes a deep frown to form on his face. You're fine, you say. Everything is good, you tell them. Bullshit. Aizawa knows perfectly well that you stayed up later than usual to either do work or impulsively entertain yourself. Even so, the dark circles under your eyes and lack of focus would have given it away if he didn't know what you were doing the other night.

You certainly do like to push, or rather, avoid confrontation. Though it does still push his buttons either way.

If no one will get through that thick skull of yours, then he will before this behavior gets destructive.

"Hm? What's this for?" Your eyes were fixated on the treat and drink Aizawa had placed before you.

He took a sip of his own drink as he let out a breath. Working late again, aren't you? It wasn't necessary, but with your slight paranoia that someone was sneaking around your home, it's probably why. Avoiding it won't do anything. You'll never escape his sight.

"You skipped lunch."

Your lips formed a straight line while your brows furrowed. You really did forget. "Ah, yeah. Hero work has been keeping me busy lately." Nodding your head, you gave a soft smile, "Thank you, Eraserhead."

The pro hero glanced over what you're working on. Mostly likely relating to the pro you were working for. A part of him was glad you didn't have your own agency. It'd make things more difficult. Plus, too much work...

"Aizawa is fine. We're not on duty."

It seemed like you just remembered that the two of you weren't at a usual work setting and just in a regular coffee shop. You clear your throat, "Ah... Yes. Thank you, Aizawa. I appreciate the kind sentiment."

He gives you a nod, acknowledging your words even if his mind was elsewhere. To be completely honest, the gesture seemed a little out of nowhere for you. Aizawa and you have talked before—more times than you expected from someone like him. You seemed him as a fellow coworker and maybe a friend. Nothing beyond that. Still... It struck you as odd that he knew you skipped lunch, but you didn't ask for several reasons. Even so, he did go out of his way to buy something for you and despite your mind wondering if he wants something from you, you accept it.

Maybe it was obvious to him? He was someone who could pick up the smallest details, so it wouldn't be a stretch that he could simply read you in a matter of seconds.

You could hear him start to speak about work. Huh. This is the most you've talked with him. You didn't peg him as someone who regularly chatted. More aloof, as you'd describe.

His voice is soothing. Holding back a yawn, you decide to take a sip of the coffee he gave you to wake you up. It seems like the exhaustion is finally catching up with you. You just couldn't let him see you like this, it'd just bring more attention to yourself. That's something you don't want. He probably has so much on his plate.

You breathed out deeply after taking another sip, well, more like a few swigs. The tension slowly left your shoulders. Your mind paused for a moment, missing something Aizawa had relating to patrolling the streets. Perhaps a break is what you need. Sleeping a full eight hours in your cozy bed seemed good.

You shut your eyes.

"Right... Just sleep."

A sharp gasp escapes you as you open your eyes; heart rate picking up. Where... Was this? You fell asleep...? No, no wait! What time—?

Aizawa gently placed his hand on your shoulder, causing you to flinch and push yourself further away from him. You realize you had woken up in a bed that wasn't yours. "What's going on? Where am I?"

The amount of betrayal you felt wasn't to an extreme, but it still messed with you how someone like Aizawa would just do this. You may be reaching, but how could you not assume? Your guard was let down for just a moment and he just— took advantage. It wasn't betrayal, you suddenly corrected... It was just you feeling so stupid to let this happen. But you can't just wallow in self pity, you could still get out of this.

"You passed out from exhaustion. Even without the coffee, I still believe you would have collapsed in public." He lets out a sigh, "At least I was there before that could happen."

Why was he talking to you like everything was normal? As you further tensed up, you asked, "Aizawa... Where exactly am I?"

He figured you were heavily on guard, so he approached this gently. Any wrong move can cause you to do something reckless. Like try and bolt to the door. Aizawa made sure to keep eye contact with you as he spoke.

"You're in my home. As I said, you passed out at the coffee shop and I decided to take you in." Now comes what he'll do next. He knows your mind will start to race with many thoughts. Some might be unsavory, but eventually you'll excuse yourself to leave.

He can't let you go.

"Th-Thank you, Aizawa." You finally mustered out your appreciation, even if you still felt uneasy about the situation. You just wanted to go home. "Sorry for the inconvenience. I will take my leave."

"You can't."

His words shot through you, despite them holding no edge to them. "Wh—"

"It's dark out. You'll likely be jumped by a stranger if you go out there late at night. It'd be better to stay the night."

You frowned, "I'm fine. I can manage." You eyes looked to the ground, pondering for a second. "I can just call someone to pick me up."

Without looking up, you could just feel his stare burning into you. A part of you wanted to curl up in a ball, avoid him all together. Nothing you told yourself could reassure you nor calm down your fears at this point. You could continue to push him away, but it seemed to draw him further.

You probably knew from the moment you woke up that you weren't going to leave this place. Denial was something you always leaned towards, anyway. Continuously trying to avoid your knowledge of reality at any given point. It gave some form of escapism.

So why didn't you just give in? A thought that ran through both your minds as instinct took over, pushing yourself off the bed and towards the bedroom door. A small shard of hope may have willed you into doing this, but of course, reality had to drag you back down.

Aizawa managed to grab your ankle with his capture weapon, tripping you over. You let a small yelp as you tumbled down with a soft thud. Even so, your arms stretched out to pull your body forward. Your eyes grew heavy. What did he do to you?

"It seems like there are still some effects from the coffee... Or it's just the lack of sleep. You allowed yourself to become this exhausted to the point where you can't fight back. If you were to try and do hero work in such a state, you'd be putting yourself in danger."

He approached your body and gently picked you up. You protested, but there wasn't much effort put into it. Just as much as you could muster out. You didn't like how silent he was either as his eyes looked over you.

"I will arrange something for you when you wake up. You need to learn. I have some work to do and I can't afford to leave you to yourself." He carried you back to the bed, tucking you in as you struggled to keep your eyes open.

You weren't sure what he'd do to you, but it didn't want to think too much into you. With a kiss on your forehead, Aizawa moved himself away and towards his desk. All you could hear was his muttering before sleep washed over you.

The feeling of something tickling the nape of your neck woke you up. It'd be the second you did here. You became alert once you realized you weren't on the bed anymore as your back pressed against a firm surface. In front of you was a desktop computer, your eyes had to adjust to the sudden brightness. Aizawa's arms were on either side of your body, caging you against him as you sat comfortably (or as much as you were) on his lap. He was clicking away at the keyboard. The cherry on top was his head nonchalantly plopped onto your shoulder; the texture of his stubble scratching at your neck.

Sensing your wakefulness, he gives a nudge to your neck. "I won't be as harsh this time because you're barely adjusting. So... We'll go about this as a punishment with an opportunity for a reward. I just want you to realize why you're getting a punishment, then if you're really good and apologize, you'll be rewarded. Sound fair?"

Only after a few seconds after he finished speaking did your mind catch up to his words. You were confused and scared. "Aizawa, please... Just, let me go. I won't say anything—"

"I know you won't, darling. You kept many things to yourself. Now, you're going to confess to what you did wrong."

"What do you mean? What did I do?"

A heavy sigh escapes his lips, which causes you to shudder as his breath brushes against your neck. "Slide your bottoms off."

It felt like the world went on pause to you. The weight of his words shook you to the core as heat emitted from your face. You wished he was joking, that this was all a dream.

A light swat to your thigh brought you back to reality. "Come on. The sooner you do this, the sooner I'll get my work done and we can get to bed." Aizawa removes his hands from the desk and gets to unbuckling his belt, the sound further raising your heart rate.

With a shaky breath, you slowly reached to the band of your bottoms and underwear. If your hunch was right, this was what he wanted and it made you even more anxious. You couldn't believe you were actually doing this, but the thought of what would happen if you didn't obey honestly scared you more. You mentally kicked yourself for going so slow in sliding down your clothing. It would have been better to just slip them off immediately; rip the bandaid off and get it over with. However, you were dreading what was to come... So you figured a part of you just wanted to delay the inevitable.

As soon as those were off, the most private parts of your body now exposed, you felt him lift you up a bit as he slid his pants and boxers down. His cock was now revealed and pressing up against your lower back. You shifted on his lap, squeezing your legs together.

Aizawa proceeds to lift you up by your hips, the tip ghosting below you. "I'll be doing some work for about an hour. Just sit still on my cock until I'm done, okay? No squirming or complaining. I'll add extra time if you do. If you're good..." He slowly lowers you down, letting you feel every inch of him enter you before he kisses your cheek.

"... I'll let you cum."

#kinktober 2022 #kinktober #yandere bnha #yandere mha #yandere aizawa shouta #yandere eraserhead #yandere bnha x reader #yandere mha x reader #yandere aizawa x reader #bnha smut #yandere smut #aizawa x reader #yandere bnha imagines #bnha imagines #bnha x reader

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