#ooc. ( OUT OF MACHINERY )
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i keep getting random awful side effects and go to google it convinced something is wrong and google keeps being like nah ur just pregnant good luck :) like THANK UUUUUU
#my entire chest feels like it is being pressed by machinery and aches so badly#and google is just like yea baby is growing hehe#☾ ` out of my mind ; ooc post .#illness tw#pregnancy tw
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i am feeling like a person again today so maybe i'll work on drafts & asks after i get my new laptop set up. i can't wait.
#ooc ; i think therefore watashi wa#i literally am so grateful to my mom for the one and only thing i wanted for crimmis and it's glorious#like i wanted a new laptop so badly because of all the fits my HP LOVES TO FUCKING THROW#ask cas about how badly this HP laptop has treated me#like all i wanted for crimmis was a new laptop that i could use to improve in my commission work that would not like#take five hours to open photoshop and how i fucking WISH i was exaggerating over that#i would tell my HP to open up photoshop and i could probably go out to a marvel movie to watch that and come back and photoshop would STILL#NOT BE OPEN ON THIS FORSAKEN PIECE OF MACHINERY
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tags!
[ GORTASH'S ANTI-ANXIETY COAT. ] > ooc.
[ ALL OUT OF BLESSINGS. ] > ooc answers.
[ GAMES. ] > memes.
[ ANNOTATIONS. ] > headcanon.
[ LOOT. ] > saved.
[ PROPAGANDA. ] > promo.
[ FLESH AND METAL. ] > musings.
[ THE BLACK HAND OF BANE. ] > self.
[ SOUND OF MACHINERY. ] > music.
[ I AM THE WILLING VICTIM OF A CANNIBAL. ] bloodbaptized.
[ A CORONATION. ] > answers.
[ VERSE: A SHATTERED CROWN. ] > bg3.
[ VERSE: AND EVERYTHING AND EVERYONE WILL DIE SOON. ] > pre bg3.
[ VERSE: WHERE I END AND YOU BEGIN. ]
[ VERSE: FRESH OUTTA HELL. ] > youth.
[ VERSE: TOO SMART FOR HIS AGE. ] > childhood.
[ VERSE: THE MECHANICAL EYE. ] > tma.
#[ I AM THE WILLING VICTIM OF A CANNIBAL. ] > bloodbaptized.#[ GORTASH'S ANTI-ANXIETY COAT. ] > ooc.#[ ALL OUT OF BLESSINGS. ] > ooc answers.#[ GAMES. ] > memes.#[ ANNOTATIONS. ] > headcanon.#[ PROPAGANDA. ] > promo.#[ FLESH AND METAL. ] > musings.#[ THE BLACK HAND OF BANE. ] > self.#[ SOUND OF MACHINERY. ] > music.#[ LOOT. ] > saved.#[ VERSE: A SHATTERED CROWN. ] > bg3.#[ VERSE: AND EVERYTHING AND EVERYONE WILL DIE SOON. ] > pre bg3.#[ VERSE: FRESH OUTTA HELL. ] > youth.#[ VERSE: TOO SMART FOR HIS AGE. ] > childhood.#[ VERSE: THE MECHANICAL EYE. ] > tma.#[ A CORONATION. ] > answers.#[ VERSE: WHERE I END AND YOU BEGIN. ]
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Summary : After the battle with Adam, Alastor disappeared. Everyone was sure he was dead, but you knew better than that. You find him injured and vulnerable in his broken down radio tower, and decide to give him a hand with his wounds.
Tags : GenderNeutral!reader, reader is shorter than Al, soft!Alastor, sorta, fluff, lots of fluff, hurt/comfort, Alastor is losing it
Notes : My first Tumblr one shot! Hopefully this isn’t too OOC, but writing a character who hides any sign of real emotion being vulnerable is difficult. Enjoy!
Word Count : 2,418
——————
You breathed, Hell’s fiery air stinging your lungs as you looked around at the death and destruction that surrounded you. You look back over your shoulder, Charlie’s quiet sniffles taking your attention. Lucifer was knelt in front of her, his hand brushing her cheek, a weak attempt at comforting her after her life’s dream was just destroyed. You frowned, your brow creasing together as you felt a hand on your shoulder. Looking up, your gaze me with Angel Dust’s.
“You did good out there,” he smiles down at you, an excited squeal coming from the pig in his opposite arms. You muster a strained grin, but his fades. “Still sucks though, huh?”
You nod, dropping your grin, “Yeah, still sucks. I can’t believe it’s all gone,” you look away from the arachnid, your eyes casting over the destroyed hotel once again. Angel nods, his arm drifting around your shoulder and giving you a squeeze, the best, and really the only, form of comfort he knows how to provide.
“We’ll rebuild it,” he squeezes you again, before releasing you and approaching Charlie and the rest of the group. You follow behind, though your gaze remains astray, scanning the battleground. Looking for any sign of someone alive. You know deep down who you were looking for.
Alastor, the overlord you’d grown to call a friend.
Not everyone would consider him that, but you were an optimist. You hoped he’d consider you the same. No one in Hell would be as kind as he had been to you without considering you some sort of friend. Or, well, as kind as an overlord like him could be. And everyone was convinced he was gone, but you weren’t that naive. Alastor, if faced with death or fleeing, would flee. He was snarky and a bit egotistical, sure, but he wasn’t an idiot.
“Uhm, hey, I’m going to get see if I can find any of my stuff out here. Maybe some of it is salvageable,” you call to the rest of the group, stepping closer to the mess that used to be your home. The ground cracked beneath you as you stepped across the rubble. Charlie, who’d seemingly made her peace with the tragedy that had occurred, looked to you, rising to her feet.
“Do you want any help?”
“No, no, I got it,” you were lying to your teeth, but you had to see if he was out there. She looked at you with sympathetic eyes, walking closer and wrapping you in a tight hug. Your arms wrap around her waist, squeezing her close.
“Be careful out there, okay? I don’t want you getting hurt on anything. We’re going to go and get something to eat, try and relax a bit before we start rebuilding tomorrow. Text me when you’re done, you can meet us out there, okay?” She pulls away from you, her hands still resting on your shoulders as yours fell to your sides.
“I’ll be careful, I promise,” you assure, smiling as the taller girl pulls away from you fully, waving you goodbye as she approaches the rest of the group. You watch as they leave, before turning back to the rubble, that strained smile of yours dropping. You rubbed your cheeks. How did Alastor do that all the time?
And with that, you were off, wandering as your eyes scanned the area, reminiscing as you came across bits and pieces of the place you’d called home for the past 6 months. Broken pieces of Sir Pentious’ old machinery make your brows furrow together, a feeling that you could only describe as grief swallowing your thoughts for a brief moment, your chest tightening. You stared at that machine for a good few minutes before tearing your gaze away, trying to look at anything else.
And there it was.
A good 30 feet from you was Alastor’s radio tower. Some of the windows broken, dented, and on its side, but for the most part it was still in tact. You began to walk towards it, without much thought. He’d spent a lot of time there before you’d all started preparing for the extermination. He was insistent it was the best part of the hotel.
The closer you got, the more hesitant you became. If the trail of blood in the dirt wasn’t off putting enough, the green glow that was emitting from tower surely was. But these two things sealed one thing in your mind: Alastor was alive. Of course he was, you’d known that. But that small strand of doubt was planted in your head by the others.
You walk around the broken and dented structure, before finding that the hatch inside was already open. You drew a final breath before pulling yourself up and inside. As you heaved yourself into the tower, you were met with something hard to look at. Alastor had his back turned to you, one arm over his chest, one arm helping him hold himself upright against the control panel of the tower. His overcoat had been thrown to the floor, it was a rare sight to see him without it. You frowned, pushing off of the floor and standing. You wanted to move closer, but weren’t sure you could do so without startling the overlord. If you’d managed to get this close without him noticing, you knew he must be very deep in thought.
“Alastor?” You tried, your voice soft. Even so, Alastor’s whole body stilled, his head turning sharply to look at you, his horns and shoulders growing two times their normal size. He had a wild look in his eye, but seemed to calm as he realized it was you, his body relaxing, and returning to its original position. His expression had turned sour, despite the constant smile.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he replied, his voice hoarse as he looked away. You frowned, stepping closer, avoiding the pools of blood on the ground.
“Alastor, we thought you were dead,” your voice was back to its normal volume.
The static sound, that was nearly a constant whenever Alastor was near, seemed to grow louder as his entire body span to face you, almost as if he were going to get angry, but he stumbled, both of his hands going back and gripping the control panel behind him. Now, you could see the giant gash across his chest, blood seeped into his shirt. Your eyes trailed from the bottom of his wound, up to meet his eyes. There was something behind them that you couldn’t quite place.
There was a beat of silence before you piped up again.
“He really got you, huh?” You point out the obvious, walking closer. Alastor tried to straighten himself, only using one hand to keep himself upright as the other found its way back to covering the wound.
“It is nothing that I can’t handle,” he assured, pressing his arm closer to his body. You stopped in front of him, looking into his eyes as you placed your hand on his. He wretched away, his rear pressing fully against the control panel, his hand sliding back. “Don’t.”
“Alastor,” you began, but he cut you off.
“Perhaps you misunderstood, I am FINE,” he growls, pushing himself away and walking around you, you turn to follow him with your eyes. “He may have hit me but I’m alive. Of COURSE I am. I mean, if I weren’t what would people think?”
Your brows furrowed, “what are you talking about, Al?”
“I have been a wonder to everyone since I manifested here, if I died for the princess of Hell and her low life sinners, I would be regarded as some,” he paused, clutching his chest as he turned away from you. “Altruist.”
He spat the word like it was the worst thing to ever leave his lips.
“I would be regarded at the ‘Oh so powerful Radio Demon who DIED for a chance at a redemption that isn’t even POSSIBLE.”
You walked closer to him, placing a hesitant hand on the small of his back. He glanced over his shoulder, and your expression softened.
“Alastor, no one is expecting you to die for us. All I want from you right now is. For you to let me help you,” you searched his face for any sign of agreement, but he was nearly impossible to read. A sigh escaped him. “You’re really hurt, Al.”
“I know,” he murmured, his ears flicking back as he turned to face you. He walked back towards the control panel, you trailing behind. You assumed him accepting that he was hurt was the closest thing you’d get to him saying, ‘I need help.’
“You should sit. It’ll be easier that way,” you looked up at Alastor, who was avoiding your gaze like the plague. You assumed he was ashamed of the situation he was in. He sat on the edge of the counter, snapping his fingers. A roll of bandages and pads of gauze appearing in your hands. You sat them down on the control panel beside him.
“I could have done this on my own, my dear,” he looks down at your hands as they reach for the buttons on his shirt, gently unbuttoning the first few.
“I’m sure you could have,” you murmur, though not fully paying attention to his words. You reached the last few buttons, pulling his shirt open. You could feel your face flushing as the his undershirt slipped off of his shoulders. It was a little unbelievable that the big bad Radio Demon was allowing this, but you supposed coming face to face with a second death was enough to allow a miracle.
Bending down slightly at your waist to reach better, you take some of the gauze, pressing it firmly to his wound. Alastor took a sharp inhale, his ears shifting back further than they already had been. Your frown grew deeper as you looked up at him, your free hand taking his, gently stroking your thumb across his skin.
“Alastor? Is this okay?” Your eyes scan his face, that somehow managed to display pain all while wearing that signature smile.
“It’s fine. I don’t want to hear a word about this when you’re done,” he winced, squeezing your hand as you began to wrap the bandages around the bottom half of his wound. You rolled your eyes, nodding.
“Not like anyone would believe me. I mean, you? Hurt? Impossible, right?” You pressed another piece of gauze to him, causing his claws to dig into your skin. It didn’t break, but it stung a bit. You tried your best not to show it — however hard that was — you didn’t want him to think that this, whatever this is, wasn’t okay.
“That’s not what I’m talking about,” he looked down at you, his brow creasing. You both fell silent, the crackling of radio static tickling your ears. You wrapped the rest of his wound in silence, your free hand grazing down the bandages, just barely making contact.
“You know,” you start, rising to your normal posture, finally removing your hand from his. “Letting someone help you doesn’t make you any less powerful.”
Another beat of silence as you grabbed the hem of his shirt, pulling it back up over his shoulders. His hands, in one swift motion, grabbed yours and pulled you between his legs, closer to his chest. You looked up at him, your eyes widening as they met his. Just inches away from your own was The Radio Demon’s face. His eyes were pitch black, red radio dials replacing his pupils. His neck was contorted, smile stretched further than you imagined could be comfortable.
“You. Don’t. Understand,” he growled, his breath hot against your face. You tried your best to remain composed, not looking away from him as his grip on you tightened. “You are not ME. You could not possibly imagine the position I am in because of that DAMNED hotel.”
“You’re right.”
Alastor’s grip loosened immensely, his neck snapping back to be in it’s anatomically correct shape. His eyes fluttered a few times before returning to normal, he looked almost confused by your agreement. He stayed silent, even his static flushing to barely a hum.
“Alastor, I don’t know what it’s like in your shoes right now. But if you ever wanted to TELL me what it’s like, I’d be here to listen,” you, gently, squeezed his hands in yours. Alastor’s eyes scanned every inch of your face, over and over and over. Looking for any sign that you were going to use this vulnerability against him. To hurt him. To knock him down from the tower he’d built for himself. But there was none. Your expression held nothing but genuineness.
He briefly considered telling you everything that was troubling him, briefly thought about scaring you away so he didn’t have to face you, and though still brief, his thoughts lingered on the consideration of pulling you closer and thanking you for treating him like he wasn’t the monster he knew he truly was. But he did none of those things. He didn’t have time to unbox what all of those thoughts said about him. He just smiled down at you, a real smile, his left hand caressing your face.
“Thank you for helping me, my dearest,” Alastor’s voice had returned to its normal chipper tone, but it didn’t seem as fake as usual. Not when it was directed at you. A grin of your own blossomed across your face as you placed your hand on his, leaning your cheek into his hand. You turned you face a bit, placing your lips against his palm for a short moment, all while never breaking eye contact. If you didn’t know better, you’d of sworn a light blush crossed Alastor’s cheeks.
“Anytime, Al.”
Alastor cleared his throat, his ears flicking back into an upright position as he pulled his hands away from you and pushed himself up and off of the control panel. He straightened his posture re-buttoning his bloody and tethered undershirt. You quickly grabbed his overcoat so he wouldn’t try to bend over and grab it himself, and ushered back over to him. He took it from your arms, putting it on and dusting it off as if that would mend its holes and cleanse it of the blood that stained it.
“Well, I should be going now,” Alastor approached you, taking your hand for a final time and placing a kiss to your knuckles. “You are truly a diamond in the rough, darling. I’ll be seeing you soon.”
“Wait, where are you—” but before you could complete that question, he disappeared in a flash of green light and dark smoke. You blinked, your face flushing as you recalled what had just happened. You were almost unsure it was real.
You’d have to tell Charlie the new hotel was going to need a radio tower.
#fanfic#alastor#writing#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel#hazbin angel dust#hazbin charlie#hazbin lucifer#hazbin sir pentious#hazbin vaggie#hazbin husk#hazbin fanfic#alastor x reader#alastor x you#comfort#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel x you#rockettothestars222
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ugh i don't wanna print on the auto someone send us tiny jobs so i can get back to manual 😫
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And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like “I love you.”
NOTES: dividers by @cafekitsune !!
( Made before 2.2 / Boothill may be OOC / angst / character death / really wanted to use these lyrics for a title / GN!Reader, implied to have been a Galaxy Ranger as well / implied unrequited love )
You were there in his life for a while, he was thankful he remembered that much. He knows his memories were slightly tampered with, or maybe his memory has been failing him, but he still remembers your constant presence in his previous life. Though, “constant” probably wouldn’t be the correct term. Galaxy Rangers come and go, as one might say. Always moving and never on one system for too long.
And yet, time and time again, you crossed paths. Wherever he went, you just so happened to be there too. It was like you were following him. Perhaps the feeling was mutual. Perhaps to you, it felt like he was the one following you.
Days turned into weeks, into months, into a few years. From quick glances, to smiles and waves, to briefly talking, and finally to sharing drinks and laughing as you tell each other stories of your journey across the stars. He was never sure why your presence brought such warmth and comfort to him, or why his face always felt a bit warmer and his heart beat faster whenever he looks at you while he listened to you talk.
You definitely knew what it was. It took one night for you to know, though you were both drunk. At least, he definitely was, but you still remembered what he said by the next morning. You remember only smiling when he said those three words, but Galaxy Rangers come and go like shadows. You wonder if this was the best path to choose in the end. You wonder if he remembered what he said and what your reply was.
Maybe in another life, you tell yourself.
But that “other” life wouldn’t be possible. For you, at least. Perhaps it was some sort of cruel joke so that the Elation’s laugh could echo across the cosmos once again.
He doesn’t remember what happened before everything went black. It all happened way too fast. He just wished the moment he opened his eyes, he was dreaming. He wanted to believe that what he was seeing, what was being done to him, was just a horrible dream and that he’d wake up again, but he never did seem to wake from this nightmare. It’d soon hit him that this was reality, and that you’re not here. Not in this second life.
He knows you were there before he lost consciousness, or maybe he died. He remembers hearing your voice, calling out to him. He hears himself question the doctor if they had seen you, and the answer he received was yes. He almost smiled, until the doctor continued. Relief quickly turned into disbelief and anger. You were left behind because they didn’t need you. You were gone. You were ripped away from him because you “weren’t needed.” Because some doctor didn’t deem you worthy enough to save.
He wanted to cry, he wanted to scream and curse the doctor for their choices, but he was silent as the machinery continued to work on him. There were no tears because machines can’t cry. There was no voice to cry out the pain he was feeling. For a body that can no longer feel, he still felt as if he was being ripped apart a second time.
#finally some actual angst my favorite flavor#hsr boothill#honkai star rail boothill#boothill x reader#boothill#honkai star rail x reader#honkai star rail#star rail#hsr x reader#hsr
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The Fox, the Crow, and the Bunny.
ੈ♡˳ Il Dottore and Gn!Child!Reader *ೃ༄
ੈ♡˳ 2.4k words ┊ Fluff *ೃ༄
ੈ♡˳ Masterlist | JLM Masterlist *ೃ༄
author's note ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚
something sweet. dedicated to @idyllic-affections thanks for writing my kaveh rq n this series is inspired by ur acc.. realized i strayed from the real purpose of this fic and made it too long, so just think of it as a 2 in 1 special lol,, (also hi sorry for using dottore he's like my muse and i love writing him) also i hope yall get the meaning of this shit lmao (ref to the scara quest tale)
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ cw: strictly platonic/familial, reader is 8 years old, basic dottore warnings, mentions of death, dissecting animals and injuries, implied dottolone (barely), a little ooc but it's canon to me
Dottore's office was once a sacred chamber inside the Fatui headquarters.
While not relatively as pristine as his laboratory, amidst the chaos, there was order. Everything was in its designated place, even though his desk was a nightmare to whoever laid eyes on it (spilled coffee too busy to clean, now dried onto the wood of his table, piles, and piles of documents and papers stacked haphazardly on one another, a disarray of pens and pencils occupying every available niche, and vials filled with who-knows-what dangerously teetering on the edge).
Hazards lurked at every turn within his office, presenting a far-from-presentable façade that seemingly clashed with his position as the 2nd of the 11th Fatui Harbingers. Yet, one might ponder, does the doctor truly concern himself with such matters?
No, not at all. He doesn't have the time to clean everything or keep them in such an organized state. He simply knows everything is in place, and the mess scarcely holds him back (he hires maids once in a while, when the mess gets too much, and in 1 out of 5 maids he hires only makes it out alive).
Yet, what truly imbued this room with a sense of sanctity? For within these walls, he unearthed his genuine solace and tranquility.
In this space, silence reigned supreme. Isolation was his companion, a cherished serenity he embraced. Here, his thoughts danced, inventions took form, and ideas flowed onto paper alongside intricate equations. Occasionally, he'd pass out on his desk and drool all over his papers. This room stood as a shelter inviolable, reserved solely for those few instances of urgency or the presence of a fellow Harbinger.
All other members of the Fatui instinctively bid their time, patiently awaiting his emergence from the sanctum of his office before venturing to approach him. For within its confines, the Doctor was impervious to disruption. No one disturbs the Doctor.
That was before you came along, of course.
The office, ill-suited for a child of your tender years, harbored a minefield of hazards. Within its walls lay various artifacts, concoctions, and intricate machinery, a perilous realm unfit for the innocent curiosity of youth. Regrettably, your presence inadvertently disrupted the serene harmony that had long enveloped this space, unsettling the Doctor who, by nature, dislikes abrupt shifts and deviations from what he was used to.
When you first arrived in his office (he didn't want you inside of it, after all, he wasn't exactly fond of children, but he had no choice) you were immediately injured after stepping onto a shard of glass that Dottore has completely ignored. You tried your very best not to cry for the sake of not irritating Dottore further, but he wasn't very gentle with your wound either.
He took note of keeping his vials away from the edge of his table.
Then a bunch of books topples over you. He puts them into the shelves now, and you helped him organize by using the Dewey Decimal System, to which you had read from a book.
Then, while he was explaining his recent idea (rather enthusiastically) to you, his hand accidentally slammed against his files and flew straight to your face. You also helped him organize his papers.
And then it was cleaning his desk, offering him DIY pencil holders you've made just for him. You've also invented a mug that prevents the liquid inside from spilling (he thinks it was a rather brilliant invention, he no longer has to worry about spilling on his desk).
And then it was putting his rather precarious possessions somewhere else, outside the vicinity of his office and far away from your grasp.
You were very eager to help him in any way possible, and for a child, you quite enjoyed receiving chores. Yet, your contentment was uncomplicated, drawn from the privilege of being granted entry to his treasure trove of knowledge, replete with a limitless collection of books, materials, and tools.
Dottore always thought that you'd be such a nuisance to him once you entered his office and sully the peace he has always known within his office's enclosed haven.
But he didn't expect to welcome your presence at all, on such short notice, too. (Deep inside, he felt a strange warmth in his chest whenever you'd tug on his coat, asking if he needed any assistance with organizing his office. He wonders what it was, though.)
So, here you were, amidst the symphony of pen strokes etching against paper, a solitary melody resonating within the confines of his office.
Contrary to his expectations, the calmness he believed would dissipate upon your arrival had, in fact, been amplified by leaps and bounds. As he observed from the corner of his eye, you reclined on your stomach, legs swinging idly behind you, immersed in a world of creativity. Strewn across the floor, an assortment of crayons bore testament to your artistic endeavors, while he diligently attended to the papers handed by the Fatui.
Then, as if hesitant to break the comfortable silence, you tried to catch his attention with a soft 'psst!', then covered your mouth with your tiny hand to suppress your childish giggles.
The corners of his lips twitch in irritance amusement as he turns his head toward you, his pen on the desk. You broke into a much bigger grin and held your drawing close to your chest, not wanting to expose it just yet. "Hey, Dotdot!" You whispered to him, and he can't help but roll his eyes smile at the nickname you've given him. "Can I show you what I drew?"
Dottore emitted a contemplative hum as if grappling with the decision of whether to engage or remain absorbed in his thoughts. Your evident impatience manifested in a pout, prompting his response. "Well, fine," He yielded, beckoning you forth. You beamed brightly as you swiftly rose to your feet and bounded toward him, your landing generating a muted grunt from him. A steadying hand rested on the desk, enabling him to regain his composure, after which he settled your giggling form comfortably within the space between his legs. "Now then," He put his hands on your shoulder, "What is it you wished to share?"
With another giggle from your ceaseless childish amusement, you gave him the piece of paper. Big, round eyes sparkling against the light of the room looked up at him expectantly. Dottore received the drawing from you, his gaze lingering over its details, drawn into a moment of shared curiosity and wonder.
It was him, and you, holding hands, depicted with earnest effort and the imaginative touch of your youthful artistry. Around you were a bunch of other versions of him, his segments, though you've only drawn five (since they were the only ones who have interacted with you so far). Each had their names labeled beneath them, but Dottore absolutely adores that you've labeled him as 'Dotdot' instead (you've also drawn Pantalone holding your other hand and labeled him as 'Pants', adorned both figures with encircling hearts).
"Truly remarkable artwork," He stated with a smile, his words accompanied by the sound of your jubilant cheers, "This masterpiece deserves a place of honor, a spot where all can admire it. I can already imagine the joy it will bring to the other segments once they lay eyes on it."
"Really!?"
"Of course, I do believe they enjoy your company, little bunny."
As he carefully set the drawing on his table, your inquisitive gaze caught his attention. With a tilt of your head, a gesture he knew all too well, you asked him a question, "Why do you call me that?"
"Hm? Call you what?" Dottore grabbed you gently and settled you onto his desk. Positioned face to face, at eye level, his intent was clear—to engage with you as both an adult and a child, a balance you seemed to relish.
"Bunny! You call me bunny lots,"
"Oh? Do you not like it?"
You vigorously shook your head, "No no, I love it! I get called nicknames, but they're all mean." You furrow your brow as you reminisced, pouting at the awful memories. But then you broke into a big smile again, "But yours is new and cute! So, why do you call me that?"
Dottore's grin widened, revealing his sharp teeth, a sight that enthralled you. Your hands instinctively moved to his cheeks, your eyes filled with wonder, and he welcomed the touch wholeheartedly. "Ahh, ever so curious, aren't you, little bun?" He teased playfully, giving your nose a gentle boop! with his finger, and your giggles were a delightful response. "You see, I call you bunny because you embody its spirit—small, swift, and an endless source of vibrant energy.
You also love to hop onto people a lot."
"I love giving surprise hugs! I'm too small, so a jump, so I can wrap my arms around them a bit higher!" You huffed as he chuckled at your explanation. "What are you, then? What animal?"
"Oh? I've never thought about what kind of animal I'd be... Hmmm..." Dottore mused for a while, his expression thoughtful. Eventually, he arrived at a decision. "A fox, I think. Crafty, shrewd, and sly. A creature that prowls with a purpose and possesses those distinct, sharp teeth." As he said that, he grins once more to show his sharp teeth, then lunges for your finger, mimicking a bite, prompting you to gasp and pull back with a joyful squeal.
"And speaking of bunnies..." His tone took on a mischievous edge, causing your eyes to widen in anticipation. Suddenly, he swooped in, grabbing your legs and lifting you high into the air. "I might just gobble you up!" Dottore's playful pretense of chomping down on you elicited a cascade of laughter from you. You pushed at his head, trying to escape his 'gobbling' jaws, your legs kicking playfully as you enjoyed the moment.
"I don't think you're a fox, Dotdot!" You quipped, retaking your seat on his desk. Playfully swinging your legs, you mused aloud, a soft humming accompanying your contemplation.
Dottore raised an intrigued eyebrow, "Oh? And what am I in the eyes of my little bunny? Perhaps something more fearsome?" He inquired, looming over you in an effort to intimidate you.
Instead, your eyes lit up brightly, and you joyfully clapped your hands together. "Oh, I've got it! A crow!" You exclaimed with a triumphant smile.
A bemused frown replaced his grin as he processed your unexpected response. "...A crow?" He echoed, clearly puzzled by your choice. "Of all animals?"
And you merely smile at him, giggling at his confused reaction, "Mhm! Yeah! A crow that talks on and on and on." Your hands followed your words, almost hitting him in the face, "A crow that is death and prey over rotting corpses, but a crow that saved me! I thought Dotdot was an angel, but angels don't have black feathers, scary smiles, or red eyes."
Your words painted a vivid picture of your perception, a whimsical and deeply personal perspective on his nature. Dottore nods along, intrigued, as you rambled your thoughts to him, not even chastising you for grabbing the beak of his mask and playing with it.
"You're a crow! You're very smart, and clever, and creative! You're scary to other people, but not to me! I love corvids, I used to feed them bits of animal after I dissect them, and they always bring me something shiny. They were my only friends, and now you're my friend too!"
He doesn't understand the gentle warmth that began to unfurl within his chest as he remained attentive to your words. While unfamiliar, this sensation wasn't entirely unwelcome... "I beg to differ, my dear bunny. I am unmistakably a fox,"
"Then you're a crow pretending to be a fox!" You pout, stubbornly crossing your arms. "I think crows are way cooler than foxes. They can fly! Plus, you can't call yourself a fox when you resemble a crow more than a fox!" You pointed out, a triumphant smirk on your lips.
Well, you do have a point. He does wear a beaked mask, coupled with a bird-like shoulder embellishment bedecked in exquisite black feathers.
"Should I then consider donning attire that better befits a fox?"
At the notion, you fixed him with a mock glare, your cheeks puffing out in an adorable display of discontent. "Nooooo! I prefer Mr. Crow!" you protested with a playful whine, punctuating your words by delivering gentle punches to his shoulders with your tiny hands.
He chuckles at your small tantrum, and he swiftly gathers you into his embrace. Your arms naturally encircled his neck as he rose from his seat, carrying you toward the door, your precious drawing clutched in your hands. "Very well, very well, my dear Mr. Crow it shall remain," He conceded with a playful tone, his steps filled with an easy camaraderie.
Victoriously, you shot him a smug grin, to which he rolled his eyes at.
"Do you wanna know something, Mr. Crow?" You mutter in his ear as he walks past one of his segments.
"Hm? What is it?"
You made sure to whisper it very quietly, hoping the other segments won't hear you. "Between you and me, I think that your younger segments are like rats!"
He didn't know what came over him, he released a hearty, resounding laugh, its volume surprising not just you but also the other segments who happened to be present, each momentarily taken aback by their own affairs. Such an outpouring of mirth was rare for him (only when he was inside his dark, cool lab, alone with experiments).
A sense of pride swelled in your chest as you grinned widely, his laughter infectious as you burst into a fit of giggles. It was a scary laugh, maybe it was just naturally like that, but to you, it sounded very happy. "They bit me once! I was just poking their face."
"Perhaps give them a treat before you approach them," He says, calming down as he continues his trek toward your room. "This gesture might just soften their demeanor."
"What, like cheese?"
"Oh, little bun, that'll drive them even more mad once they found out you called them rats."
You share another grin with him, finding a cozy spot to rest your chin upon his shoulder in contentment, "Good! I think they're funny when their faces turn red."
- ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛❛ If you like this a lot, consider reblogging! I’ll appreciate it very very much! Don’t repost and/or translate my work anywhere. ❜❜ ┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌
#favoniuslibrary#˚₊໒🔪꒱kai writes₊˚#˚₊໒🩹꒱kai's series:JLM.₊˚#╰┈➤ il dottore#dottore x reader#genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#genshin impact#il dottore x reader#platonic genshin x reader#platonic genshin impact#this is my form of mega copium#uhghghg RGAHGHH#i have so many ideas#make it angst#i wanna take care of dottore too tho :(#i want to give dottore an adult figure that cares about him#protip: if ur sad just think of your fav character as your family relative and it doesn't matter if they're older or younger#:)
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𝐿𝓊𝓈𝓉 (𝒜𝓈𝓂𝑜𝒹𝑒𝓊𝓈 𝓍 𝒮𝓊𝒸𝒸𝓊𝒷𝓊𝓈 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇)
Kinktober Day 10: Machine + Praise
Okay why is Asmodeus actually a adorable lover tho? Why do I suddenly understood the appeal of him?!?!
Warning: fucking machine, ooc etc, etc you get the point not for kid
Genre: filthy filthy smut
Word Count: 2158
｡･ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ･｡
You sat up from your bed, hunger burning through your body Reminding you that you haven't eaten in a while.
Sighing and getting up, deciding that you should probably get some food before going back to doing whatever you were working on, honestly, you can't remember.
You open your door only to see a giant demon outside grinning wildly, before you immediately tried to close the door on him.
Asmodeus stuck his hand into the room, stopping you from closing the door on him, before slipping into your room saying,
"Woah woah, calm down there doll face. No need to lock me out now.”
You sighed and pinched your nose bridge before asking,
"What do you want, Ozzie?"
Asmodeus walked into your room and lifted you onto his arm before saying,
"I just want you to test out a new machine for me, you're my favorite technician after all,"
You balanced yourself on his arm and looked up at him annoyed,
“You know damn well I don't work on the weekday, Ozzie.”
Asmodeus gives a shrugging gesture as he moves you closer to him. Your faces were inches apart as he said,
"Well, my dear, what if I told you I'd give you the whole weekend off from work? Besides, wouldn't you love to play with the latest machinery, I know you do."
Asmodeus tilted your face up towards him, leaning in so close it looked like he might kiss you, as he continued,
“Just a simple test run. It will be fun I promise, satisfaction guaranteed." Asmodeus grins, his fluorescent yellow eyes sparkling with excitement,
"What do you say, dearest?"
You sighed as you agreed, after all having the weekend off is a tempting offer,
“A quick test run, then I get next week off too,”
“You got it, dollface,” he said as he wrapped both of you in smoke, by the time it dissipated you were both in his home.
In front of you was a giant machine that looked like a saddle with two protrusions on it.
You stared at it for a second before saying,
“That's a fucking machine, that's just a fucking machine, I don't even think it's a new type…”
Asmodeus laughed before turning towards the machine. You could see how excited he was by the potential thrill it might bring his yellow eyes shimmered with anticipation as he looked at you.
"Oh, sweetness, this machine is sooooo much more than just a regular, boring, fucking machine. Trust me, there are a lot of surprises hidden in its mechanics. The pleasures you could eaen from doing this simple test, well… it'll catapult you into a realm of pleasure that most demons may never touch."
Asmodeus moved closer to you, his fluorescent yellow eyes staring at you hungrily, as he traced his fingers along your hip, and letting his warm breath flicker over your ear.
"And as always, I expect nothing less than earth-shattering pleasure. So give it your all, baby doll. You know how much I love the sight of you screaming and writhing in ecstasy."
Sighing you begin to walk toward the machine pulling your panties off on the way there, as you attempt to climb on the saddle.
Asmodeus's eyes darken and he licked his lip at the sight of your bare cunt on display, before walking to you and lifting you onto the saddle,
"I think it's time we get started, don't you?"
You bit your lip as you settled on the saddle, the two protrusions pressing perfectly against your two holes.
As you sat there Asmodeus's hand slipped under your dress and begin kneading your ass, his talon digging into your flesh as he placed a gentle kiss on your horn.
He whispered hoarsely, his voice low and intense, "You better believe what I've told you, little one, this machine will push you to your limits. It’s not just another toy for playing with, it's an inexhaustible source of torment and ecstasy. You will be begging for me to stop by the end of tonight, dollface…”
With that, he turned on the machine and your eyes flew open in surprise, as the protrusion opened up to two giant metal cock with what you're assuming is bumps, started thrusting inside you. You orgasm almost immediately, the cold metal a harsh contrast to your warm inside.
Grinning, Asmodeus hold your trembling body to the machine, making sure you can't get away as you begin to pant and moan, your body shaking from the intense pleasure as the metal cock thrusts inside you relentlessly.
His cock strained against the restraint of his pant as he forced your body down. Taking pleasure in watching your eyes roll to the back of your head, as your body convulsed and shuddered around the metal cocks. Your moans echoed through the dark room, making the air thick with lust.
“Darling," he started, his voice gentle, a stark contrast to how roughly he’s handling your body, “forget about the silly notion of work. Why don't we spend the entire week indulging in our wildest fantasies?”
With a loud cry as another mind-shattering orgasm ripped through you, you glared at him, your body shuddering from pleasure as you said,
“Y-you did this… haaa… on purpose… f-fuck… so full… t-this was ne-never about… gahhh… testing the machine…”
Asmodeus chuckled as he watched your body convulse from the mind-breaking pleasure. His phantom lips pressed against your neck, leaving a faint imprint of passion, as he spoke, an air of clinical amusement in his voice,
"Maybe I did, maybe I just want to watch you fucked stupid on my machine. But can you blame me? You look so beautiful when you’re fucked dumb, it's a shame I don’t get to see it more often…"
He placed kisses on your back as he remembered your protest against working on weekdays, he added smugly,
"Mind you, I'm keeping my promise. No work next week, just us creating some lustful memories together ~"
You let out a whimper as the metal cock started spinning inside you, the bumps on them hitting every single sensitive spot inside you. The cold metal slowly warmed up from your body heat as it brutalized your inside.
“Ozzie, f-fuck you… you are a fucking asshole…”
Asmodeus laughed as he wrapped his hand around your throat pushing your head back into his chest as he said,
“I have heard worst from your mouth before, doll,” his giant hand wrapped around your waist as he pushed down on the bulge that shows up as the metal cock thrusted into you, drawing a loud gasp from you, your eyes wet with tear as you panted, “And just look at how well you're taking this, doll~ Your body is meant for this..”
“S-stop… O-ozzie can't… too much… huahhh… s-stop…” you whimpered as your body was overstimulated, your tail curling around Asmodeous's hand as he pushed down on your stomach,
Asmodeus chuckled as he placed a kiss on your tail,
“Dollface~ I told you to work on your stamina, didn’t I? Your brethren can go on for days and here you are tired after only an hour…”
“Y-you know I’m not… a-as addicted to sex… FUCK!” You swore as the metal cock started sending electricity into your body, your body shaking as you squirted onto the saddle,
Asmodeus watched in amusement and kissed your forehead gently, as your body writhed and shook on the machine. The saddle wet and sticky with your secretion.
"What do you think we should do to improve your stamina? More frequent sessions? Less rest between them? Better lubrication perhaps? It's okay, baby doll~ we have all week to improve your stamina~”
You let out a choked sob as the machine drew out a final orgasm from you, before coming to a shuddering stop.
You leaned back onto Asmodeous’s chest shuddering, your body still sensitive from overstimulation.
Asmodeus carefully removed your body from the machine with a soft pop, before holding your trembling body to his chest.
He couldn’t help but feel a sense of sadistic satisfaction, when he saw the way tears fell down your face, but it was quickly overcome by his worry for you. Pushing down his sense of lust and ignoring his raging cock, he begins carrying you to his bedroom.
“There you go, sweet thing… you did so well for me, Let take you to bed okay?”
As he lay down in bed with you, your body managed to calm down. You look up at him with teary eyes,
“Are you.. are you gonna do anything about that?” you ask pointing at the raging erection he’s been having the entire time,
Asmodeus chuckles softly as he traces a finger over your stomach and covers your face with soft kisses.
"Oh, don't worry about that silly girl," he whispered, his voice carrying a mixture of tenderness and surprise at your question,
As he removed his coat revealing his body and heart-shaped nipple, he smiled down at you.
"Your comfort is more important to me right now, darling~”
You sighed before forcing your tired body up and pulling him into a kiss. His eyes widen at your sudden movements.
Asmodeus felt a faint blush creep onto his cheeks at your sudden and unexpected kiss, but he didn’t hesitate to kiss back and slipping his tongue into your mouth.
After a while you guys parted, panting he asked,
“I thought you don't do kisses, sweetheart, something about it being too affectionate and borderline romantic for a succubus like you?”
You sighed as you held his face in your hand,
“It's a reward for being nice to me… once I ignored the fact, you lied to me so you can watch me get fuck stupid.”
Asmodeus smiled fondly as he held your hand and kissed your fingertips affectionately.
“I just can't resist seeing your body trembling with pleasure, darling…”
You couldn't help but smile at the giant demon prince in front of you, he was a sweetheart despite being so powerful. Well, a sweetheart as far as you were concerned.
Flipping him onto the bed and climbing on top of him, you look down with a mischievous grin,
“Well I think we should first take care of your cock, big guy”
Asmodeus looked up at you both concerned and aroused,
“Are you sure about this sweet thing?”
You looked at his huge erection and hesitated before saying,
“Go big or go home?”
Asmodeus chuckled softly before carefully grasping your waist as his other hand slipped under your shirt grasping your boob gently as he ask again,
"Alright, sweetheart if you're sure. But remember, it's always you who calls the shots, okay?"*
You nodded before allowing him to move your body above his erection. Your body tensed as he pushed his cock inside you, letting out a painful gasp as your body was stretched open.
Asmodeus hissed softly as he felt your body clenched tightly around his cock. His grip on your waist tightened as he began thrusting his enormous cock into you, moaning loudly,
“You’re beautiful, darling~ So fucking beautiful when your tight little body is taking in my cock… Fuck! I need you!”
You whined loudly as you felt your inside being rearranged by Asmodeus's cock. Your hand slips onto his muscular ab as you try to hold your body steady.
Asmodeus's face contorted into a mix of pleasure and pain as you took his cock in, his fingers tracing over your spine and shoulders, as both of you get utterly lost in the pleasure and pain.
He swore under his breath, as he watch his massive cock thrust into you. His forehead was covered in sweat, and despite your pained sob he could see the pleasure in your eyes as he fuck you.
Eventually with a loud moan from both of you, he came inside you. Your body shuddered as he begin to fill you with his cum, until it was uncomfortable for you.
Panting he lifted your shuddering body off of his cock, his neon blue cum spilling out of you like a river. Holding you to his body again, he begins peppering you with kisses as he moans,
“You look so beautiful with my cum spilling out of you, taking my cock like a champ… fuck I love you…”
His body froze and his eyes widened as he realized what he said,
“W-wait, I mean-“
You buried your head into his chest sleepily as you covered his mouth with your hand,
“Shut up, Ozzie…” your tail curled around his waist, “…I love you too…”
Hearing your answer his face flushed and with a laugh that shook his large frame, he removed your hand before holding you closer to him, feeling a warmth in his chest for his silly little succubus.
"Sweet Dreams, baby doll," Asmodeus whispered as he let out a deep sigh. His heartbeat returns to normal as he finally closes his eyes…
#no i don’t have problems#reader insert#reader smut#x reader#kinktober#kinktober 2023#asmodeus x reader#helluva boss asmodeus#asmodeus x you
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high ♡ frank morrison
soulmate au where you reincarnate until you meet / stay with your soulmate.
cw ; typical dbd warnings [blood n gore] ; heavy song mention, you can decide what song it is ; might b ooc but idc <3 ; how legion looks is up to you! ; dbd lore could b inaccurate
if you have a blank blog [no bio, no user, no header or profile pic, nothing reblogged, etc] do not interact with my content. you will be blocked.
Your surroundings were new ; unfamiliar as your eyes flutter open. You’re on your back, staring at the cloudless sky as the summer heat hits you from every summer. You twist awkwardly, your elbows hitting the ground and lifting you onto your knees as you still, eyeing the area that surrounds you. Heated air smacks against you again — this summer was brutal.
You pause — it was summer, wasn’t it?
“Hey, newbie!” A voice barely below a whisper is targeted at you. Turning, you see a person with a beanie covering turquoise colored hair. They rush your way, grabbing your wrist and dragging you with them to a giant machine. “No time to explain. Just put your hands near this — a generator — and they’ll do the rest. Careful of sparks.”
You do as they say, watching as their body tensed. Finally, she introduced herself quietly when she deemed the coast was clear. You clear your throat, “[Name]. Where are we?”
“Coldwind Farm.” The generator clicks and whirs as Nea pauses, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. “Really cranked the heat up this time.”
The generator sputters to life, a light clicking on above you and exposing you to everything nearby. Nea cusses under her breath, rising to her feet quickly and rushing away from the loud machinery. You follow after her cluelessly, bumping into her back when she stops abruptly. Nea frowns, “we need to go separate ways now.”
“But—”
“Go fix another generator,” calloused hands fall onto your shoulders. Nea squeezes reassuringly and her face switches to something else — someone else. You blink and she’s back to normal, looking around you both cautiously. “If your heartbeat begins to pick up, get away.”
She’s gone without another word and you find yourself standing there, alone and vulnerable.
Shuffling awkwardly, you hustle along a barn, eyeing the field in front of you warily. Letting out a long breath, you take a chance and sprint into the field. Nea told you to work on generators, but you felt safer out of plain view. Crouching down, you hide your face in your knees and simply sit there.
A scream echoes around you and you flinch, biting your lip to keep yourself quiet. The field sways from side to side as something — someone, maybe — drifts through it. Another scream hits — two more beams of light, showing more generators were done.
Nea would be angry when she found out you did nothing to help. But your head was aching, scrambled with new thoughts and images of the past you couldn’t forget. Someone drifts by you again and you make yourself smaller, frown on your lips as you fight a whimper. You were so confused — so lost and tattered as more thoughts piled into your mind.
All too soon, the sound of your heartbeat began to pick up. Deciding to actually listen to Nea’s advice, you pause. No sound of movement is heard over the thumps of your heart — coast is clear. Jumping up from the field, you turn and book it, only to run straight into a body.
Pink hair is falling out of a hood, knife poised and ready to strike. The faceless mask seemingly stares at you for a minute, their arm falling until the knife clutters from their hand. A sharp intake, and then the sound of your name, muttered softly from behind the mask.
A ground shaking noise is heard, the killer cursing and grabbing at their knife frantically as you make your escape. A blond is ushering people through a giant door, a bulletproof vest over his chest. His stern face drops at the sight of you, eyes widening as he watches you quicken your pace.
“Shit. Nea was right.” He follows behind you, putting his hands on your back as you pause. “Keep goin’, newbie. We’re almost home.”
Home. Home sounded so nice right now. You race into the shining light at the end of the hallway, ignoring your name as it’s called frantically behind you.
——♡——
The campfire in front of you was not home. There are too many names — too many new faces from either side of you. Nea is across the fire from you ; the man from before sat beside you. Leon is looking over you questioningly, blue eyes surveying your trembling hands and wide eyes.
“There’s not a new killer. So, why—”
“Not that we’ve seen.”
Laurie rolls her eyes, continuing as if she wasn’t just interrupted. “It doesn’t make any sense to just get a survivor, that’s all.”
An older man hums, also eyeing you. Despite the warmth of the fire in front of you, a cold chill has seeped into your being. You shiver and let out a breath — you swear you can see it fog up in front of you. “Could be late, the killer. Make us comfortable and off guard, only for a new killer to show up.”
“I,” you lick your lips. The campsite grows silent as they wait for you to speak. “The one before. Who was that?”
“They call themselves Legion.” Leon is the one who lets you know. He tilts his head, “four of ‘em, I think.” His eyes travel across you again, “seemed to know you.”
“What does that mean?” Laurie speaks up again. Her eyes narrow in your direction, focusing on the way you tense up. Her gaze flicks back to Leon, “it’s a little late for their survivor to appear.”
“Called out [name] as we were leaving.” He bites his lip, attention drifting across the fire before it’s back. Leon looks down, but watches you from the corner of his eye. “Wanted to talk to you desperately.”
You shake your head before he can say anything else. You look to Laurie’s glaring figure then down as you clasp your hands together. “I don’t know anyone with pink hai—”
A giggle echoes in your mind, spiraling in your thoughts. Her face is so clear in your mind — perfectly structured and grinning as she giggles with three others. Just as quick as the thought comes, though, it vanishes.
As if it never happened.
Fog takes over Leon and Laurie, saving you from any further questions. A chill runs through you and you shrink in on yourself, arms wrapping around your torso helplessly. Mindless chatter is scattered around the campfire — it feels warm, safe here, but you miss the sight of home.
Nea plops down beside you with a huff, new fingerless gloves covering her hands. She tugs them farther up her wrist at your gaze, clenching her hands together as she tries to get used to them. “A gift. You get one if you perform well ; if you’re entertaining enough.”
“Newbie!” is called from across the campfire. The man has a heavy accent as he speaks, an arrogant grin on his face as he waves. “What’s the last thing you remember?”
That’s something you do remember Leon mentioning — the loss of memories. The longer you stayed, the foggier and more distant they became. You dreaded the day that would happen — your mind was scrambled enough.
You hum, picking at your nails nervously. Everyone’s attention is on you again — anxiety crawls up your throat. “A song. I was listening to music.”
A girl with golden hair grins, looking up from the guitar she's tuning. "What kind? I could try playing it for you."
Nodding, your eyes squint as you think of the song you remember hearing. It was so engrained in your mind — so planted into your memories that it was the one thing you could never forget. As you begin to hum quietly, Quentin perks up from across the fire. He lifts an eyebrow, "old school, huh?"
Kate nods along to the silent beat, trying her best to mimic the sound you make. She pauses, ear turned towards you as she continues. You stop abruptly and her eyes snap open. "That's all I remember."
"No words?" Nancy tilts her head.
You shrug, the corner of your mouth tilting up helplessly. "No words." Not yet, at least.
——♡——
Ghostface was your favorite killer. Which would sound strange in different circumstances — but dying daily, hourly, you were bound to get used to it eventually. He liked the chase — liked to skip and giggle and sing as he sauntered after you.
That's why you don't mind playing bait for him. He liked new survivors — only here for a few weeks [that you tried to keep up with] meant you still had newbie status. Currently, a game of hide and seek was occuring — you peeked from the side of a building when Ghostafce wasn't looking, and he'd lift up from behind the bush as he chose to giggle at you.
It made you smile — the way you could act silly in the middle of a murder spree.
Springwood always welcomed you at midnight, the moon and hazed streetlights your only source of light. As you tip-toe — Ghostie was on your trail, of course — the air swoops through. It sends a chill through you — like you're back in the snowy mountains of... somewhere.
A slam to your head sends you sprawling on the ground. Ghostface stops, his knife poised as you blink deliriously. Feng grimaces, "oops."
When your eyes blink open, you're staring at a mountain view. The tops are saturated with snow, hued a light blue and white. The door creaks open, a disgruntled figure coming into view. Their nose is scrunched as a steaming mug is headed your way.
"Here's your stupid hot cocoa."
"How stupid can it be when you have a cup, too?" You find yourself asking. Like this conversation was memorized — like this had all happened before. Your hands curl around the mug, cozying up in the bed you know isn't yours. "Why are you so grumpy today anyways?"
"Julie," they grumble. They huff, sitting beside you, as close as they could without causing a blush to form. "Won't leave me alone about new songs or her guitar or you."
Me? you want to say. But, you remember the answer you always got. 'She's sure we're soulmates — me and her. Doesn't want any of us to get hurt.'
Sweet and selfish — yeah, that was Julie.
You set your drink on the nightstand closest to you, warmed hands falling on their own. "Frank—"
Frank, your Frank. Frank, Frank, Frank. You remembered his name now — you wouldn't forget it again.
He sighs, laying his head on your shoulder. "It's me and you, I know it. It has to be."
"What if Julie's right, though?" You wrap your arm around his shoulers — you always liked being close to him, touching in the smallest bit when you could. "About us not being soulmates? We could have someone else out there."
"I don't want anyone but you."
A distraction. Frank always needed a distraction of some sort or else he'd get mad. When Frank got mad, he exploded. Something he was wokring on — something you helped him with. You jiggle your shoulder until he sits up. "Play me something."
His light beige acoustic guitar stands against the wall. Julie's lilac one is set on his desk, half of the strings missing. Another thing that points them at being perfect together — another thing that separates you. Frank sighs, his eyes pointing to the ceiling in annoyance. [He's too giddy to play for you, wanting your praise and your eyes on him only.]
Clearing his throat, Frank adjusts himself comfortably. You grab your mug, sipping on the chocolate now that it'd cooled down. His eyes narrow, “you tell anyone I sung this for you—”
“I won’t, promise!” You say it through laughter, but keep your promise regardless. The guitar strums and Franks hushed, soft voice drifts into the room. You sway in your seat, your eyes closing in comfort.
When they snap open, Ghostface is staring down at you once more. He tilts his head and you let out a gasp. "Words. I remember words."
As quickly as you can, you have Kate play the melody once more. You sing along as best as you can, the memories clearer than ever. Quentin yawns as he bops his head, the words leaving his mouth in mumbles. Leon hums your song as he works on generators, Meg speaking the words as she gets chased.
Soon, the entire camp is singing a song only you remember. And then Ghostface sings it one night while at the killer's camp.
His back is slammed into a tree, a smaller body pining him there. He raises his hands in innocence. A knife is held to his throat, "where did you hear that?"
He can't even squeak out your name before she's pulled off of him. Pink hair falls from a hood as Susie holds her friend back. Whispers of I told you! echo around the woods before they go silent.
Julie lets out a sigh, "let's hope Frank doesn't find out about this."
——♡——
The air is cold as the fog releases you from its grasp. You wish you had a thicker coat, wish you could sip on that stupid hot cocoa you keep thinking of. Quinten nods as he passes you, almost slipping from the icy ground. Your breath surrounds you in a fog as you tip-toe to a generator further away.
Steve kneels beside you to rewire the generator, huffing as his body wracks through a shiver. "Hate this place."
"I like it," you say absentmindedly. It was cold, of course, but something about the lodge in the distance seemed welcoming — familiar. Your mouth lifts into a smile, "could be cozy up there."
He snorts, "and be in the mercy of whatever Legion member is lurking? Be my guest."
Somehow, that's exactly where you find yourself. Crunching through the snow, you stare up at the barren walls. There should be paper there — pieces of ripped and weathered signs that scream missing on every inch. Signs that you stared at until your skin wrinkled and you forgot them again.
The fireplace crackles as you walk through the front door. Warmth should cover you, should comfort you, but the feeling of loss and dread crawls up your throat like nausea. You gulp — Steve was right, I shouldn't be here.
Yun-jin screams outside — she sounds close, but your feet are glued to the floor. Hurried steps crunch under the window closest to you — you only stare. Looking back is a picture of four people — five when you wipe away the dust. Staring back is a picture of you.
You don't acknowledge the tears that cloud up your eyes when the door creaks open. Heavy, booted feet inch closer to you achingly slow, your heartbeat picking up in fear. Quentin yells your name from the window and the footsteps pause.
Your body is jerked around, teary eyes facing your supposed killer of the day. The mask makes you jolt, the tattoos peeking through causing your tears to turn into sobs. The knife shakes in his hands before it falls to the floor, useless. His mask is ripped from his face, heaving breaths the only thing in the room.
As the world goes dark, your sobs grow louder.
Your head is in someone's lap as you slowly regain consciousness. You feel like you're floating — like the game you've been forced to play has been put on pause. Blinking your eyes open, you see Frank peering down at you. His eyes are rimmed red, a teardrop falling from the tip of his nose and to your cheek.
He lets out a shaky sigh, "I never wanted you to be here."
You swallow, your chest suddenly tight and your throat dry. "I thought of you," you say. Frank's chest heaves with a sob he doesn't allow to escape. "Every day. Every decade. You were the face I would dream of, but couldn't name."
Frank almost cradles you to his chest as he cries. You rub his back as well as you can, shushing him as he hiccups. When he releases you, he helps you sit up slowly. Finally face to face with him, all thoughts leave your mind. Your hand raises absentmindedly, tracing the scar you once memorized.
Frank lets out another sigh, trembling as you stare at him. "You shouldn't be here. You're too good for a place like this."
"Where are we, anyways?" Your eyebrows furrow as you take in your surroundings. Like the lodge, it's warm and familiar. You grow even more confused. "Your room? Why?"
"Dunno," he shrugs. You're gathered back into his hold, one hand settled between your shoulder blades. "Don't care."
The room around you seems to rumble at his words. You wince, meeting his eyes with a small grin. "Don't think we have long, Frank."
His shoulders sag at the sound of you saying his name. Laying his forehead on your shoulder, he takes in a deep breath. "I knew it — knew Julie was wrong. We are soulmates — we have to be."
You pull away from him briefly, lips pursed in thought. "And now you have to kill me."
"No." Frank is adament —sure in his statement. "Not you. Not ever."
The room rumbles again and you grin. "Guess she knows that, too."
——♡——
idk how satisfied i am w this one but after sitting in my drafts half done for a year, it’s finished !!
airbendertendou © do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate my content on any platform. if you see my content under any other name than my own, let me know. i only have this tumblr and an ao3 account under the same name.
#💝 : soulmate au’s#frank morrison x reader#frank Morrison imagine#legion x reader#the legion x reader#the legion imagines#the legion oneshot#dbd x reader#dbd x you#dbd imagine#dbd legion#dead by daylight imagines#dead by daylight x reader#dead by daylight imagine
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Not so scary after all. 1/2
Pairing: Gustavo Fring x gn! reader.
Other Appearances: Jesse Pinkman, Walter White.
Request: I was wondering if you could write a short story/oneshot where the reader (gender neutral) works in the lab with Jesse and Walter, and Gus has an obvious soft spot for them. Being lenient with them when they make a mistake, being more gentle with reader, etc.
I know it is very OOC of Gus but imagining him going all soft 😩🙏
Warnings: none, but be aware of possible spelling mistakes and such.
A/n: To the person that requested this, I hope it is what you wanted! I have a tendency to just wing fics sometimes, not realising that I might be going in the complete opposite direction of what someone wanted me to go in.
But I hope you enjoy nonetheless!
Taglist- @sukunamybeloved - @viviennemuerte
More Gustavo fics.
The lab, that engulfed anyone within, had gone quiet as the machines were finally able to cool from their heated activities.
It had been hours. The process of creating the product that had people begging from every direction had been complete. Put in the cooling fridge to set in their usual trays.
About a minute ago, you had pulled one of them out, ready to do your job of breaking the crystal into the usual sizes that they sold at... Though now, you and Jesse were stood side by side in front of the tray you had selected and put on a free surface.
Two pairs of eyes stared down at it, trying to solve the sudden nagging feeling that something wasn’t quite right. But it was one of those things where the longer you paid attention to it, the less your brain actually focused.
Jesse sniffed, breaking the silence from the intense thinking, “Is it just me, or, uh. Does that look wrong?”
“Yeah,” you answered slowly, mind too consumed to use your full voice, “But I can’t tell what.”
It began again. The two of you looked over every inch of that tray once and then twice, and then one more time, before there was an equal sigh. Jesse had even rubbed his face in an attempt to soothe himself. “I don’t get it, man.”
Was it the colour?
The consistency?
The feel?
Surely, with the time you had spent just looking at it, you should’ve been given at least a form of answer.
So why wasn’t there one?
“Okay, look.” you huffed out, squeezing your eyes quickly in attempt to rid them of the tiredness that clung. “How about we go back, go through it step by step and see if there is something we missed, huh?”
Jesse defeatedly waved his arms with a groan. “Come on.” You ushered, and after giving him a pat on the shoulder, he complied. Picking up the clipboard with notes along the way.
In all honesty, it took a good chunk of time to check certain stations off of the list.
The process was so consistent that whenever you made batches it was a done and dusted kind of situation. So, when you were stood there in front of the grand machines, wracking through your brain for specific information on how you did it.
It wasn’t very easy.
Eventually, however, the two of you had landed at Station 5. The settling tank. Jesse cleared his throat as he raised the clipboard once again, trying to focus his tired eyes on the small words that appeared in front of him. “All right,”
“There’s not really much for this one, but, uh... I guess, as long as it was set at 75 there shouldn’t be a problem.”
You were about to hum in response. Your feet had readied to continue onto the next pieces of machinery to just get this over and done with, and admit defeat as the answer still hadn’t been found. The last part of the process was only a few steps away...
But your body had frozen, the number Jesse had said ringing in your ears like an alarm.
Your eyes flicked to the temperature dial on the tank, even though by now it had gone back to zero, “What?” Jesse’s body turned in your direction, gaze still on the checklist, “The temperature.” he repeated simply. “It was set to 75, right?”
Oh, shit.
When there was no response, Pinkman’s eyes finally left the writing to find yours. And then his head slowly raised, the realisation ready to kick in. “Right?” The look on his face urged a cringed smile to take over your lips.
“I thought you said 85.” you confessed through your gritted teeth and Jesse’s eyebrows furrowed immediately. He looked back down at the list, “Why the hell would I say 85 if it says 75 right here?”
“Dude-- I don’t know. I don’t exactly have control over your brain, do I?!” you practically hissed, arms crossing over your chest in shame while Jesse shook his head in disbelief. “Well, apparently you don’t either, I mean...”
“85, man. You-- That would’ve turned it into some kind of-- of sludge. Right? So... What, every single tray is like that then?”
Words didn’t even have to be said to give him the answer.
“Yo, come on man!” His shoulders slacked, a louder sigh than before beckoning through his lips as he walked off for a second, hands moving up to sit his hips. “They-- They’ll never let us do it without Mr. White again.”
Your eyes followed the man as he started to pace back and forth in front of you, “Jesse, every person in this building has made a mistake at least once in their life.” You paused, gulping, “... Though, I doubt not being able to cook will be the least of our worries.”
That didn’t seem to help Jesse’s nerves as he let out yet another groan, his increasingly warms hands now raising to reach at his face once again. “Look, we just... We’re just going to have to make another batch.” Your attempt at calming Jesse down ending with him shaking his head.
Suddenly, he looked up. His eyes found yours, even while his feet continue to move, and he pointed a finger at you, “You’re telling Gus.”
“What-- Me?! Why me?!”
“Because... He doesn’t shout-- He doesn’t get mad at you.” Jesse insisted, lightly shrugging his shoulders in a way that had your eyebrows raising, “He doesn’t shout at you either.”
“Yeah, but--”
“Is there a problem?”
The sound had cut through the air in a matter of seconds that it felt like you had jumped out of your skin, though all you did was turn away from Jesse. The posture of two bodies straightening out at an impressively fast speed.
There he was. The man himself just stood on the catwalk, hands atop the cool railing as he looked down at his employees that might as well have been a pair of ants.
Uh oh.
Gustavo waited there for about a second and then he was off, making his way down the stairs despite the equal internal pleas that he would either stay there or go back through the doors.
But now, the sound of his footsteps were bouncing off of every wall in room.
You and Jesse had practically turned into ice by the time he got to ground level, and the two of you sent each other worriedly looks before turning back when Gus had stopped himself not that far away.
“Well?” he questioned, his entire body going eerily still, almost ridged, like it usually did. You cleared your throat, “Yeah, uh... There’s a complication with the batch.”
Gustavo’s eyes had locked onto yours. His head was slightly tilted, his jaw clenched, which together was such a thing that it had sent a chill down your spine. “Go on.”
You gulped, your gaze moving from his to send a quick glance over to Jesse before you forced yourself into at least a sense of composure, though your body was still tense. “I-- It’s my fault... Sir.”
“I got the temperature for the settling tank wrong, and... we only just realised.” The more the words spilled from your lips, the dryer your throat had become.
“Telling you that I didn’t mean to do it doesn’t exactly solve the problem, so I--”
“You’re saying that the whole batch is like this. Correct?” Mr. Fring clarified, raising a singular eyebrow, and you nodded slowly, “Yes.” Your hands felt like they were about to start shaking from the anticipation of awaiting his reaction. “Sir, I swear, I didn’t mean it, I don’t-- I don’t even know how I misheard a number.”
Gustavo’s head rose steadily. But then his eyes moved from yours over to the man stood to your side, “How fast can you make another one?” he questioned, instead of issuing a punishment like you had thought, and now you and your lab partner shared yet another look.
“What?”
“How long.” Mr. Fring repeated simply, though his voice was a little lower than before. More firm. “Uh... It depends.” Jesse stated. However, when Gustavo had raised a brow again, he continued. “Like... 6-8 hours. Tops.”
In that moment, a faint breath sucked into Mr. Frings lungs. He straightened up, nodding only once before his lips had parted. “Go.”
“What-- But what about that batch?” you questioned, gesturing towards the failed product still sat on the counter. But he didn’t turn. His eyes hadn’t even moved. Or blinked.
“I’ll handle it.” was all he said. And only now had he began to move, his walk even more ridged this time from what could mostly be assumed to be due to anger.
A factor that your brain had apparently decided to ignore when a sudden panic had raised within you.
Your feet had began moving before you had processed the consequences. “Wait, Gus.” you called, trying your best to follow his movements before he got to the stairs.
And then within a matter of seconds, he was faced in your direction by the next time you had blinked. Something that almost had you stumbling over yourself when you attempted to stop your feet.
Gustavo wore a mild frown. It was one that had gradually set deeper into the lines of his face since he had entered the lab. Though when his gaze had focused on your own, it had disappeared like it wasn’t even there in the first place.
You cleared your throat when your eyes actually processed the fact that they had already been met with his.
“Mr. Fring.” You corrected yourself after a moment, missing the look of disagreement that twitched through Gustavo’s expression upon hearing the name coming out of your mouth.
“Please don’t tell Walter.”
You could fully hear your heartbeat by now. The blood was purely pumping through your veins as if it was about to give you an adrenaline rush, especially when Gustavo’s eyebrows had subtly furrowed. “Why not?”
You turned to look back at Jesse, who could only just meet your eyes, before you faced the other man once again, a deep breath filling your lungs even if it didn’t help to soothe. “He already has a lot on his plate, and I...”
“I don’t want to make it worse just because of a stupid mistake-- My stupid mistake.”
The words settled in the tense air for a good few seconds. It was a waiting game. The prize of which being whatever reaction the man in front of you held, even if it wasn’t going to be a good one.
The two of you stared at each other for a moment. Gustavo’s gaze hadn’t changed once throughout the conversation, and now the silence. It was strong; bold, unmoving, calm. All the while you had felt like some kind of cowering animal stood in front of a predator.
“Like I said, Y/n.” he spoke suddenly, indicating that the decision on how he was going to react had been chosen. It was a great relief when he had finally let himself bink.
“I will take care of it.”
And with that, his back was turned towards you, the footsteps that had once echoed through the lab doing so all over again as he made his way up the spiral stairs without another word.
~
The past few hours had sort of blurred together as you and Jesse had absorbed yourselves in the process of making the new batch.
A few of Gus’s employees, that you have seen passing by before, had been in and out while you remade the product. They took the trays out one by one, throwing out all of the useless contents, and then returning them to the cooling fridge.
By now the usual concoction was in the middle of being filtered through the last set of machines, a procedure that always seemed to take a long time to complete.
So, there you were, using up the spare time to sit at one of the tables as you looked down at the new checklist you had written out yourself. And now almost finished.
Finally, there was comfortable peace and quiet.
Or so you thought.
The door to the lab had slammed open so quickly, the sound fierce when the hinges had allowed it to move as far is it could go. Yet again, you had almost jumped out of your skin. A “Jesus!” already being exclaimed from Jesse, though you couldn’t see him.
You stood up from your seat, watching a breathless Walter White practically stumble along the catwalk until he was leant heavily against the banister. “How-- Is everything okay? Is anything damaged? Nothing’s damaged, right?”
“What?” you questioned, narrowed eyes searching over him from afar. But then he just huffed, pulling himself along the walkway with the railing so that he could get to the set of spiral stairs.
“Mr. White?”
Right as you had moved round the machinery, your gaze landed on Jesse who was now being grabbed by Walter, getting shaken like there had been some big disaster.
“Yo, what the hell, man-- What are you doing?!” Jesse yelled, close to falling on his ass when he finally got out of the grip on him. Walter threw his arms out like the answer should’ve been obvious. “Gus.” he stated as if it would spark something.
But you and Jesse only furrowed your eyebrows, your arms crossing over your chest once again as you took the spot beside him.
“He told me about the-- the-- contamination. I told you that one person has to stay in the lab or things like this... They will happen!”
It clicked.
Gustavo had acted upon your wishes. He had fabricated a whole story to take place of a mistake that you had made.
He lied for you.
When Walter stressfully rubbed at his face, covering his eyes in a way that almost snapped his glasses with a groan like sound, you took the chance to look over to Jesse to see if he had gotten the memo himself.
The expression on his face told you that he in fact did.
“God... We’re gonna have to make a new batch. Now.” Mr. White pointed out, his initial concern slowly forming into what appeared to be annoyance.
Jesse shook his head, “Hey, relax man we already started. It, uh...” He paused, turning to look at the machine thats rumble was slowly beginning to ease. “Actually, you know what? It should be done soon.”
But his words did nothing. Walter had started mumbling to himself about the setbacks, throwing around numbers, and words that you couldn’t define no matter how hard you tried.
So when he started walking away, neither you or Jesse moved to interrupt him.
“I told you.”
Your attention shifted once again, and soon you found a certain Pinkman looking at you with a weirdly smug expression as he mirrored your stance.
“What?”
“Gus likes you.”
Every muscle in your body tensed so fast. Your head turned to the side, avoiding your partners gaze with a scoff, that sounded a little too fake, “Wha-- No he doesn’t.”
Jesse was purely grinning if he hadn’t been already, “Yeah, man, he totally does.” Each word felt like it’s own individual tease through his slowed voice, “All that lying for you and shit... I don’t know, Y/n. I would say that he’s definitely hooked--”
“Shut up, man.” you hissed, uncrossing your arms just so that you could lightly shove him in annoyance, but all he did was chuckle once he managed to stabilise himself.
And though he didn’t add anything else to his point, he wiggled his eyebrows at you, turning to go back to his work station before there was even a chance to scold him again.
So, instead you just rolled your eyes, a heavy sigh pushing its way through your lips once you had taken in the fact that you were now stood by yourself. Walter was... somewhere, and Jesse had gone back to whatever he was doing before.
It was finally quiet again.
Your shoulders mildly slacked, the exhaustion from hours of work officially seeping into your system in a way that made you want to put your head in your hands, though you still had your gloves on.
You were about to make your way back to your clipboard, resume the remained of your task... But before you could take even a full step, there was a sound that caught your ears. Your legs stalled.
It was two taps. One right after the other against what sounded like metal.
You turned your head to the side, letting your eyes scan over the area Jesse had just moved to in an attempt to see if he had made the sound, or had even heard it himself.
But it was neither.
Your eyebrows were furrowed by now as you tried to peer round the side of a tank, attempting to locate where it was exactly that Walter had wondered off to. Though it didn’t really seem like the sound had came from that direction anyway.
There it was again. Two taps, slightly louder this time even if they were still faint.
You turned on your heel, your mind giving you one last option as to what the mysterious tapping could be.
And then you saw it.
Or should you say him.
Gustavo Fring. The man you had thought was furious with you. Who had then complied to your plead and lied for you, was stood near the door to the lab like he had just walked in. But his stance said otherwise.
His eyes were already on yours, despite the fact that you could barely see them through his glasses. His hand was laid atop the banister in a way that encouraged your attention to fall to it. Your lips parted even if no words were meant to follow.
The source of the tapping.
The two of you sort of stared at each other for a moment. Caught up in each others gazes like Gustavo had apparently wanted, except he didn’t think it would actually hold.
You tried to smile, a sign of respect, though you could practically feel how awkward it had come out. So instead, you nodded your head, an inaudible thank you falling from your lips.
The next movement from Gustavo was sudden.
He had nodded too, his head not even half way back to where it usually sat, before he had turned on his heel, soundlessly pulling the lab door open so that he could officially take his leave.
It was something that you initially had no reaction to.
I mean, his face had appeared in the stoic way it did most of the time. Not even a twitch could alter the movement of his eyebrows, change the look in his eyes, or adjust the way his jaw set.
But the more you thought about what he did before his movements, the more that there was this nagging feeling that you had missed something. Something that your mind was so close to catching onto.
So you let yourself think. You replayed the scene over and over again, focusing on a different aspect of it each time, like a different facial feature or part of his body.
You thought over the way his feet moved, the way his arms went back to his side after he let go of the railing, the speed that his head had turned at... And then you got it.
The image of his face right before he had turned towards the doorway, right before he had chosen to leave, was there. The thing you were missing was now clear as day in front of your eyes.
The corner of his lips had started to curl. He had turned away in an attempt to conceal it.
He was trying not to smile back.
next part.
#gustavo fring#gus fring#gustavo fring x reader#gustavo fring x gn reader#gus fring x reader#gus#breaking bad#breaking bad x reader#gender neutral reader#jesse pinkman#walter white
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|| Jayvik Tickle Headcanons ||
A/N: in the spirit of doing what I want, I decided to grant these fruity ass motherfuckers some tickle fluff. yes it is ooc but at least they're happy :,)
I use the words "you" in this list but that's just how my brain dialogue comes out fastest. the "you" is always meant to be jayce or viktor
This list is in the context that they are married, so if this isn't your ship, you might not like this list. oh and there's tickling but whatever
-----
- jayce and vik are both lee-leaning switches
- but viktor gets tickled slightly more often than jayce does; he's a grumpy cat man and needs the affection
- let's start with viktor:
- very very ticklish
- wasn't touched a lot throughout his life, so his skin is very sensitive
- a few skittering fingers can have him leaping out of his skin
- most ticklish spots are his underarms definitely. unfortunately his arms aren't super strong so while he of course does try to squeeze them shut to block the spots, it doesn't keep the ler out
- his ribs are his second worst. he's so skin and bones at this point that just massaging the bone through his skin has him laughing hard
- his laugh ranges from high-pitched chuckles to near-silent and breathy hiccups. jayce knows he's hit a jackpot when he hears the silent laugh
- idea from @tickly-trashcan that jayce will scoop viktor up and plop him on a counter so he can't escape his tickle attack
- tickly kisses are his kryponite
- viktor doesn't hate tickling but doesn't love it either. before he met jayce, he didn't like it at all. he thought it was undignified. he still does, but that's kind of the fun of it. what's the good in spending your life working if you don't let yourself play every now and then?
- will go along with it for the game of it or because he's simply too exhausted to fight back
- if he senses a tickle ambush coming, he'll start waving away his attacker (jayce) with his cane, threatening to bonk him with it
- i cannot communicate how cute of a lee he is. despite the cold exterior, he is a ticklish little puppy
- VERY squirmy. CANNOT stop squirming
- said it before but I'll say it again: ✨️ hiccup-laughter ✨️
- he doesn't like the fluffy kind of tickle teasing. if you must, go for snarky comments and sarcastic quips. that'll make him blush
- can't outrun his ler, so he's in deep shit when jayce is in a ler mood
- can't chase his lee either so escaping him is pretty easy
- which is why it's so sus when jayce still manages to get caught by him. almost makes one think jayce doesn't WANT to escape hmmmm???
- but back to viktor
- he is a shockingly good ler
- his hands have spent a lifetime delicately handling machinery so you know he's got some meticulous fingers
- very observant to what spots hit you the hardest
- teases you about possibly enjoying yourself because of how little you're trying to escape
- treats wrecking you like a scientific experiment. ("let's see what happens when I touch right... here" "hm. you seem to be very ticklish there. i will need to gather more data on this, for science, after all")
- remembers every one of your tickle spots. every single one.
- laughs with his lee. it's all just so silly and ridiculous ❤️
- NOW ONTO JAYCE:
- bro isn't as ticklish as viktor but he is fucking BAD
- also doesn't have as much self-control as viktor in order to hold his laughter in in time. (I can't tell you how many times he's accidentally been prodded and he's let out a laugh in the middle of a council meeting. in an otherwise quiet room. viktor teases him about this relentlessly)
- similarly to when gets caught sneaking into his lab, jayce is terrible at talking his way out of getting tickled. he panics and says the most random shit in an attempt to distract the ler for long enough to get away. viktor is unfortunately too smart for it and it never works
- laugh ranges from adorable little deep giggles to infectious belly laughter
- does actually enjoy being tickles him but is completely humiliated by it. trying to get him to admit it is like pulling teeth
- exaggerates to viktor how much he DOESNT love it and is JUST going with it to be a good sport
- ^ says the man who sits perfectly still while getting his shit wrecked
- teases that point out how much he's having fun fluster him BEYOND SPEECH. BITCH GOES NONVERBAL AT THAT SHIT
- hides his face when getting tickled, even if just a little bit
- poor boi is so embarrassed
- most ticklish spots are his sides, which make it super convenient for viktor to jab his the end of his cane into his side at any given time
- second worst spot are his feet
- in a tickle fight, viktor is the one to call mercy most of the time
- jayce has the advantage of not being crippled and ill 🤷♀️
- most ticklings between these two happen either when they're bored or restless in the lab or in bed as they're preparing to sleep
- jayce is not a great ler, but he loves to be one
- he is so addicted to making vik laugh to the point where it starts to get on viktor's nerves if he's trying to work
- jayce has SERIOUS ler moods. he doesn't know that's what they're called or that there's even a word for it, but they're there
- prefers to tickle with vibrations and squeezes
- teases viktor with things like "what was that? I can't hear you, can you speak up?" knowing damn well vik's laughing his lungs out
- ^ other oblivious and sarcastic teases are jayces specialty
- a very fast tickler. you think he's in one spot and then suddenly he's moved to another
- uses tickle hugs
- jayce first found out viktor was ticklish one late night at the lab when viktor refused to call it a night. jay tried bargaining with him to get him to go to sleep, but he wouldn't budge. exasperated, jay tried lifting him to bed, but when he pulled him up by his armpits, vik started to giggle and pull away. let's just say convincing viktor to sleep became a lot easier after that
- viktor learned jayce was ticklish a few weeks later. the latter was so enthralled in his notes that he hadn't noticed viktor was talking to him. after calling to him several times, vik hobbled over and jabbed him, right in his unprotected side. jay jumped in his chair with a half-laugh, half-yelp and asked vik what he needed, very flusteredly. viktor, amused, asked "what was that?" and proceeded to poke fun at him. jayce, absolutely mortified, wouldn't face him until he changed the subject.
- but they've both grown to appreciate the laughter filled moments they spend together ❤️
------
WHY CANT THEY BE HAPPY FOR ONCE?! 😭
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General dating headcanons for 2012 Mikey, Donnie, Raph, Leo, and Splinter?
General dating head canons for the 2012 TMNT!
Summary: as said in the title! This General dating headcanons for 2012 Mikey,Donnie,Raph,Leo,and splinter!
Daily song suggestion that ( kinda ) fits with the theme!
Sorry for any spelling/grammar mistakes! And sorry if they are OOC
Warnings!: This might be a bit bad sense I haven’t watched the show in a few years so this is all based on memory I apologize!
Fandom: Tmnt
🐢Donnie💜
I’m gonna be honest with you he’s probably a simp for you ngl like bro has hearts in his eyes around you- his brothers most likely tease him for it
Mikey always somehow in someway ruins a moment you two are having, about to kiss? Mikey’s doing something idiotic and you both have to make sure he isn’t going to hurt himself- you always laugh it off while Donnie probably mops  about his lost chance with you 💀
He loves talking about his machinery and inventions aswell as some things he’s planning to get to make some new inventions! He mostly only talks to you about sense your the only one listening without spacing off or telling him to stop
Probably goes to April for some dating advice sense your probably his first relationship and he doesn’t know what he’s doing, But he wants to get some in sight to make sure he’s at least doing something right
Let’s you watch him work on his inventions! But he makes sure your at a safe distance where you can’t get burned or hurt by any parts or things he’s using
He’s a doofus sometimes, he try’s to impress you and ends up making a bit of a fool of himself, but you find it adorable!
He likes putting his bandanna on you cause you look adorable with it on his own words not mine
Such a cute honey pie honestly he loves you with all his heart and don’t take that lightly he truly does!
🐢Raph❤️
Mikey slander. That’s it you just watch him slander Mikey
He’s rough and strong infront of his brothers but with you he starts lowering his tough guy persona, don’t get me wrong this man will never ambit he’s soft but you can tell especially when you guys are alone together hanging out
He lets you pet his turtle and feed him both of you for some reason love watching the lil guy eat while just chatting about your day!
He teaches you some self defense moves so when he’s not around he knows you’ll at least put up a good fight, he gets a bit worried sometimes surprisingly so you’ll have to reassure him your fine
He loves when you take care of any scars or marks he has after a particular hard fight, Though he might be in some pain it relaxes him to know your there for him, also he trusts you a lot so, this shows troughs this act
Like Donnie he’s probably a simp for you BUT he’s better at hiding it sometimes he does slip up though and shows it Mikey teased him relentlessly until raph snapped and started chasing the man- you had to step in and try defusing the situation
R.I.P to any one of his brothers if they tried teasing you in front of him, this man will defend you with his last breath Some of them had to learn that the hard way
Over all sweetheart but doesn’t show it much he still loves you though even if it’s hard to show <3
🐢Mikey🧡
Spams you with memes at 3AM so might wanna turn off your notifications 💀
A menace tbh
Very energetic! Keeping up with this guy sometimes seems impossible! his adorableness makes up for that for sure, I mean who could be mad at him? Look at him!
Uses you as a meat shield from his brothers. Dude will come at you in full speed before ducking behind you and grabbing your sides to move you around as raph tries getting him to drop you and fight like a “man” so be prepared for that
Sometimes he can be an idiot but in a cute way!
I feel like he love’s physical affection so hugging,cuddling,handholding,etc! He likes to hold your hand and swing it as you guys walk together it’s honestly adorable- he also loves giving you hugs from the side randomly trough out the day!
Sometimes after some rough fights he loves to cuddle up with you as you kiss his head and complement him for his hard work, it makes him feel appreciated and loved! He also loves playing mini games with you on his free time! Like hiding seek or tag
Splinter sometimes scolds him for skipping training to hang out with you while Mikey just laughs it off, He’d be more careful sneaking off to you cause he doesn’t wanna get you in trouble too
Does that thing where you poke someone over and over again and saying their name again and again till they pay attention to you, it can be annoying sometimes but it’s honestly adorable how happy he gets when you finally give him attention! You cant stayed annoyed too long he doesn’t mean to be annoying…… at least sometimes….
Overall he’s a very energetic boyfriend! He’s sweet though! And he tires his best for you so just keep that in mind!
🐢Leo💙
I feel like he’s the chillest boyfriend out of this list
He likes showing off the new moves splinter taught him! He takes you trough each step of learning it even if you won’t use it he still likes explaining it!
Like Raph Leo teaches you some defense moves! But just the basics nothing to much only punching,kicking,dodging, etc
He likes discussing he’s plans with you! He also likes your in put if he should fix or rearrange some things in the plan to make it work more efficiently
He likes to lay his head on your lap as he rambles on about his day and his brothers, but would also love to hear how you day has been going!
sense he’s a mutant he can’t really take you on date to fancy restaurants or arcades or the mall sense it would draw so much attention- so! He makes a make shift date with a table two seats/pillows, some pizza, and a few roses he managed to pick in the night from a random garden he found.
He loves to watch films with you and just chill out in the layer while eating pizza or playing a game!
Overall hes one of the more chill boyfriend’s outta all of them at least in my headcanon but he’s still fun to hand out with! Especially when you guys go out ( at night of course) and just chill in the empty almost abandoned parks
Splinter
(This one might be a bit short)
Okay so! I feel like he lets you watch him and the turtles train new moves and such!
He likes embarrassing them infront of you by saying some sassy re mark or something else in that nature of course no harm done! Just a little funny comment
He’s a gentleman for sure you know opening doors for you, kissing your hand,and other things
I feel like he has baby pictures of the four turtles after they mutated and looked like lil baby’s it’s honestly adorable he especially likes doing this infront of them as you gush about how cute they were as kids, they get super embarrassed
I feel like he would teach some moves but unlike the rest he’d actually show you some more hard ones just incase,he does have a lot of enemy’s so I’d be dangerous if they knew splinter had a new lover, even more dangerous if they knew it was you
He meditates a lot so I feel like he would let you join if your up for it!, it’s really calming and relaxing it’s also a way to get away from the 4 almost always fighting turtles
I feel like the turtles see you as a second parental figure like a mom/dad/parent which splinter is pleased to find out!
He lets you brush your fingers trough his fur, it’s actually really soft surprisingly!
Sorry this took so long I apologize! Also sorry if they are OOC sense ( like I said in the beginning!) I haven’t watched the show in a while but I hope you enjoyed either way!
#tmnt 2012#tmnt mikey#tmnt raphael#tmnt donatello#tmnt leo x reader#headcanon#tmnt 2012 april#x reader#all genders#sorry lol#thanks anon!#request#tmnt 2012 x reader#main character#ayyyyy#*dies cutely*
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A very Spidey Christmas - Hobie
Pairing: Hobie Brown x GN!Reader (1610!Miles, Gwen, 42!Miles, Margo, and Pavitr are here too)
Word count: 992
Warnings: One cuss word, usage of nicknames (peng, dove, my love) Hobie calls Miles ‘Peter Pan’ (not a warning per se but I just thought ppl might now understand it bc it might be a lil obscure or smth idk) slightly ooc Gwen, mild ghostflower/gwiles and some (subtle) prowlerbyte stuff <3
A/N: Can you tell I put the most effort into this 💔
VEE I USED YOUR GUIDE 😁 very helpful 10/10 would recommend so everyone go give it a read!
The sun was slowly sinking on the horizon, lighting up the frozen patterns inside the icicles hanging on the branches of trees as you finished determinedly constructing your snowman. Or rather, snow-building.
You had been hard at work for almost an hour now, and with the first traces of the evening starting to graze the darkening sky you stepped back to admire your handiwork, then decided to go over to everyone one by one to see their creations.
You had made an elaborately-designed snow-igloo, complete with miniature city built from snow surrounding it. You had painstakingly replicated the Brooklyn Bridge, the Statue of Liberty, and the Empire State Building out of small sticks and carefully-placed blankets of snow.
Your pride and joy of your entire display, however, was the diverse cast of tiny snow-people that sat on the ceiling dome of the igloo in various candid poses.
Snow-Hobie was distinguished by giant boots and a leather vest, the spikes on his mask and shoulders - made from twigs that were meticulously selected - sticking out at random angles as he played his little guitar for his audience. Which was, of course, namely the snow version of you - sitting cross-legged in front of him, every bit as supportive of him as you were in real life.
Ballet slippers and a hood set Gwen apart from the others as she danced en-pointe on the edge of the igloo, the perfect muse for an artist’s sketches. You had managed to replicate Miles’ hairstyle to a tee on his snow doppelgänger as he sat with his sketchbook in front of him, drawing Gwen as she posed for him.
Snow-Pavitr hung off one of the lower levels of the igloo’s walls, a thin web connecting him to the ceiling as his hair - and the fabric of his dhoti pants - all flopped to one side. Snow-Margo with her Afro puffs and the tiny version of the other Miles with his Prowler suit and braids were engaged in a conversation on the other side of the igloo dome, random parts of machinery scattered around them as they compared notes on everything they knew about technology and tinkering.
You wandered over to where Miles was working away at his snow sculpture, looking over his shoulder at the sharp edges and added flair of various leaves, stems and flowers which made his unique art style all the more recognizable even off the paper.
“What’re you making, Miles?”
“Oh, hi, Y/N! I’m actually trying to build Gwen… I’m not sure if it’s coming out well though.” He sat back and rubbed the back of his neck as he critically examined his creation. You took in the petals forming her hood, the leaves wrapped over each other to form her chucks, and the stems woven together to imitate a web shooting out from her wrist. “Well, I think it’s really cool.”
“Wait, really? Miles, that’s so sweet! I’m trying to make you too!” Gwen, who was sitting only a few feet away, gave him a warm smile and Miles just about lit up brighter than a Christmas tree. You chuckled under your breath at his reaction.
“I made a dog!” Pavitr piped up, proudly gesturing to his snow-dog. “His name’s Gulab Jamun!”
He was unfortunately sitting right in one of the sun’s last dying rays, so the dog’s face looked a little bit like a melted candle, but everything else had turned out pretty well.
“Pavi, I think now might not be the best time,” Margo murmured with a soft laugh, crouching to look at his sculpture. “It’s a good dog though.”
“They’re so in love it makes me sick,” Miles remarked, standing and looking at Gwen and Miles skeptically with his arms crossed. Margo lifted her head to glare up at him and he raised his palms in mock surrender. Though the small, fond smile that tugged at his lips as he looked at the purple spidergirl didn’t quite escape your watchful gaze.
“Don’t worry about ‘im, Peter Pan! ‘E’s just taking the mick,” Hobie called out reassuringly to Miles, who was now frowning slightly at the version of himself from another universe. “Lay off him, bruv! Man’s trying his best, innit?”
You joined Hobie a few metres away from everyone, where he appeared to be taking a break. “‘Ey, dove!” He called, his eyes lighting up with a grin when he saw you. You went to sit next to him and he wrapped a long arm around you. “‘Ow’s it goin’?”
“It’s good! I just about finished.” You turned to angle your gaze down at his… sculpture? Was that the right word for it? Maybe the term abstract art piece fit better? “Hobie, love, what’s yours supposed to be?”
“Oh, it’s a me’aphor for capi’alism.”
“Did it… fall apart?” You asked carefully, not wanting to come off as rude but also trying your best to understand what was in front of you.
“What d’you mean, peng ting? I actually patterned up and made it as thought-provokin’ as I could,” He sounded so genuinely puzzled by your questions that you decided to stop beating around the bush.
“Okay, I’ll bite. Hobie, that’s a pile of snow throwing up a middle finger.” You leaned forward slightly to see his masterpiece - a deliberately messy pile of snow flipping the world off, complete with a Norman Osborne figurine drowning in the snow in the centre, it’s eyes scratched out in Sharpie with bold X’s. “And is that… an Osborne action figure? Is this supposed to be something about him drowning in money he doesn’t deserve or even need? And the snow is supposed to symbolize the money saying, ‘fuck the world’?”
“See, now ya got it!” Hobie said proudly, not at all offended by your confusion and slight skepticism. “Now let’s go inside, shall we? My fingers are startin’ to freeze.”
“Your fingers are always freezing. Honestly, you’re somehow always so cold it’s a wonder that you’re not perpetually an ice cube.”
“All I’m ‘earin’ is that you think ‘m cool.”
@vhstown @l0starl @tatumis-a @deritosmi @hobiebrownismygod @therealloopylupin2099
#⋆·˚ 🌹 ༘ * — 𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗶’𝘀 𝙧𝙤𝙨𝙚𝙨!#⋆·˚ 🌺 ༘ * — 𝙝𝙞𝙗𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙪𝙨𝙚𝙨!#hobie my beloved#across the spiderverse#atsv#atsv x reader#hobie brown#atsv hobie#hobie atsv#hobie spiderverse#hobie brown x you#hobie x you#hobie brown x y/n#hobie brown x reader#hobie x reader#hobie x y/n#hobie x gender neutral reader#hobie brown x gn!reader#hobie brown x gender neutral reader#hobie fluff#atsv fluff#christmas fic
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gods and monsters
pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader x geto suguru (poly!) [pacific rim!au]
warnings: minors dni!! gore, death, injuries, blood, allusions to wanting to die, enemies/rivals to friends to lovers (I guess?), fighting, monsters, angst with a happy ending, single parent au! with megumi (I can’t resist this trope with satosugu for some reason), tons of fluff too!, heavy suggestive themes but no actual smut, reader has a brother, reader is never referred to as [name] or y/n, only as nicknames or ‘Red’ (a pilot nickname), plenty of references to the first Pacific Rim movie, apologies for any ooc behavior :((
word count: 27.6k
a/n: ok, so maybe I have a problem. I definitely didn’t intend for this to be so long, I just kept imagining a new scene and getting more ideas and I just couldn’t stop writing them down. somehow satosugu rattles my brain and makes insane amounts of dopamine just like rush through me. anyway, I hope y’all enjoy this fic, it’s definitely a monster :D
here’s the ao3 link if Tumblr crashes
The last time you were in a Jaeger, the smell of smoke and ash filtered through your lungs and the grime of blood and soot rubbed your wounds raw under your drive-suit. The metallic sound of gears grinding and fire roaring are dull to your ears as the influx of graphic, hellish memories filter through your consciousness.
The once two-hundred foot hunk of metal had been brought to its knees, left arm ripped from its side and electrical fires clouding the air around its hull in a dark haze. The Scarlet Dragon, previously a crimson-red, Mark-3 mass of destruction, was now nothing more than scraps – the dull, sanguine metal tilting forward to collapse onto the coastline.
As the whirring of the Jaeger’s engine silences, the air is filled with only the sounds of roaring flames and waves breaking against the machinery. Inside the Scarlet Dragon’s cockpit, you - the only remaining pilot, fight for your life: battling against the needles dug into your spine and attempting to free yourself from the technology that bound you to the pilot seat. When the hair thin needles finally pull away from your skin, you heave a wet cough, choking on the smoke that fills the hull. Left arm numb and nearly paralyzed, blood dripping into the drive-suit, you pull yourself to your knees.
Ears roaring from the fight and the breach in the Dragon’s hull, you can’t hear anything over the ringing sound that echoes in your skull. Shrieking a pained cry, you fall onto your hands and knees, unable to support your own weight with your injuries. Eyes shifting over to the side of the cockpit, you exhale an anguished sob at the empty space to your left. There’s a gaping hole in the Jaeger’s left side, where both the arm and half the Scarlet Dragon’s head have been ripped to pieces.
The space of the missing pilot’s seat stares menacingly back at the only remaining form in the Jaeger’s skull.
An agonizing sob rips from your throat, tearing a guttural sound from your lips. A bolt of pain echoes through your heart, the screams of your copilot still filtering through your ears and the mind-melding agony of their body being torn apart still lingers under your skin.
Shaking your head to get rid of the memory, you drag yourself to the cavernous hole in the Scarlet Dragon’s cockpit. Hands slicing open over the pointed shrapnel, you manage to pull yourself through the massive gap in the crimson metal. Your body falls a few feet to the packed sand below, a throbbing bolt of pain flowing through your chest, where cracked ribs and bruised skin lay.
Laying immobile on the sand, you can’t hear anything over the memory of your brother being ripped from his seat, crying out his name as sparks crack through the empty cockpit. Around you, fires continue to roar as the shattered Jaeger continues to fall apart.
It’ll only be moments before rescue helicopters manage to reach your location – the tracker in the drive-suit is seldom wrong. All your broken form can do is force yourself to breathe. The rise and fall of your chest sparks only more pain, but it’s all you can do under the circumstances. You almost give into the darkness, ready to join your brother and succumb to the agony that overtakes your senses. However, the echo of your brother’s voice sinks into your brain, startling your senses and reminding you of the reason you became a pilot.
Heaving another sob, you cry out as the shift of your ribs throbs painfully in your chest. The sounds of a helicopter’s wings beating through the air fill your ears, and a shining light burns brightly into your cornea as the search light finally finds your defeated body. Outside your mind, there’s a cacophony of noise as search-and-rescue soldiers scramble to save your broken form; orders are being shouted through headsets and questions are passed about the vital signs that your drive-suit is still reporting.
However, you can't hear any of it over the memory that still flashes back and forth in front of your vision. You can still see your brother’s face when he turns to look at you. His eyes were wide and anxious, lips parted as he tried to pass along his final wishes. You can still feel his shock and agony through the Drift.
Every moment of his dying anguish was your own.
You were still connected in the Drift when he’d been torn from his seat. All his thoughts - all his feelings - were your own. Connected in both mind and body in the Jaeger; you could feel his pain as if it was your own skin being ripped from bone.
After being ripped from the cockpit, you were left in agony. Chest screaming under the weight of both your emotions coupled with your brothers, your brain seems to crumple under the strain of piloting the Scarlet Dragon on your own.
Jaegers were not meant to be piloted alone.
The mental and physical strain was too much for a single neurological system to maintain. With your copilot gone, the weight begins to sink onto your skull. It feels as though the mass of the machine itself was collapsing onto your body. With no one else to share the load, you were forced to battle the remaining monster alone; the first soldier to ever pilot a Jaeger and slaughter a Kaiju alone.
When you cough out another breath, there’s blood on your lips. Your cracked, possibly shattered, ribcage has likely pierced your lungs. It’s agonizing to breathe, but you keep the rise and fall of your chest as steady as you can.
Around you, there’s chaos. Soldiers, having reached the sand from the rescue helicopters, are frantically pulling gauze tight over the wound in your chest. You don’t even have the energy to wince when the fabric is pulled tight across your ribs. There's more shouting, but it's so muffled to your eardrums. A soldier waves a flashlight over your eyes, scanning your pupils and attempting to gauge your response to the stimulation.
The soldier clicks the light off, whipping his head over his shoulder to shout something at another. Their eyes are frantic, bodies stiff as they load your form into a rescue stretcher. Once it’s secured tightly by rope to the helicopter, the soldier gives a circled wave of his hand, a muffled shout of confirmation ripping through his headset.
As your body is airlifted into the sky, a final glimpse of the Scarlet Dragon’s defeated form reaches your weakened eyes – the sanguine metal glinting in the fading sunlight. Smoke still burning high into the sky and orange flames licking at the crushed machinery.
It’s one last look at the Mark-3 Jaeger; a final farewell to the piece of machinery that you had once held so dearly in your heart.
As you turn your head away from the burning metal, the fading sun shines into your eyes as you begin to succumb to the weight on your body. Darkness closes around your vision, and despite your best efforts to hold on, each breath becomes harder than the last. With a fading breath and eyes drooping closed, you make a promise. To both your brother and yourself, you promise that your fight is now over. You can’t imagine continuing on with another pilot – the thought of someone else in your head, poking through your memories, your thoughts and dreams – terrifies you. With your brother, it was different: only nine months apart, you had practically been twins. You’d been at each other’s side for everything, and the thought of piloting a Jaeger with a copilot who wasn’t him, was a task too daunting to imagine.
So you promise. As your body succumbs to its wounds and your mind fades to darkness, you promise.
This was the last time you’d ever be in a Jaeger.
It’s six years later when the Marshall finds you.
You've been working on-and-off jobs, just trying to make ends meet and keep yourself busy. The work is good. It’s not healthy, but burying yourself in a strenuous job doesn’t leave much time for your brain to relive old memories. For the past year and a half, you’ve been working on the coastal wall. It’s not a job you had planned to ever take, knowing it wouldn’t withstand any Kaiju stronger than a Class Two, but it pays pretty well. The added bonus of manual labor ensures that you’ll be too tired in the evenings to stay awake and lament in past tragedy.
You’re hauling a bag of powdered cement to the next workplace when you hear the familiar sound of helicopter blades beating against the wind. It’s loud, but not overpowering as the sounds of metal scraping against each other and saw blades whirling fill the atmosphere. You ignore it in favor of finishing your tasks, continuing to lug heavy bags over your shoulder before continuing onto the next job.
When the final bag hits the floor with an echoing thud, the atmosphere falls quiet. The silence is eerie and unsettling. You’re used to the wall being filled with chatter and boots scuffing against concrete. The sounds of metal being welded and tools rattling come to a stop, a foreboding stillness falling into its place.
Eyes fall to your form. Workers turn their heads to look at you, their gazes slip away from their tasks in order to settle on you. You ignore them, continuing to adjust your gloves instead. Tightening the straps around your wrists, you fiddle with the thick material. You can feel eyes piercing into your skin, but it’s nothing you’re not used to. Being a Jaeger pilot meant all eyes were on you, a feeling you had hated when you were on active duty. Now, the feeling just irks you. It settles like grime on your skin, and you long to wipe the feeling off to get rid of their leering stares.
The echo of heavy footsteps is heard behind you. The steps are sharp and dutiful, each step falling in the exact succession as the last. They’re military footsteps, you easily recognize. However, you already had a lingering suspicion when the room fell quiet. You don't look up. Instead, a deep sigh filters through your lungs as you stare directly in front of you.
“Long time no see, Marshall.”
Your voice fills the quiet room, echoing through the silence as you greet your former employer. When you turn to face the stoic face of the Marshall, your lips tighten in their blank expression. You greet him with a sharp nod; it’s been years since you’d saluted your former commanding officer, and you’re not sure you’re ready to start again.
“Officer Red.”
You stare at each other for a moment, neither speaking a word as the silence in the room becomes uncanny. The workers have not returned to their posts, still watching the two of you in a quiet stand-off. Their gazes are inquisitive and you hate the way it burns into your skin.
It’s been a long time since you’ve been referred to as your ‘call-sign’. The name ‘Red’ had been tagged to you like an aviator’s call-sign after you and your brother became synonymous with your Jaeger. The Scarlet Dragon had been your namesake, giving you the sort of nickname after the machine’s sanguine red color.
Eventually, the Marshall’s body turns, inclining his shoulder to motion behind him. His deadpan expression does not change, so neither does yours.
“May I speak to you for a moment?” Though it’s phrased as a question, you know the Marshall is not asking for permission. He turns on his heel and begins walking back towards the helicopter, knowing there won’t be any prying eyes or inquisitive ears further away. You dutifully follow. You’ve never been one to defy direct orders, even if he’s no longer your commanding officer.
Your footsteps match in time, the pilot’s mindset never quite leaving your brain. When you exit the wall’s interior, you’re met with a blistering cold. It’s snowing out, thick white flakes clouding the skies outside the overhang you and the Marshall take shelter under. The thick winter coat keeps you warm, but you still sniffle at the change in temperature.
“With all due respect, Sir -” you begin. “Could this not wait a few more days? You know I’m headed to visit Megumi at base - why come all this way?”
You know the Marshall is well aware of your near weekly visits. They had to be cleared by his signature, so there’s no reason he would be unaware of your planned stop at your old headquarters. You don’t often go further in the base than the little orphanage housed near the front, but you still visit frequently. The little house positioned not far from the entrance of the secluded base is home to the few orphaned children that live in the Shatterdome. Most are kids from pilots that haven’t survived; they’re taken care of by the medicinal staff on site, and all their needs are provided for. Some get adopted and others don’t, but you still visit weekly to see Megumi.
The kid’s almost ten now.
He’d been so young when his parents had died, only a few years old when Toji Fushiguro and his wife’s Jaeger had been destroyed. They’d been close friends of yours - the Fushiguro’s, and their deaths had been a heavy toll in your heart. The incident weighed greatly on your consciousness, leaving you and your brother devastated for months. Toji had been a childhood friend of your family. You and your brother had grown up alongside the burly child, though your brother had always been closer to Toji than you.
However, it had been you, that Toji had pulled aside after Megumi’s birth.
He’d muttered grimly under his breath, hands clutching your forearm when he’d made you promise. Toji’s eyes were wary, as if unsure of what he was asking, but he continued nevertheless. He shifted on his feet, looking down at the floor and grunted under his breath. Toji was never good at showing emotions, unlike his wife. Though he persisted, his words spoke in silent volumes as he asked you to take care of Megumi should anything happen to his wife or himself.
You hadn’t realized the weight of his words then. It had seemed silly since you were all so young - just in your early twenties. However, you agreed, knowing that you would never let anything happen to Megumi should the worse occur.
When it did happen - the worst, you mean - you and your brother had been shattered. You mourned the loss of your friends, stepping away from piloting for a few weeks to cope with the gaping hole that had been left in your heart. However, you knew you couldn’t grieve for too long – there was someone who needed you more than you needed to mourn.
While there was still a bleeding wound aching in your chest, Megumi Fushiguro had just lost his parents. It was a blow more devastating than much else - one you and your brother had already experienced. You knew that you had to be there for the kid. He wouldn’t understand yet, being too young to realize that his parents were truly gone, but you followed through on your promise to Toji.
You looked after Megumi in the following years, becoming his only parental figure aside from your brother. Though he was older than you, your brother became more of a friend for Megumi, rather than a parental figure. You, on the other hand, cared for Megumi like a mother, knowing that he had no one else to lean on. You had not let the higher-ups force the boy into the base’s orphan program at first, insisting that you could care for him on your own. However, after some persuasion from the Marshall, you realized that letting the boy stay at the orphanage did not mean you wouldn’t be his primary caretaker. The Marshall signed off on the order, letting the program know that Megumi was not to be set up for adoption. You expressed wanting to adopt him when he was ready, a sentiment you made clear to Megumi in his later years.
For now, you resolved with visiting him weekly at the base. When you had the chance, you tried to drop by as often as you could, making your face known to the few other children at the program. For now, Megumi was content with waiting at the base’s orphanage, knowing you didn’t have a stable place to reside just yet. You weren’t ready to take him away from his only friends either, knowing he’d bonded strongly to Itadori Yuuji, another one of the children cared for at the base.
The Marshall answers your question with a quick shake of his head. His fists are held in front of him in a wide stance, his shoulders set low as he begins to explain.
“The Jaeger program has been scrapped, Red. Command believes that the Wall is sufficient protection for the future and has revoked funds towards the Jaeger program.”
You still.
The coastal wall will not hold as Command believes. You’ve seen footage of Class Three Kaiju tearing through the wall in less than an hour. It will not protect the human population in the future as they believe it will. A sinking feeling forms in your gut. Without the Jaegers, there is little hope for a future without the destruction of the Kaiju.
“They’ve allowed enough funding to finish the year through, then all Jaeger’s will be decommissioned and the pilots will be dismissed. No further machines will be built.”
You shift on your feet, wringing your hands together in the thick gloves that cover them. A lingering anxiety is beginning to settle in the depths of your stomach.
“So, what does that mean?” You whisper, still not understanding his presence at the wall, nor his urge to speak with you.
“It means we have enough funding to take one final shot at The Breach.”
“But, Sir -” you start, stepping forward with a furrow in your eyebrows.
The Marshall raises a hand to silence your interruption. You fall silent, recognizing the command and knowing you’ve stepped out of line.
“We need as many pilots as we can get to run an operation like this. Only six Jaeger’s remain, and we have even fewer pilots.” He finishes. In the silence that follows, you recognize why he’s come to the wall. He hasn’t come to inform you of the program’s demolition, nor the dismissal of the pilots – he’s come to ask you to pilot a Jaeger.
Already shaking your head in disagreement, you step back away from the Marshall. There's twisting in your stomach and a faint ringing in your ears. You can still feel the phantom pain in your left arm, and you rub the shoulder to ease the ache.
“Sir, I’ve been very clear that I no longer wish to pilot a Jaeger.” Your words are firm and final, offering no room for argument. You’ve had this conversation with the Marshall before. It ended in similar circumstances, with your refusal to enter another machine and the Marshall’s exasperation.
The Marshall opens his mouth to protest, beginning to offer an argument to persuade you to change your mind, but you cut him off.
“I was still connected to my brother when he died, Marshall.” Your words are heavy and your tone offers some sense of guilt. “In the Drift, I felt everything he did – every glimpse of fear and every wave of pain. I can’t do that again. I can’t let another pilot in my head like that.”
The Marshall sighs, looking down at his feet. It’s the first time he’s looked away from you since he’d arrived. You know that your brother’s death weighed heavily on his mind too. Your brother had been a good pilot and an even better friend. Nearly everyone on the base had known him, including the Marshall. He feels the same lingering guilt in his chest at the memory of the incident.
“Officer -” The Marshall begins. “I’m not asking you to come back to pilot – not yet, anyways. I’m asking you to come back to the Shatterdome. If you won’t enter another Jaeger, at least help train the cadets. They could use the knowledge you have.”
You sigh, looking away from the Marshall again and consider his offer. You know if you return he’ll continue to attempt to persuade you, but it’s not as if he wouldn’t persist regardless. Though you’ve sworn off piloting, helping the new recruits with real combat experience could aid in the operation to take The Breach.
Besides, the offer to stay closer to Megumi is tempting.
“Red.” The Marshall’s tense voice fills the silence. “You’re the only pilot to ever survive controlling a Jaeger on your own. We can’t lose that kind of strength.”
You toe the snow with your boot, mulling the offer over in your head. The smell of the Shatterdome nearly wafts through your senses as you reminisce in memories of the place you once called ‘home.’ While it brings back agonizing memories of those you’ve lost, you also filter through happier memories; those with old friends, sharing dinners and loudly laughing over the cacophony of the cafeteria’s dining area. You muse about the happier times when you and your fellow pilots gathered around small tables to play card games and share stories in the faint light of the Jaegers.
Looking back up at the Marshall, you take a deep sigh and offer him a tense-lipped, barely-there smile. You pull your arms over your chest, crossing them to rest against you.
“Alright, Marshall.” You decide. “But I want plenty of time to spend with the kid.”
He nods, accepting your terms as he lets out a breath of relief. When he sets his shoulders back into a stiff, formal position, there’s a sense of reprieve on his face. It’s as if he had expected to return to the Shatterdome alone. With a roll of your eyes, you tilt your shoulder back towards the entrance to the Wall. The bitter cold is starting to sink under your coat and you ache to return to the interior.
“Let me pack my things, Marshall.” You finally decide. “I can be ready in fifteen.”
When you step foot onto the wet concrete of the Shatterdome, it’s as if nothing has changed. The smell of oil and metal fill your senses, and the sounds of gears grinding and engines whirling enter your ears. It fills you with an aura of pure nostalgia that settles over your chest in a blanket of both fond and painful memories. The weight, though heavy on your ribs, is almost comforting. There's so many good memories that have a way of drowning out the mournful ones.
The rain falls in constant sheets, beating against the black material of your umbrella. Though loud, you find a bit of peace in the thunderous sound. Your addled brain welcomes the white noise as you take in the sights of the Shatterdome.
Towering walls greet your entrance, the familiar stone unchanged to the whims of time. You and the Marshall enter through the massive doors; they’re meant for Jaegers, the sliding machinery on the floor beneath you indicative of their necessary transportation. Since no Jaeger is being shuttled to battle at the moment, the doors remain open for soldiers to move to and from the Shatterdome.
Sliding into the elevator in silence, you shut your umbrella and shake off the excess water from its damp sides. Neither you nor the Marshall speak, but you’re grateful for the silence. It’s been years since you’ve entered the main hub of the Shatterdome, only entering the front rooms to visit and take care of Megumi. You had previously feared the rush of agonizing memories that you worried may take hold of your grieving mind. There was an inkling of caution in your gut, a suspicion that if you gave into the grief and visited your old ‘home,’ you would find yourself drowning in a sea of guilt with no anchor to grasp onto.
Now, the feeling is still there. It sits at the bottom of your gut in a solid lump that continues to twist your intestines in knots. However, it's less profound than you had imagined. While lingering, it doesn’t clog your throat or squeeze your chest tight. There’s a burning in your throat, but you’re able to suppress it.
There’s a feeling of enduring excitement, one you did not think would reappear when you entered the Shatterdome. While you had ceased the thought of piloting again, being around the Jaegers - around your old home - brought back lively memories. There are flashes of moments between your and your brother, of you and the Fushiguro’s – moments where you were so genuinely happy for the first time in a long time.
With a sad smile and a burning behind your eyes, you look down at your feet. You can barely resist the urge to cry, sucking in a breath to suppress the tears that push against the back of your eyelids. You’re unsure if they’re tears of grief or tears of happy nostalgia, but you refuse to cry in front of the Marshall.
He doesn’t appear to be looking at you, for which you are eternally grateful. Shuffling on his feet in the silence, he alerts you of the elevator reaching the main hub. You look up, eyes a little weary, but give him a determined smile nonetheless. The Marshall, ever a stoic man, merely returns the gesture with a slight incline of his head, and you find yourself chuckling under your breath.
When the elevator thuds against the bottom floor, you regain your steady balance and set your shoulders back with a determined huff. The creaking metal slides open and you’re met with the familiar noise of the hub of the Shatterdome. Carts are moving around, shuffling necessary gear to their proper terminals, and soldiers are striding back and forth. There’s sparks in the air from machinery working against the metal of the Jaegers and the familiar smell of steel in your nose.
It feels like home.
As much as you wish it wasn’t, the Shatterdome had always been your home.
Stepping out of the quiet elevator and into the chaos, a small smile graces your features. You inhale deeply and take in the sights of the Jaegers before you. It had been so long since their magnificence caught your eyes. They stand so tall, so daunting to any normal human. To you, they’re beautiful – machines of great capacity and eternal strength. You can almost feel the familiar hum of the Drift under their gaze.
You shake off the haze. While you still find yourself reveling in your love of the machines, you’re not quite ready to relive the Drift.
In front of you, there’s figures approaching the elevators. They're familiar, tall statures standing out of the crowd of nameless bodies. A wide grin falls onto your lips as your mouth stretches open to greet them.
“Kento! Yu!”
The familiar pilots of the Black Flash, a Mark-Four Jaeger of incredible speed and strength, smile as they approach you and the Marshall. Both men are tall, the crowds of soldiers parting to let the two pilots through the wake. The Black Flash is the second strongest Jaeger ever created, and the combination of its speed and agility with the intense drift compatibility of Kento Nanami and Yu Haibara makes the Black Flash a formidable opponent.
However, you simply know the two as old friends.
The Black Flash was once the Scarlet Dragon’s sideman. The four of you fought valiantly at each other’s side, rebounding off each other’s movements and brainstorming strategies as if it was the four of you connected in the Drift rather than two.
You held the two men dearly in your heart, the bonds between the three of you was nearly as close as you and your brother. It had been so long since you were able to spend moments in each other’s presence, having been interrupted by both your grief and your departure from the Jaeger Program.
You drop the formalities, chest aching in a nostalgic glee, and take off towards your old friends. Footsteps colliding with the ground at a rapid pace, you let ecstatic joy propel you towards the two.
Kento Nanami’s chest huffs a deep laugh when your body collides with his front. The impact is swift and powerful, nearly knocking Nanami off his feet, but he takes a step back to balance the combined weight of both your forms. Haibara laughs heartily at your side, his hand clapping Nanami’s shoulder with a wide smile. Nanami lets his arms wrap around your back in a friendly hug, squeezing tighter when you grasp him just as firmly.
You huff into his shoulder, overcome with both the joy of reuniting and the ache of separation. A piece of you regrets ever leaving the Shatterdome, You’d left behind good friends and Megumi, the kid you hoped to one day adopt when he was ready. However, you knew the separation had been good for you. There were too many painful memories in the Jaeger base to keep your grieving mind from recovering.
Nanami squeezes your form tight once more before you shift to hug Haibara. Your embrace with the darker haired man is just as firm, the two of you swaying in good natured joy as you hold each other tight.
“We’ve missed you, Red.” The warm tone of Haibara greets your ears. He mumbles the words just loud enough for you and Nanami to hear. When he lets you go, you smile happily at him with the weight in your stomach beginning to lift.
“God - I’ve missed you guys too.” There’s a hint of regret in your voice, the tone low and weary. You shuffle in between the two men, happy to be back at their side.
“You look good, Kid,” Nanami mumbles as he scans your figure. You had dug up the old uniform from years back, the material not too worn as it rubs against your skin. It feels nice to wear the suit once more.
You nudge Nanami with your hip with a giggle. “I told you not to call me that! I’m older than you, Kento.”
The blonde lets another soft chuckle fall from his lips, looking down at you as you laugh. He’s happy to see the smile on your features once more. When you’d left all those years ago, there had been nothing but cold-faced grief on your face. It brings a twist in his stomach to see the glee again.
The name had been one he’d picked up from your brother. Despite being a year younger than you, Nanami had always been the responsible one between you and your little quartet of chaos. Your brother had followed in the leadership role after Kento, despite being the oldest of you four. He had always taken to calling you ‘Kiddo,’ a name that Nanami soon picked up after years of fighting alongside you. While you were still older than him, Nanami nearly always acted older than you, taking a more responsible stance than you and Haibara. The nickname ‘Kid’ seemed to fall too naturally from his lips.
“You been taking good care of my kid while I was gone, Kento?”
Nanami nods in reference to Megumi. Since you were not living at the base and could only visit so often, Nanami had taken over caring for Megumi when you weren’t available. It wasn’t difficult, seeing as Nanami was usually visiting the orphanage for a certain pink-haired bundle of joy anyway. You were ecstatic when Megumi and Yuuji got along well, so happy that your future son got along well with Nanami’s future kid.
The two of you planned to adopt the respective boys as soon as you were able. It was taking a little longer than expected, seeing as Nanami was still a pilot and you were out of commission for a while, but you still dreamed of being able to care for the dark haired boy as your own.
Nanami nods, his glasses glinting in the light of the jaegers as he moves. “Gojo-san and Geto-san have been helping too.”
Your eyebrows furrow.
The mention of the two pilots has you frazzled. You never got along well with the pair, always rivaling them in training. Neither of them were very close to you or your brother, just competing against each other in passing, but you never took well to their cocky attitude and over-confidence in battle. While you didn’t necessarily despise either of them, you were still quite unsure of your feelings for either pilot.
You had heard their Jaeger, Limitless, had skyrocketed in fame after your departure from the program. Their Mark-4 Jaeger was incredibly strong. It was propelled by the strongest drift compatibility ever seen. Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru had an incredible closeness that launched their drift compatibility to unknown heights. They seemed to be able to read each other’s minds even without the Drift connecting them. Their Jaeger was by far the strongest the program had ever seen. Like Toji and his wife, Gojo and Geto were connected by more than the Drift – having been together since the moment you met them.
Lips turning downward in a frown as you think of their daring grins, you grimly reply. “What do they want with Megumi?”
“Nothing, Red -” Nanami responds. “They’ve just taken to the kid. He’s got a good heart, you know?”
The mention of Megumi has the frown on your lips drifting away, instead a warm smile taking its place. While he wasn't a very emotional kid, often keeping a neutral face and keeping his voice monotone, Megumi had a big heart. He always made sure to make the other kids feel welcome, and even was the first to reach out to Yuuji when he’d been brought to the orphanage.
“Yeah,” you sigh. There’s a warmth in your eyes when you speak of the boy, something Nanami has noticed. “He’s a really good kid.”
Haibara laughs, swinging his arm over your shoulder as he nudges you towards a direction over your shoulder.
“Why don’t you tell him yourself?”
At his words, your head whips upward and over your shoulder. A few yards away, stands a little boy with ruffled black hair and dark eyes. While his features are settled into a sort of blank look, there's a shine in his eyes when he sets them on you. His little body seems to almost jerk upwards as he realizes who has entered the base. With his mouth falling open and eyes widening, he cries out.
“Okaasan!”
Your heart stutters in your chest and you inhale a sharp breath as your feet begin to move towards Megumi. He’s always taken to referring to you in a more formal manner, something you never minded. It still seemed to warm your heart and squeeze a lump in your throat when he still referred to you as his mother. You hadn’t really expected it. Megumi wasn’t one to refer to people as such, always speaking with good manners and calling others by their last names with the proper formality attached. When he first referred to you as his mother, you think you nearly cried. Knowing that he treasured you as his mother despite everything that happened was a gift you would never take for granted.
“Gumi!”
You drop to your knees when you’re close enough, allowing Megumi’s little body to crash into your chest. He looks so much like Toji. The features of your old friend bring a sense of warmth to your chest as you hug Megumi tight. You laugh with tears stinging in your eyes as you wrap your arms around his small form. Though he's almost ten, Megumi will always be a young boy in your eyes. He’s growing everyday, but you still feel the same sense of motherly affection when you see his face.
“Hey, Bub,” you mumble sweetly. “How are you feeling? Did ya’ miss me?”
Megumi nods against your chest, hair rubbing at your collarbone. There’s a little grin on his lips, one that many don’t often get to see, and it causes you to let out a little giggle. He squirms slightly when you squeeze him tight, always a little shy when it comes to affection. Megumi buries his face in your neck and a watery smile forms on your lips when you feel him mumble a little affirmation into your skin.
You grin again, hoisting the boy onto your hip as you stand. Megumi clutches your neck, legs hanging over your sides as you carry him. His expression is blank again, but you can see the little hints of joy in his features. His lips are curled just the slightest and his cheeks and eyes are relaxed. You bring your face closer to the boy, bumping your foreheads together with a giggle. Megumi pushes a little hand against your cheeks, whining a little when you rub your foreheads back and forth. While he’s still bashful when it comes to affection, you treasure every touch that Megumi allows.
Nanami and Haibara follow behind you, with the Marshall allowing them to show you towards your bunker. There’s soft smiles on both their lips, savoring the sight of you and your nearly-adopted son. The sight is familiar to them, one that used to be commonplace before you left. While you still frequently came back to visit Megumi, neither man had seen the welcome sight of the two of you together in a long while.
“What are you doing here, Fushiguro?” Nanami questions. His voice isn’t angry, only curious as to why the younger boy had been wandering the main hub. It was quite the distance from the upper level orphanage, and even though Megumi had grown up on base, wandering around was still a little dangerous.
“I heard Okaasan was coming home today,” he mumbles quietly into your neck. You bounce a little from side to side as you squeeze the boy tight, heart singing with a glee that you seldom experience without Megumi by your side.
Haibara ruffles Megumi’s hair with another laugh, turning back to Nanami as the three of you laugh amongst yourselves. Your conversation is only interrupted when the alarm sound of a Jaeger being transported echoes through the hub. Gears start to grind as the Shatterdome’s transport system comes alive. Jaegers are transported on moving platforms as soon as they dock, the massive machinery moving the Jaegers slowly and steadily back to their designated hangers.
When you turn towards the opening doors, the wind whips from outside as the hulking, dark form of Limitless becomes apparent. You clutch Megumi closer to your front, shielding his smaller body from the cold that sweeps into the indoor hub. As soon as the Jaeger’s feet lock into place, it begins to shut down, allowing Main Control to disconnect the pilots and take over for docking.
You don’t tear your eyes away from Limitless’ massive build. You clench your jaw as the sounds of the two pilots begin making their way down to the deck. Apparently, some press had forced their way on site; their camera drones hovering over the Jaeger’s body and whirring in the air. Cameras begin to flash as Gojo and Geto emerge from the transport elevator that connected them to the cockpit.
A rush of noise fills the hub as reporters begin shouting questions at the two pilots, and your lips draw back in a sneer as the two smirk and give the cameras cocky looks. You despise pilots who fight for fame. A sinking feeling of animosity lingers in your stomach as you watch Geto and Gojo answer questions and boast yet another Kaiju kill to the crowd. Turning away from the shouting, you look back at Nanami and Haibara, tilting your head towards the bunkers.
“Do you want to help me get settled in?”
Haibara nods, his gentle smile still lingering though he senses your unease. He and Nanami turn to make their way out of the hanger, feet twisting to move when a shout is heard from behind. Both men stop in their tracks, turning back to look at you, as if asking for your next move before proceeding. You sigh deeply, clutching Megumi tighter as he buries his head in your neck. He isn’t a big fan of the flashing lights that come with the crowds of reporters – something you’re very aware of.
“Hey, Sunshine!” The call comes from an all too familiar voice, one that you weren’t particularly excited to hear.
You whip your head over your shoulder, barely looking back at the two approaching pilots. Still wary of the journalists who begin to edge closer, you shoot a glare at the cameras. You despise being filmed by the media, especially after they pressed and crowded you after your brother’s death. They should know better than to approach, which it seems like they do. With a grunt you finally look back at Gojo, the white-haired pilot being the one to call out for you.
“What do you want, Six Eyes?”
Gojo doesn’t seem perturbed by the mutter of his call-sign, simply sticking his hands in his pockets and continuing to saunter over to you. Geto trails behind him, a similar sort of smirk on his lips. You often forget how similar they are. Though Geto hides it better, they’re both menaces in their own way. The two pilots amble towards you, an aura of confidence exuding from their forms.
“Here to reclaim your title?” Gojo questions, a grin falling too easily onto his features. His question furthers the ache in your gut, and you hoist Megumi farther up onto your hip. You shift him to face away from the pair, not wanting the boy to be involved.
“I’m afraid it might be a little difficult,” Geto continues, finishing his partner’s question. “Seeing as the Scarlet Dragon is out of commission, of course.”
You barely conceal a wince at the mention of your Jaeger. You can’t tell if he meant to jeer at your dead co-pilot, but the slightest edge in his voice still causes your body to shake in a scarcely hidden rage. Huffing out a deep sigh over the lump in your throat, you lean your head against Megumi when he tries to comfort you with a little squeeze. He likely can’t understand the conversation, but he probably senses your rising anger. Your heart throbs at his touching comfort, letting your forehead bump his before you turn to address Gojo and Geto.
“I couldn’t care less about your kill count, Stitches.” The words come out in a grunt, the tone clipped with a hint of anger. “I’m not here to pilot.”
“Then what are you here for?” Gojo questions, his hands crossing over his chest. His head is held high, and you hate the aura of superiority he’s protecting. “Last I checked, this program has no place for washed up pilots who got a little scared.”
You freeze.
The pit in your stomach is turning over itself in rage. Your skin is hot and the hairs stand on end. Barely able to repress the angry words you ache to spit back at the white-haired pilot, you instead fix your eyes in a cold glare. Face dropping to a blank, unnerving look, your lids shrink into a bitter look.
From behind Gojo, Geto lays a hand on his lover’s shoulder. He squeezes firmly, a sinking feeling in his gut erupting. You’ve gone too far, his knowing look says. Gojo doesn’t turn to face him, but Geto knows he understood, their bond too deep to miss the silent comment.
“Fuck off, Gojo.” You spit, pressing Megumi’s head back into your neck with the other hand to shield his ears from the words. You’re already turning to make your way back down the hall, the silence of the hub now seeming too loud. “That’s low, even for you.”
You don’t stick around to hear either man’s response, already shuffling away with Megumi now clinging to your front. Nanami and Haibara send blank looks over their shoulders, flanking either of your sides as the three of you begin to exit the quiet room.
“I won’t have them belittle me in front of my kid,” you mutter as you walk away. Geto doesn’t think he was meant to hear the words, but the twisting in his gut intensifies when he does. He rubs his hand down Gojo’s back with a rough sigh.
From over your shoulder, Megumi’s little head peeks out from over your shoulder. His dark hair ruffles against the wind from the still-opened bay doors, and his deep blue eyes look back at Gojo with a glimpse of sadness in his pupils. Gojo can’t seem to maintain eye contact with Megumi, a twisting feeling of guilt turning in his stomach. He looks down at his feet quickly, before turning to look at Suguru.
The dark-haired man seems to give Gojo a similar look, one of a guilty sadness that only his lover could decipher. Both men keep their emotions hidden well. They’re too aware of the clicking of cameras behind them, instead choosing to communicate in the silent way they know best. Gojo shrugs off the sinking feeling, sighing deeply and turning back to the cameras with a practiced smile.
“Sorry,” he mumbles under his breath towards Geto. “You know how they make me.” He offers a flick of his hand towards the reporters, the clicking of their cameras echoing through the silence. His gesture is vague, looking like a wave, Gojo’s moves practiced so that the camera cannot differentiate the angry undertone that Gojo wants to project.
“S’alright, ‘Toru,” Geto mutters back, his words hidden as he speaks from behind Gojo’s back. “But it’s not me you should apologize to.”
Gojo nods silently, resisting a glance behind him.
Behind the pair, your form disappears behind the elevator doors. With tears barely concealed, you press your face back into Megumi’s hair, letting his little body squeeze you tight as Haibara rubs a hand across your shoulders.
Sniffling a little, you pull back to give Megumi a watery smile. Memories of your brother and your last mission are hard to hide away, but you manage as you keep looking down at Megumi’s bright eyes. You don’t want to give Gojo and Geto the satisfaction of shaking you.
“Hey, Bud.” You whisper the words quietly, managing to muster a slightly cheerful tone. “You want to sleep in my room tonight?”
Nanami and Haibara muffle their chuckles as Megumi nods his head fervently in response to your question. You giggle, placing a kiss on Megumi’s dark hair despite his protests. Away from the chaos, the four of you manage an atmosphere of quiet happiness that you’ll never fail to miss. You savor their peace, looking back up at your old friends with watery eyes and a sad smile. Haibara leans into Nanami, the three of you happy to savor your friends once more.
Over the next few weeks, you can tell Gojo and Geto are trying to speak to you. Every time you stumble into the cafeteria area of the main hub, Megumi by your side - like always, both pilots perk up at your entrance. Gojo is usually the first to stand, stepping out from the table he’s seated at with his lips pressed into a gentle sort of smile. His eyes are covered, something he’s done since you’d met him, whether by dark glasses or a blindfold. You don’t know how he sees when the white cloth covers his eyes, but you’ve never had the opportunity to ask.
When Gojo shifts to make his way towards you, Nanami is typically the one to step in. He shifts, covering your form with his own so Gojo can’t see you. Haibara takes up your other side, chatting easily with you and making silly faces at Megumi to make the shy boy giggle and hide his face in your leg. Haibara doesn’t take any insult to Megumi’s shy, blank-faced behavior, used to the boy’s mannerisms. You’re grateful to both him and Nanami for their seemingly never ending patience.
Later in the afternoon, when you’re headed to watch over a class of cadets, you catch Geto’s dark eyes from the other end of the hall. They’re softened, as if there’s some lingering ache he wishes to soothe, but you ignore it. Despite how kind he looks, with gentle eyes and a soft smile, you turn quickly into your designated training space, letting the door fall shut behind you.
Over time, you find yourself noticing the two more and more. When there’s no reporters around, Gojo and Geto seem more easy going. Gojo, still as energetic as ever, slings his arm over Geto’s shoulders and whines something that you can’t hear. The teasing frown on his face is silly, and you turn away to muffle a giggle when Geto shoves his head away with a jesting smile and a roll of his eyes. Gojo’s whines increase in volume as his lover gently shoves him away with a laugh, but they quickly cease when Geto nudges him with his elbow and presses a quick kiss to Gojo’s head.
It’s quick. You almost miss the subtle movement of Geto’s lips against Gojo’s skin, as though you weren't meant to see it. Their affection for each other is subtle, as if they don’t like when the gaggle of media outlets catch their subtle touches. You sort of understand it, your own hatred for the flashing cameras may make you biased, but you understand the avoidance. Perhaps they don’t want their relationship in the limelight, something you have to give them credit for.
Despite all the confident smirks and easy remarks they hand out to reporters, it seems the two pilots hide a similar distaste for the media as you do.
However, you’re still not ready to speak with either of them quite yet. The twisted knots of anger still sit in your stomach in reference to the stab Gojo had taken on your first day back. Though, with each passing day, you begin to wonder if the enduring rage is focused at the two pilots, or if it settles into your gut next to the guilt that still lingers after losing your brother.
Either way, you know you’ll have to speak to them soon. Nanami and Haibara can only keep them away for so long.
It’s at a routine training session when you see them next. A few days a week, you take charge of a group of cadets and pair them against each other. In one of the Shatterdome’s practice halls, mats are laid out so that the hardened concrete floor doesn’t hurt anyone. In this room, your chosen pairs fight against each other, sometimes bare-fisted and sometimes with wooden staffs. As they battle against each other, in a match to seven points, you gauge their drift compatibility.
Each time a pair takes the floor, you watch each movement. You mark notes on the clipboard in your hands, writing down remarks of battle strategies and techniques of each cadet. You compare compatibility against other cadets, lining them up with their next partner to see if they’d make a better match than the previous.
As the next opponent gets thrown to the floor, a wooden staff at his head, you dryly call the match. “4 points to 3.”
Scribbling down your notes with a frown, you go through the list of cadets you’ve been tasked to train. There’s both negative and positive feedback, however, more improvements have been listed than anything else.
“What’s your problem?”
Your head shoots up at the angry voice. One of the cadets from the previous match stands at the head of the mat, his lips pulled back in an enraged look. He scans your form, stiff in the pilot’s uniform despite your status as a Captain. Your posture is formal, keeping your head held high and feet shoulder width apart.
You know both Geto and Gojo have been watching. Their forms linger at the back of the room, eyes scanning each match as you do. You allow them to stay, not wanting to call them out in front of all the soldiers. You find that you honestly don’t mind their presence that much. They’re both quiet, eyes flicking back and forth from the match to you. You manage to keep yourself calm under their gaze, a little perturbed at the hopeful feeling that washes over you knowing that they’re still waiting for you.
At the kid’s voice, Geto stands straighter. His eyebrows furrow and his lips turn downward into a frown. His black hair is tied back into its usual bun, a few strands peeking out from his bangs. They shift when he stands upright, leaning into Gojo’s side to murmur something that you don’t catch.
“Excuse me, Cadet?” Your voice is clipped, eyes scanning his form. He addressed you out of order, his panting form seeming angry despite his win in the previous match.
“Every time a match ends, you make this face - like you’re disappointed in the outcome,” the cadet grunts. One end of the wooden staff he’d been using is placed against the ground, his body leaning onto it for stability.
You tilt your head, scribbling down another piece of information before you look back at the kid with a blank expression. “I am disappointed. The match could have ended three moves previously.”
The kid huffs out an irate sound, shifting on his feet. “How do you know?”
“His weight was forced onto his non-dominant side. You had the upper-hand, yet you failed to knock him off balance when you struck his chest rather than delivering a blow that would force him to fall.”
Your explanation only seems to anger the cadet. He steps forward, lips pursed and eyebrows pulled together in rage. He nearly snarls as he approaches you, but you’re not intimidated. Silence has fallen over the room, the other cadets watching closely as the boy attempts to make his way towards you.
Out of the corner of your eye, you watch Geto move from his place against the wall. He steps forward, stomach twisting when Gojo lays a hand on his chest. Neither man has taken their eyes off you, keenly watching your body for any command that you may need help. Gojo knows you’re strong – especially after the conversation you’d had. He knows that you’d ask for help if you need it. Though his stomach twists too, wanting to knock the kid away from you and soothe your anger, Gojo knows that you can handle yourself.
“You think you can do better?” The cadet snarls, almost at your feet. You haven’t moved, stance still formal and head held high. This kid doesn’t intimidate you, even if he was taller or broader than you. Refusing to move, you lock eyes with the boy, pressing him with a blank look and dead eyes.
“That’s enough, Cadet.” You command, voice sharp. “I am your Captain, and you will address me as such.”
Not backing down, the cadet continues to advance. Geto nearly moves to step forward once more when the kid speaks again.
“Why are you holding back then, Captain?” He sneers the words in a cocky tone. “You scared or something? You must be some kind of coward, then – it’s probably what got your brother kill -”
His words are cut off by the sharp point of your hand jabbing roughly into his kidney. Your movements were so quick, even Gojo missed them. When the cadet doubles over his stomach, one hand clutching the area where you’d punched him, you pull the staff out of his other limp hand. It comes free quickly, your hands sliding over the material with practiced ease. Before the cadet can move, you pull the end of the staff upwards, knocking the dull end under his chin with a resounding thud.
He cries out, the contact of the staff against his skin likely ringing through his head. As he does so, you’ve already dropped low, spinning with your feet and swiping the end of the staff under the cadet. With his balance interrupted, he falls to the ground with a dull thump, body hitting the floor as he wheezes for breath.
You’d laugh if the contemptuous anger wasn't sitting in your throat. He’d gone down so easily, just as you’d explained, yet he failed to see the error in his tactic.
You step forward, feet brushing the clipboard you dropped. Standing over the boy, you point the dull end of the staff under his chin. The silence in the room is loud, the other cadet’s seem to hold their breath as you frown. With his chest heaving and his chin pointed upwards away from your threatening staff, the boy’s eyes shake.
With the cold glare still in your eyes, you snarl down at the kid, “Don’t ever speak my brother’s name again. Do you hear me, Cadet?”
At your feet, the kid seems to shake. He’s challenged a direct order from his Captain, something he’s just realized. You’d knocked him on his ass for it too. Eyeing his form up and down with a pitiful curl of your lip, you huff with distaste.
“Next time you step out of line, I’ll drop your ass like a sack of Kaiju shit. Do you understand?”
Nodding fervently again, the boy’s chest shakes as he pants. He’s still clutching his chin, eyes wide in comparison to his previous anger. You press the end of your staff into his chest with your eyes fixed on him.
“I said - do you understand, Cadet?”
“Yes, Captain.” He mutters quickly, shifting his eyes to avoid your angry gaze.
“Good. Now get out of my sight,” you command. The boy scrambles up, nearly tripping when he tries to run towards the exit of the training room.
Gojo muffles a laugh under his breath, hiding his smile behind his hand as he does so. The ache in his gut vanishes, and in its place lies newfound warmth. The white haired pilot feels his stomach turn, but this time it’s not in anger or guilt. With your body movements so agile and your words so commanding, Gojo feels a twinge of heat in his stomach. The way you take charge of everyone in the room, standing tall and holding your head high is enchanting. Gojo finds himself looking at you even long after you’ve turned away.
Geto is no different. Despite the sultry look he sends Gojo in a good-natured tease, Geto too feels the lingering arousal in his gut. When you turn to face the rest of the cadets with the faintest smirk on your lips, Suguru swears he can feel his pants tighten in the slightest.
“Next two cadets, step forward.” You gesture to the training mats, tossing the wooden staff in your hands towards the oncoming soldier. When he catches it, you nod firmly and turn to pick up the clipboard you had dropped.
Standing up and regaining your formal stance, you peek a glance at your two onlookers. Gojo and Geto are leaning against each other in the back of the room, mumbling something between themselves. There’s a smirk pulled onto Geto’s lips, something you’ve grown used to seeing. It doesn’t spark the same rage it used to, now only bringing you confusion. You’re unsure of your quickly changing feelings for the two pilots, and you don’t necessarily have time to decipher them for now.
When Geto looks up, he meets your eyes. His smirk changes to something a little more gentle, and he nods his head softly in question. Though this silent language is something you often see passing between him and Gojo, you seem to be able to decipher it quickly. You okay? The nod seems to ask.
You return his gesture with one of your own, watching as the two exchange another look before turning to make their way out of the training room. You don’t know why the ache in your chest sings when they leave.
As the door falls shut behind him, Geto is already moving to hang off his lover. Resting his weight onto Satoru’s back, Suguru throws an arm over his partner. Laughing under his breath, Suguru pokes his finger into Satoru’s ribs.
“You thought that was hot, didn’t you?” Suguru’s voice is teasing, another sultry smirk pulled onto his lips as he addresses Satoru. He’s not angry. God - Suguru could never be disgruntled when it’s apparent that he feels the same way. The ache in his gut is the same for Suguru as it is for Satoru. They’re aligned in more ways than one - always have been.
“I did not!” Satoru groans as he shoves his lover off. Though his voice is whiny, Satoru’s reply is lighthearted. His tone is bright and there's a faint pinkish tint to his ears, a clear sign he’s growing embarrassed. This side of Satoru is one even Suguru doesn���t often see. Though he tries to pull it out of him, more often than not, Satoru is typically very composed. While his childish demeanor may appear otherwise, deep underneath, Gojo Satoru is usually in control.
Though Suguru loves to be the one to grace the tips of Satoru’s ears in that faint pink, he decides he loves it all the same when it’s you that brings the blush to his lover’s features.
“You did!” Suguru teases, moving back to lean against Satoru again. Behind closed doors, the two are incredibly touch starved, usually leaning onto each other or just linking fingers whenever possible. “S’alright, ‘Toru - I’d let her ruin me too.”
Satoru’s gaze shifts back to his partner, letting his weight fall onto Suguru’s as he sighs.
“And what if I want to be the one to ruin her?” His voice is sultry, the tip of his head tilting to look down at Suguru in a dangerously suggestive manner. His lover returns the salacious gaze, licking his lips as he leans closer to Satoru.
“Then I guess we’ll have to take turns.”
A few hours later, after your class has long finished, you find yourself climbing the high rising platforms that scale Limitless. The Jaeger is undergoing routine maintenance, something that occurs after every fight in order to ensure its systems all run perfectly. Since it’s positioned in the center of the other hangers, you have taken to climbing the supports for other mechanics after hours.
Letting your feet dangle over the edge of the metal platform, you sit and face Limitless in all its glory. It’s technically the first Mark-4 Jaeger you’ve ever seen. The Scarlet Dragon had been the last of her kind, a nuclear powered Mark-3 Jaeger of uncanny ability. Geto and Gojo’s Jaeger was created a little while later, allowing the technology to boost their new machinery into Mark-4 capabilities.
You admire the engine as it softly whirs, letting Main Control run tests late into the night. Inhaling deeply, you savor in the scent of salt air from the ocean coupled with the metallic smell from the Jaegers. The calming scent does wonders for your addled brain.
After the incident during training, you found yourself stewing in some existential guilt. It took a long time to work yourself out of the guilty episode that haunted over your head, but the night air seemed to help. Now, you sit and watch the mechanics tinker, allowing the repetitive motions of their work drown out the turmoil in your head. Rubbing your fingers together, you begin picking at your cuticles once more: a habit you could never break.
Over your shoulder, the sound of metal clanging reaches your ears as someone climbs up the high-rise platform behind you. You don’t speak, simply allowing them to join you, despite your mind being elsewhere. Too lost in memories, focusing on the events of the past and trying to determine if you really were a coward, you don’t hear Geto and Gojo climb onto the metallic terrace.
You’re broken from your trance when there are two forms settled on either side of you. They’re quiet for a moment, letting the clicking of tools and the humming of Limitless’ engine fill the space instead. It’s nice, you decide; sitting beside the two pilots is comforting in a way you can’t understand.
“You alright, Pretty?” It’s Geto’s voice. The deep timber is unmistakable as it sends faint shivers down your spine. He’s looking at you, his eyes scanning your face and attempting to gauge your feelings. In your turmoil, you miss the nickname, one that would have sent your heart into stuttered beats and your stomach in knots, if you were paying attention.
On your other side, Gojo is staring out at his Jaeger. He appears to be mulling something over in his head, though you can never be quite sure with the blindfold covering his eyes.
You nod, a little numbly. It’s difficult to explain. You’re not quite sure what you’re feeling, but there’s too much of it. You don’t know how to explain that to either man, simply letting out a little hum. There's a tightness in your chest that you can’t describe and your stomach feels heavy. Geto seems to understand, shifting a little closer.
After another beat of silence, it’s Gojo who speaks.
“I’m sorry, by the way,” he starts, still mulling over his words as he speaks. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way.”
You know he’s referencing your first meeting weeks ago. Nodding, you finally turn to look at him. Gojo’s upper body shifts to face you, and despite his eyes obscured by the blindfold, you don’t think you’ve ever seen Gojo look so sincere. His lips are softened into a gentle smile and his shoulders are relaxed, a position you’ve only seen him express under the presence of his lover. When you don’t respond, Gojo continues speaking.
“I get a little heated with all the reporters hanging around, and I pushed you too far. I’m sorry.” His words are precise and to the point, something you greatly appreciate in communication. Though you often have a little trouble expressing your own feelings, Gojo seems fairly adept at ensuring that you understand his own. You appreciate his concern, finally breaking free of your haze for another moment and gracing him with a gentle smile.
Gojo returns your soft smile, a tumble of butterflies in his stomach erupting into a flutter when he takes in your sweet look. From behind him, Geto’s shoulders soften as he leans forward. His eyes curl into a loving grin, his own chest singing with quickened pulses as he watches his lover interact with you. It’s one of the first conversations the three of you have had without some sort of lingering anger. Geto savors in the peaceful aura that settles over the three of you.
It appears you have judged Geto Suguru and Gojo Satoru too quickly.
While they can both be complete menaces, they also have a deeper, calmer demeanor that shines so brightly when they’re alone. Both Geto and Gojo went out of their way to ensure that you were alright after training today, even mentioning the incident to the Marshall. After ensuring your well-being, the Marshall had the cadet shifted to another training schedule, a much more rigorous training meant for lower cadets. The notion made you stifle a smile when the Marshall had forwarded the news.
Gojo, while sometimes silly and overdramatic, was nothing short of incredibly caring. You’d heard from Nanami that he’d been sneaking in treats for Megumi and Itadori whenever he could, a sentiment that warmed your heart. Geto too, got along well with the kids. You’ve often seen Itadori rush towards him whenever he was out with Nanami. Geto’s strong arms hoisted up the toddler, lifting him onto his broad shoulders as he conversed with Nanami and Haibara. You lingered in the doorway, unsure if any of them had seen you. Savoring the pleasant environment, you watched Gojo crouch to greet Megumi, who Nanami had picked up alongside his own son. Megumi, ever the ‘emotionless’ child, pushed past Gojo’s wiggling fingers as he asked for a hug.
You giggled under your breath as Gojo whined about wanting a hug, but you later watched Megumi climb into Gojo’s lap when they were eating.
“I think -” you hesitate, as if still trying to decide what to say. “I think we got off on the wrong foot.”
Geto chuckles, turning his head back to Limitless as the three of you smile. “Yeah, I think so too.”
Gojo nods along, his own lips stretched into a gentle grin.
“Do you think -” you try, attempting to word the question you’re trying to ask. The words fall flat on your tongue as you try to speak them, but Gojo picks up where you left off.
“Would you be alright with starting over?”
With a happy sigh, you nod your head fervently. Eyes wide, but happy, you look back at Gojo with a determined grin. Geto laughs again, agreeing with a warm look in his eyes.
After a beat of silence, the three of you burst into giggles, feeling a little silly for a moment. Your body relaxes, letting the anxiety melt off your shoulders as you sink in the comforting presence of Geto and Gojo. The storming sea that tormented your mind begins to melt away, sunshine peeking out from the clouds as you finally grasp onto an anchor to hold your ship steady.
When you finally quiet into another beat of silence, there’s a warm hum under your skin. It makes your skin hot, but it’s a pleasant heat so you don’t mind. It melts away the icy cold that once had a tight grip on your chest.
In front of you, Limitless’ chest plate is being removed, the core exposed as the three of you marvel over the engineering that maintains the Jaeger. It’s magnificent, unlike anything you’ve ever seen before. You can remember why you wanted to become a pilot in the first place as the awe of the Jaeger’s core never ceases to amaze you.
With a warm sigh, Gojo mumbles under his breath, “Beautiful, isn’t she?”
You nod, not taking your eyes off Limitless.
Next to you, you’re completely unaware of Gojo’s eyes on your face rather than his Jaeger. His question honestly hadn’t even been addressing you, but rather Geto. On your other side, Geto’s eyes glaze over with a warm, loving look as his sight focuses on you and his lover.
Neither man is looking at Limitless.
Instead they’re transfixed on your form as you revel in the beauty of the Jaegers.
As Geto hums in response to his lover’s question, both men know that Gojo was not referring to the Jaeger, but rather you: the shine of your eyes glistening in the glow Limitless’ core and your soft lips pulled into a sweet smile.
You get a month of your newfound, growing relationship with Geto and Gojo when everything goes to shit.
Awoken by the shrilling alarm, you quickly slide off your bed and shuffle towards Megumi’s. Since you’d established a more permanent residence on base, the orphanage had allowed him to sleep in your bunker most nights, something you cherished deeply.
Hushing him gently as he rouses from his sleep in a panic, you hoist his drowsy form into your arms. You sway on your feet, brushing your fingers through Megumi’s hair as he whines, sleepily. Rubbing the fog out of your eyes, you pull the handle by your door that silences the alarm.
“M’sorry, Bub,” you whisper. Pressing a soft kiss to Megumi’s forehead, you continue to sway gently to send him back to sleep. He’s far too grown for this sort of treatment now, but you can’t help but baby him sometimes. You don’t get many chances, so you savor in the feeling when he allows it.
“Go back to sleep, ‘Gumi. S’just a warning alarm for pilots.”
He hums against your neck, grasping your shirt in his fists as he quickly falls back into a slumber. You’re jealous of his ability to knock out so quickly, humming as you settle him back into his bed.
When Megumi is settled, you glance back at the red screen in the middle of the room. Scanning the contents of the alarm, your stomach seizes tight. You bring a hand to cover your mouth as you gnaw on the tip of your finger.
A Category Four Kaiju is headed towards the coastline, only about twenty miles from the Shatterdome. It hasn’t reached the land yet, but left unchecked, it will soon. It’s the first Category Four Kaiju in years, the last being - well, you can’t finish your thought.
You nibble on the tip of your finger as you scan the list of pilot names that is being dispatched. A sinking feeling begins to form as you read both Limitless and Black Flash as two of the appointed Jaegers. Your breath catches in your throat and your other hand comes up to fiddle with the front of your shirt. Shifting back and forth on your feet, your mind races as you debate your next move.
If you head to Main Control, you’re unsure if they’ll allow you to stay. While you may be a Captain, the Marshall is very particular about those who are allowed inside the Command Deck during operation. You’re not sure you’ll be any help either. With the anxious pit in your stomach growing, you'll likely be unable to provide much aid to the battle strategists nor systems control. Both Limitless and Black Flash are likely already prepped for dispatch at this point. The pilots will be in their drive-suits, hair-thin needles sliding into their spine as they connect to the framework of their Jaegers. Drift commenced, both teams are probably headed out of the Shatterdome.
You continue shifting, trying to resist pacing along the concrete floors of your bunker so that you don’t wake Megumi. With a sigh and a glance back at your son, lip still gnawing at the skin of your fingers. You have another training session in three hours. There won’t be much you can do until then, though you know the anxiety in your stomach will keep you awake. There's no use trying to fall back asleep now.
Climbing into Megumi’s bed, you slide your body behind the little boy. He mumbles something in his sleep and turns over, sensing your shift. With his dark eyes barely blinking open and his lips tucked into a sweet, sleepy pout, Megumi crawls forward into your lap. You lean back against the wall behind you, legs laid out in front of you so that Megumi can settle between them.
Knocking your head back, you gently hit the concrete wall with your skull. Letting the cool material distract you, you brush your fingers through Megumi’s hair. When Megumi lets out a little huff, a sign he’s comfortable, you smile gently despite the tight grip of worry in your chest.
Closing your eyes, all you can do is wait for the pilots to return. You refuse to scan through tabloids, not wanting the constant updates to twist your stomach in nausea. You allow a sense of anxious calm to settle over the room, sitting and waiting for the hours to dwindle away on their own.
When three hours finally pass, the silent ticking echoing through the room and splitting the quiet atmosphere, you slide out of Megumi’s bed and hoist him up into your arms once more. Meandering through your morning tasks, you get both you and Megumi ready for the day. You shuffle into your uniform and zip the suit up to your neck, adjusting the fit as you do so.
After ensuring Megumi was alright, you swing by the orphanage. Crouching down beside your son, you allow yourself a little giggle when an energetic ball of pink fluff comes barreling your way.
“Fushiguro! Red-san!”
Megumi, knowing his best friend’s routine, steps aside just as Itadori Yuuji reaches the two of you. Yuuji crashes into your chest, a movement you had expected. With your arms open wide, you smile as the pink-haired boy grasps hold of you. Despite seeing him just yesterday, it warms your heart that Yuuji still exudes the same excitement each and every time he sees you and Megumi.
“Hello, Yuuji-kun!” You mumble warmly as he squeezes you tight. Bent at the knee and crouched low, Yuuji is able to wrap his arms around your upper body to hug you tight. You squeeze back just as firm, allowing the little boy to pull away when he’s ready.
When he does, there’s a vibrant smile on his cheeks, one that radiates happiness throughout the room. You wonder how anyone could resist his sweet smile, knowing even Megumi fell for his kind demeanor and ecstatic grin.
“I have to go to work this morning, Yuuji,” you remind the boy. He frowns a little, a signature pout pulling his lower lip into his mouth. You have to look away to resist giving into his sad smile. “I’ll be back before you know it! Can you keep Megumi company while I’m gone?”
Nodding fervently, Yuuji moves away to stand by his friend. It’s quite funny, you muse. Megumi’s blank-faced expression looks a little silly next to his energetic friend. However, you know Megumi is very happy to spend the day with his friend. He may not look like he does, but Megumi treasures his close friends well.
You give the boys another gentle smile before standing back up. Looking back at Megumi you ruffle both boy’s hair and chuckle at the whine it raises from both. Your son softly smacks your hand away, and your chest shakes with your laughter.
“Alright, boys. You know how to contact me if you need anything, right?” Both boys nod diligently, hair shaking as they wiggle.
With a final wave and a greeting to the nearby staffing nurse, you head back out into the winding halls of the Shatterdome. Despite the swarms of soldiers wandering through the hangers, there’s a tightness in your chest that makes you feel so lonely. Without an update from the Marshall, you are left to stew in your worried anxiety, clutching onto the hope that both Jaegers and their pilots will return safely to base.
Entering your usual training area, you force a stoic look onto your features and set your shoulders back to appear composed. The group of familiar cadets are already waiting inside, ready for another lesson. You forgo combat training today, knowing you’ll be too absent minded to pay close attention to each cadet’s compatibility. Instead, you turn their attention to group exercises. You separate them into smaller groups and point them towards one of the obstacle courses in the indoor training gym. It’s a physical course, but it takes teamwork to complete. Each obstacle can only be surpassed if all four group members work together. You hope the exercise will tune their relationships so that they one day may battle seamlessly together.
A few hours into your training exercise, your hands tighten in their stiff position behind your back as a Lieutenant steps into the truing grounds. The cadets look up from their places, shifting to turn their attention to both you and the newcomer.
You hold up your hand in a silent command, and the soldiers turn away, proceeding with their exercise while you step away.
Stomach in knots, you feel your heart begin to beat wildly in your chest. You know the Lieutenant is here to inform you of both Limitless and Black Flash’s status. With a stuttering pulse and tense limbs, you follow after them as they step away from your group of students. You’re grateful for the space, not wanting the cadets to see your unease.
When they come to a stop, they pivot on their feet to address you, “Captain.”
You nod, settling into the appropriate stance with your arms still stiff behind you. In this position, you’re able to resist the urge to pull at your cuticles. It’s difficult to stop yourself from shifting on your feet, but you manage as you press your lips together tightly. You suck in a breath, nodding as the turmoil continues to contort inside you.
“Lieutenant,” you reply stiffly. Your tone is clipped, but thankfully they don’t seem to take offense to your firm tone. It’s apparent that you’re worried for the outcome of your friends. Despite your hopes to appear professional, you must reveal an inkling of anxiety in your tense stance and apprehensive eyes.
“The Black Flash and Limitless have returned to the Shatterdome.”
Inhaling sharply, you nod and allow them to continue. Eyes hard, you keep your stance stiff despite the ache in your chest and the longing to sag under the anxiety.
“Pilots Nanami and Haibara have sustained minor injuries, but are otherwise unharmed.” The update has your shoulders sagging in relief, but the lack of knowledge of Limitless keeps your stomach turning.
“And the others?” You prompt, eyes scanning the Lieutenant for signs of grief.
“The Jaeger Limitless endured heavy damage against the Category Four Kaiju. The hull was breached during battle and the mechanics failed upon their return. Limitless will be decommissioned upon the Marshall’s command – the destruction is beyond repair.”
You suck in a heavy breath and nearly step away from the form in front of you. The sinking feeling returns, and a lump swells in your throat. Chest tightening, you swear you can hear your pulse in your ears. A hull rupture. You’re too familiar with the words. Memories flick past your eyes, and they’re difficult to shake away. Flashes of concern race through your head, and you can barely manage your next question.
“The pilots?” You muster, voice a little shaky. “Are they -”
The Lieutenant makes eye contact for the first time since their arrival. “Pilots Gojo and Geto are recovering in the emergency Medbay. Gojo Satoru experienced severe injury to his arm during battle and was transported alongside Geto Suguru as soon as they finished docking.”
Recovering. That’s good. Recovering means they’re not dead. That’s all you can think as you thank the Lieutenant for the update. You dismiss them with a nod.
As soon as they disappear around the corner, you let your shoulders sag. Collapsing inward, you heave a shuddering breath and suppress a sob of relief. Heavy injuries, the words bounce around in your head. Heavy injuries are alright, as long as they’re both still breathing. You can handle the recovery. It’s difficult to even think of any other scenario. You’re not sure you can handle losing another one of your friends.
Hunching over, you rest your hands on your knees and muffle a sob. Squeezing your eyes shut, you allow your chest to shake through another panicked breath. There’s both relief and worry still rolling in your chest, but you try to remain optimistic.
Pausing for a moment, you take a deep breath before righting yourself. Swaying on your feet, you push back the lump in your throat and the tears that ache behind your eyelids. Stepping back into the training area, you beckon your group of cadets back to your side.
With a short explanation, you dismiss the cadets early, knowing you’ll have to let the Marshall know later. The ache in your chest that longs to rush to Gojo and Geto’s side is too strong, and you know you won’t be able to focus on the training session any longer.
Waving your hand, you watch the cadets exit the space before you push off your heels. Trying your hardest not to race, you take quick strides towards the Medbay. You can’t explain why your heart pulses against your chest so rapidly, nor can you decipher the discord of emotions that ache in your mind for both Geto and Gojo. All you can do is continue navigating the winding hallways of the Shatterdome, bringing your steps closer to the two pilots that have been ingrained in your mind lately.
It’s only moments later when you push open the Medbay doors with a resounding thud. Eyes shift to your form, but you ignore their curious gazes in favor of locating a nurse. Striding towards an unoccupied shift nurse, you question Geto and Gojo’s location. They meekly give you the room number, before you turn quickly on your heel towards the correct direction.
Scanning room numbers with a racing mind, you finally locate the one you’re looking for. With a lump steadily pushing into your throat, you force open the door gently despite your rattled mind.
Suguru is the first you lay eyes on.
He’s got bandages wrapped around his shoulder and gauze pressed against his cheek. Hair ruffled and falling from its bun, there are wrinkled lines of worry on his forehead, but he seems otherwise unharmed. You let out a heavy sigh of relief, one that turns Suguru’s attention away from his lover and towards the door.
When he meets your gaze, he lets out a shaky breath. You let your chest sag in relief once more and follow his command as he waves you forward.
Stepping towards him, you let your heart jump into your throat as you finally let a tear squeeze past your eyes. It sinks onto your cheek, and Suguru aches to brush it away with his fingers. He wants to feel the softness of your skin under his fingertips and force away all the melancholy that has your face twisted into such sadness.
Though, he knows he doesn’t look much better.
With his arm bandaged from the nasty scrape, Suguru got lucky. The fight could have ended much worse if not for Satoru’s quick thinking. He lets out a heavy sigh that sounds too much like a sob. Motioning with a wave of his hand, you approach Suguru with a sad smile.
“Suguru,” you nearly whimper. It’s a watery sound, barely able to be forced out of your throat with the lump that sits in the way. The dark-haired pilot’s eyes soften into a look of loving agony that you can’t quite place. The sound of your voice strikes a chord in his chest and he hates the way it makes his heart throb. Allowing himself a moment of weakness, Suguru’s hand reaches out when you’re close enough to his side.
Looking weaker than you’ve ever seen him, Geto’s hand extends towards you. Heart stuttering, you grasp ahold of his outstretched fingers and allow him to pull you into his side. Suguru, uncharacteristically small under your gaze, wraps his arms around your waist. Pulling you into him, he rests his head directly onto your chest, hiding the teary eyes he’s barely managing to suppress. He hums a broken sound, muffling it into the thick material of your uniform.
Your heart aches at the sound, bringing your hands up to rest them on his shoulders. Geto clutches you tight, hands gripping your hips as he inhales another shuddering breath.
Over his shoulder, you finally get a glance at Satoru.
He’s laying in an infirmary bed, eyes shut but without his blindfold. Looking beaten, there's gauze wrapped around his forehead, likely from a head injury, and his arms are wrapped in similar material. It’s his left arm you're worried about – the one that had been sliced open when the hull ruptured. A deep slice ran along the length of his arm, sanguine smudges evidence of the blood that continued to leak through the bandages. You wince in memory of a similar scar that now runs along the length of your own left arm.
“How is he?” You whisper, voice just loud enough for Geto to hear. Your chest is a bit lighter now, the anxious turmoil being soothed by Suguru’s fingers as they rub gentle circles into your hips. The motion makes your heart stutter and your stomach flips, but it’s a much more pleasant feeling that the bubble of worry.
Still pressed into your chest, Suguru mumbles his response into your form.
“Alright, I think. He took a hit meant for the Black Flash,” Geto mutters. His chest vibrates with his words, the feeling radiating into your own skin and sending shivers down your spine.
“What?” You mutter under your breath, a little confused. You pull Geto’s face out of your chest gently. Placing one of your hands against his cheek, face heating a little at the intimate gesture, you question him. “What do you mean?”
“The Kaiju was smarter than we anticipated,” he grunts, face pulled into a frown. You nearly brush your finger across his soft lips, but resist the urge when Geto continues speaking. “It separated us from Kento and Yu. When it was in Black Flash’s blind spot, it lunged to take them out, but ‘Toru had already forced Limitless in between. The Kaiju’s teeth damaged the hull, and Satoru was too close to the shrapnel that was expelled.”
You suck in another breath, eyes looking back at Satoru in his bed. Still asleep, he looks more peaceful now that you can see his eyes. Though he’s injured, you’ve never seen the tension leave his form as it has now. Letting out a little huff of relief, you mentally thank him. Satoru saved the Black Flash today. Without him and Suguru, you may not have seen Nanami and Haibara again.
With a tight chest and pursed lips, you shift your eyes back to Geto. He’s looking at you now, eyes still soft and a little watery. It’s hard to tell, but you’ve gotten used to both Geto and Gojo’s emotional intricacies in the past few weeks. You know he aches for his lover. He probably feels a little guilty too, something you know you’ve taken your fair share of as a pilot.
Brushing your fingers over his cheek, Suguru feels another pleasant hum radiate through his chest. He loves the feeling of your skin against his, longing to press his body further into your own. Looking back at his wounded partner, Suguru sags against your chest again with a heavy sigh.
“S’alright, Suguru,” you whisper once more. “You’re both safe now.”
You’ve never felt closer to either pilot than you do now. Whatever strings connected you before, are now pulled taut; no more loose loops and tangled knots. You can almost feel the bond between the three of you sing stronger with each passing moment. The notion fills you with another bout of warmth.
Letting yourself be a little selfish, you lift the hand that was pressed against Suguru’s shoulder. Hesitantly, you drop it onto his scalp with a shaky movement. Unsure of proceeding, you go still with a racing heart. Suguru, who’s heart now matches yours in pace, softly nudges his head further into your stomach. With his permission, you let your fingers delicately scratch against his scalp. His soft, silken hair brushes against your skin, and he lets out a quiet, audible groan when you scratch once more.
The sound has your ears heating and brain stuttering, but you continue your motions regardless. Suguru appears to melt, his body going lax against you as he tilts his head further into your fingers. With a soft smile, you let your heart hum happily despite the emotional turmoil.
You’re interrupted by the sound of the door opening once more.
Turning towards the entrance, your eyes meet the little form of Megumi, who shifts back and forth on his feet with wary eyes. He’s fiddling with his hands and looking a little perturbed. Leaning away from Suguru, who nearly audibly whines when your fingers leave his skin, you shuffle towards the door and drop to your knees.
“Hey, Bub,” you mumble, hands coming up to grasp his smaller fingers in your own. “S’going on?”
Megumi’s lips press together as he peers around you to look once at Geto and then at Gojo’s sleeping form. He wrings his fingers together again, feeling nervous. You notice his eyes linger on Gojo’s injured form, his body nearly rocking back and forth as he fidgets. You manage a little smile and lift off your knees, offering your hand to your son.
“S’okay, ‘Gumi. Gojo’s alright now.” Your words seem to ease the boy for now, but he still flicks his gaze back and forth between you and the white-haired pilot. “You wanna see him?”
Megumi manages a little nod, grasping onto your fingers as you lead him towards Gojo’s bedside. Geto’s eyes follow you, a gentle look in his gander. He loves to watch you and Megumi interact, feeling a little bubble of warmth in his stomach when you ensure the boy is comfortable with every new interaction. Shifting in his seat, Geto offers a little wave at Megumi, who sends a small smile back.
Crouching again, you pick Megumi up into your arms. Fidgeting as you place him onto your hip, Geto stands to shuffle over to your side. You flick your attention to him for a moment, ensuring that he's not in any pain as he moves. Suguru waves off your concern, coming to stand behind you and Megumi.
The three of you stand at Gojo’s bedside, your fingers rubbing comforting circles into Megumi’s back as he scans Satoru’s injured form. With perfect timing, Gojo is just beginning to wake. His pupils shift behind his eyelids and he muffles a little groan. From behind you, Geto lays his big hand across Gojo’s forearm.
When Satoru’s crystalline blue eyes open, he's met with three figures standing over his bedside. True to Gojo’s nature, he musters a little smirk that raises the corners of his lips. You nearly scoff lightheartedly when he murmurs under his breath.
“Aw, were ya’ worried about me?”
Geto chuckles when Megumi turns away from Gojo, pressing his face into your chest. You let out a little giggle as well, shielding your son from Gojo in his faint embarrassment. Even with his injuries, Satoru still manages to muster his energetic demeanor, hiding a wince when he sits up on his bed.
You send Gojo a look, eyes soft and expressing your thanks silently. He meets your gaze, a sweet look in his own vibrant, blue eyes. Satoru sends you a little nod, letting his fingers brush against yours when you’re close enough. The touch sends a little shiver down your spine and Megumi wiggles against you.
In the light of the infirmary, the four of you are in your own little world.
Geto watches happily as you and Megumi speak quietly to Gojo, your son’s body now sitting on the edge of Gojo’s bed. Geto savors in the secluded atmosphere, – just the four of you and no one else to interrupt. He hopes there are many more moments like these, especially some without an injured partner. With a soft sigh, Geto finally presses closer to you, and you let him. He rests his chin on your head with his chest pressed against your back. Exchanging a knowing look with his lover, the two of them sink into the happy aura and let themselves relax in the presence of you and your son.
Satoru recovers steadily, his arm healing nicely and scarring over in the days that follow. The stitches were removed a little more than a week later, the wounds having closed without any signs of infection. When you greet him that afternoon, Gojo pulls your body next to his, comparing his scarred arm against your own. You laugh when he murmurs that you now match, enjoying that Satoru can find little bits of happiness even in his own pain.
Limitless, the once hulking, Mark-4 Jaeger is decommissioned shortly after they had docked. Both pilots had been devastated, watching as their beloved machine slowly powers down for the last time. You stand at their side, rubbing Gojo’s side when he’s forced to look away with a tightened chest. Geto leans into you, forcing a deep sigh as he wonders what will happen next.
You are informed a few days later, of a new Jaeger, one that’s been remodeled and updated from its previous Mark-3 status. With a sharp, breathy inhale, you listen as the Marshall reveals the news.
The Scarlet Dragon, after its final battle, was refurbished. Brought back to life after tragedy, the Jaeger’s core had been saved, allowing mechanics to rebuild its body from the ground up. Now standing taller than before, the new Jaeger is no longer a sanguine color. The metallic, shining white illuminates a rainbow shine when the light hits the paint. It’s beautiful. Unlike any other built before it, the machine stands tall and proud under your stare.
No longer The Scarlet Dragon, the new Mark-5 machine - first of its kind - has a new name: The Rainbow Dragon.
Built with your previous Jaeger in mind, it looks just like the one from your memories. Though the paint is different and it’s taller than before, with new weapons and updated technology, you can still see the Scarlet Dragon before you.
The ache in your chest feels heavier than ever. You can almost feel your brother at your side as you stand in front of the Rainbow Dragon. After the Marshall had explained the machine he’d hidden from the public eye, you’d taken refuge in its hulking form. Mind racing, you consider the Marshall’s terse words.
“First of her kind,” he mutters under his breath. “As the first Mark-5 Jaeger in history, the mechanics had to work around the necessity of a stronger, enchanted Drift mechanism.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means: the Rainbow Dragon needs three pilots.”
The Marshall hadn’t continued, but you understand the subtext regardless.
The new machine was capable of immense strength and agility, one that surpassed any Jaeger before it. However, in order to operate the new apparatus, it needed a third pilot to handle the heavier neurological load. You hadn’t asked who he was going to choose for the job, but you already knew who his choices were.
Geto Suguru and Gojo Satoru were two of the best pilots the Jaeger Program had ever seen. Their abilities would be wasted anywhere else. Both men were incredible pilots, capable of thinking on their feet and coming out victorious despite heavy losses.
The third pilot had to be someone that knew them well. Someone that understood their emotions and their bond – a soldier who had experience operating a Jaeger and knew how to handle the Drift. It had to be someone who was close to both Geto and Gojo, being able to understand them even without the aid of the neurological connection.
The Marshall didn’t need to say a name, because you already knew you were the only pilot he considered.
Quickly after dismissing you, you shuffled into the new hanger. Climbing the rafters, you pulled your heaving body onto the high platforms in front of The Rainbow Dragon and finally collapsed.
Feeling weaker than ever, you mulled over the information, letting your brain spiral into darker territory as you relived your final moments in The Scarlet Dragon. The memories are painful. Seeing your brother ripped from his seat and your voice rubbing raw as you screamed for him, you felt tears drip from your lower lids. Lifting a hand to scrub them away, you huffed a small sob.
The task seems too daunting. You’re not sure you’ll ever be ready to climb inside another Jaeger, your memories too strong and the wound still fresh. Your chest is heavy, a weight sitting on your ribs as you recall your loving brother.
“Hey, Kiddo,” his voice rings in your memory. “Look at me, Kid. Everything’s gonna be fine, okay? M’always gonna be right here – you can always find me in the Drift.”
The words have never left you, radiating through your being as his deep voice murmurs in your mind. You know he’d have wanted better for you. He always pushed you to greater heights, claiming you deserved more than what you were given. The weight in your chest seems to only get heavier when you think of him. You know he wouldn’t want you to stop fighting because of him. He’d probably drag your ass back into a Jaeger himself, if he could. He’d be murmuring under his breath the whole time, grunting good-natured jabs as he pushes you into the pilot’s seat.
Startled out of your thoughts as someone climbs the rafters behind you, you scrub your tears away as their form enters the metal overhang. You’re surprised to see both Nanami and Haibara, your son’s body between their feet.
“Hey, Kid.” Nanami’s voice breaks the silence. His lips are pressed together, eyes soft as he takes in your watery eyes and sad smile.
Megumi crawls forward quickly, his little hands coming up to your face to gently wipe away your falling tears. You melt at his comforting gesture, wrapping your arms around his body to pull him into your lap. He settles into you swiftly, wiggling his form to situate himself.
Nanami and Haibara settle at your sides, the four of you sitting in a quiet silence for a few moments before you break it.
“I assume you heard the news?”
Both men nod, their heads shaking as they shift to look at you. Megumi leans back into your chest, looking out at the Rainbow Dragon in wonder. Dark eyes wide, your son gasps at the magnificence of the Jaeger before you.
“Okaasan, do you miss your brother?” His little voice questions. He’s taken to fiddling with your fingers, rubbing his own short ones against the tips of yours as he speaks.
Megumi was young when your brother died, so you don’t expect him to remember much of him. He knows you were close with him, especially with all the stories you tell the younger boy. Though he may not recall your brother clearly, Megumi can still see faint flashes of both you and you brother, alongside two blurry figures that he assumes are his parents. He doesn’t remember either of them, they had died long before he could ever recall their faces. Since he was young, you were his only parental figure – something he’s more than fine with now.
You nod softly, looking down at Megumi as Haibara rubs a hand across your back. Leaning into your friend’s hand, you whisper back to Megumi, “Very much.”
Voice watery, Megumi leans his head back against your chest to look up at you. Hair ruffled and dark eyes shining, the boy’s lips turn upwards in a small smile.
“He must have been a very good person,” the boy mumbles as he twists your fingers. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be so sad, right?”
Nodding again, you look back up at the Jaeger before you and mull over Megumi’s words. Nanami and Haibara are still silent at your sides, but you savor their quiet comfort regardless. Your two oldest friends already seem to know when their muted solace is appreciated, letting your son be the one to speak.
“Would he be mad if you wanted to fight again?” His words startle you, your eyes shooting back down to look into his curious ones. The tiny orbs are inquisitive, full of questioning wonder that you’ve seen before.
After a moment’s hesitation, you consider your son’s words. You don't think your brother would be mad if you were to return to a Jaeger. In fact, you think he’d be ecstatic if you continued to fight even after his unfortunate death. It’s not necessarily his memory that holds you back, but your own fear.
You’ve long dreaded the connection that’s made between pilots, too anxious that the strain of the Drift with another copilot would bring you too much pain. You were still connected to your brother when he was killed. Every moment of his dying agony was your own. You didn’t think you were ready to experience that kind of anguish once more.
“I don’t think so,” you reply softly. Squeezing Megumi tight in your arms, you press your forehead into his hair.
“Are you scared then?”
Without lifting your head, you nod against Megumi’s hair. His words aren’t angry, nor are they accusatory. He simply wants to understand why you never return to piloting, always a little uncertain about your reasons.
Megumi nods his head in understanding. He continues looking out at the Rainbow Dragon, letting his fingers stroke comforting circles into your hands. Your son is remarkably intelligent. For someone his age, Megumi is keen and able to understand complex emotions even without experiencing them himself. He’s caring too, making sure to silently comfort you with little strokes of his hands as he speaks.
You’re so incredibly proud of him. Despite all the tragedy in his life, your son is immensely wise and so exceptionally kind. You feel your heart squeeze with a warmth as your softened eyes leak a few tears into his hair.
“Yeah, ‘Gumi,” you whisper, only for him to hear. “M’scared.”
“That’s okay, Okaasan!” He replies cheerfully, his voice light and energetic despite the gloomy atmosphere. “I can be strong for you!”
Your eyes crinkle as they turn into a sweet smile. Heart singing, a surge of warmth fills you as Megumi speaks. You couldn’t be more happy to have Megumi as your son.
“I’ll be right here the whole time,” Megumi croons. “And then when it’s all over, we can finally go home.”
Letting your body collapse into Megumi, you weep a little sob. Home, you think. That sounds nice. The idea of a little beach side house, Megumi’s little body running around in the sand and the salty smell of the ocean in the air. Your heart aches as you imagine it. After everything is finally over, you finally want to buy the house you’ve had your eye on. You want to adopt Megumi and take him home as your son, officially.
You’re surprised when the images of Geto and Gojo sneak into the fantasy. Their forms dance in the sand, Gojo flicking water at Megumi as he squeals. Heart full, you hum pleasantly. Nanami and Haibara join the sight soon, Yuuji’s pink hair peeking out from behind Megumi. Your little family.
Nodding fervently, you press a kiss to Megumi’s hair with a determined sigh. Nanami and Haibara watch as you set your shoulders back, their own chests fluttering with happiness as the youthful determination finally fills your body once more.
“Okay, ‘Gumi,” you whisper. “One more fight, then we finally go home.”
Three days later, and there’s no time to test your drift compatibility with Geto and Gojo.
The Marshall, after speaking with the lead research specialist, wants to make a final attempt to close the Breach. With new information regarding the opening between worlds, he’s certain that this final shot will work.
You’re nervous – more than you’ve ever been in your life. It’s been a long time since you’ve put on a drive-suit, twinging a little when the thin needles insert into your spine. You’re a little stiff, but it feels good to be back in the suit. It feels natural once again, the material shifting as you walk. Heading into the cockpit of the Rainbow Dragon, your stomach quells in anxiety.
You’d said goodbye to Megumi a few moments ago. The Marshall promised to look after him while you were gone, your trembling hands thanking him. You pressed a kiss to Megumi’s hair, promising to be back soon. There was no need to say farewells, you were confident. You would not be leaving Megumi behind again. He would not have to let go of another parental figure.
He sent you a warm smile, pressing his own little kiss to your cheek. It was uncharacteristic of him to be so affectionate, but you blame it on him sensing your nerves.
Inside the Rainbow Dragon, Gojo and Geto are already preparing the Jaeger for dispatch. There’s muffled conversation between them, a sense of lingering unease in the cockpit. The Marshall had not informed them of their third pilot. Neither Gojo nor Geto were sure of the choice for the empty pilot’s seat in the cockpit.
Though, both pilots already knew who their choice would have been.
There was only one other person in the Shatterdome who knew their minds inside and out. Though they’d only been ‘friends’ for a few months, both Geto and Gojo knew you were fine tuned to their intricacies by now. It was evident in the way you helped Gojo pull his pilot uniform over his wounded shoulder weeks ago. As if you knew the exact movement that would bring him pain, you maneuvered the uniform over his arm, ensuring that he didn’t have to make any motion that would hurt him.
Gojo saw it in the way you helped Suguru pull his hair into a bun when his own shoulder ached after their battle. His lover’s eyes fell shut as your fingers brushed against Geto’s scalp, his smile warm and endearing as you carefully tied the elastic.
The three of you worked seamlessly together now.
From over his shoulder, Geto mumbled something as he fidgeted with the helmet in his hands. The black drive-suit fits his build well. Broad shoulders and thin waist, Gojo finds himself scanning his lover’s body with appreciation.
Looking up, Geto rolls his eyes when he meets Gojo’s sultry gaze. Wiggling his eyebrow childishly, Satoru laughs when Geto shoves him away. It’s amazing they both can play around like this before a mission. Though the atmosphere is taut, nerves on end and soldiers tense around them, Geto and Gojo still manage to keep a lighthearted facade.
As the two continue pre-ignition procedures, footsteps entering the cockpit cause both their heads to raise from their hunched positions. The steps stop just before the far right pilot’s seat, a beat of silence echoing through the room before you break it.
“I hope you don’t mind if I take the right,” you grin. “My left arm was shot to shit.”
Geto’s head whips in your direction so quickly, you have to muffle a giggle. His black hair falls in front of his face in his shock, the strands of his bangs blocking his eyes for a moment before he shakes them away. When his gaze meets yours, you suck in a breath at the look in his eyes. They're softened, pupils shining with an endearing expression that makes you want to melt under his stare. Geto looks at you as if he’s been waiting for you – not just now, as a pilot, but forever. He and Gojo have been waiting for you, whether they knew it or not.
Gojo’s smile widens, a laugh falling from his lips as he lets out a little cheer. His heart squeezing, he takes in your figure. The dark drive-suit suits you well, the material standing out against the pale interior of the cockpit. It’s you, he thinks. It’s always been you. They’ve been waiting for you.
Nodding, Geto motions for you to take the right pilot’s seat. Gojo falls easily into the middle one, allowing his recovering left arm a little break. Settling into the left side, Geto feels a sense of ease spread through the room. It feels natural, your presence. It’s as though they’ve been battling with you this whole time. You fit so seamlessly between their personalities, taking everything in stride and working to better both them and yourself.
“You look good, Sunshine.” It’s Gojo who speaks, his voice cutting through the silence. He’s looking at you, crystalline blue eyes taking in every inch of your figure as he had Suguru. Both of you look enticing in your drive-suits.
“Thanks, ‘Toru,” you mumble in reply, ducking your head to hide your flustered expression. You hope neither of them notice, but it wouldn’t be in their character.
“He’s right,” Suguru continues. “You ready, Pretty?”
You manage a shaky nod, settling your body back into the pilot seat behind you. Geto and Gojo follow suit, shifting to press back into the needles that attach themselves to your spine. Hair-thin and minuscule, you’ll barely feel the spines in a few moments, but the initial injection is never comfortable.
When the three of you are finally settled into place, you begin pulling up the screen in front of you. Clicking your right arm into the brace that will allow you to control the Rainbow Dragon’s own left arm, you let the practiced motions of preparing the Jaeger drown out your nervous turmoil.
The Rainbow Dragon is a three-armed Jaeger, with a rotating middle that allows the limbs to switch positions in the middle of battle. While you choose to operate the right side, it’s likely the section could change. It’s not too drastic of an adjustment. Though some of the nerves are touchy, your left arm should be able to handle the fight just fine. It will simply be a little less reactive than your right.
“Hey,” Gojo breaks the silence. He’s turned to face you, bright blue eyes tracing your features under the helmet you had slid on. His voice is soft, something you don’t often hear. “Let’s go somewhere after this. Just us – you, me, Suguru and Megumi. Some time alone for the four of us.”
Geto hums a happy sound, obviously in agreement. His dark eyes turn back to you, letting the pupils trace your features with an endearing look. In the cockpit, there’s some sense of a peaceful calm despite the stressful situation that continues outside your little world. It sends a bolt of warmth into your chest and you return Suguru’s sweet look, your cheek beginning to ache from the wide smile that settles on your lips.
“The beach,” you decide after a moment’s hesitation. Stomach twisting, now with butterflies rather than nerves, you address them both. “Megumi’s always wanted to go to Okinawa.”
Geto shakes his head with a laugh before turning back to Satoru with a smile on his lips. “Okinawa it is then.”
Before the Drift even commences, the three of you slide into a connection of your own. Minds so finely tuned to each other, you barely even need the drift to tell you what the other is thinking. You’re already imagining the beach. The white sand brushing against your toes and Megumi’s laughter in the air as the four of you take some well needed time away. In your own world, you finish preparing the final steps to dispatch the Rainbow Dragon, turning to face Gojo, your designated lead pilot.
“All systems are a ‘Go,’ Six.”
The white haired pilot’s lips curl into a smirk at the name, sending you a teasing look as you address him by his nickname again. It’s different now. While you used to throw the name at him with a subtle hint of distaste, now the name ‘Six Eyes’ means something else. It's spoken with a manner of confidence, letting Satoru know that you are placing your complete trust in his efforts as your lead pilot.
Gojo turns to face his lover, receiving his consensual nod from Suguru before he addresses Main Control. “Rainbow Dragon is a ‘Go.’ Commence the Drift.”
At his command, a voice repeats Satoru’s command in your ear. Settling back against the pilot seat with a lingering nervousness in your gut, you make contact with Suguru. His warm smile underneath the helmet soothes some of the anxiety, trying to comfort your racing mind. It’s been a long time since you’ve drifted with another pilot, and the first with a pilot who isn’t your brother.
Taking a deep, controlled breath, you shut your eyes and allow the swelling of the Drift take over your mind. It starts with a subtle pressure, building until it presses at the forefront of your consciousness. When you succumb to its strength, you’re immediately met with flashes of memories.
At first, they're yours.
You see your brother's face as you and the Fushiguro’s laugh. The four of you are stuffed into your small bunker, clutching drinks as you giggle amongst yourselves. The swell of nostalgia presses against your chest as you feel the ache of grief pushing against your ribs. You look so happy here.
When the memory gets pulled away, you know both Geto and Gojo are watching too. The Drift links all three of you, so they see every scene as it flashes by in front of you. Instead of feeling nervous, there’s some warmth in your chest that comforts you. You’re not afraid of them seeing your past. You actually find that you’re grateful they can see these memories, you know it will bring you closer together. Being able to physically feel every emotion from the others is both a blessing and a curse in the Drift.
Another flash floats in front of you, and you’re holding Megumi for the first time.
You remember the tears that dropped down your cheeks as you held his tiny body in your hands. He was so small, little tufts of dark hair fluffy against his forehead and dark eyes already open. Megumi looks up at you for the first time in his life, and you couldn’t resist the tears that fell from your eyes. His birth mother is asleep, having passed out with Toji at her side as he passes his son into your arms. Your brother is at your side, his head peeking over your shoulder as the two of you finally meet the child of your lifelong friends.
You watch as your heart swells with love at the sight. You hadn’t known then, that Megumi would one day be your son. Though, you can’t find it within yourself to wish for anything different. He’s the perfect kid, even despite both of your flaws.
When the memory is pulled away, it’s replaced by a painful one.
You watch as Toji’s Jaeger falls apart, the machine collapsing under his insurmountable grief. Toji had lost his wife in a similar way you'd lost your brother. Pulled from the Jaeger by the hulking body of a Kaiju, Toji had crumpled under the weight of his lost love. Both himself and his Jaeger had been destroyed in the process.
You remember crying out for both your friends, chest seizing as a sob wracked through your chest. It was up to you and your brother to finish off the Kaiju, not given a moment’s hesitation for the grief that swelled in your throat.
There’s the flash of you holding Megumi’s body tight, his inquisitive eyes not quite understanding the situation, but squeezing you back regardless. He’d been so young.
Another blur passes through you, Geto and Gojo’s chest sinking under the weight of your own subtle grief. You don’t allow yourself much else, knowing you can’t immerse yourself in the memories. Following after one, ‘chasing the rabbit’ as the Marshall says, would only disrupt the Drift and cause the Jaeger to fail.
Though they ache to comfort you somehow, both men allow the next memory to pass, watching with wide eyes as they are met with the sight that had previously ended your piloting career.
Breath caught in their lungs, your voice crying out in their ears, they watch as your brother is ripped from his seat. Feeling every moment of your brother’s dying agony, they ache as you did. It’s painful, incredibly so. Gojo wishes to reach out to you, though he knows he can’t.
They only watch as your past, broken form sobs as you finally finish the Kaiju once and for all. When you collapse against the coastline, the Scarlet Dragon defeated, there’s a crushing pain in both their chests.
You resist falling into grief.
Instead, you let these agonizing moments propel you into some kind of vengeful confidence. You won’t let these people die in vain. Toji and his wife, your brother, all those pilots before you – you will not allow their sacrifice to be for naught.
With your head held high, your memories finally finish, allowing Geto’s to take their place.
Each crucial moment of Geto Suguru’s life flows past your mind. You watch with your breath caught in your throat as he meets Gojo Satoru for the first time. They’d been young, only teenagers at the time, but they look so similar. Wide smiles on their cheeks, you watch as Geto shoves Gojo away with a laugh, the two boys playfully wrestling with each other.
Another rift fades, and you watch two little girls appear before you. One blonde and the other dark haired, your eyes follow Geto as he hoists both girls onto his hips. Carrying them both with a warm smile, Suguru cares for both girls as his own. The sight makes your chest squeeze again – he’d be such a good father.
You’re ripped from the sweet moment as the spectacle changes. Now, it’s a memory of pure agony. With wide eyes and a breath stuck in his throat, Suguru finds the two girls, eyes blank and blood dripping from their skulls. It’s clear they’ve been trampled, likely from a crowd of people trying to escape a Kaiju attack. Satoru and Suguru had been away, called to pilot their Jaeger as they left the girls in the care of a neighbor. Likely abandoned by the caretaker, the twins were mercilessly slaughtered before either man could even say goodbye.
You nearly cough out a sob as Suguru’s grief overtakes you. It’s similar to your own, and you find yourself aching to comfort him as he did you.
As the sigh fades away, Satoru’s memories take their place. You’re not very surprised to find Satoru doesn’t have many happy memories that don’t include Suguru. From the pictures that flash through your consciousness, Satoru wasn’t allowed much of a childhood. His clan elders seem to rip him away the moment he had the strength to stand and walk on his own.
Though, despite the unhappy memories, there’s ones of joy slipping in between. There's genuine smiles filtering through the cracks, images of his laugh as he lays on Suguru’s lap. A wide grin is on his lips as he sits in between Suguru, Nanami and Haibara in one of their bunkers.
For a moment, you think the Drift has finally finished as the images fade away. However, you’re startled as one final sight flashes before your eyes.
You don’t know whose memory it is. It could be either Suguru’s or Satoru’s, but you know it’s not yours.
You know because it’s your body standing before your own eyes.
In that moment, with your form sitting on one of the high-rise platforms in front of Limitless, you feel every moment of Geto and Gojo’s emotions. There’s joy and kindness, and some sort of longing that sits in your stomach and has your heart doing all sorts of flips. Your breath is stuck in your throat, a lump holding it there as you watch yourself turn to look down at the person.
There must be some sort of difference in this memory because you swear you appear more beautiful than you’ve ever seen. It seems as though, in this person’s memory, they see you in such a pure way – as if they see you in a much better light than you see yourself. This person sees authentic, sheer beauty as your form turns to look at them.
They see you in a light in which you’ve never seen yourself.
You appear more beautiful than any instance you’ve ever seen before. In this memory, time seems to slow as your lips pull into a gentle smile and wave down at the person looking up. Your heart seems to catch, a pure longing taking its place as the person waves back. When your past body waves the person to join you, you swear you’ve never felt lighter.
There's so much pure joy and genuine aching for your presence, you think you might cry. You feel giggly and ecstatic, like a school girl all over again. It sets your heart alight, twisting your features into such a soft expression.
You know it’s not just Geto or Gojo’s memory now.
You can recall finding both pilots looking up at you in the rafters, their smiles and happy eyes gazing up at your body. You remember waving to them, gesturing for them to join you, with your own set of butterflies in your stomach.
It’s not one of their memories – it’s both.
Whatever joy and longing you’re feeling, is coming from both of them. They appear to be linked in such a way that they felt the exact same ache for you. Sharing both the memory and the feeling, the sight before you flickers and you fear you may cry.
Not out of sadness, but from genuine love.
You’ve never felt so honestly and authentically loved as you do now. Absolutely overwhelmed by the sheer amount of affection that swells in your chest, you fear you may sink too far into the memory. The tightness in your chest crescendos, but it’s not an unpleasant feeling.
When you’re finally pulled from it, some kind of bond just snaps into place.
Suddenly, you know exactly how the three of you feel for each other. There's no lingering questioning, no deceiving guesses that leave all of you confused. You know now. It’s always been you – just the three of you and your son now.
As you meet the gazes of Satoru and Suguru, there’s a confident smile on your cheeks. You feel their joy and their swelling devotion as you settle into your new place – between the two of them.
It's about an hour later, when you’re standing at the brink of the Breach, that the nerves finally return. It’s almost suspicious – you’ve made it this far with no problem. There’s been no sign of any Kaiju, not even a surge of energy from the Breach. It’s worrying, but for now, you take it as a good sign.
But you need a body. A Kaiju body is needed to bypass the Breach.
That’s what the research analyst had discovered. In order to pass through the rift between worlds, the Breach scans the Kaiju’s DNA like an identification tag. In order to pass through, you need a Kaiju - dead or alive.
Perhaps they know this. You've underestimated their intelligence as a species before. Maybe they know of your plans – can tell that your kind intends to collapse the rift between your world and theirs for good. It’s suspicious, but you have no other explanation.
As the Rainbow Dragon stands side by side with the Black Flash, two other Jaegers stand behind you, the darkness of the water seems to close in around you. Deep beneath the ocean’s surface, there's so little light. You can only see a few meters in front of the Rainbow Dragon, just enough to make out the edges of the Breach. It glows even despite the depths, a sentiment you’re grateful for. It casts a faint light around the edge, allowing you to keep the Black Flash within your sights.
“Any sign, Kento?” It’s Satoru’s voice that carries through the unnerving silence. Main Control had gone quiet too, all of you waiting in suspense.
“Nothing, Gojo.”
You turn to look at Suguru, a tense lipped frown on your face. He returns the look with a little nod, settling your nerves in the slightest. You have nothing to fear with them at your side. With Nanami and Haibara as your wing-men, you know the five of you are strong.
Scanning the ocean floor in front of you, left hand clenching in your drive-suit, you feel the weight of the mission settle onto your shoulders. It’s your Jaeger that carries the payload – the Rainbow Dragon is the one assigned to pass through the Breach.
“Rainbow Dragon!” The voice of Main Control filters through your earpiece. “Signatures are rising – two Category Five Kaiju are breaking through the Breach!”
The Rainbow Dragon whirs as your fists lift into a defensive position. The plasma cannon in Suguru’s right fist faintly hums as it prepares for battle, and the razor sharp sword retracted into your arm is cocked and ready to deploy. Settling your weight onto your toes, the three of you are ready for a fight.
The Black Flash shifts at your side, Nanami and Haibara preparing for their own skirmish. From behind you, the four pilots of the Jaegers on standby begin to approach your location. It’ll be a fair fight: two Jaegers for each Kaiju. A Class Five Kaiju will be a tough battle, but you know you’re ready now.
As the first monstrous head rips through the barrier between worlds, the Rainbow Dragon is already leaping forward with a metallic clang. The Jaeger’s chest twists, allowing you to catch the beast’s pincer jaws with your fist. Satoru, already in tune with your plan, reaches out with the third arm, grasping onto the Kaiju’s other clicking pincer.
With a heavy grunt, Suguru already has the plasma cannon locked and loaded. Pulling with all your might, you feel your arm strain against the strength of the Kaiju as it tries to pull away. Yanking its jaws apart, you hear Satoru shout.
“Now, Suguru!”
He doesn’t need to say it, already understanding the order inside your own heads, but Suguru follows through regardless. With a cry, the plasma cannon fires twice into the Kaiju’s rib cage. It’s not enough to kill, but it’s enough to stun. An inhuman roar escapes the hulking creature as the shots embed into its ribs. Glowing blue blood leaks into the water as skin is ruptured.
From behind you, you hear the sounds of the Black Flash engaging in their own battle, Nanami and Haibara’s voices blending together as they fight seamlessly together.
Another Jaeger, deemed the White Serpent, is not far behind you. Taking up your side, the Kaiju finally breaks free from your grip and knocks you away. You grunt heavily as the pressure pushes against your ribs. Falling onto your back, the Rainbow Dragon is quick to right itself onto its feet, torso twisting so that Satoru can push the three of you upright.
“White Serpent,” you shout into your headset, “Three-o’clock!”
The Mark-4 Jaeger twists at your cry, pushing its fists into the head of the Kaiju as it charges them head on. The weight of the beast is strong, pushing the Jaeger backwards in its attack. It struggled under the snapping pincer of its jaws, the pilot’s grunting as they strain to hold it back.
“Hold on!” Satoru commands, the three of you already pumping your legs to rejoin the fight. “Red, engage!”
Feeling his command send bolts of energy through your right arm, you click your hand into place. The razor sharp sword propels from the Rainbow Dragon’s right forearm, locking into position as you charge for the Kaiju. Muscles straining and legs pumping, you push off the ocean floor with a leap.
Propelled through the ocean’s current, you twist your arm with a mighty swing. Arching though the darkness, your sword cuts flesh, separating the Kaiju’s arm from its body. Landing roughly against the floor, you look up from your position on one knee and watch the beast let out another monstrous sound.
The White Serpent is knocked away with an angry swipe of the Kaiju’s claws. The pilots cry out, but are otherwise unharmed, Jaeger only sustaining minor damage to the hull.
As you shift to ready for another attack, you’re startled by a sharp cry from Haibara. “Rainbow Dragon, on your six!”
Broken from your focus, unable to twist out of the way, the second Kaiju’s jaws close around your Jaeger with a sharp snap. Suguru twists the Rainbow Dragon, forcing his body into place instead of Satoru’s. It’s the left arm that gets enclosed in the Kaiju’s jaws, not Satoru’s. The other Kaiju, having broken free from the Black Flash’s hold, charged from behind, latching onto your left arm in revenge for its own kind.
“Suguru!” You cry out, left arm enclosed in a blinding pain. The black-haired pilot lets out his own sharp cry, eyes screwing shut under the agonizing pain of the beast’s jaws. Chest seizing, a weight crushes your chest. This scene is too familiar. Red lights flash through the cockpit of the Rainbow Dragon as a portion of its armor is pierced. A warning alarm flashes as an oxygen tank ruptures, alerting you of the decreased levels.
This won’t end the same way your brother did.
Arms twisting, you cry out as you twist the Jaeger’s torso. Right arm locking into place, you force the blade of your sword upwards with all your strength. Satoru follows through, a click sounding as the plasma cannon on his own hand charges.
With a mighty grunt, you push hard, muscles staining under the combined weight of the Jaeger and the ocean’s pressure. The sword slides into the Kaiju’s throat with a grotesque sound.
“Satoru!”
You hold the Kaiju steady, sweet dripping into your suit as Satoru follows through. Despite the agonizing pain and rush of depleting oxygen, the white haired pilot engages his plasma cannon, firing three simultaneous rounds into the Kaiju’s chest. Unable to struggle away with your sword embedded into its throat, Satoru successfully pierces the monster’s ribcage with his aim.
You hold your breath as the beast falls quiet.
Monstrous, growing blood leaks into the water as the Kaiju goes still. Your sword retracts into the Rainbow Dragon’s forearm with a clang. Chest heaving and arm burning, you look back at Suguru. His eyes are droopy, panting as he tries to catch his breath. He’d taken the full force of the Kaiju’s jaw, his neurological link connected to the left arm before any other portion of the Jaeger.
You don’t speak, but you feel the rush of comfort from Suguru’s side of the link. He’s alright, he tries to communicate, for now. You nod, shifting back to look at the Kaiju.
“Six,” you grunt, not taking your eyes off the lumbering corpse at your feet. “Check for a pulse.”
A grin stretches onto Satoru’s features as the whirl of the plasma cannon fills your ears again. It’s a little animalistic, but you can’t resist the stutter of your heart at the expression on his face.
Satoru fires another two shots into the beast’s ribcage, splitting the Kaiju open and allowing its chest to collapse. It's grotesque, but well-deserved after the pain it brought Suguru.
“No pulse,” Satoru confirms when the Kaiju’s rib cage splits open and its heart is pierced with a final shot from his cannon.
Grinning, the white haired pilot turns back to Suguru. Alarms are still flashing, and you take a moment to scan the oxygen levels of the Jaeger. A tank ruptured, oxygen is decreasing fast.
“Satoru, if we’re going to do this – it has to be now.”
His gaze lingers on Suguru, ensuring that his lover is alright before the Rainbow Dragon twists and locks into place again.
“M’alright,” Suguru grunts, trying to shake off the needles that feel like they’re piercing his skin.Now facing the remaining three Jaegers, you watch as the Black Flash struggles against the weight of the final beast.
“Kento! Yu!” At Satoru’s command, the Black Flash pushes the Kaiju a step backwards with immense strength.
Your feet pump again, pushing against the weight of the machine. It follows your command flawlessly, forcing its body through the ocean floor. Nanami and Haibara struggle against the final Kaiju, standing before the edge of the Breach.
With your minds linking, you understand Satoru’s plan. Sliding the sword out once more, you continue to push forward, forcing the last amount of energy you have into the charge. Chest heaving and panting, you tire under the force, but you continue. Sweat drips from your forehead, but you ignore it.
Hardened eyes and teeth gritted, you reach the Black Flash. Sword pushing forward, you force the blade through the Kaiju’s chest as the other two arms of the Rainbow Dragon grasp onto its body. Your combined weight forces both your form and the Kaiju over the edge of the Breach.
Chest seizing as you fall, you continue pushing your sword through the beast with a guttural sound. It finally gives way, slicing upwards and through the monster’s ribs. Glowing blood leaking into the water, your two bodies fall through the Breach with a bated breath.
This has to work.
Eyes squeezing shut, the Kaiju in your grasp takes a final breath as your form finally breaks through the rift between worlds.
Huffing out a breath, you pant as you try to regain your standing in the cockpit. Head racing, you barely internalize the success as you turn to look at Suguru. His eyes are drifting shut, barely able to keep himself awake under the pain of his arm. Growing dizzy from the lack of oxygen, you look downwards, watching gas escape Suguru’s own oxygen line. It must have burst sometime in the fight.
Scanning the screens in front of you, you read Suguru’s vitals with a stuttering heart. His pulse is slowing, likely from the lack of air. Before you can move to help, Satoru is already pulling his own oxygen tube from his drive-suit, a sharp sound echoing through the silence as he pulls Suguru’s out. Exchanging the lines, Satoru sacrifices his own air for his lover, allowing Suguru to take a deep inhale as it reaches his lungs.
You fight off your own lingering pain, feeling your chest sink as the reality of the situation dawns on you. Inside an entire other world, it’s up to you and your two pilots to detonate the payload and destroy the Breach. However, with Suguru fading fast and Satoru giving up his own oxygen, you know it’s a difficult task.
Sucking in your breath, you begin the ejection procedure for Suguru’s pilot seat. Clicking away at the screen in front of you, you turn to Satoru.
“’Toru,” you mumble. You’re in his head, he already knows what you must be thinking. There’s an empty, viscous twisting in your stomach as your eyes soften.
When the white haired pilot turns to look at you, his eyes are hardened with a protective look. His chest tight and breath catching, he can already tell what you’re planning. “No.”
“Satoru, please,” you whisper. You have very little options now. There’s only so much you can do. With the other Kaiju finally taking in the Rainbow Dragon, you’re sure there’s monsters already closing on your location. As you drift through the water, red lights flash as the oxygen levels continue to drop.
Satoru shakes his head again, a horrible lump swelling in his throat. He can’t let you do this. It’s far too dangerous, and the idea of leaving you alone in this Jaeger, with Kaiju surrounding you and no help within sight, Satoru doesn’t think he could ever leave you alone now.
“I can’t -” he brokenly cries. Voice twisted with a watery grief, Satoru feels like his ribs may collapse into his chest. Heart aching and eyes burning as they hold back tears, Satoru nearly whimpers. His head is racing as he tries to conceive another idea – any other idea.
“Satoru,” you murmur, eyes soft and heart aching. “Let me do this – you know I can do this. I can detonate the payload alone, there’s not enough oxygen for the two of us.”
He shakes his head again, lungs seizing. Mind racing and breathing heavily, he locks eyes with you. Breath catching, there’s nothing but sincerity in your eyes. You can do this – he knows that. You’re an experienced pilot, perhaps even more than he, but he can’t force down the angry, terrified lump in his throat. It’s the thought of leaving you here.
Either way, Satoru has to leave one of you alone.
If he follows Suguru, it’s you he’s leaving in this dangerous, life-threatening mission. If he stays, he’s risking his own life and your little residual oxygen, leaving Suguru to escape to the surface on his own.
He can’t think.
There's too much happening, thoughts racing but he can’t seem to grasp onto any of them. Stomach twisting and eyes beginning to burn with tears, Satoru chokes on a sob.
“Take care of Suguru for me, ‘Toru,” you whisper. “Right now, he needs you more than me.” Your voice is quiet. It’s just you and your copilots now. Main Control can’t hear you, connection breaking when you disappeared through the Breach. It’s just you, Satoru and Suguru, who is fading fast.
“Promise me,” he nearly sobs, voice watery and catching in his throat. “Promise me you’ll follow right after me. You detonate the payload and you get out – please, promise me that.”
You shakily nod, a sob of your own choking your throat. You push back against it. If you cry now, Satoru will never leave your side, you know it. But Suguru needs him now, his injured body needs medical attention and he can’t escape his life pod alone when he hits the surface.
“I promise, ‘Toru,” you firmly reassure, soft eyes not leaving his own teary, crystalline ones. “We’re going to Okinawa, remember?”
Satoru nods fervently, another sob breaking through his chest and echoing through the cabin. You inhale sharply, trying to resist your own cry. When Satoru gives you the command, you lean onto the screen before you, shaky fingers clicking against it as you set up his own ejection procedure.
With alarms still flashing and red lights glaring into your eyes, you take a deep breath as the Suguru and Satoru’s pilot seats begin to lift. Tilting horizontally, you make eye contact with Suguru’s dark, hazy eyes once more as the life pod closes around him. You feel the Drift begin to leave your body as both pods are forced upwards, out of the Rainbow Dragon with a firm push. Link disconnecting, you’re left with the lingering emptiness and longing from both Satoru and Suguru’s connection.
Going limp, you finally let the sob escape your lips. Tears are forced out of your ducts as you turn back towards the front of the Jaeger. In front of you is nothingness. It’s a blank expanse of another world, only a few structures apparent in the midst of the void. You can tell there are Kaiju closing on your location, the radar screen blinking with light as they approach fast.
With a determined huff and hardened eyes, you move quickly. Losing oxygen fast, you start pulling up the detonation procedure, only to grunt in frustration when the screen presents an error. You cry out, shoving the screen away as you turn towards the manual override switch.
“Fuck!”
It’s on the other side of the cockpit.
You’ll have to disconnect from your seat to reach it. If you’re quick, you can race there and back, reaching the ejection seat before the detonation timer finishes. As soon as you hit the override, the countdown will begin, and you’ll have little time to escape through the Breach.
Breathing heavily and forcing the tears away, you push down the panic. You think of Suguru and Satoru. You imagine them on the beach, Megumi by their feet as they splash in the waves with a happy laugh. You long for the picture to become reality.
In another determined breath, you pull up the ejection screen, leaving it open so that it’s ready when you settle back into the seat. Looking back at the override switch, you nod your head and unlock your drive-suit.
With aching limbs and a heavy body, you force yourself to take quick steps to the side of the cockpit. You push against all thoughts of stopping, your sore frame begging you to give in, but you continue. Reaching the switch, you force the heavy safety frame away and take a final deep breath.
Thoughts of Megumi in your mind, you harden your eyes and yank with all your might.
As the switch flips, alarms begin blaring as the Rainbow Dragon informs you of the countdown. The numbers flash in front of your face as you push yourself back to the pilot’s seat. Body heavy and mind racing, you force your body to move faster than you ever have before. You can barely breathe. The lack of oxygen begins to push against your head, causing you to sway on your feet as you grow dizzy. A ringing pain pushes at your temples and your chest seems to grow even heavier.
Reaching the seat, you force your body back in, feeling the needles slide back into your spine, you’re already clicking at the screen. Confirming ejection, your body begins to raise towards the ceiling of the Jaeger. In the flashing red countdown, you hold your breath as the last glimpse of the Kaiju’s world reaches your eyes.
As the life pod reaches the ceiling, the Rainbow Dragon begins to eject your limp body as the countdown flashes its final three digits. You can’t hold your eyes open any longer. A heavy weight presses against your chest and your skull, and you can’t resist the drooping of your eyelids. With your heaving chest and dizzy mind, a final glimpse of the beach flickers across your closing lids.
When the countdown finally flashes ‘zero,’ you're already unconscious.
The moment his life pod reaches the water’s surface, Satoru is pulling open the hatch that exposes his body to Earth’s air. He inhales a deep breath, chest heaving as he savors the oxygen he greatly needs.
Gripping the edges of the pod, the inflatable sides holding itself above the water, Satoru scans the surface for other life pods. His heart is racing, and despite having all the oxygen he could ever need, it still feels like he can’t breathe. White-knuckles grip the metal ridges of his pod, the other clutches his chest.
As soon as a second pod reaches his vision, Satoru is already lifting his body with great difficultly and diving into the ocean’s depths. Inhaling a deep breath before he goes under, the crystalline-eyed man begins paddling towards Suguru's pod.
The lid breaks away, allowing Suguru to breathe deeply as he battles the grip of unconsciousness. His lungs finally expand, allowing the oxygen to filter through his chest. Long hair brushes against his cheeks, falling loose from its place tied atop his head, Suguru feels his arm throb painfully. Though there is not a flesh wound, the nerves have been electrocuted in the fight to regain control of the Rainbow Dragon.
Though the wound stings painfully, he can barely focus on the throbbing as he pulls himself upright. His mind is screaming. The last he remembers is a final glimpse of your sweet eyes as his life pod finally ejects from the Jaeger. He’s frantic, eyes now scanning the horizon line as he tries to find you and Satoru. Splashing is heard to his left, and Suguru whips his head over his shoulder to find white hair dripping with sea water.
“’Toru!” He cries, voice cracking.
Satoru manages to pull himself out of the water, lifting himself onto the side of the pod with a heavy breath. With minimal injuries and a wide-eyed look, Satoru feels his chest caving in. He’s barely settled onto the raft when his hands are pulling Suguru’s body into his. Hands fumble against skin as a shuddering sob leaves Satoru’s lungs. Suguru responds with a weak sound of his own, bringing his uninjured hand upwards to clutch Satoru close. There's relief in their grasp, but it’s not enough.
Pressing his face into his partner’s neck, Satoru allows a few tears to leak onto Suguru’s skin. They’re both shaking, feeling weaker than ever before as they clasp each other tight. Suguru’s hand wraps around the back of Satoru’s neck, pulling him as close as he can. Both panting, the lovers lean into each other, too weak to hold themselves upright without the support of the other.
When they find the strength to pull away, Satoru presses a wet kiss against Suguru’s forehead, inhaling deeply as tears continue to fall from his eyes. His watery gaze begins scanning the ocean’s surface, counting the seconds as he searches for the third pod.
Suguru can feel each second stretch into minutes as his good arm pulls Satoru’s form tight. They're both looking now, breaths short and hearts racing, an ache sinks into their stomachs. It rolls through their gut, feeling sick as they continue to search.
The faint sound of Main Control is screaming questions into their earpieces, but neither pilot can focus long enough to listen to their frantic voices. There's too much happening: the suspense of not knowing whether the Breach has collapsed, nor if the Black Flash and the other Jaegers escaped. However, the only thought pressing at the forefront of their minds is you.
Satoru knows you would follow him.
You promised him, and he knows that you don’t take promises lightly.
All they can do is wait. Worrying his bottom lip in his teeth, Suguru can feel his pulse in his throat. Satoru’s no different, his fingers fiddling in the strands of Suguru’s hair as he pants.
The second the third pod breaks the surface, Satoru’s hands leave Suguru’s skin. His mind is in shambles, heart in his throat as he leans forward and dives back below the water. Suguru is not far behind.
Despite his injuries, there’s too much protective concern in his head. No part of him can resist the longing ache that pushes against his ribs. He has to reach you – has to see the light reach your eyes and feel your heart race under your skin. Pushing against his wounds, Suguru continues to swim in your life pod’s direction.
Satoru reaches your side first.
He can’t seem to breath; you haven’t pulled the hatch that opens your pod. Something is wrong, and Satoru feels as though his world may be collapsing before him.
Pulling himself out of the water, he leans over the window of the raft that allows him to take a glimpse of your features. His world momentarily stops when your eyes don’t open. Scrambling for the latch on the outside of the pod, Satoru yanks on the lever just as Suguru is pulling himself onto the edge.
With a hiss, the top of the pod slides open.
Shouting is still ringing in their ears, but it seems to quiet. There's a stillness in the air as Suguru reaches forward. There’s a horrible twisting in his chest that feels as though his heart is being pulled from the cavity. An empty void will be the only thing left if he doesn’t see your pretty eyes open under his gaze.
A broken, mournful sound echoes through the silence of the empty ocean atmosphere. It comes from Suguru’s chest. Black hair falling into his eyes, Suguru can’t hold back the sobs that leave his lungs. They’re angry, forlorn in a way neither pilot can describe.
Satoru feels his own tiny whine escape his lips. For some reason, he can’t seem to move. Frozen, hands hovering over your still body, Satoru’s whole world stills. He's not quite sure if he’s breathing, but his wide eyes can’t leave your form.
You’re so limp. Eyes shut, there’s no steady rise and fall of your chest. The notion makes Suguru shake harder. You look so empty now.
“Hey, Pretty,” Suguru whimpers, voice barely loud enough for Satoru to hear. “S’us – S’Suguru and Satoru.”
He brushes his trembling finger over your cheek, feeling the delicate skin beneath his own. When there's no response, Suguru falls forward, body unable to keep him upright. He feels so weak, so empty as he cries out. Pressing his forehead against your drive-suit, he longs to hear the pulsing of your heart in his ears.
Satoru finally manages to pull himself from his shocked haze. His hands furiously shaking, he places one against your hair as he begins to weep.
“C’mon Sunshine,” he manages to whisper. “Ya’ promised us.”
The combined weight of their unsurmountable grief begins to settle over them, a vacant hold filling the place in their heart where you used to reside.
“Gojo,” a voice echoes in the pilot’s ears. It’s quiet, tone stern as Satoru strains to hear it. He can’t manage a reply, but he tries to listen regardless.
“Is there a pulse?”
Suguru feels his heart seize. All breath leaving his lungs, his limbs go lax at the question. He’s unable to reach forward, too scared that if he lays his fingers on your pulse, his fears will finally be realized. If there’s no steady thump against his hand, Suguru thinks he may finally collapse.
He swears he thinks this is how Toji Fushiguro must have felt.
When his wife was pulled from the Jaeger, the grief must have been so heavy on his shoulders. The pain of losing his one and only must have pushed him so far into his head, that even his son couldn’t pull him out. When Toji Fushiguro finally succumbed to the agony, both he and his Jaeger were destroyed.
Suguru thinks he understands Toji now.
When Satoru finally drops his shaking hand to your pulse point, his long fingers trembling against your neck, the seconds bleed into hours. Every moment is silent agony as Suguru waits. Finally pressing his fingers into your pulse with a delicate touch, all time seems to stop.
A beat passes. Then another, and Satoru feels nausea pressing acid into his throat.
Another second of anguish passes.
Then, Satoru lets out a shattered, painful sound. It rips right from his chest as he leans forward and pushes his forehead into Suguru’s shoulder. Limbs shaking, Gojo weeps out his answer, “Yes.”
And time seems to start once more.
Suguru’s shoulders sag in relief, letting another sob of relief echo through his being before he’s leaning upright. His movement startles Satoru, but he can’t resist the urge to feel more of your skin against his. Pulling your torso out of the pod, Suguru lets it fall back against his chest. Your body pressed into his front, Satoru sags over your legs with his own torso pushed against yours.
Amidst them, there’s so little space, Satoru swears not even air exists between you.
With Suguru’s arms now wrapped around your waist, he buries his head in your hair and squeezes you tight. Satoru follows, his own shaking limbs stretching over you and his other lover as he lets his body finally collapse in relief. Suguru’s good hand slides down your arm, slithering to reach the pulse point at your wrist. He has to feel it himself.
When the faint beat of your heart throbs against his skin, Suguru’s lips press a faint kiss to your neck with unwavering relief.
“You’re squeezing me too tight.”
The tiny voice sounds between them. It’s a little sound, barely heard over the ones of their own cries, but Satoru immediately pulls himself away. Head lifting from your chest, his wide, crystalline eyes take in your drooping ones.
Now awake, Suguru finally feels the warmth of your skin pressed into his neck. Tired eyes finally open, he finds himself deflating further into you as if there was more space to fill. He huffs out a short laugh in between his sobs, your teasing words finally sticking home in his head. Satoru finds himself following, a chuckle of disbelief shaking his ribs.
You feel the sun’s warm rays on your skin and pull a faint smile onto your lips as you take in the beauty of the Earth’s domain, finally free of the rift between worlds.
Before any of you can speak, Satoru is pushing his hand behind your neck and yanking you forward. Your weak cry of surprise is muffled by his lips. Wet and messy, Satoru kisses you with every nerve in his body alight. Tears still falling from his cheeks, he sighs a breath against your mouth and savors the feeling of your skin in his hands. Without a beat of hesitation, you respond in kind – your own mouth moving to return Satoru’s emotional kiss. Heart swelling with the influx of genuine affection, you press your hand against Satoru’s stomach and let a breathy, pleased sigh filter into his mouth.
Neither of you can think to end the warmth of your kiss, but Suguru is already pulling you away. With his fingers under your chin, he turns your head towards him and scans your features for any hint of discomfort. When he finds none, he too leans forward to connect your lips with his own.
Suguru’s kiss is lighter than Satoru’s, but it’s no less meaningful. He’s gentle, pulling your chin forward to feel every inch of you against him. Noses knocking and salty lips sighing breathy sounds, you can’t imagine a more perfect feeling. Satoru presses into your other side, the weight of his body grounding you as you let your other hand brush against Suguru’s cheek. Pushing a stand of hair aside, you push your lips further into his with a pleased sound.
When you pull away, Satoru is already moving to kiss his lover with the same amount of passion as before. You allow yourself to sag into their weight, closing your eyes to skin into their bliss as they press into each other.
As the three of you collapse into weak laughter and the steady beat of the wings of a helicopter reach your ears, you can’t imagine being anywhere else. Pressed between Satoru and Suguru and sinking into absolute bliss, you shake with laughter as the white haired pilot finally speaks.
“You fucker!” he whines as he presses his head into your chest once more. “Don’t ever do that again!”
Hot, white sand presses in between your toes as you take in the beauty of Okinawa island. Six weeks have passed, and after sufficiently celebrating the program’s victory, Suguru and Satoru sweep you off your feet.
They pick up you and Megumi, pulling the two of you to the airport with wide grins and hushed words. When you finally step food onto the beach, Megumi’s mouth falls open in an awed expression. His dark eyes seem to sparkle from his place in Satoru’s arms. Squirming lightly, your lover sets him on his feet.
The three of you watch with giggles escaping your lips as Megumi races to the water’s edge. Sticking his toes in the teal blue waves, your officially-adopted son turns back to look at you.
“Okaasan!” he cries happily, racing back to you with a happy smile. Satoru and Suguru lean into each other with a giddy feeling in their chests as you and your sun wander back to the wet sand.
You point out a shell to your son, smiling brightly when his wondrous, wide eyes feel the smooth material under his fingers. He clutches it tight, looking up at you with a grin. Turning away to find more, you look back at your partners. Waving them closer, you drop a little lower to flick Suguru with a wave of salty water when he’s close enough.
With an indignant shout, Suguru grins wickedly. Megumi watches you squeal, laughing when Suguru lunges for you. With a smile of his own, Megumi giggles a sweet sound as his mother is chased by her lover.
“Suguru, no!” You laugh, racing to hide behind Satoru. Your other lover stands tall, feeling more light than he thinks he’s ever been.
“You started this, Pretty,” Suguru teases, his sultry eyes scanning you from behind his lover’s back. “I’m just finishing it!”
Satoru laughs, crossing his arms over his chest as he feels your hands grasp the fabric of his shirt to hide yourself. Heart warm, Satoru gives Suguru a knowing look. He’s met with a devilish smirk, the two scheming between themselves.
Satoru is silent when he ducks quickly, dropping to his knees to allow Suguru ample distance to grab you. You cry out, moving to lunge away, but Suguru is much quicker.
You squeal once more as Suguru's hands slide over your waist. With muscles honed from years as a pilot, the long haired man has no trouble lifting your body over his shoulder. He hums a sultry sound as Satoru laughs. Standing straight, he heads back to the water with your squirming body in his grasp.
“Megumi, save me!”
Your son giggles and shakes his head, enjoying his parents laugh and playing without a care in the world.
When Suguru reaches the water, he swings you back over his shoulder and unceremoniously drops the both of you beneath the waves. Your laughter is cut short, submerged beneath the warmth of the waves. Reemerging with a gasp, your wet lashes bat against your cheeks as you grasp for Suguru.
From the beach, Satoru is sneaking up behind Megumi, attempting to muffle his own scheming laughter. You watch the white haired man pluck Megumi up from the sand, loving the sound of their laughter. Then, Satoru is pulling your son into the waves next to you, the four of you sitting in the shallow waves together with bright smiles and happy hearts.
A few hours later, when the four of you are dried off and relaxing in the little cottage you’ve rented, Satoru slides up behind you. His hands on your hips, his strong arms pull your back into his chest with a hum. You sigh into his embrace, leaning back into his touch with a stuttering heart.
You’ve decided that no matter how many times he or Suguru touch you, their skin will still light a fire to every nerve ending you possess Their touch brings a tingle to your body, twisting your stomach with butterflies and sending a giddy feeling into your chest.
“Where’s Suguru and Megumi?” You question, eyes falling shut as Satoru presses a feather light kiss to your neck. His hair tickles against your skin, but you refuse to break away from his grasp.
“Hmm,” Satoru sings, “Nanami and Haibara called. Yuuji wants Megumi to spend the night at their place.”
The two retired pilots followed your trip to Okinawa, renting a cabin not too far from yours. You mentally thanked your old friends, wondering how you got so lucky.
When Satoru presses closer, you can feet the hint of something throbbing and pressing against your back. His pants are tight, but it’s no surprise to you – Satoru is constantly horny. Muffling a laugh, you turn in his arms to face him.
“Ah -” you murmur into his chest as the two of you rock side to side. “So we have the house to ourselves, huh?”
Satoru hums again, his hands slowly dropping lower as you move. “M’rubbing off on you, Sunshine. I swear you’re as insatiable as me.”
You grin, a sultry smirk pulling on your lips. Dropping your own hand low, you follow the line of Satoru’s abs with light fingers. Head dropping back in a groan, the sound allows arousal to collect in the space between your thighs. A bolt of seductive heat turns into a steady hum. You let your fingers sink a little lower, brushing against the edge of Satoru’s pants.
Before you can move any further, there’s a dark hum from the doorway.
Freezing in place, the sound of Geto Suguru’s deep, salacious voice echoes from the doorway, “Getting started without me, Pretty Girl? Awfully naughty of you –”
You nearly whine at his words, sinking into the dominant aura Suguru's exudes over the room. You don’t have to turn over your shoulder as Suguru is already pressing his chest against your back. His defined muscles and tightened pants push tight into you and you sigh a pleased sound.
Suguru mirthfully chuckles, looking up from your form to meet Satoru’s bright eyes. As always, the two connect on another wavelength, already planning their next movements in their head with confident smirks.
Suguru drags a finger down your spine, his touch sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. Oh, how he loves to see you shake under him.
“S’it, Pretty baby,” he sings as you melt into him.
Satoru hums again, pushing you tighter into your other lover as he drops his head to suck marks into your skin. Pulling at the hem of your - his shirt, actually - he fiddles with the material with his fingers. A whine escapes your lips as you arch into their touch, arousal collecting between your legs.
“Don’t worry, Angel. We’ve got ya’” Satoru murmurs into your skin. “’Gonna fuck you so good, My Love.”
Suguru makes an acknowledging sound, beginning to pull the shirt from your skin so he can feel the heat of your skin against his. When it falls to the floor, his own laying beside it, he lets out an appreciative sound as his fingers lift to flick gently against your uncovered breasts. Chuckling as you whine when he tugs, Suguru presses closer.
“S’right,” Suguru purrs. “Wanna ruin you tonight, Pretty. ‘Gonna let us?”
The rapid, consenting nod that follows shortly after is all the affirmation the two need. Tugging you towards the bed with a laugh, your little world begins to turn on its own, finally complete.
bonus:
reader: I’m so fed up with others not finding me intimidating!
reader, pining satoru to the wall and looking over at suguru: do you feel threatened?
suguru and satoru: no
reader: then what do you feel?
suguru and satoru: ...
suguru and satoru: horny.
a/n: holy shit. this is way longer than I intended it to be but I’m so glad I finished it. I really hope y’all enjoy this one!!
#gojo satoru x reader#getou suguru x reader#geto angst#geto x reader#satosugu x reader#geto x gojo#geto x gojo x reader#gojo x you#gojo satoru x oc#Gojo Satoru x y/n#polyamory#jujitsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen au#pacific rim au#jjk x reader#gojo satoru fluff#geto suguru fluff#gojo smut#geto smut#jjk fanfic#jjk scenario
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OH OKAY I WASN'T EXPECTING THAT
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drive - part i
summary: "Despite your intensely professional appearance, you didn’t seem out of place in the slightest. And by god, you were breathtaking.”
rating: explicit for sexual content (18+ mdni)
pairing: eventual frankie morales x f!reader
word count: 3.2k
warnings: pseudo enemies-to-lovers, light sexism, author pretends they understand car terminology, potentially ooc!, no use of y/n, male masturbation.
notes: i love love frankie <3 thank you to @tremendum for beta'ing :') this is my first attempt at nsfw content – please feel free to tell me what you think!!!!
tagging: @sebsxphia @magpie-to-the-morning - pls let me know if you'd like to be added/removed!
She was beautiful. ‘84? ‘85? Frankie couldn’t remember what the sheet Pope passed him had said when he’d looked over it briefly—just to make sure he was opening the hood of the right car. Besides, whatever was written there probably didn’t matter. In Frankie’s experience, the customers never really knew what was wrong or needed fixing. Sure, the type to waltz in with a vintage, manual BMW at least knew something beyond imitating the sound the engine would make when they’d try and go over 75 (“Look man, I just need her sounding right before I drive down to the Vineyard next weekend with the wife.”) but Frankie liked inspecting the cars himself. Pope had once told him he knew cars, helicopters—machinery better than people.
Maybe he was right. Machinery always had a response, you could always figure out what was making it tick, what was making the wheel stick when you turned too hard to the right, why the brakes made that sound when it was about to rain. People were often the same, but that’s why Frankie liked cars more than people. They talked to him.
Honestly, he almost felt bad for the car in front of him–whichever asshole suit had picked her up clearly wasn’t treating her right. She desperately needed a new paint job and a really good work over with a clay bar. There was a ding in the front bumper that seemed like it had come from a bit of overzealous joyriding, and he had that feeling in his gut that shining a blacklight around the interior would reveal a shitty Jackson Pollock imitation.
“Well, we’ll see what we can do. Frankie’s our best guy, he’ll take good care of her.” Pope’s voice rang throughout the shop, drifting into the back.
“I appreciate it. One of the partners recommended you, so I have high hopes.”
A woman’s voice. Frankie wondered whose wife or assistant that would be, they had regulars but none with that voice. He turned around slightly, attempting to keep his gaze hidden behind the hood. And there you were.
Pope was taller than you, but he could tell that what you lacked in height you made up for in aura. You were looking Pope directly in the eye, arms crossed loosely, one hip cocked. Despite your intensely professional appearance, you didn’t seem out of place in the slightest. And by god, you were breathtaking.
Frankie never felt terribly insecure about his looks–he knew he was attractive; maybe not as suave as Pope, but women found him charming. Frankie had had a string of girlfriends and lovers since high school, some serious, some not. More than one had found cause to argue with him about the amount of women who pursued him even while he was in a relationship, but even still, that part never really made sense to him. But when he looked at you, he knew he was looking at someone who men would fall over themselves to hold your attention for even a moment.
He felt his feet moving before he registered that it was happening, and realized he was making his way to the shop front. Frankie didn’t enjoy talking to customers, he told himself, but he wanted to know what your boss had done to bring him such a beautiful car in such condition. That was why he found himself pushing open the door that connected the shop to the workshop.
“The man of the hour!” Pope exclaimed, clapping him on the back, “This is Frankie.”
“Nice to meet you, Frankie. I hope you’ll take good care of her, she’s treasured dearly.” Your voice was rich and velvety, and the brief smile that graced your lips made him feel like he was staring at the sun.
But he had to go and open his mouth. “I’ll certainly do my best. But I have to ask, what on earth did the owner do to put that ding in the bumper? I’m sure he was having fun but it’s gnarly.”
It was like a bucket of ice water being thrown over a campfire–you raised an eyebrow and pressed your lips into a flat line. Pope inhaled (or exhaled– Frankie couldn’t tell), all he could hear was the sound of him holding his breath. Fuck.
“Well, I don’t know exactly what the previous owner was up to, but I don’t plan on joyriding. I bought her secondhand.”
“Oh right, of course. My apologies.” Frankie could feel the flush spread from the base of his neck to the tops of his ears and onto his face– leave it to him to stick his foot in his mouth in front of the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his life. Universe: 1, Frankie: 0.
Pope coughed lightly, clearly attempting to draw your attention away from Frankie and towards a stack of forms sitting on the counter. The moment had been broken, and Frankie at least had enough sense to quietly excuse himself back into the shop where he probably belonged.
Okay, scratch everything he had ever said about having any sort of charm with women. Ever. At all. Every piece of attention he had ever received must’ve been a fluke because only someone without any sense at all would ever manage to put their foot in their mouth as hard as he just had. And it wasn’t the best thing to admit, but it was made all the worse by the fact that you were incredibly stunning.
Maybe he’d just never speak again.
-
“¿Qué pasó, hermano? What the hell were you thinking?” Pope’s voice echoed throughout the shop, reaching Frankie even though he’d attempted to tuck himself away under the Ferrari that he had to service every six months. “Best looking woman I’ve seen in months and you manage to say the stupidest shit within 30 seconds of seeing her face.”
Frankie tried to keep himself hidden without responding, but failed to remember that Pope could find him any place he attempted to hide in the shop.
Never a moment of peace, even in mortification, Frankie thought bitterly to himself.
“Hey.” There was Pope’s face, inches away from his own, his eyes alight with mirth, clearly taking plenty of joy from Frankie’s embarrassment.
He prickled at the close scrutiny–under a car was supposed to be a safe space for Frankie, and yet. He ignored Pope for the moment, unwilling to face exactly what he’d done. It wasn’t like he had burnt down the shop or permanently ruined its reputation but there was a particularly bad sting about embarrassing himself in front of a beautiful woman.
Pope stood, clearly not looking to spend as long as it took to get Frankie’s attention hunched to one side. He rapped his knuckles on the side of the car twice, indicating he was deep in thought despite Frankie’s determined silence. Frankie maintained a straight face and tried to bring himself back to the headspace where rubbing the dirt from the nooks and crannies of a stupidly expensive car was the most interesting thing in the world. Perfection, til it shined, til he could eat off of–
“I honestly don’t think it was that bad. I think there’s hope for you yet, Fish.” Pope’s face was back.
“I basically told her to get back into the kitchen.”
“Oh, come on! Don’t be so dramatic.” Pope had rounded the Ferrari and was tugging on the leg of Frankie’s overalls, slowly pulling him into the light, “Besides, you’re the one who knows what he’s doing. Regardless, she’ll have to play nice when she picks it up, and you can make your move then.”
Frankie felt his eyebrows touch his hairline, “Make my move? Pope, be serious.”
“I am serious.” The smile that was threatening to split his face in half said otherwise. Asshole.
A beat passed as Frankie held eye contact, hoping the incredibly unimpressed look on his face would convey exactly what he thought of the situation. Pope broke first, bursting into laughter, the kind that shook his whole body and would make him complain of a sore stomach later.
“Oh god, Fish, I think the last time I’ve seen a woman look at you like that was when that one girl at the bar thought you were cat-calling her instead of Benny.” Pope finally finished laughing, sucking in a shaky breath and wiping the tears from his eyes. “Look, I apologized to her once and explained the whole wives-slash-assistants situation, and she just rolled her eyes and said she ‘got it’. Just call her yourself and apologize, offer to walk her through the inspection when you’re done.”
In all honesty, that wasn’t the worst plan he had ever come up with (no, really, Frankie had PTSD from not just one of the others). At the very least Frankie could do a little groveling, and hope you didn’t think he was the type to tell you you belonged in a kitchen. Plus, it would mean that if you said yes, talking about cars was one of the things in life Frankie really knew, so you could see he wasn’t a complete bumbling fool. Wishful thinking made his mind wander to the thought of you actually impressed. Hey, if you loved cars you clearly cared.
-
By the time he got home, Frankie felt like he’d been through the wringer emotionally and physically. He hated to admit it, but spending all those years in the military, and then all those years afterwards contorting himself so he could work on cars was really taking a toll on his body. Sure, it was rewarding and he thought he understood a bit what doctors felt like with their diagnoses and treatments and whatnot, but at the same time there were so many days where he thought he might just give up and ask Pope for a spot behind the desk. Maybe a title like Manager. He knew the second he asked, he would get it, without all the usual ribbing. They all needed a goddamn break, and despite his jovial demeanor Pope really cared about their little group. The door was always open to Benny when he decided fighting wasn’t for him anymore, and they made good enough money that Frankie could afford to relax a little bit. But he was just Type A enough that the thought of a desk job made him want to scream. So he kept at it.
Going through the motions of his evening routine, Frankie thanked him from Sunday for having the foresight to pack away leftovers, and himself from that morning for making the bed so he would be able to slide into neatly tucked covers. Some habits from the military died hard, others much easier.
After a quiet dinner and a much needed shower, Frankie decided there was no point staying up with a beer or trying to exercise his mind by reading and called it a night. But despite the exhaustion from the day, his mind was racing. He kept replaying the mere thirty-second interaction he’d had with you, changing what he said each time to try and imagine a different reaction, a different outcome. What if he’d been smooth and made a joke about your car, would you have laughed? What did your laugh sound like?
It was at that moment that he realized he knew very little about you. He’d gone back and read the file that accompanied your keys– referred by someone from the law firm that constantly sent them new customers. It was then that it had hit him, likely exactly who he’d suggested was a mere assistant. Frankie didn’t know a lot about the law, but he suspected that having enough money to throw around to purchase a vintage BMW (even if not for joyriding) meant that you were senior enough for it to matter.
Frankie always knew he had a thing for women with power. When a high school girlfriend bossed him around a little in bed a few months into their young relationship after a bad fight about some nonsense, he’d felt his head get a little floaty. It was really hammered home during Basic when a female sergeant had laid into him and a group of his buddies at the time. He didn’t remember much about the incident, just that he wasn’t really involved. In his ever quiet, ever observant demeanor he’d just managed to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. But that doesn’t really matter when you’re in the military. You’re part of the group. Your individualism is systematically taken away from you– the haircuts, the uniforms, the orders.
So when he stood in a line with these eight other knuckleheads, arms clasped tightly behind his back, feet shoulder width apart, the bead of sweat that had run down his back wasn’t really about the temperature in the room. The way he felt the need to swallow repeatedly from how dry his mouth was wasn’t about his lack of hydration in the twenty-four hours prior.
Almost embarrassingly, he couldn’t even remember the woman’s face. She’d had her hair slicked back in a tight bun, military issue. She had a powerful voice but wasn’t yelling. The talking-to was stern, filled with exasperated threats and warnings of what would happen to them if there was a “next time”.
But he remembered how she had made him feel. The way her voice commanded his presence–he’d felt the urge to drop to his knees and make the situation right however he could, however she might let him. He’d wanted to obey and continue obeying.
And then there was you; the way you had commanded the space around you, looked Pope right in the eyes, not shying away. The images that floated to the front of his mind were unwitting, he definitely hadn’t invited himself to linger on what you looked like. The way you held yourself, the flow of your hair, the straight set of your shoulders as if you were trying to take up more space than you physically could. Your suit was perfectly ironed, crisp front folds in the slacks, the sleeves breaking just right over your slender wrists. Your eyes were piercing.
They had women come into the shop all the time, but again, they were usually assistants or wives. It seemed like you knew that. And when Frankie had opened his stupid mouth, insinuating that your boss or your husband was the one who had hit the front bumper, the stare you had leveled him with felt like it had flayed him open. There again was that feeling bubbling to the surface, of wanting to be good, to obey, to make it right. The moment you opened your mouth it was over for him–the smooth lilt of your voice could read the morning news and he’d absorb every word, hang on every syllable.
Frankie kicked his feet in the sheets a bit, willing himself to focus on falling asleep. But like most things in life, the more you tell yourself not to think about the forbidden fruit, the more it’ll be all that’s on your mind. And true to that, Frankie could see nothing in his mind’s eye but you.
Something tugged in his gut, and he tried to ignore it. It wasn’t right, but he couldn’t help himself. He could feel just how hard he was, and he knew that it didn’t matter if he ignored it, he wouldn’t be able to will this one away. Besides, it would just be one time, just to get these thoughts of you out of his system and then it would be fine.
Slipping a hand into his sweatpants he grasped himself tightly. Fuck. If there was one benefit from working with your hands, Frankie had to admit the edge of roughness from his calluses while touching himself was definitely it. It was just on the right side of painful, and Frankie let his mind wander.
Just this once.
He would apologize–he would be heartfelt and sincere, let you know how sorry he was. He’d call you and beg for forgiveness and you’d offer him a “we’ll see”, before hanging up. You’d arrive and watch him, unimpressed as he gave you the rundown. And inevitably, he’d mess up.
“First making me out to be just someone’s wife, someone’s assistant, now you can’t even explain this to me? I wonder what Santiago keeps you around for.” You’d raise an eyebrow at him, expectant.
And Frankie would show you, he’d show you exactly why people keep him around (maybe not Santiago, but)–because if there was one thing that Frankie loved, aside from cars and an ice cold beer, it was eating pussy. Never mind all the jokes during Basic about how big his dick was, what Frankie really took pleasure from was going down on women. The first time a girlfriend had let him, he thought he’d gone to heaven.
Something tightened in his chest as Frankie thought about what it would be like to go down on you. He couldn’t help but imagine you in the backseat of that expensive car of yours, work slacks tossed somewhere in a haste to remove them, eyes wild and lips swollen from kissing.
Stopping the movements of his hand momentarily, he reached into the drawer of his nightstand to pull out a well-loved bottle of lube. In his rush, he squeezed out a far-too-generous amount, and all of a sudden instead of the deliciously dry slide of his hand around his cock, everything was soaking wet. Sheets be damned, he tightened his grip and twisted his wrist just in that way he really liked.
Fuck, he would love to get his mouth on you, to hear the sounds you’d make as he ate you out for his own pleasure.
He had to admit that beyond the part of him that wanted to submit to a powerful woman like you, there was also the part of him that knew he would revel in seeing you on your knees for him, cockdrunk and begging for more. You’d have that lipstick on, but it would be just on the right side of smudged from kissing him and licking your lips. Your mascara would have run just a bit, enough to make you look messy and fucked out, that if you looked in the mirror you’d flush from how unkempt, how unruly you looked.
Before he could stop himself, an image flashed in his minds’ eye: you, bent over the back seat of your flashy car, legs on the ground on your tippy toes in a pair of high heels, skirt rucked up over your ass. He had one hand on the back of your neck, pressing your cheek into the worn leather seats as your head turned to the side to give your room to breathe, and more importantly, beg. Your panties were wet and sticking to you, and the inner parts of your thighs were shining with your arousal.
It was the thought of tucking your panties to the side and gently pushing into your tight, wet, heat that sent Frankie over the edge. He grunted as his cum shot up his chest and his mind filled with static.
He lay there for just a moment, just letting the orgasm wash over him like a tidal wave. In the aftermath, there was the tipped over bottle of lube on the nightstand, a soiled t-shirt, and just enough guilt to make him want to call in sick.
Fuck.
#frankie morales#frankie morales x reader#francisco morales#triple frontier#triple frontier fic#frankie catfish morales#santiago pope garcia#pope garcia#frankie morales fic#no use of y/n
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