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sleepyangelkami · 5 months

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MAKE IT BETTER e.williams

☆ WORD COUNT - 2.7K

ELLIE WILLIAMS X FEM!READER

☆ SUMMARY - patrol gone wrong, bumping into the wrong people and landing yourself in a situation where you can do nothing but cry and hope that your girlfriend and saviour can make everything better. her empty promises remain unsure on whether she can truly fix it or not.

☆ WARNINGS - guns, violence, blood, gunshot wound, angst, crying, swearing, gore, use of pet names, tinsey mention of smut (blink n it's gone), use of 'good girl' but not in a sexual way, intended lower case, happy ending guys dw!! nothing I write is ever proofread 🩷

your pants were heavy, blood gushing between your finger tips as your breaths heaved and your eyes blinked.

fuck, fuck, fuck.

your girlfriend was nowhere to be seen. weird, she was with you possibly five minutes ago. you had gotten separated when you needed her the most, as soon as she left your line of view, everything turned to shit. your wound bled at an alarming pace, blood oozing out between your fingers which desperately hung to your side in attempts to soothe it.

"where are you?" came the voice of a man, the man in which that had impaled your stomach with his knife already. there was no way you could escape him. he was too fast, too slick, too sly. "you can hide all you want but that wound is gonna slow you down." his voice sounded almost playful, as if he were having fun. perhaps he was, perhaps this was his idea of a good time. "i'm gonna find you eventually..." you could hear his footsteps walking around. "that's okay, i like a good chase."

the thought of him winning, grabbing a hold of you and doing whatever it was he was going to do, your stomach churned. you felt dizzy, partially at the thought, partially due to the blood around your stomach.

how did you even end up here?

"please, els." you were begging now, eyes big and glossy. how could ellie refuse? if there was one thing ellie could call a 'weakness' though she refused she had any, it was you.

she sighed, rolling her eyes. "sweetheart, why do you wanna come on patrol with me?" patrol could mean many things. it could mean going to each checkpoint and ticking off the boxes that there was no suspicious activity while holding hands and skipping. it could mean fighting a bunch of clickers while you yelled and stumbled about. ellie particularly hated taking down zombies when you were around. you were bashful, clumsy. sure, she loved you more than anything in the world but that was just it. she loved you so she didn't take her eyes off you, making sure you were safe rather than taking down the stalker running at her. sometimes, patrol meant being bent over one of the tables in the station, taking her strap like the good girl you were. patrols were never the same.

whatever would come of this patrol, you didn't care for there was only one thing on your mind. "wanna spend time with you." snuggling up against her.

as the air grew colder, you grew needier. there was nothing you loved more than being able to spend time with your lover especially in the cold winters of jackson. whether that was on patrol or snuggled together in your bed, you just wanted her.

her lips had pressed a chaste kiss to the crown of your head, smiling into your hair. "you're cute." you were naive, you knew it but you had ellie williams wrapped around your little finger. and she'd never know.

you stuck your head out from her chest, big grin dancing on your lips. "so can i go?" excitement bubbling in your chest. you hated it when ellie left you alone to go on patrol. more often than not you'd spend your time cooped up in the house, alone. ellie had begged dina and jesse to come get you multiple times, bring you outside for some fresh air or simply join you in the company of your home. but it didn't matter if jesus himself walked into your living room. as long as your girlfriend was away at patrol, you were a pouting mess. which is why you often opted for being alone. you would hate to think that you were making dina and jesse sad.

she rolled her eyes, lips turning up at their corners. "I guess, you can." and she heard that squeal that erupted from you, giggling as you jumped up and down. she could only roll her eyes again, though her smile was growing wider. she loved the days when you smiled, she hated the days when you cried. "c'mon, baby, we gotta go find your scarf." the white one in which has been lost for months now.

"you're not gonna find it." you shook your head as she searched the room, you had seated yourself up on the desk, legs dangling as your tongue danced across the lollipop between your fingers. when ellie said 'we have to find' she really means 'i' for she wouldn't dare let you lift a finger. if she had it her way, she'd be the one holding the lollipop to your mouth.

"yeah?" sticking her head out from the box she had been searching. her hair was sticking up in all directions. she left for patrol early in the morning, there was no point looking then. "why not?"

you shrugged your shoulders, tongue swirling around to taste the strawberry. " 's not gonna be there, been lookin' for ages." when you 'looked' for things, you barely skimmed, standing up and eyes bouncing off every wall in the room. you'd have given up in seconds.

there was a smirk dancing on her lips as her feet moved her to where you sat on the desk. her fingers reached up, taking the lollipop from your hold. "maybe you haven't been looking hard enough, angel." her tongue fell onto the strawberry sweet, swirling around. you stared, hypnotised. there was something about the way she carried herself, that small, almost hidden smirk and the way she spoke. it made your stomach do cartwheels. but as you watched her tongue swirl around the lollipop that was only in between your lips a second ago, you found your thighs clenching together. how was it that she was the only one who made you feel this way? when she passed it back to you, your eyes were still strained on her lips and the little freckles above it, your stomach swooned and your head suddenly felt rather ditzy. you couldn't pull your eyes away from her lips. until, that was, she pulled out the scarf from behind her back. "found it." she spoke, before her lips met your own.

the lollipop wasn't the only thing you sucked that night (i'm so sorry)

you heaved out breaths, unsure of what to do. your brows were knit together in worry. "come on, angel, make this easy for me, won't you?" you squeezed your eyes shut closed. you wanted to be home by the fire with ellie, you wanted to be away from this man that made your hands shake and your stomach bleed.

you were sat behind a flipped over car, hands practically vibrating from how much they were shaking. where was ellie? you had lost sight of her ages ago, right before a knife had been plunged into your stomach. you didn't scream then, you wondered if she even knew you had been stabbed.

the man knew you were here, he hadn't seen ellie yet. you hadn't seen him at first, thinking the checkpoint was clear. it wasn't until your girlfriend grasped the edge of your scarf, bringing you down to crouch behind a wall with her that you realised you were not alone. when a bottle knocked over, he realised he wasn't alone either.

you were supposed to stay put, wait until ellie snuck up and attacked him before finding her. but you got worried, your stomach churned and your lip had been bitten raw. it had been too long since you'd seen her and you were beginning to get worried. you made the stupid choice of leaving your hiding space to go find her. now, you were sat with your hands holding the wound that you knew was your own fault.

"come out and i'll go easy." he was going to kill you, if the wound in your stomach didn't. your breaths began to get even more laboured. you didn't want to die. you still had so much you wanted to do. you couldn't die, not now, not because of him. the air grew silent, his foot steps stopped. somehow, it seemed even more scary when you couldn't tell where he was. you held one bloody hand over your mouth, covering it so he couldn't hear you breathe. the air was thick and your head turned, barely peaking over the edge of the car. you turned back, a face right next to you. "found you."

a scream fell from your lips, a blood curdling scream as you snatched your hand away.

you tried to run, thrashing against him as you made a swift exit. he grasped your wrist and despite the knife in your stomach, you kicked your leg upwards, hitting him right in the balls (dina had taught you well) it stumped him for a second and you barely managed to move away.

he let you think you could be free, he didn't allow the thought to last too long though. his hand reached out and grasped a hold of your leg, sending you flying to the ground.

you fell, knife piercing your stomach further. it hadn't been too deep earlier, but now? you were sure you were already dead. you didn't scream but your mouth was open, breaths falling irregularly. you wouldn't have been able to turn around until he flipped you over, he'd climbed on top of you.

he held another knife, pressing it against your tear stained cheek as he grinned. "I really did a number on you, didn't I angel?" his fingers danced on the top of the knife in your stomach. you almost wished he'd stick it in further and simply put you out of your misery. "how about i end this and just―"

it had ended, alright.

you watched as an arrow pierced straight through his scull, bloody edge sitting right between your eyes, not grazing your skin. his own mouth fell open, as yours had only he had been unlucky enough to not be able to close it. his eyes rolled back to the back of his head and his body slid off of yours.

crying, you managed to sit yourself up, back against the mossy wall, the knife was plunged in deep, your hands covered in blood, as was your face. "angel?" her voice was sweet and concerned, nothing alike his cold, teasing one. "shit, shit!"

"ellie?" you practically babbled, hands holding the knife. "hurts."

"i know, i know." despite her rushed tone, she still sounded so comforting. "you're gonna be okay, i'm right here, baby." and you almost believed her until you took notice of just how bloody your hands were. it was a deep red, coating every inch of them, you stared at them, unable to move. "can i have this?" she was already unwrapping the white scarf from across your neck. "thank you, sweetheart, you're doing so good." her words would have made your heart swell if it weren't for the fact that your eyes could barely stay open. "I have to take it out, okay?"

your eyes suddenly went wide, as if they hadn't been sleepy at all. you shook your head, tears falling rapidly. "els, no." a whimper falling from your lips. "don't wanna, please." you would have begged her not to. but you knew it wasn't fair. she was trying to help you, she had to help you but you didn't want her to rip the knife from your stomach.

"i know, baby but i have to." she moved you so that you fell limp against her shoulder. the knife twisted in your stomach. "hold my hand, there you go." your hand was in her own, holding it hard. "you can squeeze as hard as you want, okay? ready? three, two―" you cried into her shoulder, holding her hand so hard it might have fallen off if it weren't for the fact that she was holding on just as hard. "good girl, good girl, you did so well, see? it's done, it's over."

she used the scarf to tie around your waist, tightening it so she could keep the pressure. you watched as the red blood soaked the white fabric. " 'm gonna die, aren't i?" babbling as you cried into her shoulder, you couldn't pull your eyes from the blood that left your stomach. though, the pain had dulled and your eyes were heavy. "don' wanna die."

"hey, hey, look at me." your face sat between her palms as she looked into your eyes, comfort leaking into your heart as soon as she did so. "you're not gonna die, alright? you're gonna be fine, els' gonna make it all better, won't she?" speaking about herself in third person as if she wasn't right there.

you nodded, salty tears falling down your cheeks. "you're gonna make it better." you nodded to yourself, eyes opening and closing heavily.

"yeah, yeah i'm gonna make it all better. stay awake, baby, come on, open those pretty eyes f'me." but as much as she willed you to, your eyes couldn't stop fluttering open and closed, heavily blinking at her. "you're gonna be just fine, hold on, baby."

you didn't register when she hauled you onto shimmer, turning you so that your body was limp against her front, head leaning against her chest. you didn't register much actually. the pain dulled and the girl continued to whisper sweet nothings into your ear. but you couldn't hear now, too caught up in the ringing and how bright the sky seemed to be. your eyes were scrunched shut, head in her chest as you wished and prayed on every star that you'd wake up inside your shared home in jackson, eyes opening to reveal you sleepily smiling on ellie's chest.

you could pray all you want, there was no god coming to save you only ellie williams.

the sound of yelling made you open your eyes against the harsh light. you could make out the muffled yelling of the paramedics taking you away, yelling for certain materials. your eyes were strained on ellie who was being held back by one of the male nurses, James, you were sure his name was. you knew him because he and ellie hated one another. you remembered ellie telling you he was jackson's biggest dickhead and that she'd love to give him a 'knuckle sandwitch' which made you laugh in the moment but right now, nothing could make you laugh. your eyes never left her, though, even after she found her first swinging at the man and suddenly joel was there, holding her back while everyone crowded around the commotion.

when you woke, you were, unfortunately, not in the comfort of you and ellie's home. but you must say, it was much better than the place you had been sitting before, all mucky and bloody.

you blinked, eyes adjusting to the light. "hi, baby." ellie's soft voice as you blinked at her, attempting to get up. "nuh-uh, rest." she pushed your shoulders down softly.

"where am i?" you mumbled softly. you knew where you were but the dosage of your painkillers was so high that you could barely recognise the colour of the bedsheets. and yet, you could see her so clearly, your angel, your saviour, your knight in shining armour.

"med shaft." she spoke, hand holding yours as her thumb brushed against your knuckles.

your eyes glanced down to her hand that was covered with a white bandage. "you hit him." you murmured softly. "the nurse."

"he wouldn't let me see you." she spoke, as if she were defending her own actions. which, she sort of was. "had to make sure my angel was okay, didn't i?"

"you made it better." just like she said she would. ellie didn't lie to you, she wouldn't.

"yeah, i did." she seemed proud of herself. she should be. she saved your life. and if you weren't so loopy right now you would have given her a whole speech and the cuddles of a lifetime.

"thank you." was all you could muster, for now.

"of course, sweetheart." she just wished she could have done more. you shouldn't be here in a hospital bed right now, she should have never left you in the first place, guilt consumed her but she shook it off with a small smile. "we're gonna have to get you a new scarf though." cringing slightly.

"no point." sloppy grin on your face. "jus' gonna loose it again anyway."

she leaned down, pressing a short kiss to your lips. "then i'll help you find it."

main masterlist/ellie's masterlist

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samantha-rae-velcher · 1 year

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Pretty

Joker x Fem reader

Requested by: anon

Warnings: swearing, threats, violence, joker being joker.

A/n: if you don't like the warnings, please don't read

Request: Can I request a Leto!Joker where the reader is Harley’s younger sister (she is telekinetic) and she is a pyschiatrist and she secretly loves J. One day the reader is in one of J’s sessions with Harley but J keeps looking at the reader until J breaks out and does everything that he did to Harley to the reader. J and the reader go to Ace Chemicals to make their relationship offical (you can add the rest) thank u :)

___

Joker sat across from the sisters in a straitjacket. Y/n felt a chill roll down her spine every time he looked her way, but there was something about him that intrigued her. He was handsome, and there was something she saw in his eyes everytime they locked with hers, it wasn't crazy. He knew what he wanted, he knew what he was doing. No amount of therapy was gonna help him, he was perfectly sane. He just wasn't normal, he had a dark side and he chooses to live in his own shadows, behind the mask that is the Joker.

"So who is this?" He asked, nodding towards Y/n.

Harley looked over at her younger sister and smiled.

"Oh, this is my sister, Y/n. She's training to be a psychiatrist, so I thought it would be a great learning experience if she sat in on our session."

The Joker just nodded and kept staring, the session went on and Y/n didn't pay any attention. She at there sketching him on her note pad.

"I'm curious." She said. "Do you feel anger towards anyone here?"

Joker slowly looked over at her. Fuck this man was terrifying, she didn't know how Harley couldn't get up and bolt for the door.

"No."

"Okay, just asking." Y/n went back to sketching the man.

Over the next few weeks Harley and Y/n went back and forth with the sessions, they made a schedule on which one of them would be evaluating him on this day and that day. Harley began noticing changes between the two, y/n had even told him the secret that only the two of them knew about.

"I like your sister." Joker said. "She's innocent."

Harley looked up from her papers, she knew what this man could do to y/n, he could brainwash her and get her to do his bidding. Joker could play the "I was framed! Poor me!" Act to make her feel bad and let him out. Or worse she could fall in love with him.

"Yeah well, she's not coming here anymore."

"Why is that?" He asked.

"I don't want you using her. She's not who you think."

Harley got up to leave, she got to the door and stopped when she heard The joker speak.

"Telekinesis is a new one in Gotham. You think I'd use her to get to her ability?"

Harley felt rage as she flung the door open and stormed out of the room. She wanted a transfer, she was done with this psychotic clown.

Y/n entered Arkham and walked down the hall towards Jokers cell. She ducked behind a filing cabinet when she saw Harley come plowing by.

Y/n had one of the guards unlock his cell and let her in, Joker smiled and leaned against the wall.

"I thought your sister didn't want you near me?"

"Harley doesn't know I'm here."

They sat down, she didn't ask the normal questions. Instead, they had a real conversation.

"I need a machine gun." He said while leaning over the table.

"A machine gun?"

Joker smiled. "You can get it for me can't you?"

"But-"

The Joker stood and came to her side of the table. He gently touched her cheek and leaned in, whispering in her ear. This man made her feel scared, but she wanted more. She was addicted to this man and she didn't know why. Was this love?

"I need a machine gun, Y/n. Can you get it for me?"

"I...yes."

___

Y/n was in her office at Arkham when the gunshots could be heard, the screams rang through the hall as running feet fleeing for the exits came flying passed her door.

Two men busted it down and came at her, she struggled but they had her in a tight grip. The brought her into another room and slammed her down on a table. She felt them strap her down, the room when quiet all but the screams that could be heard outside.

"What do we have here?" Joker yelled.

He walked into the room, he was wearing nothing but pants, shoes, and rubber purple gloves. Joker came closer and aggressively lowered the lamp, blasting her in the eyes with the light.

"What the fuck!?" Y/n pulled at the straps. "I helped you!"

"You helped me?" He asked. "By erasing my mind? No you left me in a black hole of rage and confusion. You and your spiteful bitch sister."

Joker smiled and turned to the table beside him, he began rummaging through items.

"The sister who tried to keep you from me." He moved his head back and forth, cracking his neck. "like she could ever keep us apart."

He picked up two metal things attached to cords. Fear struck Y/n, she started pulling at the straps again, trying to get away.

"What are you planning?" She asked. "You gonna kill me?"

"No, I'm not gonna kill ya, Sweetheart. I'm just gonna hurt ya, really really bad."

"Yeah? You don't know me that well then. Cuz I can take it."

Joker smiled and took off his belt, the sound clanking of the metal going right to her core. He straighted it and had her bite it.

"This is gonna hurt, so I suggest you don't spit this out. We don't want you breaking your teeth now do we?"

J turned in the machine and pressed the metal devices to both sides of her head. Pain shot through her making her bite the belt so hard it hurt her jaw.

All she could hear was the screech if the machine, gun shots ringing through the halls and the joker laughing.

___

Y/n was looking down at the giant barrels of bubbling chemicals. Joker paced back and forth behind her, he gently gripped her hips and turned her to face him.

"Would you die for me?" He asked.

"I-"

"That's too easy....would you...would you live for me?"

Y/n looked him in the eyes as she answered, she wanted him to know she ment it.

"Yes."

"Careful, my dear." Joker circled her. "Don't say this oath thoughtlessly."

He leaned in close, their lips nearly touching.

"Desire becomes surrender, surrender becomes power." He gently places a kiss on her lips. He stayed close. "Are you ready to surrender to your fate? To me?"

She slowly backed up towards the edge, Y/n could see he didn't believe she's do it. He thought she was too weak. Y/n smile and blew him as kiss before letting herself fall over the edge.

Joker watched her sink into the green liquid. He turned and began slowly walking away before he stopped. Joker tilted his head side to side, cracking his neck before he pulled his leather jacket off and jumped over after her.

Y/n felt the air being forced back into her lungs as her eyes shot open, Joker was holding her close and looking at her with hunger in his eyes. He leaned in and closed the gap between them, the kiss was passionate. He pulled away slowly, he smiled and whispered.

"Pretty pretty pretty pretty."

THE END ❤️

I'm gonna make a part 2

#fyp #foryou #fanfic #foryoupage #x reader #requested #jared leto joker #jared leto #joker x fem reader #joker x oc #joker x y/n #joker x reader #joker suicide squad #suicide squad #suicide squad x reader #suicide squad joker

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five-crows-in-a-trenchcoat · 2 months

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I think that despite the amount we meme the unforgettable opening scene of yttd, what with the iconic ‘do you know what a majority vote is?’ that we never really talk about the true purpose of it.

We see that scene before we know ANYTHING about the other characters, even sara and joe. And right at the end of course we hear the gunshot and see shin’s face after the talk with shadsou. We don’t know the context of it yet, but as the player we IMMEDIATELY know that this man cannot be trusted. Or even that it was us that he shot in some type of vision. And we know the stakes are already high because someone already died seconds ago. We don’t know then that it’s actually from his perspective and not ours.

So when we as the viewer see him all sweet and friendly the first assumption is ‘this is a facade, and soon enough he’ll reveal his true colours as the antagonist. If I’m not careful, he might shoot me like he shot me at the start.’ Sara doesn’t know this, but we as the player do. So we’re satisfied when we’re proven right even if it irks us. And even if we know that what we saw at the start was shin’s first trial, the cgs at the start of the chapters, like gin strapped to the wheel at the beginning of 2-1, keeps us guessing of whether that might actually happen or not.

What we don’t really talk about is that the opening scene also works in reverse. And it’s EXACTLY the way shin views sara, down to a T. He sees simulations of her killing him, and before he’s even met her for the first time he’s thinking that this girl cannot be trusted. And when he meets her and she’s friendly his first assumption is ‘this is a facade, and soon enough she’ll reveal she’ll true colours as the villain. If I’m not careful she might stab me like she stabbed me in the simulations.’ Even the nightmare we see from shin at the start of 2-2 parallels that questioning of ‘Is that stabbing going to happen?’ And from the cgs we got from Nankidai, it just might.

And even when we already know shin sees sara as the villain in the logic route, as bad as even midori, I don’t think he’s going to be as satisfied.

#it needs to be talked abt more fr #Nankidai is a masterful writer fr #yttd #sara chidouin #your turn to die #shin tsukimi

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unholyhelbig · 8 months

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Can you do a Kate x reader fic where Kate and R are friends and R gets hurt and ends up unconscious for a while and Kate confesses her feelings? Thanks so much, love your work :)

Title: The Sun Also Rises

Ship: Female!Reader x Kate Bishop

Wordcount: 4155

Warnings: Injuries, blood, general heartbreak, gunshot wounds, yelling and Ernest Hemingway if you're an English major

[A/n: Can you tell I'm nearing the end of my quarantine by the sheer amount of content I've been churning out? Less than 24 hours and I'm free from my enclosure. Also, did not proofread this one either]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

The mission was simple. It was recon. They weren’t supposed to engage unless they were engaged first. Kate Bishop knew this was how things were intended to go, but she also knew that nothing was predictable in the field and no matter how much they prepared for things to go wrong, it was never expected when they did.

Her fingers had gone numb in the cold of the night, her ribs had a dull ache that thrummed with her heartbeat. Kate was pressed against the rocky rooftop, binoculars pressed to her eyes as she watched the abandoned building aptly.

You were on the ground, bundled nice and warm in a van that was parked half a block away. There was a non-descript logo of a cooling company painted on the side, and the meter had been paid off for the foreseeable future. It was a safe zone. It was supposed to be a safe zone.

Kate could feel a burning in her shoulders, took a moment to adjust herself on the rooftop. That was all it took, really. She hadn’t seen the flicker of movement at the base of the building, the way that freight doors were pushed open in the dark.

“Kate,” her partner’s voice came through her comm. It was wracked with static despite the fact that she sat in the epitome of tech. “We might have a problem.”

“What’s going on?”

“Four suits walking my way.”

There was a twinge of fear in your voice. Of course, you could handle yourself against four guys. It was when the weapons came into play that things became questionable. Training didn’t matter, not when bullets ripped through flesh and blood began to pour.

Kate directed her sights to the group of tracksuits that were strolling down the rain-reflected pavement. Kate tightened her grip against the binoculars until her knuckles turned white. She let out the slightest breath as they approached.

She nocked an arrow, pulling it effortlessly from the quiver strapped to her back. Her fingers were damp, still numb. But that didn’t change her accuracy. The two of you waited with bated breath.

The four men stopped a few feet away from your van, lilting their heads as if they were assessing the situation. There was a moment of quiet, it could have been a minute, maybe even two, but to Kate it felt like a century. She could feel the string of her bow cutting into her skin, the shaking in each inhalation of cold air.

“Well, fuck”

You whispered the words before gunfire erupted. Kate thinks that you sensed it before she did, and the second the first flash popped, she released her arrow into the crook of the offenders knee. But there were three more, and while she re-nocked and aimed between the ribs of the next.

There were two more shots fired and Kate didn’t have much of a moment to think. The van was littered with bullet-holes and she used her third arrow to create a line directly to you, wrapped sloppily around a lamp post.

She didn’t wait, not with you. Never with you. If there was any fear of bolstering her bow and swinging down to street level, she didn’t feel it. Both heels of her boots hit the third suits’ chest. She heard a pop that rivaled the scent of gunpowder as he dropped.

Kate wordlessly used her bow to take out the last guy, his gun lowered. Her mind was screaming, even as she smashed the instrument against a temple hard with enough force to break skin. She kicked the gun away, something that seemed of little consequence, but had dalmationed the van.

“Shit, shit, shit!”

Kate pulled open the back door of the van. It groaned in response. She could smell the sweet metal before her eyes located you. Screens smoked, laptops going dark, but taking the brunt of the gunfire. You had pushed everything from a bolstered platform, having moved it in front of you for another layer of metal before the gunfire met you.

Smart. You were always so smart, even in distress. It was part of the reason Kate loved having you as a mission partner. That- and you weren’t against playing twenty questions with her through the coms when it was just the two of you.

Kate’s heart broke into a million pieces as she hoisted herself up into the back of the van. Her boots slid on the blood that was slowly seeping across the metal floor. She fell to her knees painfully but didn’t care. Instead, she pushed the table away.

You were curled in on yourself, but despite your coiled stance, she could see the blood. There was so much of it. She could barely hear your stunted breathes, but when she homed in on them, they were fast and shallow. Kate’s fingers pressed against your pulse point. That, on the other hand, was dangerously slow.

“Y/n, stay with me,” Kate rasped out, patting her pockets until she found her phone.

It threatened to slide out of her hands, swipes of blood glowing through the screen. She pressed Natasha’s contact name. Her handler. Her confidant. She only had to say a few words, it was plaguing her voice so deeply, nothing else was needed. “Nat, I need you.”

Three bullets total had hit you. Two in the abdomen and one in the chest. The slight gurgling noise that Kate had heard in the back of the van was a good sign of life, but a bad sign for your lungs. One had threatened to collapse and really; Doctor Cho had essentially said the best thing they could do was make sure that you were stabilized.

She had used the words “make sure she’s comfortable” and Kate must have let out an inhuman noise because Yelena was at her side, gently leading her away from the med bay and towards the closest bathroom. It was an unnatural stainless-steel white compared to the broken state Kate found herself in.

“Malen'kiy yastreb, you have to breathe.”

Yelena’s words were soft, riddled with a quiet accent that held no malice. She guided Kate to the toilet, sitting her on the lid before she pulled as many towels as she could from the dispenser. She warmed water and waited until they were soaked through. Yelena shut off the water and knelt in front of Kate.

She took Kate’s chin and gently started to wipe away the dried blood on her face. Kate’s hands were saturated, her clothes caked with the drying substance. There was so much of it, so much. And while Yelena knew it would be too much to coax Kate into taking a shower, she worked with what she had.

“I should have done more. When they were walking towards her, I waited. We… wanted to see what they would do, and they opened fire, Lena.”

It was a bold move. They had somehow clocked that they were being watched and made a massive play that was bordering on pure aggression. Kate could feel anger form cold in her stomach.

“We will handle it.” Yelena moved to Kate’s hands, working away at the dark red tint. When she said that, Kate knew she meant it. There was a darkness in her eyes that mirrored the underlying sorrow Kate felt in your absence.

They sat quietly for a moment. The only sounds were the scrubbing of Yelena’s efforts and the small sniffs as Kate let her tears hit the collar of her shirt. The words, they were stuck in her throat.

“What if she doesn’t make it?”

Forbade their close proximity, and Yelena would not have heard the question, but her heart broke undoubtedly. She stopped working away at the color, now a dingy orange, something that was manageable and less gory.

Yelena knew how Kate Bishop felt about you. She would have been a terrible assassin if she did not pick up on the soft gestures, the longing looks, and the seconds that sparked between you both while you sparred; your back against the mat, Kate pinning you down with a smile that could only ring in it’s truest form.

She hadn’t admitted it yet, despite the poking and prodding that Yelena forced upon her. After all, their line of work was a dangerous one, and not a place to pine. Life was too short not to ask for what you wanted, and that was truer now than it ever had been.

“We will handle that too, Malen'kiy yastreb. Right now, you have to be with her. When Natasha was in her coma, they said she wouldn’t pull through, but she did. They also said that just being there was what helped her hold on. Talking to her. Perhaps you should do the same?”

It wasn’t a question, not really, because Yelena stood and tapped the side of Kate’s knee to jolt her from her trance. She’d stopped crying, at least, a numbness spreading through her. If she had paid attention to the blood, really paid attention, then she would crumble once more.

Yelena had helped more than she realized, and Kate made a mental note to make it up to her at some point. Despite her rough exterior, Natasha was the one who typically dealt with the feelings. Clint was impossible at it, and Yelena performed in actions rather than words, but Kate didn’t’ need someone to tell her it would all be okay, not right now.

The med bay was mostly empty when Kate returned. There was a nurse in toxic blue scrubs that glanced up at her noncommittedly when she entered, and Kate was oddly thankful for that too. Her eyes darted to your room, a last-minute edition from Tony when one of the team members had an extended stay.

It looked more like an escape pod, bright lights that were dimmed for comfort and a hospital bed. There was a chair that could recline and another one that didn’t. It was built for quarantine if needed, but the door was cracked open.

You looked so small, dwarfed by the machines that worked tirelessly to keep you alive. There was a breathing tube taped to your lips, and a needle had been pushed into the top of your hand. Your stomach and chest had been wrapped with gauze; a small bandage placed over a cut on your brow- so inconsequential.

Kate couldn’t stop the whimper that moved through her lips, but she pressed her fingers against them to stifle the sound. There were so many emotions, so much hurt and anger at herself for not getting to you faster.

She carefully stepped closer, using her stained fingertips to move a strand of hair from your clammy forehead. Kate could hear her tears hitting the scratchy blanket. There was a monitor that beeped along with your heart, and she thought it was much too slow.

“Hi there,” She whispered, taking your hand. It was cold, and she wanted desperately to warm them. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry y/n/n.”

Kate finally broke down, careful with her movements as she sobbed into the small of your neck. You usually smelled of pine, and of the slightest bit of sweat, but all she could get was metal and antiseptic.

“You have to pull through for me, okay? There’s so much we haven’t gotten the chance to do. We haven’t even been on a real mission yet, you know? Clint will never let me live that one down. Getting so fucked up on recon. Who does that?”

Kate paused and waited for your answer. She counted three beeps, before shaking her head and letting out a little laugh. It should have been her in the van, though, the thought of you at her vantage point on the horizon was unheard of.

“You know what, forget the mission, y/n. You know what we really need to do? We need to get you to the beach. God, I’m telling you, it’s just as beautiful as you imagine it to be. My parents have that house on the coast. It’s right on the water, and you can smell the salt from miles away. I’m telling you… miles.”

She let out a small sob, squeezed your hand tightly and kissed your fingers before pressing her forehead against them. She wished they were warmer, she wished you were warm.

“And the sand… people don’t really like sand because it get’s everywhere, and I mean everywhere, but y/n/n, the sun warms it all day and then at night, at night when you can’t see past the darkness of the waves and it’s not as crowded with people and kids, and dogs, you can still hold onto that one bit of morning.

“I had my first kiss there, down by the docks. I remember it so clearly. It was awful. I’m talking open-mouthed, slobbery, and just much too long even though it only lasted seconds.”

Kate chuckled at the memory, shook her head. She looked at you, at your delicate features and the small scars that littered your skin. They weren’t all from today, and she ached for you to explain each and every faded mark while her fingers traced them.

“I remember thinking, this is it? I’ve waited my whole life for this? I was only fifteen, and my life wasn’t all that long of a wait yet, but the older I get, the more I realize that that first kiss isn’t anything special. Sure, we were on the beach, and the sky was this cotton-candy type of pink. It was supposed to be perfect. But it wasn’t, because I wasn’t with the right person.”

She swallowed hard, her mouth was suddenly dry. She wished she had more time. She wished that she could spend another day with you, struggling over road-maps with a red twist of licorice hanging out of the side of your mouth. Kate craved a day where the sun was too strong, and the lemonade just the right amount of sour. She wanted to see the look on your face when you realized how vast the ocean is.

“When you get better, I’ll take you out there. I’ll take you to the beach and we’ll sit on the docks and we’ll watch the sunset. Every single night, we’ll watch the sunset, okay? But we can’t do that if you don’t pull through. If you don’t fight, I’ll never know… we’ll never know if that perfect moment exists.”

Kate cried until she drifted off to sleep, half-draped across your body in the most conscious of ways as if not to disturb you. She stirred once when the nurse came in and checked your fluids. Then twice the next morning when Natasha was there to coax her into drinking some water from a cheap Styrofoam cup.

Nothing had changed in two days, and Kate still remained rooted in her spot, shifting around the room. Clint brought her a change of clothes, and she made him turn around when she stripped and pulled on one of his t-shirts, a pair of sweatpants that were much too big.

Kate protested that she was getting enough sleep, and she would pick at the meals that they brought in for her. She refused to leave your side, sometimes pacing the length of the room in her socks as she told you all about the summer she turned sixteen and her adventures in their vacation home.

Most of the time, she would watch the slow rise and fall of your chest. She had grown accustomed to the rhythm of it. She wouldn’t take her eyes off you, looking for the faintest sign of movement. Something to let her know that you were still there.

A month in, and she was brought a cot, but still squeezed into the small sliver next to you. She watched the lights on the ceiling. Kate told you about all the places she wanted to take you; the small gas station that sold the best fried fish (trust her, it’s safe), and the fair that would occupy the last fifty yards of the pier for two weeks in July.

Two months in, and Natasha finally dared to go past the small opening of the room. She had watched from the window, and Kate hadn’t noticed. She and Clint would stand and talk for hours, taking in Kate’s heartbreak as she read from Earnest Hemmingway’s “The Old Man from the Sea” over and over again.

Natasha had shyly produced a copy of “The Sun Also Rises” before lowering herself into the uncomfortable chair in the room. Kate watched her warily, thanked her for the book. She held her breath until it burned.

“I know what you’re going to say, and I don’t want to hear it.”

Natasha’s voice was quiet, barely heard over the roar of the machines “Katie,”

“No.”

“As your handler it’s my responsibility-“

“I said no!” Kate was standing now, her voice loud. She would never dare yell at Natasha. She’d never dream of it. For the first three months of their professional partnership, she struggled to even look the woman in the eye. Natasha didn’t flinch, she didn’t say anything. “I’m not giving up on her.”

“We have to prepare for the possibility that she’s not going to wake up.”

“She’s fighting, breathing on her own now, and I’m not going to let you come in here and tell me that she’s not going to come back. You’re the last person I would expect to come in here and tell me to give up. Tell her to give up!” Kate’s voice was losing steam “If this is about resources I can-“

“It’s not about resources, Kate. It’s about you. We’ve been watching you torture yourself for months now and there’s been no sign of brain activity.”

“Will you stop being so clinical about this? This is y/n.” Kate begged, her words finally broke, shattered into a million pieces. “y/n is in there, I know it. She has to be. She has to be because if she’s not, if she’s… fuck!”

Kate was frustrated and exhausted. Her knees buckled and Natasha, with her spy-like reflexes, had her wrapped in her arms in moments. She let Kate cry, both of them uncomfortably on the floor, the tile cool. Natasha soothed her, tucked Kate’s nose against her neck. There was the slightest bit of pine.

“This is all my fault,” Kate murmured when she calmed “it’s all my fault.”

It had been a week after her conversation with Natasha and Kate was still headstrong in her efforts, though the woman’s words never truly left her. She was a good way through ‘The Sun Also Rises’, nodding off between paragraphs.

Kate’s feet were on the bed, the chair expertly balanced on it’s hind legs with the accuracy of an archer. She felt herself tilting back. Truth was, Kate was tired. Not in the physical sense, though her body hurt.

Despite what Natahsa, and Clint, and probably Yelena thought, Kate would be by your side until the end of time. She’d have to forge books about the ocean that had more plot, but refused to pick up a copy of Moby Dick.

Instead, she let out a sigh and closed the book over her fingers, squeezing the bridge of her nose. She thought of the beach, of her first kiss with Mickey Voit. More than anything, she thought of how nice it would be to feel your lips against hers, to see the bright look of life in your eyes.

Kate figured she had drifted off to an uncomfortable form of half-sleep when she heard it.

“You’re not going to keep reading?”

The voice was raspy, barely above a murmur. The words were unpracticed, but they meant everything all the same. Kate nearly tumbled from her chair; the book certainly flew to the ground as all four legs returned to stability.

She must be asleep, dreaming, or dead. Your stare bore into hers, red-rimmed but there all the same. And you were smiling, God, you were actually smiling after all of this time. It was a sight she thought she would never see again.

“Come on, you were getting to the part about never falling in love.”

“Always,” Kate gripped the armrests of the seat, afraid to let go. Fearful that if she did, she’d wake up and all of this would be over. You would be gone. “I am always in love.”

You blew air from your nose and started coughing, a brittle sound that made Kate stir from her position entirely. Damned if this was a dream, you needed a doctor. She’d will herself to sleep if it meant seeing you again.

Kate called for Cho frantically and stepped back when she rushed into the room, followed by two nurses and an intern that she had come to know based on her pitying glances. Kate really wanted to punch her in the face, most times, but was never happier to see her in this moment.

“Good god,” Doctor Cho quickly went to your side.

She dazedly took your vitals, having you squeeze her finger, something you did with some struggle, weakened from your months out of commission. She pressed the tip of her pen to the balls of your feet, checking your mobility, your lucidity as she guided a straw to your lips and you took a tentative sip.

Kate stood out of the way, her fingers pressed to her lips and her eyes watching every single movement carefully. She relished in your voice, however small it was, as she answered questions.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, Agent Y/L/N.” Doctor Cho squeezed your shoulder “I’m going to alert the necessary parties and give you two some alone time… this one never left your side.”

There was a call button if you needed her, and the weight of uncertainty seemed to exit the room. The two of you were alone, as you had been for the last three months. Kate hated how pale you looked; how fragile you were. She wanted to pull you close and squeeze you as if there weren’t 78 stitches across your front.

“It’s so weird,” You lilted your head to the side “I had the strangest dream about the beach. I could see it so clearly, even though I’ve never been there.”

Kate hummed, suddenly timid “That is weird, maybe it was Tahiti?”

“Maybe” You chuckled and then winced “Ouch,”

The archer was at your side in less than a second. Out of habit, she had your hand in hers, quickly forgetting that she hadn’t ever done this before the accident. She still struggled to make the right about of eye contact with you so she wouldn’t’ come off as weird.

Kate groaned “This was easier when you were unconscious,”

“Okay? Ouch again?”

“Not… like that. God, I’m sleep deprived, and totally screwing this up. You would think that three months is enough time to work out a way to talk to a beautiful woman without sticking my fist in my mouth.”

She moved to pull her hand away, but you held onto it with strength to let her know that you never wanted to let her go. She looked down at your grasp, and then back up at you with the beginning of tears in her eyes.

“I didn’t tell you the best part about being at the beach. It was beautiful, really, so vivid and calm. The funny thing is, I was always at the end of this dock and the sky was always this pink color.” You frowned, a small crease between your eyebrows “I could hear you all around me, just pulling me to the end of that dock.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm, but you were never there, and quite frankly, Katie, I was getting sick of waiting. So, one day I just jumped into the water, and it was startling, cold, but it woke me up… literally, I suppose. My point… I don’t think I would have jumped if I wasn’t trying to get back to you.”

Kate gently closed the distance between you both, pressing her lips so tenderly against yours. It took a moment for your mind to catch up, but when it did, your warm fingers found their way to her jaw, running along the expanse of her skin, breathing her in. She oddly smelled of sand and salt-water.

You whimpered into the kiss when she grazed an aching spot on your ribs and she was quick to pull back, a look of worry on her face “Sorry, oh god, sorry”

“It’s okay, just a little sore” You beamed at her, forehead pressed close to hers. “Was that better than your kiss with Mickey?”

Kate groaned, her nose cold against your cheek as she murmured “You heard that, huh?”

You had heard everything.

#kate Bishop #Kate Bishop x reader #Kate Bishop x y/n #Kate Bishop x you #Hawkeye #hawkeye fanfiction #request #Angst #Fluff #Angst with a happy ending #Marvel #Hurt comfort #natasha romanoff #yelena boleva #clint barton

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wonysugar · 10 months

Note

before you close your asks hehehe, could i please cry for more ot4 le sserafim w/ reader? oh my god who do you think has the biggest strap? i can’t even imagine…. i know sakura’s pink :p

hmmmm.. from biggest to smallest i'd say

chaewon - definitely has the bigger strap of the bunch, maybe like a good 6.5 incher, she only fucks good girls who can take all of the length. PICK ME CHAEWON CHOOSE ME I CA-*gunshots* she also knows how to use it very well me thinks, she hits all of the right spots like it was a 6th sense. god knew not to make her a guy cause she would've had too much power with a dick of her own! also no clue why but i know her strap is just black? i don't think she would pay much attention to that detail, just as long as it makes girls cum for her lol

sakura - close second, she's more of a gentle gal so i'd say 5.5 inches, she likes it to be just right! she doesn't wanna be too rough, she wants you to feel good so she's gonna go for a more average size. ALSO, i just know that she uses it like a champ, she's the type of girl to make love to you with it, not fuck you!! and what you said about her having a pink strap IS SOSOSOSO REAL i'm losing my mind?!?! she's the type to come home from visiting a sex shop and just happily pulling out the pink dildo she bought for you, being like “look at it!! isn't it so cute? it's all pink :]" ugh she's so nerdy girlfriend coded i will scream

kazuha - now i love my girlie zuha, but i don’t think she’d be that good at fucking you with a strap LOL, her 5 inch strap is sitting somewhere in a drawer collecting dust, she prefers using toys that she can handle and hold! she did try fucking you with it, multiple times, even, but she kept complaining about her back hurting everytime she used it on you so you guys just stopped using it in general. her vibrator game though, on ANOTHER LEVELL. she definitely presses it against your clit as she fingers your pussy EVERYONE PLEASE STAY CALM also, both the strap and the vibrator are purple, don’t ask why, just accept.

yunjin - lastly, yunjin. now, yunjin’s strap is the smallest because get this; she has none! she prefers the traditional ways, so she relies exclusively on her own body and technique to make you feel good. and she DOES make you feel good, no number of sex toys can compare to the ridiculous amount of dizzying orgasms this woman can give you. she knows how to move her fingers and tongue very well me thinks! she practically talks sign language inside of you like it’s actually sick? this woman is absolutely marriage material!

sorry this is a bit on the longer side, i had so much fun writing this<3 thank you for the request anon!!

#kpop gg #le sserafim smut #kim chaewon #nakamura kazuha #huh yunjin #sakura miyawaki #sakura x female reader #kazuha x female reader #yunjin x female reader #chaewon x female reader #smut

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who-knew-a-sheep-can-write · 1 month

Text

Feel So Numb: Werewolf!Leon S. Kennedy x Reader

Ask and you shall receive

Contains: Hella blood and gore, werewolf attack, gunshot wounds

It wasn’t like him to be radio silent, especially for this long. After he had reported over the intercom to Hunnigan about the villagers all being hostile while searching for the president’s daughter, the line went dead from Leon’s end. All Hunnigan reported to you over your own earpiece was that Ashley Graham was possibly taken to some sort of church and now it was your job to find both her and Leon and to report to Hunnigan your findings immediately.

You arrived at the last place your fiance was pin-pointed; On some rural stretch of long-forgotten road. The cobblestone had been neglected, some dug up by winding roots while the rest had been caked in mud and dead leaves. You pulled up behind what used to be a police car. The driver side door had been ripped off its hinges and not a soul was left behind, only a splatter of blood on the inside and a dropped police badge from the local station.

You eyed the obvious break in the foliage and narrowed your sight before you followed the beaten path knowing that you were walking right into danger. You drew your gun from its holster that had been strapped to your thigh and carefully watched your step. It was starting to grow dark out, the sun finally starting to set beyond the horizon.

You followed along the path until you came to a very run-down cabin where Leon had reported his first hostile villager. You saw his corpse laying across the floor and you couldn’t help but scrunch your nose at the smell the entire cabin gave off. You wanted to vomit. You swallowed the saliva that had pooled under your tongue and continued on, making your way out of the cabin and down the small flight of stairs littered with bloodied bones. You rounded the corner and stopped in your tracks at the sight of one of the police officers bloodied before you, his corpse had started to rot away.

Leon wasn’t kidding when he said something was horribly wrong.

Following the winding path out of the cabin and back into the woods, you had to step over and avoid more dead bodies until you finally came up to an animal corpse this time. It had been so decayed that no flesh remained, only bones and a little bit of muscle left. It looked to be a wolf and one of its legs had been snared in a rusted bear trap.

Now you had to worry about hidden bear traps and hostile villagers?

You don’t know how long you kept walking in the darkening woods, but you followed right on Leon’s trail until you made it to the village Leon must have been talking about. From what you last heard on the call log between Leon and Hunnigan, she mentioned something about a large windmill and a lake. You peeked around the village, bringing up your flashlight as you looked around. The looming stone church before you towered over everything around, cutting off the light of the drifting sun and casting you in near darkness. As you looked around, you nearly jumped at the sight of a burnt body tied up on a pole. The poor person was charred to a blackened crisp, no identifying features could be made out. Was this the second officer that was supposed to help Leon?

A shrill, faint noise sounded off in the distance, echoing through the woods. It rattled your bones, freezing your blood, making the hair across your body stand up on their ends. You raised your gun in the direction that the noise came from with your eyes wide and flashlight beaming into the dark. It sounded like some sort of fucked up scream; From an animal or a man, you couldn’t make out.

It took you a minute to finally uncurl from your position, quietly cursing to yourself before you trekked on.

“Gotta get the fuck out of here,” you whispered to yourself.

You kept following Leon’s distinct path. What locked doors had been opened, what path was made the most clear, what gate he had to force open with probably a good kick. You walked under a risen metal gate, eyeing it in case it slipped before you spotted an oddly placed crate to your right. There was an out-of-place torch post right next to it, barely any smoke furled out from the top. It had been extinguished recently, maybe an hour or so ago. Peeking up at the torch, you noticed that the embers were an odd purple color.

Where was Leon?

If connection had been cut out maybe less than an hour into his trek inside this fucked up rabbit hole, how far could he have gone? It had only been two days, really, he could be on the opposite side of Europe by now if he wanted to.

The scream echoed once again. It sounded closer this time. Your eyes bore into the wilderness that separated you from whatever the fuck was making that noise. It sounded like a monster crying out in pain.

Your feet carried you forward despite your brain wanting to sit tight and radio in help. A part of you was terrified to take another step into this twisted village while the rest wanted to barge through guns blazing to rescue your fiance and Ashley.

You quickly came upon the lake Hunnigan must have talking about. The water was choppy, the dock creaked eerily, there was no boat at the end of it. To your left was some sort of cobbled house, it had been worn for at least a decade by the looks of it. The door was broken open, the top half having been smashed into, the rotting wood now missing. You stepped inside of the place, gun in front of you with your finger on the trigger as you swept through the entire room, your eyes landing on Leon’s jacket and gun thrown to the ground in front of you.

You holstered your gun and bent down, picking up his jacket only showed that it was tattered. It looked like an animal had tore into it. The seams around the arms were split open, stitches were popped, there were odd lines scratched down the back of his jacket before you looked back down at the gun. Leon’s SG-09R laid splattered in mud, barely visible. You were only able to see in from the faint light of the full moon overhead. You couldn’t help but pick it up, the weight foreign yet familiar. It was empty, bullets absent. What was even more of a shock was that it almost looked like it had been crushed, especially at the wooden embedded handle. The metal was all bent out of shape and the wood was splintered. Whatever got ahold of it has to have been something big and nasty.

You swallowed thickly. Before you could press a finger to your earpiece to radio Hunnigan, you heard a chilling snap of iron close to you followed by a snarl that cut through the night.

You dropped the gun and Leon’s jacket and snatched up your own, barging outside with your finger on the trigger. You followed the sound the noise came from, flashlight clicked on only to see a bear trap ripped in half in front of you. It had been snapped at the hinges. Blood covered the rusted teeth, the pressure plate had been smashed, the chain had been yanked up from the soggy earth.

Whatever was making those horrible noises had just gotten out.

You swallowed thickly, raising your flashlight to follow the trail whatever it was made for you. There were odd marks in the mud and leaves, almost like a giant wolf had tore through the woods.

You heard someone shouting not too far away, gargled Spanish bellowing out before he was horribly cut off with a vicious snarl. You ran towards the noise before you stopped dead in your tracks at what your flashlight illuminated.

It was a monster. A real fucking monster. Not a zombie or some B.O.W. you’ve seen from the B.S.A.A.’s reports. It looked like something straight out of a nightmare. Your heart dropped to your chest as you stumbled back, your gun trembling in your hand. It was big, way bigger than any human you’ve ever seen. It was bulky and hairy and horrible. It was hunched over, tearing into the villager with clawed hands and a maw full of sharp teeth. It was wearing clothes, or whatever remained clinging to its lanky body. They almost looked… familiar?

Black cargo pants torn up way past the knees, a leg holster that was barely hanging on from the strap around its hip, and a shredded black t-shirt just like Leon-

It felt like someone had just pushed you off a cliff and let you plummet into an icy river below. You went into shock, shoulders dropping as the beast before you suddenly locked eyes with you. They were big, furious, slitted pupils drowning in a sea of sapphire blue as he looked at you with a feral hunger that could only be sated by killing.

“Leon?” you called out in disbelief.

No, it couldn’t be! He couldn’t be a werewolf. This was some sick ploy. It had to be.

He dropped the villager and stalked towards you, wolfen ears flattened against his skull, his lips curled back to reveal his bloodied canines, his clawed fingers flexing. He snapped his jaws, saliva and blood flying out as a horrid snarl clicked out from his throat.

You couldn’t let him kill you, but could you put him down?

You hesitated for a moment before you cocked your gun and pulled the trigger.

He woke up to his skull throbbing.

He winced and hissed, a groan emitting from his chest as he brought his hands up to his face. The light burned his eyes wherever it was coming from, the sound of his heart beating in his ears made his temples pound even harder. He felt like he had been ran over, thrown off a building, maybe even getting the shit beat out of him by that freak years ago in Raccoon City.

But it was always like this when he would turn.

His entire body was stiff, muscles screaming as he forced himself to move. He only managed to roll over onto his side before he had to stop. It felt like someone had just stabbed him right in the kidney, a choked shout cutting his breathing off. He braced his head against the dusty stone floor as he panted. He brought a trembling hand up to his hip where he could feel the tender skin as well as two divots in his trim waist. His skin flinched at his own touch, Leon grit his teeth and propped himself up on his other arm and finally opened his eyes.

He was in some kind of cellar, it didn’t look to be well taken care of. There were cobwebs caking the ceilings and the floor was covered in a blanket of dust and dirt. There were kegs in the cellar, some were leaking fortified wine from how long they had been aging.

Leon looked down at his hip to see he was healing. The gunpowder still sweetly caressed his nose from where he had been shot. Looking at his body, he noticed he had been shot in the shoulder he was propping himself up on and one in the calf right above his ankle. He was healing, at least, the skin closed up and slowly stitching itself back together.

“Shit,” he cursed to himself softly.

He quickly noticed that his uninjured leg had been shackled, a rusty iron chain was clamped around his shin, keeping him attached to the stone wall.

What the hell happened, anyway?

He could briefly hear the call of the wild ringing bells in the back of his mind. He could feel the beast inside of him clawing at his guts, baying to be let out again. His memory was fuzzy, no pun intended, as he tried to piece together what all had happened and why he suddenly lost control.

He rubbed at his pounding temples, brushing the sticky hair out of his face when he noticed it. Pulling his hand away, his eyes widened frantically at the sight of dried blood dusting his fingertips and crusting up under his nails. Bile suddenly bubbled wickedly in his stomach as he felt saliva pool in the back of his throat. Did he attack someone? All could remember were those fucking crazed villagers and-

You.

Leon sat straight up, wincing at the pull in his back before he locked his hands around the chain and yanked, trying to release himself. His heart pounded so loudly in his ears that he almost didn’t hear the cocking of a gun behind him.

Almost.

Leon whipped around, standing and then suddenly freezing. You were standing at the opposite of the small cellar, panting softly with your gun raised with both hands. His eyes zeroed in on the makeshift bandage on your bicep that was still bleeding from the looks of it. He felt dread clawing its icy way up his spine.

“(Y/n)-”

“Shut up,” you grit your teeth, nudging your gun forward. “What the actual fuck was that, Leon?”

He attacked you. He lost control of himself and attacked you when you were sent here to save his sorry ass. Did he bite too? Did he turn you? There were other bandages around you, one particular one was wrapped around your thigh. The fabric was different than the rest, it almost looked like the scarf Ashley was wearing when Leon saw her last. He could smell her faint perfume.

“Where’s Ashley-?”

“Don’t change the fucking subject; She’s here with me.” You took a step forward and Leon raised his hands in surrender. “Now what the actual fuck was that you turned into?”

#resident evil #leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #werewolf!leon kennedy #werewolf!leon #werewolf!leon s kennedy

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yoitsjay · 5 months

Text

Phoenix

Pairings: Keegan P. Russ x M!Reader

Summary: you had been hiding your abilities ever since your kind had been wiped out. But your team was in danger, you had to do something... at the cost of your life perhaps?

Warnings: mentions of death, COD typical violence, blood, gunshots and gun wounds, fire, revival, nudity

Word count: 3,161

You, like everyone else now, were a hybrid. There was no real or true human left in the world, not since the monsters and creatures began to mix breed with humans, and the humans of course fell in love with the idea of having a monster as a lover, who wouldn't? they were faster, stronger, more intelligent and in most cases, hotter. You were a member of the Ghosts, a renowned special forces team in the United States. You were a new member, unfortunate as that was however regardless the team accepted you as one of their own.. maybe because you were strong… or terrifying.

The Ghosts consisted of a mix of hybrids, Logan was a vampire hybrid with enhanced smell and super strength, Hesh was a werewolf hybrid with the smell, hearing, scent and vision to boot, Ajax was an avian hybrid with strong wings which matched his hair. And then there was Keegan, and keegan being the leader seemed quite powerful himself, Being a wraith he had the ability to disappear into shadows, physical shadows that could snap the neck of an enemy without much force. He was strong on top of that, with his training and his ability. Made him all the more sexy really.

And then there was you, one of the strongest hybrids in the world… a phoenix. This mythical legend is said to never die, and if it did it would simply be reborn from ash over and over again, the only thing to kill a phoenix is iron as it will burn them and kill them. Because they are so powerful they were hunted down and killed, all but you and your mother who managed to escape one fateful night… your father and brothers weren't so lucky, but you were.

The thing was, they had no idea that you were a phoenix hybrid, your mother told you to hide your abilities, lie and say you weren't a hybrid, or that you were something else completely. Now it wasn't entirely impossible to be a human in a hybrid run world, they did still exist but the few humans that were around were used as slaves for the superior like dragons, or other powerful beasts, so, human it was then.

Despite posing as a human you were still abnormally strong, and you had a faster regeneration rate than most other people in the Ghosts, but when they ask you always used the same lie, that you were tested on because you were human and it gave you regeneration, or inhuman strength when you were indeed human. Still, you were strong and funny, and if Keegan liked you then so did the rest of the ghosts. But in order to protect you and your abilities, you still had to hide it.

Currently you are sitting in a transport plane with the rest of the Ghosts, sitting across from Keegan and between Logan and Hash. They were like brothers to you, so them pushing and nudging you didn't really bug you. Ajax was seated beside Keegan and then of course there was Riley, the ever brave Ghost dog, who was laying in her own carrier, strapped down so it wouldn't move, but it was a big crate so she was comfortable. The test of the Ghosts were back on base or… dead, may they rest in peace. So it was just you and the boys listed already.

You were heading to Chile where you heard reports of some pretty bad militia reading havoc on the locals, while also wearing rumors that he was part of an Operation in Russia, a terrorist operation that you had to shut down. Little did you know how dangerous it all would be… regardless, the plane landed on a bare strip between two smaller mountain ranges, and there was already a big truck waiting for you. A driver was waiting outside with a more serious look on his face, however when he saw the Ghosts his smile grew and he waved as you and your team walked over. “Mr. Russ, Ajax, thank you and the rest of you for coming, we are in desperate need of your help now more than ever. I'll explain everything on the way but we need to get moving.” The man stated, and the Ghost piled into the car with you being right between Keegan and Logan.

See, you and Keegan had a secret you both hid from the rest of the team, a couple months ago you were in a tight situation with Keegan and it escalated… but not in a bad way. And ever since then you and him… well let's just say it developed into something that the rest of the team would tease you for. Regardless, no matter what mission you and Keegan were on it was always his personal mission to touch you and tease you in some form of way, whether it was when you were in a sniper position with him and he HAD to touch your thigh or ass, or hold your waist to keep you still. It was frustrating, yet you never stopped him before.

Keegan even had the balls to do something like that now, sneaking a hand behind you and down the back of your pants, subtly squeezing your ass which made you tense up quite a bit, though when the car suddenly hit a large bump in the road you took the opportunity to pull Keegans arm away, and instead grip onto him and Logan so you didn't fall forward since there were no seat belts. “Fuck that was a bad bump.” you played off quickly, patting Logan’s thigh which you previously had an iron grip on, shifting yourself so you were more comfortable in your seat. You pinched Keegan however, a subtle way of telling him “not here asshole” before letting him go too.

When you arrived at your destination Keegan and Ajax talked with the driver, getting more information while you, David and Logan took all your gear into the safe house where you would be staying and planning. The two brothers left their gear on the table like ruffians, however you took the time and instead moved them to a safer location so the table could be used to plan with a map amongst other things.

When Keegan and Ajax came back inside it was time to divide and conquer. Ajax stepped forward to separate the teams, however because there was an odd number between them there would either be a group of three, or two groups of two and one loner.

“Alright, Keegan and Logan and Y/n you're in a group, Hesh you're with me. Here's the plan. Keegan and his group are going to be infiltrating the West part of this compound here where we believe our target is staying. Hesh and I will take the East side. Once inside we split off and each take a section of the house, luckily enough there are five sections. Y/n you take the southwest corner, Keegan you take the northwest. Logan, you head to the center where there are some hostages being held, free them and arm them and then get their help to take over the compound. Hesh will take the southeast corner and I'll take the northeast. Clear your sections and if you find our target bring him to the center of the compound alive for questioning. If anything goes wrong, get out of the compound and meet at the rendezvous point here-”

While Ajax was explaining everything, he pointed to certain sections on the map, showing the team where they would all be going, and then again once they would split up. You felt uneasy, however. It's not that you didn't trust Ajax, or didn't believe that this plan would work, but you just had an uneasy feeling in your mind. A hum left your lips but you nodded to the plan, you wouldn't let anyone get hurt, that was a vow you silently swore to everyone.

However, now, it was time to rest as the infiltration would be tomorrow. There were not enough rooms for you individually so you split up again, however even though Keegan was offered his own room he rejected it and grabbed you to bunk with instead, bringing you to the master bedroom where he closed and locked the door once you both were inside. “God it's been weeks since we've been alone darlin I missed you.” He grumbled, dropping his bag as he pulled you into his arms, holding you tight.

You chuckled, wrapping your arms around his neck as you embraced him in return, pulling off your mask so he could see your face as you smiled at him. “I could say the same Keeg, but that was a risky move that you pulled back in the car.” you huffed, pulling away with furrowed eyebrows. Keegan shrugged, almost like he didn't care anymore which was probably the truth.

“Y/n I don't want to hide our relationship- whatever it is- from the boys anymore. They have almost caught us a dozen times now and I know they're starting to get suspicious. I know they won't judge, or tell anyone else… but I don't want to hide my feelings for you.” He huffed, sliding his hands down your waist. You sighed, leaning up and kissing his cheek which still had the mask covering it. You didn't bother taking it off, knowing Keegan would if he felt comfortable, but this was a new place, who knows who could be watching.

“I know Keegan… look- how about we tell them after the mission then. We have to keep everyone's heads clear for tomorrow, we wouldn't want to distract them and get them hurt.” You explained, and Keegan nodded in agreement. However before you could move away he quickly pulled you close, pulling his mask up over his nose as he leaned in and kissed you gently, smiling against your lips before pulling away shortly after.

“I'll protect you and them no matter what. You guys are my family, and you're my everything.” He spoke softly, kissing you again just once, only to pull away too soon, walking into the bathroom attached to the bedroom to shower and get ready to sleep. You rolled your eyes, having already showered before leaving so you just stripped down to the under clothes you had on, getting in bed and getting comfortable.

Tomorrow would be a wild day, you knew it.

~~~~

You were up before anyone else that following morning, now downstairs in the kitchen making breakfast for the team with whatever breakfast foods were left in the fridge for you and the boys. There wasn't much, mostly ration tubes amongst snacks and other things, but you managed to cook up a pretty decent breakfast, setting the table.

You grew up in a house of women, being the second oldest you were taught a lot of the house chores too, so doing stuff like this not only came easy to you, but it was like second nature to get it done. The Ghosts were always grateful for your help and cooking however, it just meant they didn't have to cook for themselves as long as you were around.

When everyone was awake because of the smell of food, they all wondered downstairs to the table, thanking you, finding a plate and eating almost immediately. They were like zombies or robots, awake but programmed to do straightforward things like this… you chuckled to yourself before finding a seat and eating with them. Logan was somewhat excited about the mission, and his brother shared that excitement but you still felt nervous…

After breakfast it was time to leave, the Ghosts gathered their weapons and gear, arming themselves to carry as much as they could while you attached a med pack to the back of your gear, followed by a couple of reloads for your rifle and pistols, strapping knives to your legs, hiding some in your boots, under your sleeve where an arm sheath was, and then putting a hunting knife in its designated sheath on your vest, and lastly getting your radio in place.

When all of the Ghosts were ready, you left in the same car that picked you up from your transport plane. The driver brought you close to the compound but it was still far enough where you had to walk the rest of the way. Once you were close enough on foot you split into your groups, you Keegan and Logan, and then Ajax and Hesh going the opposite way. With your weapon in hand you fell into line behind Keegan as he sprinted to the west wall, you started looking for a way in without explosives while Keegan had readied the C4… but before you could place it, you pressed in a brick and with surprise the wall in front of you shifted and opened up to reveal a dark corridor that lead into the compound.

“Lucky me.” You muttered, allowing Keegan to take the lead again as you took your position second with Logan watching your back. Successfully you managed to get into the compound, and with a whispered battle cry, you split up with your group, stealthily creeping through the south west corridor, using your knife to Stealth kill anyone you crept up on. You did have a picture of what your target looked like. Short, brown hair and green eyes with a very pale complexion, always wearing his medals whether fake or real. Very arrogant.

You continued to search your corridor clearing rooms through your radio like everyone else, however just as you cleared the last room you heard gunshots from the other side of the building, followed by shouts over the radio from Ajax. “Hash Is down! Shot to the knee he's okay but we need backup! NorthEast corridor!” Ajax called out through the radio, immediately your knife was back in its sheath and your assault rifle was in your hands and you were running down through the south hallway, killing any enemy you stumbled across before running to the North hallway where you saw Hash clutching his knee. Immediately you got down on your knees beside him, shooting a few enemy soldiers who came up from behind you before you grabbed the med pack and started patching up his knee. “It went through Hash, I can't tell if it hit a nerve or not but I'm going to stop the bleeding.” You explained, not giving him any warning as you pressed down roughly with your hands, putting pressure on both sides of the wound. Soon Logan arrived and he covered your flank, but more and more soldiers surrounded you, and your team was starting to run out of bullets. Hash had passed out from the pain but that didn't stop you from holding that pressure. “Where's keegan?” You suddenly asked Logan, realizing he wasn't there. Logans eyes went wide and he looked around in a panic. That's when you heard sounds of struggle. A grunt left your lips, and you looked at Ajax. “we've got this, go get Keegan.” You pleaded, pulling your hands away when you were sure the bleeding was stopped (while secretly using the powers you hid to heal him faster).

Once Ajax moved, you covered his position and started shooting the enemies in front of him, eventually giving him a clear way to get to Keegan. He brought the man back, and luckily Keegan was uninjured. But Keegan, Ajax and now you were out of bullets, and Logan was running out even after using Hash’ bullets. It was like they knew you were here…

Just then explosions were heard from the south west corridor, then again where Keegan was. The house shook violently, and you quickly realized they were dropping bombs. “Quick, to the middle I have an idea!” You shouted, and Logan grabbed his brother who was still unconscious. You lead everyone to the middle, surrounding yourself with furniture and crates. Everyone was in danger if you didn't do something… you had to do something…

You stood up quickly, bullets whizzing past your face bit you ignored it, stripping off your gear as you looked down at Keegan. “what are you doing Y/n get down!” He shouted, but you shook your head. “I'm doing what I should have done long ago. I'm done hiding what I am Keegan. I'm not human, I've never been human… Keegan, Ajax, Logan… I'm The Phoenix.” You stated, and with that fire erupted out of your skin, but to them it wasn't hot fire, nor did it burn them, you started transforming into a large beast, covered in fire. Your wings spread out, and you covered your team with said wings as several bombs were dropped around you. However because you had covered your team and protected them, they were unharmed. The compound had been flattened, and obviously your target escaped…

But as the dust settled and Keegan opened his eyes, he realized that… you weren't there. You had sacrificed your life and now- you were a pile of ash in the middle of the Ghosts, hot to the touch. Keegan tensed up, experiencing not only the loss of a teammate, but the loss of his lover.

Keegan screamed, throwing a piece of furniture that surrounded them away as he took a few steps forward, Logan held his brother close since he was still unconscious, and Ajax just stared at the pile of ash. But… that wasn't the end, no…

Out of the ash, a fire sparked and suddenly a smaller version of the Phoenix you had turned too had materialized out of that ash, reborn you were, and once all the ash was gone, the fire went out and there you stood… naked as a newborn babe. A nervous chuckle left your lips, and immediately Ajax looked away, as did Logan. “Keegan?” You called out…

The man turned with disbelief, running towards you and picking you up in his arms. He didn't care if they were watching, but he pulled off his mask and he kissed you, setting you down on the ground before pulling away, quickly realizing that you were in fact naked. “well look at that, naked for me darling?” He asked with a smirk, only to get slapped on the arm. However he didn't care.

You were alive and safe, and now that he and the team knew what you actually were, they vowed to keep you safe. Once you got some clothes on, you were taken home, as was Hash who needed to heal still but he'd be able to walk again, thanks to you and your abilities…

Your target got away, but Keegan would find him, he couldn't forgive what had been done to you, even if you were revived it still called for revenge… and he would get it, for you.

#fanfiction #keegan p russ x male reader #keegan russ x male reader #keegan russ x reader #cod keegan #keegan p russ #call of duty: Ghosts #logan walker #david walker #cod hash #cod logan #cod ghosts #cod ajax #male reader

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whoreish-behaviour · 1 year

Text

Revenant 14

Previous - Next

Recom!Colonel Quaritch x Na'vi!Reader

Every corner you seemed to peek around was pure untamed violence, more than you had ever seen in your life.

The ship below felt as if it was constantly rocking, only the tips of your toes on the floor as you crouched down and out of sight - Spider hot on your tail.

You only crept forward when the gunshots ahead would suddenly cease, guttural groans leaving the lips who? You weren't sure - there were too many for any sort of recognition.

'I can see them! Come on!'

You didn't even have a chance to protest before Spider overtook you, his legs carrying him much quicker than you had time to think.

'Spider!' You whisper shouted, snapping back and hastily attempting to catch up with the headstrong younger, tail whipping in anxiety behind you.

Using the long length of your legs to your advantage, you were able to catch up - hands reaching out and grasping his shoulders, pulling him back to where you knew you could offer him at least an ounce of protection.

'Stop it! Your going to get your-' You abruptly cut yourself off when a familiar voice loudly spoke out, your head and ears perking up and over the crate you where hidden behind.

You couldn't help the way your tail picked up in speed, your grip on Spider unknowingly tightening as Miles's voice seemed to echo around you, heartbeat picking up in your chest.

You didn't fight the sudden warmth that flooded your body as you trailed your eyes over his furrowed expression, lips set into a frightening scowl.

Blind-sighted by your own adoration, you almost failed to notice the young girl strapped beneath his large knife, her breathes choking out in splutters.

You felt yourself deflate slightly, eyes glued to the sight.

'What? What's happening' You opened your mouth to answer Spider but apparently you hadn't answered quick enough before the young boy was peeking over as well.

Almost instantly, he darted out of your arms and straight towards man that was causing copious amounts of mixed emotions inside you.

'Stop! Don't hurt her, just let her go!'

You stood up then, leaning both your hands on the crate in front and taking in the situation before you.

Immediately, you felt Miles's eyes snap to your sudden appearance - his ears twitching up slightly as he took you in, completely overlooking the shouting boy in front of him.

'Miles..' You choked, eyes bouncing between his unreadable expression and the anxious girl in his arm, shoulders dropping.

You didn't notice the creeping shadow behind you, slim body blending into the dim light of the wrecked ship until it was too late.

Everyone's head snapped in the same direction when a sudden war cry pierced the tense space - Spider's shouts ceasing immediately as he was grabbed from behind.

You recognised the azure skin of the wailing woman from earlier - a frighting dagger the size of your forearm gripped tightly in her fist and raised in the air.

As soon as Spider's fearful cry reached your ears, your face deepened into a glare, ears pinning back and a bellowing hiss erupting from your lips.

Jumping the crate and landing with a thud, you made a move towards the boy being held hostage.

Before you could reach them however, Spider was cast aside - body landing harshly as he rolled painfully on his shoulder.

‘Spider!’ You momentarily paused, the woman in front turning her attention to you.

Hissing harshly, you dodged as she tried to strike at you - both of you circling each other as your tails whipped threateningly behind you.

‘Neytiri-‘

Your ears flicked forward, ‘Neytiri’s’ doing the same as a voice behind her called out - glare not once leave her as she tried creeping closer to where you were stood.

'My shoulder!' Taking a small side step to where Spider was, you quickly glanced behind and down - face furrowed in concern and tail coming down to gently brush against him in sympathy.

You didn't expect the wind to be knocked out of you as you were tackled, both your body and your attacker going over Spider and landing roughly behind him instead.

Barley even being able to suck in a breath, you mustered a ferocious hiss - swallowing down your pain as your hair was grabbed in a tight grip.

You froze when the cool and wet surface of the dagger was pressed up right below your jawline.

Breathing harshly, you looked up - ready to throw every curse word your parents ever whispered to you not to say at the unforgiving warrior above when you notice she wasn't even staring at you.

Following her gaze, your eyes landed on Miles - who's face you had never seen holding so much emotion before - lips downturned and ears pinned back so low you would've missed them if they weren't twitching with fury.

And if that wasn't enough of a give away, his once stiff and unmoving tail now seemed to have a mind of it's own - rapidly wavering behind him.

You flinched when Neytiri's braid brushed your face as she leaned in closer to you, her face still turned to Miles mockingly.

'You have more of a reaction to her than to that of your own flesh and blood..' Her voice was low in dominance yet loud, your eyes bouncing from her to Miles.

Your pointed ears twitched when you heard Miles suddenly hiss in response but no real words left his lips.

You weren't sure if he had any to give.

'Release..' You then felt the hand in your hair move to your Queue, pulling you up as you hissed in discomfort - Neytiri's slim and agile body now moving in behind you and replacing the dagger at your throat.

'Or I cut.'

Miles could barely register every emotion thrusting it's self at him, heart-rate building the more he looked at your frightened face - for once finding you in the claws of death itself.

He wasn't even able to bask in the relief of seeing you again before you were being ripped away right in front of his eyes.

As soon as his stare landed the dribble of blood drip down your neck from the tip of the knife, he felt his defeat kick in - the girl in his grasp breathing heavier in alleviation as his loosened his grip and allowed her to fall to the ground.

He didn't watch as she crawled away, ears flicking as she called to her dad but his attention never straying from where you were still caught.

'Now let her go.' Miles attempted to keep his voice relatively steady but his facade was breaking at the seams, lip curling in anger.

The atmosphere grew even more tense, until finally you where shoved forward - your arm barley catching you as Neytiri backed off.

You didn't move, chest rising and falling as you quickly looked behind you to make sure no sly attacks could be rained down.

Miles watched as his enemy gathered his family, pulling them behind him as they all walked back towards the sea, Jake's face determined as his eyes landed on you.

He then looked to Spider, tipping his chin as a sign to leave with them - uncaring as the boy looked back at Miles then you before shaking his head as if to brush away his own stupid thoughts.

Neither you or Miles moved until the family were out of sight, disappearing below the waves like ghosts of the ocean.

Only then did you look back at where Miles desperately wanted you to look, your lower lip trembling ever so slightly as you kneeled on the ground.

'C’mere Princess.' Miles’s voice was soft as he quickly crossed to where you were, body still on the floor when he scooped you up.

Your nose flared when you breathed in his familiar scent, muscles going lax as he settled you in his arms.

Nosing under his chin, your wrapped you arms around him as his hands squeezed over your thighs and side almost as if he was checking you were really there.

You shivered as he planted kisses along your neck and shoulder, his tail coming up to brush along the underside of your thigh gently.

‘Don’t ever leave like that again, you understand?’ He scolded however his voice lacked any true malice or anger.

‘I’m sorry.’ You murmured back, ears up as you leaned up to return the gesture of kisses along his jawline, purring quietly when his hand came up to rest against the back of your head to press you in closer.

For once you didn’t flinch when another piece of the ship ceiling fell, the loud and bellowing crash not startling you. Knowing you were safe, you instead just burrowed closer into the chest of your mate.

Instantly, your lolling eyes snapped open as the thought crossed your mind, your brain taking a double take.

Mate?

Sensing your shift in mood, Miles tipped his chin closer to your ears - mistaking your sudden frozenness for fear.

‘Let’s get you out of this shithole hah?’ You felt the slightest smile at the corner of his lips against your skin and you felt your own peeking through.

You still weren't able to get the thought out of your head.

Miles? Your mate?

You weren't even sure he knew what a mate was, let alone about courting rituals, gifting - hell even tsaheylu between mates.

And you were always told that often the Na'vi didn't even 'get' choose a mate for life, told by their parents to see it as a way of bringing two families together.

Yet,

you still found yourself picturing what life would even be like to have Miles as your mate. Being able to openly express how you felt and always having his warm embrace to crawl to.

Being able to finally have some sort of understanding of what goes on in that brain of his, to have him understand yours.

Teaching him your ways as he had taught you about his in the many weeks you had spend with him.

Mating, giving him complete and whole access to you - the thought sending a shiver up your spine at the though of his hands, his fangs finally claiming you as his.

Pulling back slightly so your faces were parallel, noses barley brushing - your stared at him, eyes wide as your grinned.

Miles felt himself soften at your smile, pointed teeth glinting as your eyes bounced over his features - analysing each small difference between you both but your smile growing even bigger, cheekier the more you took in.

'What you thinking huh?" He tipped his head slightly, the tips of your noses now touching.

'I wish to show you ma'Miles.' You stilted your head and Miles felt his ears perk up even higher if possible at the new name.

'Mhm?' He hummed in agreement but also questioning.

'Somewhere safe.' You nodded, pressing your forehead to his.

Tightening his grip on you, he breathed in your scent - pheromones thick and hazy around him.

You truly how no idea the power you held over him, yet he didn't find himself wanting to snatch it away - instead he wanted to whisper it against your skin, allow your hands to explore and fill that curiously he knew was burning inside you.

To be able to tuck you in close and know that you'll always come back to him.

'Somewhere safe.' He repeated back quietly.

PLEASE READ!

Sorry for the delay, I reread everything and ended up changing my idea completely lmaoo but i'm happy to be back!!

As I said before, chapter 15 is the last chapter of 'Revenant' and (as promised) its going to be STEAMY!!!! So if you want anything specific, please please let me know by either commenting or sending something to my inbox (its a judgement free zone people don't worry)!

@namor-is-the-way @kimqueenofhell @simplefools @gremlinfuck @jupekali @cypherpt5fttaehyung @pturnersblog @girlblogger2002 @inkareds @apollonshootafar @aokimisa23 @lovejessejay @bannasssnpeaches @spookyspecterino @s-sabbas @ateandleftnocrumbz @witxhy-lexx @anbanananna @w3ird11 @perseny @night-spectrum @oyasumimosura @hungrhay @darkengene @holyastronauts @nin3kyuu @blossom618 @dumb-fawkin-bitch @enslique @koolaidjug @kadu-5607 @fourcefulcupid @mangolog @webwix @dakotali @mrmckenzie @mrs-sullys-blog @teoretikteroru @ken-dala @deliciousdilfmentality @perilous-pasta @debesyje @sully-stick-together @sunshine2113 @strawberry07cake @ducks118 @crocodilefeet2707 @kyleimd @opwolfe @multifandom123sstuff @itsyoboysparkel @zilena9 @melancholicradio @storybug123 @slasher-lovers-blog @chainsawangel @cosmic-lavender @liuope

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taizi · 9 months

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could you write something about the crew saving sanji from captivity, like maybe he was caught by marines or somthing, and they hadnt been feeding him, and the crew gets to cook for sanji for once or something like that?

It made sense that they would run into a halfway intelligent Marine grunt sooner or later.

“You don’t fight with your hands much,” he said, opening the file on the table in between them. “Weak arms? Nah, I’ve never heard of a sailor with weak arms. There must be another reason.”

He wasn’t anyone special. Sanji was familiar enough with the uniforms by now to tell at a glance that he wasn’t decorated the way the real heavy hitters were. Chief Petty Officer, maybe. Warrant Officer at best.

Sanji was a Straw Hat. He wasn’t going to break a sweat for anyone less than a Vice-Admiral. He made sure to say as much, to clear up any misunderstandings. The officer didn’t appreciate hearing it for some reason.

He put out a hand without looking up from the file. A guard by the door stepped forward and placed something in his palm.

It was a ball-peen hammer.

“You’re the cook. That’s why you protect your hands. You wouldn’t have a place in that famous crew of yours if you lost those.”

“Well, you’re partly right, at least,” Sanji admitted. “For someone stupid enough to spectacularly piss my captain off, that’s far more than I expected.”

The extraction team arrived in the form of an unhinged skeleton and a six-foot-tall reindeer that tossed his knife-point antlers hard enough to put a decent-sized hole in the doorframe, but only after two fingers were mangled on Sanji’s right hand and one was freshly broken on his left.

The officer whirled around at the sudden appearance of uninvited company—surprised for just a moment, and then gray-faced with fear.

“About time,” Sanji snarked, and wrenched his shackled hands hard enough that the chain links binding him to the floor snapped. He stood, stretched his spine, and flicked a disinterested look at the Marine officer, who went melting towards the back of the room on legs that wobbled like jelly. Disregarding him, Sanji added, “Did Robin have time to get those files she wanted? I stalled for ages.”

For a beat, neither of his nakama answered him. Then Brook’s jaw made a cracking noise like a gunshot, the way it does when he’s grinding his teeth, and Chopper shrieked, “Your hands!!”

Sanji glanced down at them. “Oh, yeah. Our mutual friend over there wasn’t very creative.”

It hurt like a bitch, but it was far from the worst thing he’d ever felt. If it had gone much further, he might have seriously considered deviating from the plan, but a few broken bones? His brothers used to do that just for fun.

Brook tossed his guitar over his shoulder, where it hung against his back by the strap looped across his chest, and withdrew his sword instead.

“I can be very creative,” he said, sing-song.

“We’re leaving!” Chopper proclaimed, and herded Sanji toward the door with his antlers. Sanji went, amused by the pushiness.

It’s much less amusing an hour later, when his fingers are splinted and wrapped carefully, and Chopper tells him in no uncertain terms that he’s banned from work until Chopper’s satisfied with how they’ve healed.

Sanji agrees easily, because Chopper is equal parts adorable and terrifying when it comes to the health and safety of their family. But when he slips into the galley to begin preparing supper, the reindeer is right on his heels, scolding, “Sanji! That’s work!”

“Hardly,” he scoffs. Then, “Wait, are you serious?”

Chopper throws up his little hooves, as exasperated as any healthcare professional four times his age. “Why would I joke? Your bones are broken. Put down that spatula or I’ll scream!”

Sanji puts down the spatula. He’s never felt this wrong-footed before in his life. What does one do in a kitchen they aren’t allowed to cook in? He shifts his weight and looks sideways at the pantry.

“Oh my god,” Nami says. She points at the table. “Sit.”

“This feels kind of absurd,” he says.

“So it’s completely on-brand, then,” Usopp says, frog-marching him to a chair. “Good to know.”

Sanji lets himself be bullied with a scowl, and tucks his hands under the table where they can’t get him into any more trouble. Zoro, from the other side of the table, snorts into his tankard. Carrot drapes herself over Sanji’s shoulders, faux-sympathetic, but her chest rumbles with subvocal animal laughter. Franky and Jimbei are grinning openly.

It’s not funny. It’s time to eat. After all that action, their bodies need to replenish nutrients. They need carbs and proteins. He could at least be making smoothies while everyone argues with him—he can multitask!

Luffy, whose face has been a thundercloud ever since they returned to Sunny, leaving the Marine base actively on fire in their wake, brightens suddenly.

“I got it!” he announces, and that’s his trainwreck tone of voice. The very familiar, always inevitable, ‘you can try to stop me but it’ll just end in tears if you do’ tone of voice. Sanji braces himself, but nothing could have prepared him for Luffy cheerfully declaring, “We’ll make dinner!”

“Uh, no,” Sanji says quickly.

“Captain’s orders,” Robin says peacefully.

She was angry with him before—in that careful, soft-spoken way she gets angry with her nakama that always leaves them feeling lower than dirt—for letting himself get hurt in even this unremarkable capacity. But now she meets his eyes with a smile that only the people aboard this ship are privileged to see, and he fumbles his half of the argument before he even has a chance to make it.

Within that time, half his crew have migrated to the kitchen proper, and Nami is heaving open the huge recipe book that lives in place of pride on the counter.

“Hey, hey, Sanji!” Luffy yells. “What do you want to eat?”

“This is really unnecessary,” he says, shifting to stand. Carrot becomes deadweight on his back, dangling there like the world’s weirdest scarf.

“We’ll survive without five star food for a few days,” Jimbei says dryly. “If I were you, I’d answer their question before they take matters into their own hands and decide for you.”

In the kitchen, things are already rapidly devolving. There’s a lot of clamoring around and shoving of shoulders. This crew would never agree on anything they couldn’t argue about for hours first. Luffy clambers up onto Yamato’s back to get a bird’s-eye view of the recipe book, stretching an arm over Nami’s own shoulder to point out every dish that catches his eye. Yamato is a cheerful, agreeable jungle-gym, not even batting an eye when Luffy’s grip on one of his horns causes his head to tilt slowly to the left.

If Sanji had known letting that measly little officer play his shitty power games would end like this, he would have kicked the creep in the mouth hard enough to shut him up permanently.

He taps his bandaged fingers against his knees, frustrated and restless. Normally his friends’ stubbornness is weaponized against other people. He doesn’t like being on this end and he doesn’t understand why it’s happening.

“They want it to be special for you,” Zoro says suddenly, interjecting for the first time all night with that infallible wisdom he likes to pull out of thin air when it suits him. Then he takes another drink and adds, “God knows why.”

There’s nothing Sanji can do for a moment but stare at him. From the corner of his eye, he can see Robin and Jimbei’s knowing smiles, Franky looking as though he’s about to laugh. Carrot is still purring, tickled pink by the whole thing. All around them, Sunny shifts and groans as she bears them across the sea, and somehow it sounds like she’s in on it, too.

Sanji, who can’t remember the last time anyone cooked for him, refuses to feel touched. Honestly. This isn’t touching, it’s goddamn annoying—but he might as well let them have their fun, right?

“French toast,” he finally says. Not very loud, all things considered. But the anarchy in the kitchen comes to a sudden halt, and Luffy’s smile is bright enough to put that sun god lurking inside him to shame.

“With strawberries and cream,” he says importantly. “I remember! Sanji’s favorite!”

“Oh, that sounds good,” Yamato exclaims, still standing at a weird angle and unbothered by it. Next to him, Brook is imitating the pose, for no immediately apparent reason. “Do we have strawberries?”

“Strawberries!” Chopper yells, in what is either accord or a demand, and Usopp opens the fridge to investigate.

Sanji lets his chin sink into one of his hands, overseeing the chaos from his seat at the table. That itchy, uneasy feeling in his chest settles down. Now he just feels reluctantly fond.

He can’t help thinking about what the officer said to him back on the base.

Sanji is a cook, and he does protect his hands, but that’s the extent of what the self-important stranger got correct. Luffy would drag him back from hell if he died, so the idea of being cut free because his usefulness has expired is outright laughable. Sanji doesn’t need to secure his place here.

The reality is much simpler—providing food for the people that he loves is a privilege, one he doesn’t take lightly. It just honestly hadn’t occurred to him until now that the street goes both ways.

Dinner preparation takes twice as long as it should that night.

Somehow, it tastes twice as sweet.

#one piece #opfic #black leg sanji #tony tony chopper #nakamaship #my writing #op #prompt #anonymous #me pushing my french toast agenda #in my heart carrot and yamato joined the crew so thats why theyre both there #its canon to me and thats all that matters thanks for understanding #it isnt quite what u requested anon but i hope u like it anyway #food as a love language aka (one of) my ultimate weakness(es)

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last-words-ofashootingstar · 10 months

Text

Yandere Outlaw Mingi TEASER

a/n: WROOF WROOF WROOF okay bye lmmmaaoooo

(>ᴗ•) ♡´･ᴗ･`♡ (ಡ‸ಡ)genre: smut w plot, YANDERE, angst

ಠ_ಠwarning/content(for teaser only): yandere themes, near death, violence, shmurder she wrote, not proof read

MATURE UNDER CUT MDNI

"Please, why are you doing this?!" Your voice shook with pure horror, tugging at the ropes that were wrapped around your entire body and tied to the tracks by the bandit who once was on your side. He crouched down at your feet and smirked, his simple answer making you cry all the harder.

"Why not?"

All of your pleas and prayers fall to deaf ears as the man turns away and to his cart, rummaging in his chest. The tracks begins to shake and you begin to except your fate. You turn your head to the side and watch the pebbles rumble, your sobs visible in puffs of air as you exhale into the harsh winter air.

A loud thud and a groan makes you look back, and you see a tall figure on a familiar white horse.

"Mingi!" He drops the crowbar he used to whack the man as he rode past.

He looks back at you briefly- his face hidden by his droopy hat. But you can tell he's pissed. His jaw clenched and shoulders tense before a gunshot rings out and he ducks and rolls off of Mare, slapping her to make her run away as he draws his own gun.

Between the dull rattling of the tracks and the thrumming of your heart, you can barely force yourself to watch as he approaches the man bravely, your eyes flicking from them to the horizon repeatedly. A sob of his name makes him pause for a split second before he comes back to his body.

"Too close," Mingi scowls at the man, using his gun to smack his hand and make him drop his, kicking it away as he scrambles for it.

"Aye, man, I did what yo-"

"Too close."

"Just give me my mon-"

His gun smokes by his side in the next second as the man drops to the desert floor dead. He takes a moment to bask in the way the blood pools around his head before the steam whistle catches his attention.

"Mingi, please!" He drops everything and runs to the tracks, crawling over your body and looking at your binds frantically. "Mingi, oh my God, please- I'm so sorry! Please untie me, hurry," you babble on in a panic as the train appears just over the horizon, sobs wracking you body under his as he tugs at the ropes.

Your horror breaks his heart, but he knows it's necessary. He knows he has a knife strapped to his back, but he plays the panic card and 'forgets' as he forces a false worry onto his face. He won't let anything happen to his Doll, but you're too caught up in your fight or flight to remember that.

"I got you, I got you," he murmurs as he pulls the ropes on one of your sides undone, taking his sweet time with the other as he watches the train grow ever closer- the conductor blaring the horn.

Your free hand grasps at him, clawing at his leather jacket, eyes wide and soaked with tears as you stare down your death as it barrels towards you. Just a few feet away.

Mingi yanks you up and falls to the ground besides the tracks with you on top of him, hands roughly holding you to his chest as his hat blows away with the wind that the train creates. You willingly slump into him, sobbing into his warm chest as the tracks rattle loudly besides you, drowning out your cries.

He relishes in the way you cling to him well after the train passes, not daring move away from your savior as you cry your heart out and ramble on to him about how you're so sorry and how you never would have really turned him in and on and on until he silences you with a tender hug.

He knows all of this. His Doll would never betray him. But it's best that he get a subconscious message through your thick, naive, skull early on.

The message being: every attempt to leave him has failed miserably. Why even try to leave when he's so clearly your fate?

#ateez #ateez smut #ateez au #ateez angst #yandere ateez #song mingi #mingi #yandere mingi #yandere fic #smut fic #angsts fic

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going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 2 months

Note

JOHANNA REFUSES TO USE A STRAP, SHE'S 100% CONVINCED SHE CAN TIRE ANYBODY OUT W/O Toys (she can, ask the new recruits)

Jokes on her Simone fucks her into a blabbering mess with the strap every. God. Damn. Time.

SHE CAN AND I STAND BY YOU ON THAT 🫵🫵🫵🫵

WATCH THAT HUMONGOUS WOMAN BE REDUCED INTO A BLUBBERING MESS, CRYING FROM HOW OVERSTIMULATED SHE IS WHILE SIMONE IS JUST COMPLETELY CHILL, FISTING THE BED SHEETS WITH ONE HAND THE OTHER PULLING HER BACK BY THE HAIR RIGHT AT THE SCA-

*gunshot noises*

#asks #genderbent!141 #pegging is a topic i need a tag for now

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justwearthegoddamncardigan · 10 months

Note

I saw your post

Quisiera saber si harían algo con gally x lector alguna reunión fluff etc, algo como que se aman pero el lector decide ir con Thomas y cuando están afuera la bala no le pega a chuck sino que le pega en el hombro al lector, los separan pensando que Gally murio y viceversa y cuando se reencuentran discuten lo sucedido lloran muestran sus cicatrices y se dicen que aun se aman y nunca se olvidaron

Sorry english is not my first lenguagedioma

Hi! I don't speak Spanish, but I copied it into google translate and I'm writing based on that. Hopefully it's okay :)

Translated prompt: I would like to know if they would do something with gally x reader, some meeting fluff etc, something like they love each other but the reader decides to go with Thomas and when they are outside the bullet does not hit chuck but hits the reader on the shoulder, they separate them thinking that Gally died and vice versa and when they meet again they discuss what happened they cry they show their scars and tell each other that they still love each other and never forgot

Scars

Gally x gn!reader

Starts set in tmr then flashes forward to tdc (movieverse)

Notes: not entirely canon compliant, also combines elements from the books

Warnings: canon-typical violence (not graphically described), language

You can't remember a time where Gally wasn't a part of your life.

Right from the start, you were immediately inseparable. In the complete chaos that was the first couple months in the Glade, the two of you had simply met and decided; we're sticking together.

"The water's drinkable. It's clean."

Gally's head whips around as he locates your voice.

You stand calmly, leaning back on a tree with a blade strapped to your hip.

"And why should I trust you?"

You step forward and cup your hands into the stream to take a sip. "See? Safe."

Gally doesn't move.

You sigh. "Look, man. It's a mess 'round here. If some of us don't start working together, we're all gonna die in this shithole."

He looks you up and down and apparently decides you're trustworthy, because he sticks his hand out to shake. "I'm Gally."

You take his hand. "Y/n."

Even after the group got together and started organising a proper system, with jobs and leaders and actual teamwork, you and Gally always stayed close.

Gally was your biggest supporter and protector, the one person you trusted more than anyone, the one person who understood you more than anyone. And it was the same for him with you.

Eventually, your close bond evolved into love.

You've kept your relationship mostly a secret, stealing kisses behind closed doors and holding hands under tables.

It's been perfect, until now.

You stand in front of the Maze doors, having just cut Teresa loose from where she was tied up.

"You're with them?" Gally's voice wavers as he stares at you in shock and hurt, and your heart breaks at his betrayed expression.

"I'm sorry," you say softly. You clench your hands as you pull up your resolve. "They have a way out," you explain desperately.

"It's over," says Thomas. "Just come with us."

Tears rise in your eyes as Gally shakes his head.

"Gally, please," you step forward, but Newt tugs you back.

"Don't," says Newt quietly.

"Good luck against the Grievers," Gally's tone is flat, eyes forced away from you.

"No," you whisper.

"Y/n," says Minho gently. "We have to go."

You cast one last look at Gally, the person you love, the person you thought you'd give anything for, and you turn to face the Maze.

⭒----⭒

You stand in shock as the video footage of WCKD and their actions fades out, the gunshot from Ava Paige's suicide still ringing in your mind.

"Is it over?" Chuck asks shakily.

"She said we were important," says Newt, frowning in confusion.

Thomas shakes his head. "Let's just get out of here."

You nod in agreement, turning towards the exit.

"No."

You freeze. "Gally?"

You take a step forward, about to run up to him, but Teresa grabs your arm. "Wait," she jerks her chin to where Gally's clutching a Griever stinger in his hand. "He's been Stung."

Your heart drops as you see him lift a gun.

"We can't leave," he says. You look closer at him under the flickering lights, and see that his eyes are darkened, glazed over.

"We did," says Thomas, hands reached out as he tries to calm Gally. "We're out, we're free."

"Gally, look at me," you implore.

"Careful, Y/n," warns Newt.

"Hey, it's us," you say to Gally. "Just put down the gun, and come with us. Please."

For a split second, you think you see a hint of recognition in his eyes, but it disappears in an instant.

"We'll never be free," says Gally, chest heaving. "We belong to the Maze."

You squeeze your eyes shut instinctively as he aims the gun, and your body jerks as the bullet slices through your shoulder.

"Y/n!"

Deep red blooms through your shirtsleeve but you ignore the pain and stumble to where Gally's been knocked over, a spear embedded in his chest.

The world blurs as everyone crowds around you, they concerned words melting together.

You fall to your knees beside Gally, turning him to face you, hands moving frantically around his chest in panic.

"Nonono, please no," tears roll down your face as you cup his cheek.

Suddenly, a commotion of noise cuts through the haze of your grief, and the air fills with yelling behind you.

People, strangers, dressed in dark armour grab at your friends, dragging them out.

As one of the men advances toward you, you lift Gally's hand to your lips, presses a kiss to his knuckles. "I'm sorry," you whisper.

You don't fight as the man takes you by the arm and yanks you over to where Frypan and the others are being piled into a helicopter, and you stare out the window as it takes off, flying you further and further away from Gally.

⭒----⭒

Moving on hurt; it hurt a damn lot.

Despite feeling the ache of Gally's loss every day, you've managed to keep yourself together and alive, which is pretty good, all things considered.

You got through the Scorch and found the Right Arm, but with Minho captured now you and the group are trying to get into the Last City.

You keep an eye on Brenda, making sure you don't lose sight of her as you weave through the sea of people crowded up at the walls of the Last City.

"We've got to go." Newt appears behind you, Thomas in tow.

"What's going on?" you ask.

As Newt points, you turn to see masked people coming straight towards you, from different directions.

"Shit," mutters Brenda.

"Quick, let's go," you start moving, but stop as you hear creaking metal.

You look up in horror to see WCKD weapons taking aim.

"Run, now!" you scream, shoving Frypan to move as the missiles start to fire.

You sprint after Thomas, ducking around a corner where a bunch of vans are parked.

"Oi!" you trip as you hear Newt's yell, and someone grabs you roughly while you're distracted.

"What the- Hey!" You're thrown into a van with Frypan and Jorge, hearing tires screech as the van takes off.

"Let us go!" you shout, knocking a guy in the throat.

As you move to swing at the next guy, a gun cocks, and you freeze.

"Just wait 'till we get there," growls the guy.

When the van stops, Jorge takes the advantage to attack the people guarding you.

"Where is she?" he yells, kicking a guy out through the van doors. "Where's Brenda?"

"Wait wait stop!" Brenda skids forward, jumping out of the other van.

More guards leap into the fight, all holding guns, and you and your friends back up with your hands raised.

"Alright everybody calm down! We're all on the same side here." The voice is distorted by the mask, and you frown in suspicion.

"What do you mean 'same side'," says Thomas, shoving a guard off him. "Who the hell are you?"

The guy pauses, thinking, then reaches up to the mask and yanks it off.

Your breath is immediately knocked out of you, and you feel ice flood your veins as you lay your eyes on the person you thought you'd never see again.

"Gally?" you rasp out.

You see the moment his calm shatters. Gally flinches at your voice, physically stumbles back as his eyes jump towards you, and he looks about as shocked as you are.

"Y-Y/n?"

You let out an unintelligible sob and run forward, jumping into his arms.

"What the- I thought you were dead," you say fervently.

"I thought I shot you," he replies, still in shock.

Gally lets out a disbelieving laugh, and you feel it in his chest. "God, I missed you." You reach up to cup his tearstained cheek, and pull him in for a kiss.

He lifts you as he kisses back, and you tighten your arms around his neck, feeling your feet lift of the ground.

"Alright, lovebirds. Oi Gally, what're we doin' with them?" calls one of the van drivers.

"I- Right, I just need to," Gally stutters towards you for a second, and you place a hand on his arm.

"Later - don't worry, we have time."

He gives you a fond smile at your understanding, looping an arm around your waist.

"Gally," groans Frypan. "Just explain, please."

"Alright, alright."

⭒----⭒

Thomas goes in to meet a guy named Lawrence, and comes out with a plan to scout the city first.

"Hey, can we have a minute before we go?" you ask Thomas.

"Yeah, of course," he replies.

Gally takes your hand and leads you into a quieter part of the building.

"I- I missed you so much," he tells you. "I never forgot you, not for a single day. I couldn't forget, thinking that I'd... that I'd killed you."

"Gally," you interrupt. "Look at me."

As he lifts his head, you pull down the collar of your shirt, all the way to the side to expose your shoulder and the scar from the bullet.

"See? Just a shoulder wound. I'm fine, and you..." you let out an incredulous huff. "I can't believe you're here. You're alive."

You reach out and brush your fingers lightly over his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat through his shirt. "I thought..."

"I'm okay too, see?" He covers your hand with his own. "There's a scar there too, but that's all they are. Just marks. We're both, we're both here."

"I never stopped loving you," you tell him.

Gally smiles, and it reminds you of the old days; he only really smiled at you.

"Me too."

Hi, thanks for reading! Gally wasn't on my initial character list for tmr cause I was worried about writing him badly, but I think this came out alright :) Hope you enjoyed it!

Thank you anon for requesting ❤

#the maze runner #tmr gally #gally x you #gally x reader #tmr gally x reader #my writing

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catiecat1320 · 6 months

Text

New Random Oneshot that I forgot to post here!

It’s Shadow Angst inspired by the song “You Are My Sunshine” that I put together on a whim and edited at 6 in the morning while riding my bus :)

Read Below ⬇️

Shadow tiptoed through the halls of the Space Colony: ARK, padded paws ensuring that his steps stayed silent. Despite making this trip many times now, the sterile metal halls still managed to daunt him, making him feel out of place.

But Maria had said that it was okay. And the promise of seeing her again made him feel better, so silently, as not to wake her, he advanced.

The door creaked as it swung open, causing Shadow to wince. Maria, sat up on the bed, turned her head immediately, breaking out into a smile at the little hybrid in the doorway. “Hey, Shadow! I was waiting for you!”

He frowned at that as he hopped on her bed. “But Professor says you should be sleeping.”

“And you should too, silly. I’m fine, Grandfather worries too much.” Maria pouted, pulling him closer. Shadow couldn’t help but curl up at her side, relishing her warmth, sensitive ears picking up on her heartbeat.

“Hey,” Maria chirped, causing him to look up. “Are you sleepy?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Do you want a lullaby?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Anything for my Shadow. I’ll sing you the song I learned today,” she happily replied, gently combing her fingers through Shadow’s quills in a way that made him melt. The night tugged at the edges of his mind as Maria’s soothing voice rang out.

“You are my sunshine,

My only sunshine.

You make me happy,

When skies are gray.

You’ll never know, dear,

How much I love you.

Please don’t take my sunshine away…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Maria had relapsed.

She lay on her bed, sound asleep, a machine pulling breaths into her.

It hurt to see her like this.

Why couldn’t he help?

He was supposed to help.

Silent, unconscious tears slid down Shadow’s face as he did the only thing he could think to do: he hopped on her bed— carefully, gently— and curled up at her side, positioned in such a way that he could hear her heartbeat.

(She didn’t used to be so cold.)

Rhythmic and alive, it helped calm him down considerably, reminding him of a time years prior.

A quiet, sad voice drifted through the ARK, echoing off once daunting walls.

“You are my sunshine,

My only sunshine…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gunshots.

He should have seen it coming.

He did see it coming.

But he couldn’t stop it.

Stuck in place.

Frozen as red bloomed on blue, as brilliant eyes dimmed, as everything crumbled around him.

Blood, too much blood.

It was wrong, so wrong.

So wrong.

He screamed.

“Maria!”

“Sonic!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shadow walked numbly through the halls of the hospital, its sterile white walls taunting his every step.

This wasn’t happening.

It wasn’t.

But as much as he tried to deny it, the past events refused to change. His memories refused to go.

As much as he tried to walk away, he found himself back here. Unable— Unwilling— to face reality, yet one step away from it.

He took a shallow breath, resting his hand on the handle. Better now than never.

The door creaked as it opened, revealing a somber sight.

Sonic the Hedgehog, the world’s greatest hero, lay in the bed, deathly pale and more still than he’s ever been. A ventilator was strapped to his muzzle, breathing for him when he could not.

Just like Maria.

Just like her, Sonic had been shot for one reason only: to save Shadow.

A sacrifice. One that should have never happened.

The hybrid found himself crying again, the situation all too traumatically familiar.

So he did the one thing he could think to do: he curled up beside the bed and— careful to avoid the wound— put his head on Sonic’s chest, listening for the soft pulse of Sonic’s heart.

Memories came flooding back, along with tears, and a song from long ago.

A choked voice, shaking with jumbled emotions, could be heard throughout the hospital, singing.

“You are my sunshine,

My only sunshine.

You make me happy,

When skies are gray.

You’ll never know, dear,

How much I love you.

Please don’t take my sunshine away…

Please don’t take

My sunshine away…”

#sonic #sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #maria robotnik #sonadow #< implied #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 #cross posted on ao3 #angst #writers on tumblr #writeblr #writing #CatieCatWorks

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scifrey · 1 year

Text

Keepsakes:

A Hospital Bracelet: Hurt

Status: Ongoing Ficlet collection; unbeta’d

Series: the Hob Adherent series

Fandom: The Sandman (TV 2022) Includes some comics canon, and some cameos from the wider Gaiman-verse (including the Good Omens and Lucifer television shows), but it’s not necessary to know to enjoy the story.

Rating: Mature. There is medical violence, gun violence (including a gunshot), and some pretty gross wound descriptions in this chapter. Please curate your experience accordingly.

Warnings: Discussions of violence. Some whump and hurt/comfort.

Relationships: Morpheus | Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling, Eleanor | Hob Gadling’s Wife/Hob Gadling (past)

Characters: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Hob Gadling, Delirium of the Endless, Death of the Endless, Dream of the Endless | Daniel Hall, Destruction of the Endless, Desire of the Endless, Despair of the Endless, Destiny of the Endless, Matthew the Raven

Set about five years after the end of Cling Fast.

READ ON AO3 OR READ BELOW:

A Hospital Bracelet: Hurt

Inspired by a prompt from @hummingbird231 on Tumblr.

As that bitchy little twink Shaxbeard once wrote, there are more things on Earth than can be dreamt of in men’s philosophies, and Hob should know because he is married to one of them.

He’s also acquainted with several more–the Bookseller, the Snake, a young lady who once lived in a world where everyone’s eyes were buttons, and of course the actual Devil themself. Hob knows a handful of people who summon and exorcize demons, are creatures of the night themselves, were raised by ghosts, or live in the metaphysical gaps between tube stations.

But Hob is nothing particularly special. He’s just a bloke who chooses not to die.

Which is, you’ll agree with him, very different from someone who cannot die. There is a chasm of difference there. A whole grand canyon of difference.

And one that his kidnapper is not grasping.

“It’s… it’s not… it’s not in my blood,” Hob tries, using his most reasonable Professor voice, from where he’s strapped the lab table. Well, the massage table that’s been repurposed with camper tie-downs and BDSM gear. Poor quality BDSM gear, because the cuffs are cutting into his wrists unpleasantly. “You’re just gonna make yourself sick if you inject it into your own veins, mate. Who knows what’s still swimming around in there? Bubonic plague, Smallpox, Syphilis, Spanish Flu, all the ‘s’es really, AIDS for certain, and I definitely had Covid-19. I did the grocery run for all my elderly neighbors, so of course it got me.”

The mad scientist, who gave her name as Jill when she’d first started hanging around the New Inn a few months ago, sneers at Hob.

“I’ve read Dracula,” she says, as she continues to fill the blood donation bags that she clearly stole from a clinic, if the labels on the equipment are correct.

“I’m not a vampire,” Hob protests. “Trust me. Besides, you’ve seen me in daylight–”

“Dracula could walk under the sun!”

“Dracula was fiction,” Hob points out, in what he feels is a very reasonable tone, all things considered.

He’s starting to get lightheaded from the blood loss, which is not a good sign.

He’d be alarmed, except this woman is one-thousand percent amateur, and while he’s absolutely mortified that he didn’t catch her dropping the roofie in his beer, he’s not at all concerned that he’ll be able to get himself out of this mess. He’s almost wriggled his way free of the cuffs–the only bonus of them being poor quality, otherwise they itch–and he feels pretty confident that he can get himself free and back home before Dee even realizes he’s not sleeping off a hangover upstairs, and starts investigating.

Of course the bitch waited for the weekend where Morph and Matthew are at a comics convention to play Frankenstien, or this stupid little garden shed would already be in cinders.

(Hob has to give her credit, she has soundproofed it very well, considering the amount of grey foam on the walls and the fact that no one came running when he began shouting his head off as soon as he woke up and realized where he was. There may have been some hysterical, terrified screaming before Hob registered that he wasn’t in some sort of government lab. But then he took a moment to breathe and think, and realized he could get out of here with enough time and focus.)

(Hob is totally changing the keypad on the door between the bar and his flat to a biometric thumbprint censor when he gets home.)

“The Bible was not fiction,” Jill insists, pulling out the blood draw needle and stopping the flow in Hob’s arm with a cotton ball and a bandaid with such expertise that Hob understands immediately that she must actually work at the clinic she’s stolen the supplies from.

Well, worked. She’s getting sacked the minute Hob can get to a phone.

He supposes he should be extending some of his usual charity and understanding to Jill, who just seems to have fallen into an unhealthy obsession, and definitely needs professional medical help. But she drugged him, broke into his flat, and kidnapped him, goddamn it. He’s allowed to be bitter and vengeful. At least for now.

“Parts of it are,” Hob says. “But that doesn’t mean every book is true.”

“Some fairytales are true. Some myths,” Jill presses, eyes glittering with manic delight.

“Well, yes,” Hob allows. “But–”

“I was there, the night the Devil gave you the Key to Hell,” Jill goes on, as if Hob hadn’t spoken. “I tried to get into the pub during the storm, but the door was locked, and when I looked in everyone was frozen, and there were angels bargaining with you, and you told them you were over six hundred years old–”

“That doesn’t make me a vampire!” Hob protests, furious with Lucifer for this oversight and honestly, already writing the scathing letter to his penpal in his head.

Dear Luci, did it not fucking occur to you to freeze the people who were outside in the parking lot too? Love Hob, 🖕

Jill looks down at him with pity, of all things. “It’s alright, Robert,” she says softly, as if he’s the one who’s confused. “I know it must be terrible, to be a monster who wants to do good things. I promise, you won’t be alone in that soon. We can be good monsters together.”

“I’m not a monster,” Hob gasps, horrified. “I don’t drink blood!”

Jill tilts her pitying look the other way. “You don’t have to lie to me, Robert, not me.” She crouches by the table, a comforting hand on his and a conspiratorial look in his eye. “Your thrall is always so pale and wan. There are marks on his throat.”

“My thra—do you mean my husband?” Hob says, incredulous.

Jill scowls. “He’s not your husband,” she insists. “You’re not gay. You were married to a woman. I watched Elizabethan Manor.”

“I’m bi!”

“That’s not a real thing,” Jill scoffs, and pats his hand as if he’s a silly child. “You don’t have to pretend with me. He’s your thrall, and that’s fine, that’s ethical, having an arrangement with one donor. I approve. I won’t mind that you keep him.”

Hob feels his face do something thunderous. “You won’t mind.”

“Of course,” Jill says, standing and turning away to do something with the bagged blood on the shed’s crumbling potting table. “When we’re married.”

“That is not happening,” Hob growls. “And if you even try it with Morph, I swear–”

“I just want you to know it’s fine,” Jill says consolingly. “I’m telling you right now, you can keep your pet. I’ve already come to terms with it. No need to quarrel about it.”

With her back turned, Hob can’t see what she’s doing, and he does not like that. However, it also means that she can’t see him, so he puts some real effort into getting the wrist furthest from her out of its cuff.

He stills when Jill turns back to him, a fat syringe filled with his blood in her hand and her sleeve already rolled up, a rubber band around her bicep.

“I don’t have to do it this way,” Jill says, reasonably. “It doesn’t have to be clinical.”

“Don’t do this–” Hob pleads.

“We could do it the fun way. I know you’re attracted to me.”

“I flirt with everyone while I’m tending bar, it’s my job, it doesn't mean–”

“And then, when eternity stretches out before us, you will share your secrets–”

“I have already!” Hob protests. “It’s not something that happened to me, it’s not, it’s not genetic, or, or… it’s not something that someone infected me with and it’s not something I can pass on. I know for a fact because I’ve had kids, and they died. I just… I made up my mind not to die, and so I don’t.”

He doesn’t mention Dream, or Death, or the Endless, because this bellend hasn’t brought them up at all, and he’s not about to give her more folks to go after.

Jill laughs, as if he’s a toddler who thinks he’s told the world’s funniest joke. “I can’t wait for you to drop this charade. Oh, Robert, we’re going to be so good for each other…” She lines up the needle, and slides it under her skin.

“Seriously, Jill, you’re going to hurt yourself and I’d hate to be the reason for it–please, please don’t–”

Jill pushes down the plunger.

Fuck.

As Hob predicted, Jill starts to take a turn for the worse about an hour later.

Never mind that you can’t just Van Helsing your way through blood transfusions–even Hob knows that the body will reject a non-compatible blood type, and sometimes violently–Hob wasn’t joking when he said that he’s had every major disease ever. Antibodies are a thing of course, but there’s no guarantee that every fleck of illness in him has been subdued.

“You’re not looking so good, Jill,” Hob says from the massage table. He’s got one arm free and has been trying to subtly work the other one. He doesn’t want to alert his captor that he’s loose until he can get his legs free first.

Part of the reason he says it is because he’s hoping she’ll leave to take care of herself, so he can get himself the rest of the way free and the fuck outta the shed before she comes back. The other part is because she genuinely does not look good.

Her skin is rapidly paling, leaving only feverish splotches of colour on her cheeks. She’s got her arms wrapped around herself where she hunches over the potting bench, shivering non-stop. The sweat is thick and clammy on her forehead.

“It’s just my mortal body dying,” Jill gasps around a wracking bout of chills.

“And that’s the problem,” Hob agrees. “You need to go to the hospital.”

“No,” Jill grunts.

“Jill, I’m not a vampire, but I didn’t lie when I said I was immortal. I’ve watched a lot of people die. Don’t make me watch you, too, not when there’s all this amazing modern medicine that can help you–”

“No,” Jill repeats.

Both wrists freed, Hob unclips the belt around his chest, and sits up. “Fine. We’ll do this the hard way, then.” He reaches for the straps holding down his ankles.

“No!” Jill shouts, and shoots him.

Hob’s first thought, when he comes to, is that he hadn’t expected her to have a gun.

He should have expected her to have a gun, because it was a safe assumption that anyone kidnapping and hoping to hold another human being against his will was likely to have a weapon of some kind. And Jill wasn’t exactly the type to be proficient in the art of the blade. A gun is the easiest weapon for an untrained civilian to use.

If one of the most painful to survive.

“Ow,” Hob says, unsure where exactly the pain was the most intense just yet, but deciding that it really does have to be said.

“Oh, you’re back to life,” Jill says from somewhere to his right.

Hob rolls his head in her direction, at peers blearily at her. It’s too bright, whatever window is behind her blurred and glaring, making it hard to pin her in his sights.

“I’m not back to life, because I didn’t die,” Hob mutters.

“That was very rude of you,” Jill says, and then hunches over the steering wheel to cough hard for a few seconds.

Steering wheel?

Yes, steering wheel.

“That was rude of me?” Hob asks, struggling to sit up.

The side of his head screams in burning agony, and Hob bites down on a matching one that’s trying to crawl up his throat. Something hot and wet trickles over the shell of his ear and down his neck. He squeezes his eyes shut at the revolting sensation and realizes that most of the pain is coming from a spot just above his right ear.

Oh my god, she shot me in the head!

Or, at least, the side of his head, he figures, seeing as he’s conscious right now. He wants to touch it, wants to see how much of his brains the bitch blew out, but his hands are bound behind his back with zip ties, and he’s strapped into the passenger seat of the junky old van they’re in.

Hob’s never been shot in the head before. He hopes he’s not losing any memories along with the grey matter.

“You’re not healing fast,” Jill says, ignoring his incredulity. “Are you hungry? Did I take too much blood? We can, uh, pick up a hitchhiker, I guess?”

“I’m not a vampire!” Hob snarls. “And I don’t have supernatural healing, either! I’m just a guy who cannot die! Ow!” he adds as his head throbs and another gush of what Hob assumes is blood and brains plops onto his shoulder. “This is seriously gross.”

Jill gags as a response, which turns into another series of coughs. She’s clutching so hard at the steering wheel that the van wobbles on the pavement in response. Agonizingly, Hob turns to look out the window and is relieved to see that they’re on a country road at least. Jill can’t accidentally drive into a crowd or oncoming traffic out here, thank god.

Jesu Maria, Hob’s head hurts. The pain and the whizzing landscape are combining to make him nauseous and he swallows his own spit and bites the inside of his cheek hard, because the last thing he wants to do is vomit when he’s strapped back like this, and his goddamned brains are leaking out of his goddamned skull.

“Where are we going?”

“My mum used to have a caravan in a park,” Jill slurs. “S’mine now. She died.”

Hob digests that. “Recently?”

Jill’s already blood-shot eyes well up with tears. “Last week.”

“Ah,” Hob says, but doesn’t add: So that’s why you decided to do this now. Her death scared the shit out of you. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”

Jill blinks hard, tears rolling down her cheeks, and then is taken by another coughing jag. The van skids off the asphalt dangerously, skidding in the gravel of the shoulder, bumping on to the grass for a heart-stopping few seconds before Jill jerks the wheel and rights it.

“WHeE! ThIs iS fUn,” says a voice from behind Hob. He doesn’t bother to turn to look, because he knows said voice well enough to place it immediately.

“Hey sis,” he greets Delirium. “You here for her or me?”

Del just reaches out to stroke Jill’s cheek kindly.

Jill, who can’t see the Endless in the van, nonetheless jerks at the touch, then turns to blink owlishly at Hob. “Who are you talking to?”

Hob shrugs. He sees no point obfuscating the truth. Not if Del’s presence means what he thinks it means. “My sister-in-law.”

Jill glances in the rearview mirror. “There’s no one here. Are you, like, communicating through telepathy?”

Hob groans and lets his head fall back against the seat instead of answering. “Ow.”

“Ew,” Del says, her face right up against his wound. “THaT iS sO cOOl.”

"Is it big?"

"MmmMmm, SiZe of A gOlF bAll?"

He feels something, small and warm, touch the edge of the wound, just on the inside curve of his skull.

“Gross, don't stick your finger in it, Del.”

“Who are you talking to?” Jill demands again, twisting in her seat to check the back, eyes darting and rolling wildly. “Cut it out!”

“Pull over,” Hob says.

“No!”

“HoLd On,” Delirium says gently.

“How?” Hob chuckles.

All the same, Hob closes his eyes. He doesn’t like being in car crashes. He’s had enough nightmares about them to add fodder by witnessing what’s about to happen.

“Jill, please, for your sake, pull over.”

“No!”

“You’re not well, you need help. Please let me help you.”

“You are helping me,” Jill says, a stubborn set to her voice.

“Then, I’m sorry,” Hob says.

“Sorry for what? Hey, why are your eyes closed, are you–”

Hob wakes in the grass. His body must have been flung from the wreck, because when he shifts, he can’t see the van anywhere around. He feels like one giant bruise, and wriggling around to get his arms under his feet and in front of him is made easier (more painful! But easier!) by a dislocated shoulder.

Once his hands are at his front, Hob decides to pass out again.

“Uncle Hob,” Dream of the Endless says, when Hob collapses at the foot of his throne. “You can’t stay.”

“I’m exhausted,” Hob complains. “And I don’t hurt here. Can I rest just a little?”

“No,” Dream says, emerald eyes glittering, and blows sand in his face. “It's not safe for you to be unconscious right now. This dream is–”

Hob gasps back to reality, screaming as his consciousness slams back into his body. His voice echoes across the night sky, scaring some birds from the nearby hedgerows. Hob pants and whines as he takes stock of the extent of the damage–the side of his head, his dislocated shoulder, scrapes like fire on the exposed skin of his cheek and arms, and, yeah, that’s a broken ankle.

Fuck.

He lays still for a very long time, watching the stars wheel overhead, and after a while he realizes that nobody is coming. The road is deserted, there are no sirens in the distance, and Hob has no idea where his phone is.

Del is gone.

He would have liked the company, but he's feeling tortuously clear-headed from the pain right now, so he understands why she couldn't stick around.

Hob rolls and jerks around on the ground until he gets his shoulder popped back into its socket, grunting and sobbing with the relief of it. Then he slides his zip-tied wrists between one knee and jerks hard until the plastic snaps. Not before it gouges deep into the flesh on the backs of his hands, though, leaving thin, weeping cuts behind.

Hob manages to get himself upright, and take stock of his surroundings. Several car-lengths behind him on the road, the balustrade of a small one-lane stone bridge is smashed outward, a piece of the van swinging from one of the poles.

Fuck, again.

Hob limps over to the side and peers down at the wreckage of twisted metal resting against the stone pier cap. He watches for a few minutes. He's just about to give up when he thinks he sees something moving inside.

Triple fuck.

The water rushing under the bridge is deep and likely to be cold, this late in the autumn. Bracing himself for the shock of it, and the pain swimming will cause his ankle, Hob throws himself over the side. He surfaces a few meters away from the van, and struggles against the current until he can get his hand on the dented fender and haul himself close enough to heave his torso over the side and get a good perch on the crushed remains of the passenger door.

By the time Hob has caught his breath enough to try peering through the window, Death is already perched beside him on one of the wheels.

“Oh,” Hob says. Sinking realization makes him slip a little.

“I’m sorry,” Death says, reaching out to offer Hob both a hug and a more stable perch against the crumpled metal.

“Me too,” Hob agrees, burying his face against his sister-in-law’s shoulder and letting her hold him up. “Damn shitty way to die.”

Death holds him until Destruction rescues him from the river, a few hours later, with an ambulance and half a fire brigade following in his wake.

PART TWO "A HOSPITAL BRACELET: COMFORT"

37 notes · View notes

saintship · 1 year

Text

Liability

Graves x fem!reader

(A draft to feed you while I work on requests)

Warnings: violence, lotta violence, fear, descriptions of injury, shock, suggestive at the end, fluff, trust issues, probably ooc graves but he’s still southern so

Her call sign is Spider because she’s deadly and fast

Enjoy!

“Do you ever stop talking?”

Ghost, König, and Spider made their way down a dimly lit hallway to answer to Price’s summoning, Spider nearly jogging between the two to keep up.

“I don’t know, ghost, do you ever stop growing?”

“You’re using that jab on the wrong bloke, Medic.”Ghost eyed König calmly.

“I am not that big.” König feebly defended himself.

“You look like Ghost ate Ghost.” Spider pushed the door to the meeting room open, everyone else filing in as well. Price tidied the maps he had laid out while waiting for everyone to gather around.

“Morning, girls.” Price rested his arms on two fists that laid on the tabletop.

“Morning.” Spider replied. A few soft laughs answered her.

Price remained unimpressed. “Right, we’ve got insight that a shit load of Hassan’s I.T. men are stationed in this warehouse. The big guy himself probably isn’t there, but we can learn a lot if we pull this off.”

The soldiers around him nodded.

Price pointed to the map. “We’re stationed here. Warehouse is here. Plenty of cover, so our lovely medic should not have any patients, is that clear?”

“Yes, sir!” The room answered in unison.

“König, Ghost, Alejandro, you three are front lines. Stay hidden as long as you can and get these guys restrained and away from any computer, pager or phone.” Price began. “Rudy, Soap, Gaz, Roach, you’re right behind them. Watch their back.”

The mentioned soldiers nodded firmly.

“Graves and Spider,” Price gestured to Graves, and Spider watched him puff up his chest with amusement.

“Bring in the back. Graves, don’t let her get hit.”

“Yes sir.” Graves replied shortly.

“Get what you need and get it done, meet back here unless there’s an emergency retreat back to our last safehouse. Got it?”

“Yes, sir!”

Once Price left the room, all professionalism seemed to liquefy and disappear.

“Should be a breeze.” Soap held his vest straps under his thumbs, rocking on his heels. “Couple a’ guys with their nose in a screen? It’s like training with Gaz.”

Gaz poked at some sort of tech he held in his head, looking up at the mention of his name. “What?”

“Exactly.”

“You’re quiet, Graves. Nerves?” Alejandro teased. Graves glared from under his lashes.

“I apologize for not jumpin’ up and down at being the bodyguard.”

“Graves, you’re not in high school anymore, you can let yourself enjoy someone’s company.” Soap retorted.

Spider pulled on her headgear, adjusting the goggles. “We’ll bond. You like country? I like colter wall, but that’s sort of reaching folk territory.”

Graves’ irritated expression remained. “Haven’t heard of him.”

“I’ll show you.”

“Pass.”

“I’m showing you.”

The whole of the task force set off from their station and made their way toward the warehouse. Cold rain pelted down and drenched the lot of them, though it was light enough to see.

Graves and Spider moved silently, Graves turning around for a moment to clear the path they’d taken and turning back to see Spider already a few yards ahead. Huffing, he jogged to catch up.

“Would you slow down?” He hissed. “What’s the rush to get your head blown off, huh?”

“That is not what’s happening.”

“It’s gonna be!”

“Look.” Spider gestured to where König and Alejandro were approaching the side door, seemingly exchanging a few words before barging in. Eerily, no gunshots were heard for several moments.

“The hell are they doing in there?” Graves muttered.

“Maybe they’re practicing verbal communication.”

Alejandro was thrown backward onto the grass from where he came with a grenade.

“Well you nailed that one, didn’tcha?”

“Worth a shot.”

The second line of men filed in, Soap pausing to help Alejandro to his feet. He seemed okay if not a little disoriented. Spider heard shuffling next to her and noticed Graves shifting his weight, sighing through his nose and eyeing the open door.

“You’re having violence withdrawal, soldier.”

“Uh-huh..” Graves stared a moment longer before several gunshots and explosions sounded from inside. Graves and Spider tensed.

“Soap, how copy?” Graves spoke into comms.

Soap’s ragged breathing answered before he spoke. “It’s bad. Bad..”

“They have a population of bodyguards, we’re heavily outnumbered!” Gaz spoke for him.

“Sir?” Graves looked as if he’d explode himself if he didn’t get through that door.

Even knowing the reasoning behind sitting alone in the mud, chilled to the bone and heart pounding, Spider couldn’t help but feel her heart break a little at his itching to leave.

“Spider, you alright on your own?” Price asked.

“Yes sir, I’m armed.”

“Move up, Graves.”

Graves reloaded his gun. “Looks like I’m indulging,” he cocked it back. “In a relapse.”

Spider had no snarky reply, watching him jog over. Graves was an enigma—she knew he was good at his job, respectful to authority, huffy but strangely kind toward her. Maybe it was those southern values—holding open doors, covering her body with his when they were ambushed, remarks of ‘Ladies first’ without the bite of sarcasm anyone else would add.

When they had first met, it took a good while for Graves to quit calling Spider ‘ma’am’, and then it was ‘honey’ or ‘sweetheart’ which he never truly dropped. Though she openly admitted she didn’t quite mind. And when he was just sitting with himself, cleaning his gun or reading a file, sometimes that tenseness in his brow would relax, his lips pursing to the side while he focused on the task at hand. He could be peaceful in his own way.

She couldn’t sit in her thoughts long, however, before being violently tackled to the ground. Her kit went flying, luckily staying latched closed but skidding a meter or two away from her. Her attacker had her pinned down laying on her stomach, the wet soil seeping through the green army shirt she wore.

She twisted and reached back to seize the wrist that was reached for his waistband, bending the man’s fingers back painfully. When she heard a snap that made him cry out, she was able to fully flip onto her back while still pinned underneath him and get a hold of his pistol, firing up into his torso. He groaned, falling off with a heavy landing. Drops of his blood fell on her face before the rain made it run down her cheeks and neck. She stored the pistol, drawing her own full length rifle. Hearing footfall behind her, Spider aimed at the shoulder and picked off one of the two men she saw barreling toward her. The other was closing in fast. Though muscled, Spider had a fast agility advantage on the soldier in front of her. She used it to divert his attention one direction, then throwing him to the ground and begin hitting him with the end of her gun before taking the shot.

She fought for at least fifteen minutes, a minute or so of quiet before the next wave of bodyguards emerged. With every kill, the rain seemed to thin, and the blood spray seemed to thicken. She could feel it; warm and viscous, droplets and thin ropes.

Eventually, the noise inside quieted, and Spider was vaguely aware of the ringing in her ears. She took the risk of sitting down with her back resting on the cover, exhausted. Her heart pounded rapidly over and over, as though it would burst.

“Spider..Spider—SPIDER!”

Graves was in front of her. She felt warm—light as a feather.

“Talk to me, is that your blood?” His voice was underwater, but she knew he’d gestured to her face.

“Mm-mm.” She shook her head for the negative, hardly able to use her voice. The ringing began to thin.

“Christ..” Spider was vaguely aware of him tearing off her protective vest and removing just enough of her shirt to expose her stomach. Looking down, she discovered two bullet wounds not far from each other. She was in shock.

“Come on, hey, help me out here.” Graves lifted her head with one hand. “I don’t know what I’m doin’.”

First time for everything; Graves looked scared. Spider doubted he’d ever treated anybody.

“The thing that’ll kill me..” Spider heaved a breath, focusing on producing the instructions. “Is the blood loss. Stop the—bleeding.”

“Okay..” Graves spun quickly, running to retrieve her kit he’d seen a few meters away and returning to open it on the ground. His brow furrowed at all the unfamiliar equipment, and Spider couldn’t help but smile just a little.

“Press hard. It’s going to hurt me.” She explained shortly.

“And—talk. Don’t let me,” Spider swallowed thickly, the freezing air drying her throat. “Don’t let me fall asleep.”

Graves pressed down on both wounds with the heel of his palm over a wad of gauze. Spider groaning harshly.

“Shh.. I know.. I know..” Graves glanced between her face and her wounds, adjusting his weight on his heels.

“The uh—the others had to go back right away, most of them are really hurt..” Graves explained his solitude. Spider’s eyes shot open at the thought of her teammates hurt without her.

“But! But, it’s alright, it’s alright, they’ve got someone there. Just stay alive, honey, can you do that? Stay awake.”

His face began to blur, but she fought it.

“What’s that..that music you were talkin’ about? Colter Wall?”

Spider grinned. “You were listening.” She murmured.

“Course’ I was.” He said it as though it was the most obvious thing on earth.

“It’s on my..”Spider grasped at her thigh pocket, pulling out her phone. “I know we’re not allowed but.. I’m his favorite..”

Graves laughed at the absurdity, shaking his head, and though it was brief and quiet, Spider relished the flash of a smile she’d earned like a bar of gold. She blinked to clear the fog from her eyes, opening her phone. It was already loaded on Spotify, she’d been listening to it that morning. She pressed shuffle. ‘Sleeping on the Blacktop’ floated out of the speakers and around the two of them, the twang of Wall’s voice keeping Spider chained to the ground. The pressure of Graves’ hand lessened.

“I think it’s better.” He affirmed.

Spider blinked several times, her mind returning to her. Seeing clearly now, she reached beside her for the materials to stitch the wounds. The world around her slowly began to return.

“Not a bad job, Graves.” Spider murmured. She began to douse the area in iodine, preparing her stitching needle.

“You gonna be able to do that yourself?” Graves asked, eyeing the angry wound.

“Yeah just, uh, could I borrow one of your gloves?”

“My glove?”

“Need both of mine on to do this.”

Brow furrowing, Graves tugged off his left glove and handed it to spider, who put it between her teeth.

“Oh..” Graves hummed.

Spider began stitching, biting hard on the glove’s material before she began to cry out at the particularly sharp stabs of the needle.

“It’s okay..you’re doing great, just a little longer..” Graves rested a hand on Spider’s shoulder, the hand happening to be the one that was glove-free. The warmth of his palm seemed to reach through all the fabric covering Spider’s shoulder, warming her and sending chills down her ribs.

“Can’t be—" Spider’s voice was muffled, but her words were clear. “doin’ that to me.”

Graves paused for a moment, then tilted his head.

“Doin’ what?” He glanced to where his thumb ran patterns on her shoulder. “This?”

Spider glanced up to see a glint in his eye; he knew what he was doing.

She made the final stitch, cutting off the thread.

“Graves..”

“Let’s get back, okay? You’re hurt.”

Spider’s mind raced in confusion. Did he regret whatever the hell he just did? Was she reading into it?

Graves helped Spider to her feet after she gathered her kit, and they trudged back to where the team was stationed. They were separated to be treated by different nurses, Spider unable to resist watching Graves walk away down the hall.

“Alright, this should keep it clean, you did a really great job stitching for it being on yourself.” The nurse in front of Spider commented. Spider had been wrapped in clean, dry gauze, the sensation comforting after sitting in the cold mud.

“With bullet holes that size, I’m surprised you didn’t lose more blood. Whoever helped you out could be a resident by next year.”

Spider huffed through her nose. “I’m sure he’d love that.”

“Was it the one you walked in with?”

“Yeah.”

“He looked pretty worried for you there. Careful.”

Spider nodded, thanking them before they parted ways. She walked to the men’s treatment unit alone, her boots padding gently on the linoleum as she lost herself in thought. Graves was ridiculously hard to figure out.

The unit was eerily quiet, soft conversation drifting in between privacy curtains. A nurse approached her almost right away.

“Excuse me, are you Spider? One of our patients is asking for you.”

“Yeah, that’s me.”

He led her to the far cot, pulling back the curtains to reveal a largely unharmed Graves sitting on the side of the cot before hurrying off to his next task.

“Hey, tough guy.” Spider studied the white tape that held together a gash on his forehead.

“Hey, yourself.”

“Looks like you did a pretty clean job, no bullet wounds?” Spider winced as she sat in a chair opposite him. She dismissed the worry that flashed over his eyes.

“Nah, they got it worse than me. We got a lot of info, but..”

“Not worth it?” Spider guessed.

Graves nodded. “Feels that way. Just glad everyone’s breathin’.”

Spider studied him for a moment before speaking. “Why do you do that?”

Graves blinked.

“I mean—act like you don’t care even though you do. You care a lot, it’s—nice.”

“It’s not safe.” Graves avoided her eyes, squeezing and releasing the edge of the cot. “Caring is dangerous. Too dangerous. I..” he sighed, his walls seeming to slip if only for a moment. “I can’t do that to someone.”

“Caring is the only thing you can do for someone.” Spider stood with difficulty, hugging her arms into her torso. “You’re a good guy.”

Her words hung in the air, Graves remaining silent to absorb them, consider them.

“I care about you, honey..”

It was as if he was admitting to a horrible crime.

Spider stepped forward, a trembling hand sliding to hold his jaw.

“I care about you, too.”

Graves leaned forward to stand, scarred hands reaching to hold Spider’s waist and brush stray hair out of her eyes.

“This is very unprofessional.” His voice was a murmur.

“Well, you always were a cowboy when the captain isn’t looking.” Spider retorted. He smiled slowly, glancing to her lips and back up to her eyes. It didn’t feel like they were in the medical wing of a military station—rather standing in flowing grass by a calm river, or knee-deep in warm ocean water.

“Can I kiss you?”

Quietest he’s ever spoken in his life.. Spider thought.

“Yes.”

So he did, seamlessly and gracefully, the hand used to brush away her hair now holding her face ever so gently, working over her lips relentlessly and then some. He deepened the kiss for a moment before reluctantly pulling away, muttering something about being seen. Spider’s face felt warm.

“I’m really glad you’re okay.” He admitted.

“I’m glad you were there.” She kissed him briefly again before embracing him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He leaned into her, tucking his head by hers and sighing in content.

“I liked that music.” He spoke into her skin.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Mhm.” He pressed a kiss to the soft skin of her neck, resting his chin on the area afterward. Spider leaned back an increment to murmur into Graves’ ear.

“I liked the taste of your glove.”

Pt. 2?

#phillip graves #philip graves x you #philip graves #graves call of duty #graves cod #graves x you #graves x reader #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #cod mwii #this was in my drafts

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