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conkniving · 10 months

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let the record show that FALLON AMARIN was read their rights before the interview proceeded. FALLON AMARIN DID NOT CHOOSE to proceed with a lawyer present at their discretion.

spidery fingers crawled underneath the approaching-shoulder cut of fresh blackened hair, palming a '13' permanently stenciled into the back of fallon's neck under the guise of alleviating an ache borne of agitation for the current setting. incidentally, she had only ever stepped foot inside a police station in order to usher another out — now it seemed her luck had finally run dry.

please state your legal name for the record.

the urge to bite was only abated by the faces of the investigators ( two of them, sure to be more ) as they loomed over her seated stature. don't you already know who i am? merely became, "fallon amarin. no middle name."

can you account for your whereabouts on the evening of june 10th, 2023?

a shrug, momentary lapse of a tongue running over teeth. she tossed her head in the direction of the case file on their side of the brutalist-styled table that she presumed already had records of her whereabouts. "probably working. take your pick: the black dog motel or the scaredy cat club's liquor store. then home."

why did you volunteer to join in on providing supplies for the search parties? do you have a personal connection with ms. cho-iverson?

arms crossed defensively, earthen eyes fluttering up at the faces she would surely forget after this was all over and done with. "what, you think i did it? i don't know this chick from the next asshole on the street. i helped out in any way i could because there was finally something to do about the shit your sorry excuse for a 'serve and protect' force keeps failing to prevent. even your search parties wound up with injuries — should've been your overfunded and under-skilled fuckers out there!"

ms. amarin, are you aware that you have eyewitness accounts placing you on the scene for the past six months that anchorage has recorded harrowing events?

hands flew into the air in a display of utter disbelief, one falling to slap the table with a crack of skin that unfortunately did not serve to flinch either of the investigators. "no shit, i fucking live here. you gonna interrogate the rest of anchorage with that astounding evidence? jesus..."

can you explain the presence of your creation that won the competition last december, found at the scene of the crime on december 31st, 2022? we have reason to believe that you crossed paths with ms. cho-iverson on the scene.

it was as though they plucked a taut, exposed nerve just to toy with fallon. synapses were fast, and she recognized that her spare second of hesitance trying to regain her composure looked suspicious. it wasn't her fault. they were staring at her for too long, they weren't even blinking. there were sure to be more spectating behind the two-way mirror, and she had to keep from glancing over her shoulder at them. "someone's fucking with me. i made that stupid snowman because i thought it'd be funny to scare kids at the competition. i have no clue how it ended up at the winery — and if you saw how i was dressed, which i'm sure you did, it wouldn't have made sense for me to bring it. it would've been messy, i would've been too cold, and—" shit shit shit SHIT. she said too much. she opted out of a lawyer because she didn't need to defend herself. she did nothing wrong. ( this time. ) but she wasn't a rat, not in the sense of selling out the people she cared about. yet, she slipped up with no one to stop her, and she looked between the two investigators honing in on that fact. "— i was with someone. when it all went down. occupied. but you're not gonna get a name out of me because you're not going to bring her into this. if you fucks are going to pin this shit on me, you're not going to put this on her."

your landlord has informed us you've been largely absent from your apartment since the incident on december 31st. is there something we would find there if we searched the premises?

"a dog i've rehabilitated that will still bite your dick off if i'm not there. and i swear to whatever, if you kill my dog, i will sue your asses personally until you've got nothing left." that was good, threatening a lawsuit. it was better than what her gut usually went with: promising murder. but there was a bigger problem dawning in the recesses of her mind. cerberus aside... there was plenty they could discover if they got the warrant. none that would lead them to the current murder, of course. however, copious amounts of drugs both personal and with intent to sell through the gang's dealers, illegal weaponry, and random stolen goods cyrek trusted to her discretion would be more than enough to put her away.

a picture is presented from the crime scene of a crude drawing in the victim's blood, a rat holding a knife in its mouth: can you confirm this is identical to a tattoo of yours listed as an identifying mark in your medical records?

leaning forward as the glossed photo slid into view, fallon swallowed. there was no point in lying. they made the point they had medical records irrevocably stating her tattoos. and it did look eerily similar to the one atticus had done on her right hip in about the size of a palm. all she did was nod.

on the evening of june 10th, were you intoxicated with illegal substances or dangerous amounts of alcohol when you were seen leaving the seal harbor apartments?

sitting back in her chair, fallon shrugged again, still swallowing thickly around the implications placed against her. "no." at least, not intoxicated with dangerous levels. "not when leaving the apartments. i do like to have a couple beers after work." with a bump of coke in the bathroom.

we've obtained a warrant on reasonable suspicion that we are entitled to a blood test for drugs and alcohol in your system, and we'd like to obtain a urine test as well. depending on the results of the tests, we'll proceed from there. we'll also be confiscating the weapons and illegal contraband we found. this concludes our interview.

the last thing fallon wanted to do was act nonchalant. briefly, a vision flitted in her frontal lobe of leaping from the table and strangling these deadbeats, teeth gnashing like a cornered wolf set free and prepared to rip them asunder. in reality, she rolled her eyes and sighed, waving a hand as if their information was all complimentary and pointless. on the contrary... she knew she was done for.

#( anchor event — death makes great tv pt. ii of ii. )#death mention tw #drugs tw #drug addiction tw #local bitch gets her just desserts lmaooo

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lectcicemaker · 1 year

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sharp weapon that needs to be handled carefully

Keep the instrument clean and never point it towards people. It also needs special training skill to make sure the job is accomplished without any blemish or injury. Identify 38; avoid all site danger areas, for example, unsafe roof access area, risky power lines, and underground hazards. Store materials close by the roof - the closer they are to the roof, the less energy and time squandered recuperating material. So, why take chances? There;re many safety concerns you want to consider if you;re thinking to set up your own roof. Change blades when required.

Ensure to climb the ladder safely, don;t overload your ladder or never slide down it. Hit nails squarely to decrease the possibility of nails coming back at you. Only make use of the gun when the material needs to be secured.Safety must be your first priority when it is about installing a roof. Make you don;t need to stretch or reach too far off the ladder.. Safe Material Handling: Always make use of your legs instead of back when lifting bulky materials. Skipping safety practices because they take a bit of time will make you more susceptible to accidents. The tools and safety equipment you;ll require to install or repair a roof include but aren;t limited to.

Circular saw Clamp Carpenter;s level Electric drill Roofing shovel Tin Snips Nail gun Wrench set Ladder stabilizer Rope Work gloves Safety harness Roof anchors, etc Conclusion: Roof installation or repairing is always a risky job indeed no matter how careful you are. When storing retract the blade to decrease the possibility of unintentional cuts. Some of the most quintessential areas you want to address are: Work Area: Ensure you;ve a clean and organized work area. Roofing Service providers does follow certain safety practices in NYC. Block out the area from pets and children. Power Nail Safety: This tool needs utmost care. Remember, to prevent injury always cut away from your body. Hammer Safety: Always put on your eye protection when employing a hammer. Tools 38; Safety Equipment: It;s essential to make use of the right tools 38; safety instruments when installing or repairing a roof.

Check out the safety how to use thermoelectric cooler instructions before using the tool. Don;t rest the machine against your body to get rid of misfires. Install the ladder on solid, level footing. Utility Knife Safety: Don;t employ a dull blade because dull blades need to be forced, augmenting the possibilities of slipping. Always employ a lubricated 38; tested nail gun to avoid any injury. A nail gun is usually a sharp weapon that needs to be handled carefully. It may be astounding just how much material should be delivered to 38; shifted around a roofing site. You need to find a good roofing service in NYC to ensure that this vital part of your homes; infrastructure is in good hands. Installing a new roof or repair your existing roof are two very important tasks that you do not want to entrust to just anyone.

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mkakki · 3 years

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The Things I Couldn't Say

Inumaki is one of the best boys, and I adore him. He deserves so much after the Shibuya incident

I can't wait to see what updates Gege has once back from haitus

Until then, sweet boy ಥ‿ಥ

I listened to this because I like to break my own heart

Manga spoilers below if you aren't completely up to date.

Broken, utterly defeated, useless, unable to perform. All of these vicious words chipped away at his already fragile soul as he stared blankly up at the ceiling. Sure, he had done a relatively good job at evacuating civilians, there were more survivors because of him. Yet he couldn't help protect his friends, his underclassmen.

He couldn't help to protect you.

The guilt that continued to flake away at his mind prevented him from opening the door whenever you came to visit. He pretended to be asleep, listening to your soft words from the other side of the door. Promising to come tomorrow, that you missed him, and that you wanted to help. He flexed his hand at his side, mouth paper dry.

Your relationship had always felt so one-sided, he knew you could do better. He couldn't even tell you that he loved you without worrying about possibly hurting you.

He couldn't tell you how your smile lit up his world.

That he would do whatever it took to make sure you were safe.

"Toge, I know you're awake in there. Panda told me he was here not too long ago." He couldn't bring himself to wince at the way your voice trembled, muffled by the door. The most he could manage was to turn his head to face it, already knowing what you were doing on the other side.

Trying to keep a brave face while wringing your hands in front of you with worry. You had always been a bit of a cry-baby, but you always insisted that you weren't. It never bothered him that you mourned so freely, that you didn't allow this twisted world to take that piece of innocence from you.

"Why won't you let me see you?" Your voice cracked under the pressure on the last syllable, which made part of his heart crumble.

He wasn't sure how many days it had been, or how much was changing outside of that door, but he felt that this was his penance. Despite his age, he knew that you would be the person he wanted by his side for the rest of his days. It was never a question to him. From day one, his soul had touched yours and felt immediately at home. Whether it was some sort of weird phenomenon with cursed energies, or just his brain convincing itself that this was fact, he didn't care. He would face down a million special grades to prove his worth to you, even though you would never want him too.

"If it's something I did- something I said, or maybe even something I didn't do, just- just please tell me Toge."

Pulling himself free of his bed was nearly impossible, but he managed to push himself up with one arm, trembling the entire time. He crossed his darkened room, knees ready to buckle the entire time, and contemplated.

This might be his penance, but he wasn't alone in it. You were suffering just as much as he was, and it wasn't fair to you. He remembered the pit that had opened in his chest when they pulled you from the hole, unconscious, and bleeding from injuries he couldn't keep track of. The panic he felt when you stopped breathing for a moment, hand cold in his.

"If you want me to leave, just tell me."

Someday, you would die, and he wouldn't be far behind.

The doorknob felt as if it weighed a thousand pounds as he tried to twist it open.

There you stood, his angel, his light, the person who held his heart. He thought giving it to you might leave him feeling empty, but that space was filled with so much love that it never made him second guess his decision.

"Toge." your lips trembled at the sight of him, bruised and battered. Bandages still bulked around his left shoulder. You weren't in much better condition, bruises in various stages of healing peppering your face. Your lower lip still swollen and scabbed slightly.

How scared were you when you woke up, and he wasn't there? Blood loss had made him drift off into peace shortly after you both arrived at the hospital, despite how hard he had tried to fight it off. He didn't want to allow himself to possibly miss your last breath.

He was careful when he pulled you to his chest, mindful of the bandages wrapped around your torso.

Panda had told him how hard you had fought. How a curse had run you straight through, and that the patchwork-faced curse nearly ended you.

He tried to open his mouth, for any sort of comfort to come, but all he could do was produce a weak and pained noise.

"I'm so sorry Toge," you sobbed against him, hands bunched in the front of his wrinkled shirt.

What did you have to be sorry for?

"I should have listened to you- I shouldn't have tried to do more than I could." You tipped your chin up to look him directly in the eyes, only to pause.

Tears fell from his eyes with no hesitation.

When your hand came up to cup his cheek, it felt like warmth being pressed back into his weak soul. It only made a wet sob rack his chest, his guilt finally dissolving into a semblance of relief.

"It's okay, we're both okay, I promise. I'm out of the woods now, I promise."

How could you switch it up so quickly? How was it so easy for you to go from needing him to comfort you, to you comforting him as if it was the most natural thing in the world?

He might not be able to speak it, maybe not now, but he could write all of the words he couldn't say.

He swore as you drug him back into his dorm that this wouldn't be it. Even as you quietly began the electric kettle he kept ready, he began to harden his resolve. He would do whatever it took, go through whatever hellish training he needed too, just so that someday he could safely tell you everything that you ever made him feel.

"I understand that you feel bad about everything that happened, but next time you need to think about me too, Toge." You sat a chipped mug on his bedside table, eyes downcast. "You weren't the only one hurt and scared."

He watched the tea leaves bleed flavor into the steaming water, a lump forming in his throat. The way you put up with his selfishness was astounding.

"Next time, I'll just have Panda break the door down."

He grasped one of your hands in his, a silent plea.

Love of mine, some day you will die, and I'll be close behind. I'll follow you into the dark.

#inumaki toge #ANGST #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #i'm really starting to wonder if i'm okay lmao

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susiequaz12 · 3 years

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Carrot Top 26- Self Betrayal

Here is part 26 of Andrew’s story, and Whumptober day 5. Carrot Boi’s masterlist is here, and his previous part is here. Prompt: Betrayal. This chapter is a bit long, it’s a little bit of a recap to all that happened, but still important to the story.

CW: bandages, unconscious whumpee, references to multiple past injuries, references to beatings, mentions of blood, possessive whumper, dehumanization.

- - -

Dr. Tusik and Justin had just finished bandaging up Andrew’s feet, when Ali and Mickie showed up into the room.

Mickie stood in the doorway, holding onto the door frame, while Ali cautiously approached the bed.

“How- how’s he doing?” She asked.

Tusik set down the roll of bandages in his hand.

“Better. Much better. We bandaged his back and his feet just fine and he’s getting an iv for some fluids right now.”

“He fell back sleep a few moments ago.” Justin added. “He’ll probably be fine, but he- he just seems so out of it-” There was a seeming hollowness to Justin’s face. A dissociation after seeing his injuries, or a mental block- to keep him from thinking about it all. He kept finding things to busy him as he spoke. Picking up a bandage and moving it around, putting random things away- “-It’s like he doesn’t know where he is, or what’s going on.”

“Justin is right.” Tusik nodded. “I’m afraid the bulk of his recovery is going to be mental. There’s only so many bandages and stitches we can use.”

Mickie stepped forward on shaky legs, her eyes not once moving off of her brother.

“Actually- we, we had an idea about that. About how to help.”

“Go on.” Tusik stated.

Mickie looked towards Ali as she began to explain.

“I’ve gone inside someone’s mind before. I can- sorta view their memories.” Justin came to stand near his girlfriend as she spoke, fiddling with her hands. “I don’t do it often because unless someone lets me, I have to force my way into their mind, and I- I don’t-” She breathed deeply. Justin reached down to squeeze her hand. “I don’t prefer to-But I could. With Andrew- for Andrew. I could go in his mind and be able to understand everything that happened.”

“Are you sure Vnuchka?” The Dr. set down the tool in his hand to face the girl. “You won’t overexert yourself? You’ve already done quite a bit of healing today.”

Ali returned the squeeze to Justin’s hand and nodded.

“I- I can do it. I have to.”

Mickie nodded. “Think about it anyways- Howe was useless. He didn’t know what happened, he just patched Andrew up. If he- when he wakes up- like, fully wakes up- he’s probably not going to be the same immediately.” Mickie took a step closer to the bed and reached out her hand, but quickly pulled it back. “He might have- have triggers, or stuff that bothers him, that’ll send him back there you know? It’ll- it’ll be better if we can know what happened so that we can be careful and avoid hurting him even more.”

“You’re saying he- he might have, what? PTSD?” Justin asked.

“It’s a very real possibility, Justin.” Tusik stated. “It wouldn’t surprise me if he developed at least a bit of trauma from all that he’s been through.”

“It’ll be better for him in the long run if at least one of us knows what happened.” Ali stated. “I can do it- I’ve got the strength still.”

“Alright.” Tusik said. “Go ahead, dear.”

Ali glanced around. “I’ll need everyone to leave, please.” Reluctantly, and after some pestering, Mickie and Justin left the room. “Tusik? You too?”

The old doctor tried to protest but Ali gave him a stern look. She needed to be alone. He could leave his patient for a few moments.

“Thank you.”

“Careful vnuchka. I’ll be right outside.”

Ali nodded, and then sat on the edge of the bed. He looked so incredibly still. She glanced above his head to the wall where all his memories and keepsakes were kept.

Posters from bands and musicals covered his walls, except for a section above the bed- that was plastered with millions of photos. Polaroids- paper cutouts, printed photos- the wall was covered with smiling faces of Ali, Justin, his mom- sisters, and everyone else he held dear. It was a menagerie of color and euphoria, plastered in a beautiful disarray. It was Andrew.

Ali took a closer look, and let her eyes linger on the memories.

There was that photo he’d taken of her covered in popcorn during their first movie night. She had woken up with kernels still in her hair the next morning- they were in seventh grade. A couple pictures of him and his sisters lined the walls. One of them he had Mickie on his back, and was holding Erika in his arms. They were all smiling.

And then there were those of all three of them. Him, Ali, and Justin. When Justin finally opened up to them and became more of a close friend during high school- That trip they took to the amusement park. Ali had a giant stuffed bear in her arms and a hat falling over her eyes, with a boy on either side of her, kissing her cheeks. The two of them had tried for hours competing to win her something from the carnival games. They finally decided to work together, and had stuffed themselves in a photo booth afterwards to document the event.

She wiped away a happy tear from the memory and pulled out her phone, a song coming to her mind.

It was one Andrew always sang. The notes resting easy in his voice, the melody fairly simple. He wasn’t an astounding singer, but he never sounded bad.

The first notes of the piano started echoing, the chords resonating around the room, and Ali breathed.

The moments when Ali had previously entered someone’s mind had been rare occasions. It had only been used in the past for interrogation, or during her training. Never for something this serious.

The room was clear. The noise of the piano cutting through the eerie silence, and she wished that she had kept everyone else in the room- but she could focus better this way.

He was so still- lying there on top of his blankets.

She tried not to look at him too much. She would be already seeing far more than she wanted to know.

She gently pulled herself up onto the bed next to him so they were laying side by side. Her mind instantly flashed to those nights in the summer in high school where they would lay like this and look at the stars.

She reached over and gently grabbed his frail hand in hers. His fingers were limp and cold, but she held tight. She tilted her head to the side until it was brushing up against his, and closed her eyes, right as the singer began to echo the words to the song.

Here I am, Here I am. And the light, is dying.

Ali felt guilt.

She felt Andrew’s guilt. And he felt terrible.

Ali would admit that he had said some hurtful things to her and Justin that night. But nothing felt worse than knowing they could’ve prevented what happened to him.

She could understand that he sincerely believed he had angered his friends, and that because of that, he deserved every single thing that happened to him.

That belief was prominent and clear throughout his whole captivity.

And then Ali felt dread.

That sinking feeling in your gut as something terrible happens, as you get in trouble, or in a situation more terrible than you thought.

Ali felt that pit in her stomach as Andrew was grabbed out of the alleyway. As he was shoved down, restrained, knocked unconscious, and dragged to the man they all hated the most.

Where are you? Where are you? Will you answer me?

And then there was anger.

As Andrew stood in front of that terrible man.

Anger, as he was beaten with a rod, and humiliated.

Ali watched, as Splice made him choose between his instruments of pain. She felt anger rise in herself as her friend was electrocuted. And then, as he was tied up and whipped. Even more, as Splice continued to utilize his library of torment, in just the first few hours of his arrival.

She felt the pain in her shoulders and neck, as he was stretched, and tied down in a torturous position, and left there.

She could feel in her chest as Andrew’s anger turned to confusion, which turned to fear, and then just the will to survive, and remember to breathe. But her anger remained.

That anger bubbled inside her like the blood that broke to the surface of his skin, bubbling, with every word that man spoke. Every touch, every glance, every weapon.

“I want to hear you beg.”

“You’re not that pathetic, are you?”

“You will listen, when I tell you to do something, understand?”

The anger grew inside of Ali as she felt, saw, and witnessed everything that happened to Andrew, but this was just the beginning.

All alone, in the quiet. And my ears, are thirsty.

For a brief spark, there was hope.

She witnessed as Andrew met the young doctor, and felt just a little safer with him.

But then that hope was crushed. Again, and again.

Ali seemed like she was sitting in the room with Andrew, where he lie on the bed next to Howe. But she was floating, just observing everything, helpless, as she watched and witnessed.

Splice approached Andrew where he lay, and she could feel the fear behind his eyes, but there was stubbornness etched onto his face.

She clenched her fists and bit into her cheeks as she tried to remain calm. She had to stay calm- or she would be forced out of Andrew’s mind. But it grew increasingly more difficult the more and more Splice taunted him.

“I gave you a gift. You need to respond politely. Come on now, use your manners.”

Andrew was screaming.

“What do you say?”

There were tears down his face.

He submitted.

And Ali felt betrayal.

She felt Andrew’s betrayal as he had turned against himself, and his desire to stay strong. But he had betrayed the one thing he had told himself he wouldn’t do. He no longer felt strong.

For your voice- for your voice Can you answer me?

The next events Ali witnessed were crushing- literally.

Her fists shook as he remained defiant, refusing to break. As his head was slammed into the table, blood pouring down his face.

He was grabbed and dragged outside, tied down onto a table.

Her head reeled as she tried to maintain the connection- her anger was growing.

“I will make you apologize.”

“Screw you.”

Andrew couldn’t breathe. Ali could feel the panic rising in his chest as he tried to flow the air through his lungs.

That panic lead to fear- which led to pain- which led to desperation.

And he betrayed himself once more.

If I try, maybe I can see your shadow In the sodium light that masquerades as moon If I try, I might take off like a sparrow And I'll travel along a guiding breeze

Three words echoed through his brain. It sounded like a megaphone, bouncing off of empty walls. The words reverberated through Ali’s mind. Each time they were repeated, she felt Andrew lose a little more of himself.

“I. Own. You.”

And the next words that repeated further solidified that in Andrew’s mind.

“Who do you belong to?”

“You.”

“What are you?”

“A tool. Used how you see fit.”

“Where, and when?”

“Here, and for forever.”

“And lastly, why?”

“Because I deserve it. Because I’m worthless.”

“That’s right. This is no longer your life- but mine.”

Very soon, very soon That's the sound of longing Are you there? Are you there? Will you answer me?

Ali was losing the connection. She had felt so angry and frustrated, and sad and disgusted, that she felt herself slipping from Andrew’s mind. The faint sound of a clarinet in the background echoed through the song, and she fought to keep the connection.

She could tell she was almost done- she just had to finish.

Andrew was collared, muzzled, beaten, bloody, and broken.

He had betrayed himself, and fully gave in.

The pain became too much, the constant battle between himself, and that man. So he gave up. And Ali could see him slowly becoming everything that Splice wanted him to be, doing everything he was asked, taking every punishment, submitting to every command.

“You can be good right?”

Andrew was nodding.

He was obeying, he was following, and he was slowly decaying.

In my dreams, my beloved lies beside me When the sun lights the room, I find it's only me Only me when the sun is gone.

The memories rushed by faster now. She could tell they were getting closer to the present.

Andrew was terrified. He was so scared, and in so much pain, and so exhausted, that when he finally saw his friends again, he didn’t recognize them.

Ali understood that he was so focused on avoiding pain, and being good, that he didn’t even comprehend his saving grace, as it stood before his eyes.

And then, when he was finally able to comprehend what happened, he was punished again. He was beaten bloody, he was branded, burned, scarred, and tortured. And he was led to believe that everyone he loved had died.

No wonder he had been so out of it, anytime he was awake for more than a moment he was confused. Or in disbelief or misunderstanding.

Because according to him, everyone was dead.

And he probably thought that he was too.

Only me. With the world all around me. When the sun and moon and stars are gone, what’s left is only you.

Ali had to fix this.

Her entire body was shaking, she had never stayed inside someone’s mind for so long before. She clenched her fists, focused her breathing, and projected her thoughts, forcing the truth into Andrew’s mind.

She echoed words and phrases of love, of peace, of safety, over and over again, until they were shouting louder than his own megaphone of pain. Until she was sure he could hear her.

You belong to yourself.

You are Andrew. A friend, a brother, and you are worthy of love, and peace.

You are safe, at home. And we will always be with you.

Because you deserve it. You are worthy, and you are more than a tool to be used.

Because we love you.

Andrew- we love you!

Will you answer me? Answer me.

- - -

@imagination1reality0 @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @thehopelessopus @burtlederp @whump-me-all-night-long @yesthisiswhump

youtube

There’s the video of the song from this chapter. It’s called “Answer Me” from The Band’s Visit.

#whumptober2021 #no.5 #betrayed #oc #my ocs #whump #whumpwriting #unconscious whumpee #blood #restrained #torture #referenced injuries #superpower whump #Carrot Top #caretaker #just to reiterate Ali's words to all of you #you are worthy of love and peace

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stxrrywildflower · 4 years

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amputee (2)

pairing - aaron hotchner x reader

summary - you and aaron go through the challenges of dealing with your prosthetic

warnings - cursing, yelling

word count - ?

you hated your prosthetic. as much as you wanted to love it and embrace the new part of you, you always had bad thoughts creeping into the back of your mind.

the first major issue was the stairing. everywhere you went, peoples eyes were focused on your prosthetic. everytime you went on a case, the amount of cops and reporters that questioned your abilities due to your prosthetic was astounding.

your boyfriend, aaron, noticed this and did his best he could to fight away the questions. he had given them the evidence that you were still perfectly capable as an agent. some of your best work was done after your injury.

the second issue was the pain. one case, you and morgan were chasing after the unsub. surprisingly, especially with all the new training you were doing, the prosthetic made you even faster and more efficient. however, during this particular chase, a sudden pain shot through your left thigh, causing you to trip and fall.

morgan saw your go down and rushed over, fearful your had gotten shot or injured. you groaned and motioned for him to keep going. he looked at you concerned before taking off running once again. the team arrived to the scene to see you lying back in the grass. emily took of running in morgan’s direction while the rest of the team focused on you. you, however, shrugged them off and limped to the car.

the unsub had managed to get away and it was your fault. no one on the team willingly admitted this to you, but deep down you knew that you were the reason.

you had gone to the hospital for your injuries. turns out, it was just a few strained ligaments in your thigh that had caused you to collapse. during your time in the hospital, aaron had been by your side, actively working on the case but also checking on you. you had managed to prevent yourself from crying but back at the hotel, you let it all out. no one found out about your episode, and you planned to keep it that way.

at the bau afterwards, you had limped while walking to your desk. j.j. had gone over to you and offered a hand but you snapped. you really didn’t mean to but the words came out of your mouth before you could stop.

“j.j. i’m sorry,” you quickly apologized before rushing over to your desk, despite the pain it brought you.

j.j. wasn’t mad honestly. she knew you weren’t okay after the last case but she wasn’t sure hotch was aware. she knocked timidly on her boss’s office door. after hearing a ‘come in’ from the other side, j.j. opened the door.

“j.j., what’s up?” hotch’s asked.

“you need to talk to y/n. i don’t think she’s doing great with her prosthetic, especially after the last case. i just offered to help her and she snapped. i’m not mad but i really think you need to make sure she’s okay,” j.j. revealed.

hotch quickly thanked her before telling her to go home to will and henry. many of the other agents had left but j.j. stayed to give her final statement. after thanking hotch, j.j. grabbed her bag and shot you a slight smile. you did your best to return it before grabbing your own bag with the intent of heading home.

much to your surprise, aaron has shut off the light in his office and was down in the bullpen a few moments later. “we need to talk,” was all he said. you slung your bag over your back and rubbed your temple.

after arriving to aaron’s home, you were glad that jack was being dropped off the following morning. you placed your badge and gun on the table by the door and then your bag at the table.

“do you want some ice?” aaron asked you. you nodded as you moved to the couch, adjusting your prosthetic. aaron returned a moment later with a bag of ice which you accepted and put on your thigh. he then sat down next to you.

“i know you snapped at j.j. today,” he spoke in a calm voice.

you sat up quickly and adjusted how you were sitting. “what?” you asked. “j.j. came to my office and expressed her concern for you. i know you snapped at her and upon looking into it, other members of the team have noticed similar things.”

you let out a sarcastic laugh. “i lost a limb aaron, do you just expect me to go back to being normal all the time. i’m sick of being questioned with my work and i’m sick of being asked for help!” you exclaimed, going to stand up. a firm hand on your arm stopped you from doing so.

“y/n we talked about this,” aaron spoke.

“no we really didn’t. we had one ten minute talk at three in the morning because i woke you up crying. that was barely anything,” you informed him, tears once again forming in your eyes.

“something tells me there’s more,” the calmness in your boyfriends voice made you shut your eyes as the tears threatened to spill.

you pressed your lips together before confessing, “i’m just so scared that one day you’re going to realize that you don’t love me anymore because of my injury. and then the team is going to turn on me and what do i have left? nothing.”

aaron’s eyes softened a substantial amount. “y/n,” he started but you cut him off, “and i hate that i’m snapping at people but i cant help it. i just wish everyone would treat me like they did before this happened.” with that, you stood up and began to slowly walk down the hallway towards your shaded bedroom. you just wanted to shower and get changed out of your work clothes.

you stopped once hearing footsteps behind you. as you turned around, you were brought into a tight hug.

“don’t every think that for a second i will stop loving you because i won’t. your injury makes you even more beautiful. i know i should be there for you more and i promise to work on it. i’ll talk to the team tomorrow about it and that solves that problem. but just know that the team loves you, we are a family after all.”

the speech that aaron had given you while you were in his arms made you cry. the tears started falling down your cheeks before you even realized. a soft kiss was placed on your forehead as you pulled away.

“i love you, an injury isn’t going to change that,” aaron spoke. “i love you too, thank you by the way,” you mumbled in response.

“just promise me one thing,” aaron said to you.

you looked at him in the eyes, waiting for him say something else. “promise that anytime you feel like this you’ll talk to me,” he added.

you nodded slightly, “i promise.”

.....

tags

@augustgraceful

#criminal minds #criminal #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #penelope garcia #derek morgan #david rossi

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harcourtholmesii · 3 years

Text

Lost in the Fog

Tumblr Request by: Der-Mottenmann

Request: Ok so can I kinda request a Jason Todd and Cheryl mason pair up. Like Jason goes in the entitiy realm and there they meet?

Notes: Admittedly, I was not expecting a crossover as my first request, but I was excited to give this one a shot. Not once has it ever come to my head to write a DC x Dead by Daylight crossover before. It was tricky, but I do hope you like the story!

Words: 2102

Warnings:

- Swearing

- Disturbing Imagery

- Blood and Gore

- Implied/Referenced Death of a Main Character

- Death

- Violence

- Vomiting/Sickness

Enjoy!

His head was pounding. Blinding white light filled his vision, and the heat produced burned through Jason’s senses. His nerves were on fire, and standing was an unimaginably painful ordeal, akin to only one previous experience. The acidic burn of the Lazarus effects ran rivers through his veins, as if reminding him of that horrid experience. It seemed almost fuelled by something.

Standing, Jason was surrounded by dark woods in every direction, his vision framed by twisted oaks and pines with outstretched, groping branches. Lifting his eyes to the sky, he could see a shine of moonlight, but the pearl was hidden by thick blankets of cloud. This whole place… it didn’t make any sense.

He had last been in Gotham, leaping from rooftop to gargoyle, grapple hook and gun in hand. He had been hot on the trail of some drug traffickers; some new group that thought they were hot shit. He knew the Bat would be on it, but he wasn’t about to leave these guys unpunished. He still had the photographs of those teenagers; young and callous, all just wanting to experiment. The gang made quick work of them when they didn’t pay up.

There was a crack of a twig underfoot, and Jason was on edge. He turned, realising his helmet’s in-built monitoring systems were fried. They sparked around his head, and the feeling burned. He smacked his metal hood, but it did little to fix the picture.

He moved forward, on edge and prepared for anything. Take it slow, be methodical. He couldn’t afford to be injured now or caught off guard, especially since he must have been before when someone had abducted him and dumped him out here. His breath heaved deep within his throat, far too loud for Jason’s liking. Perhaps he had suffered from an injury he was unfamiliar with. Apart from the Lazarus’ acidic heat and the pain behind his eyes, he didn’t feel much different.

He had reached the path where he had heard movement. He found the stick, broken in half, and half a footprint in the dirt. The sole of some sneaker or boots. It was a light form, that much he could tell, and rather small. He followed it closely, and from here, he scanned the surrounding area. The mainframe sparked.

He could just barely make out a hand, resting lightly against the wood of a tree, bloodied and bruised knuckles on display. Pale skin and a frail arm from what he could determine. He approached, and that hand hurriedly removed itself from the tree trunk. He could just make out the shape of a body behind the tree standing from a crouched position.

A head of straw, blonde hair had turned the tree, but Jason only got a good look at their grey-green eyes, pink around the edges as if they had been crying. Those eyes had widened at his notice, and suddenly, the girl was running in the opposite direction.

‘Wait!’ He called out. He could barely understand himself through the damaged helm. His voice was warped; a mess of a human cry and a deep reverb from the whirring of the helmet’s struggling functions. She didn’t wait. If anything, she picked up the pace.

He didn’t wish to cause her further alarm, but she could probably tell him where he was. He didn’t much care for children, but he didn’t want to scare her. He was on her tail in a moment, coming up on her quickly. They were coming upon some damaged, brick ruins when she passed through a gap. His hand was out, reaching for her. If he could just stop her, he could talk to her and explain himself.

There was the sudden pain of something striking him across the head. Splinters of wood and nail flew in an arc above his shoulders, as a haphazardly crafted pallet of sorts came down upon him. Okay. He was getting a bit pissed now. He raised his right leg high in a strong arc, bringing it down and destroying the pallet in a single kick.

He looked about the ruins, wondering for a moment as to where she could disappear to. A red locker stood to his right, but he couldn’t hear any breathing or creaking wood. She wasn’t there. He stepped forward, until he came to an open window space. He reached down suddenly, gripping a head of blonde hair in his gloved hand and pulling the child up into view.

Confusion struck him immediately upon realising that this was a teenager or young adult. She was holding her head, trying to relieve the pain his grip had on her scalp. She was panicked, chest rising fervently. He let her go, climbing through the window carefully after her. She stepped back, nursing her temples, eyes wide and watching his every move.

‘Who are you?’ Again, his voice was a confused mess of sound, the volume apparently louder than she would have like. Her hands were to her ears, and she was stepping back away from him.

‘D-Don’t come any closer!’

‘I don’t want to hurt you.’

It seemed that she thought differently. She was turned away and running at full tilt in the opposite direction. He just didn’t understand it. How had he grown, and how on Earth was his helmet this damaged? He felt sweat building under his gloves, and gave himself a moment of reprieve. However, Jason was astounded by the sight of what lay underneath.

His hands were their pale white, but his veins were alight, bright green and seemingly shifting underneath his skin. What the fuck was this?!

A scream cut his thoughts off. Then the sound of a chainsaw.

~X~

It was a new one. Another one! She had to inform the others. She didn’t understand why it didn’t give chase, but that thing watched her leave. The sparking of that red, metallic mask and the pulse of green veins on the neck made her sick. Cheryl had no idea what that thing was, but like Hell was she going to wait for an explanation.

She was running blindly through the woods, she had almost completely forgotten what she had been hiding from in the first place. That was, until she stumbled upon that freak’s handiwork. She tripped over an obstruction in the dirt, peering down to the sight of Jane’s top half. She was missing part of her midsection, where a chainsaw’s blade had rattled through and split her down the middle.

The red seeped over Cheryl’s legs, dying them that awful colour. She was on her feet, struggling to hold in her stomach’s contents. She held her hands tight to her lips, trying to prevent sick or a scream from passing them. She felt a hand on her shoulder. She screamed.

‘Shshshsh-Shush!’ It was Dwight, in her face and holding a finger to his lips. His glasses were broken, but it was the pool of scarlet in his shoulder that concerned her. ‘W-We need to go!’ His voice was hushed; frantic. Cheryl nodded.

‘T-There’s another-’

‘Don’t worry about that one! Worry abou-’ There was the telltale rattle of a chainsaw’s engine. They ducked down behind a few bushes, looking up in time to see that face with taut skin pulled across svelte muscle. The sunken, dark eyes stared at them, and there was that growl deep within its throat. The chainsaw swung high above their heads, just grazing Cheryl’s shoulder. She cried out.

‘Run!’ Dwight didn’t have to tell her twice. She was back on her feet and racing to the nearest bricked gym. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. She vaulted through a gap in the wall, cringing at the sound of metal shredding through brick. Red dust swirled into the air and sparks flew high at the collision.

He climbed through the wall after her, and though she was ahead, the revving chainsaw grew louder in her ear, until he was upon her. She felt it imbed itself into her back, and was removed just as quickly. It always astounded her how the hillbilly managed to remove it before permanent damage was done. It was almost a sick and twisted form of art.

She raised her head, looking around for Dwight. Where was he?! Her voice was weak. She cried out when those unwanted arms reached down and around her. Through the pain, she only just realised that piece of shrapnel Laurie had given her earlier fell from her pocket. There was no getting out of this.

‘H-Hel-!’ Her voice cracked. She could barely think through the pain. That arm pulled tight over her back, and no matter how weakly her fists pounded against flesh, he wasn’t letting go.

‘Help!’ She tried again. A little louder.

Suddenly, there was a roar from her captor, and she was on the ground. She whipped her head around, in time to see that freakish monster from before standing between her and the hillbilly. Knife raised, she could see those acidic green veins pulsing on his hands. She didn’t understand.

There was a bellowing reverb from behind that mask, and suddenly they were clashing. The hillbilly’s arms swung a wide arc with the chainsaw, and the red hooded creature leapt back. He leapt forward, striking with the blade until the hilt dug deep into the right shoulder. Cheryl noted a gun on its right hip; it was removed from its holster and hastily, three shots were fired.

There was another roar from the hillbilly, as a bullet shredded through its cheek, a bullet digging deep into its eye and the hand that gripped the chainsaw. He dropped it. Cheryl scrambled back and away from the two giants as they did battle. She had never seen this before. It was… unprecedented.

The hillbilly pulled up his hammer, dropping the chainsaw and starting on wide swings of his weapon. One collided into the ribs of the second monster, and there was a warped cry through the scratch of metal. The hillbilly’s taut skin pulled back around his mouth, as if laughing. Suddenly, that laugh was cut short by a crack of a gunshot.

The hillbilly dropped, a single, explosive bullet hole leaving behind an opening the size of Cheryl’s fist in the monster’s forehead. Skull fragments and brain matter had spread about in all directions. This time, Cheryl did throw up.

She felt her body wretch and force up the few things she had eaten in the last day, and through it all, one of those large hands rested gently upon her back. Once she was finished spewing, she raised her gaze up at the red hooded creature, and felt those strong arms gather her up, cradling her.

There was a bellow of sound, and she rose her hands to her ears, desperate to shut out the reverb and shrieking metal. It stopped as suddenly as it started. Through the damaged helm, she could see one, burning green eye. Unlike all the other killers, masked or otherwise, she could see those eyes held something she had never seen before. At least, nothing she had seen in a killer’s gaze.

‘Cheryl!’ Dwight’s voice echoed out from his position, and he exited from a locker. He was panicked, watching her with wide eyes. He kept his distance, but she could see how he was trying to get the creature’s attention.

‘Stop! Dwight, please!’ She looked up at the creature. Those eyes that had shifted to the injured Dwight had returned to her. They were patient.

‘A-Are you going to hurt me?’ It shook its head.

‘Cheryl, you know we can’t t-trust it!’

‘Shut up!’ She barked back. She soothed her temper with a deep breath, looking past his broad shoulders and down at the collapsed body of the hillbilly. She knew he would be back. They always were. But for now… The monster was gone.

‘Are you g-going to help-p us?’

He nodded again, and started walking forward towards Dwight. When Dwight skirted away, Cheryl threw the cowering man a threatening look. The man held his position, though it seemed like he was about to piss himself. She turned her eyes back up to the creature.

‘O-Our hideout is t-t-that way.’ She said, gesturing past Dwight and deep into the trees. The creature didn’t pay Dwight much mind as he passed him, and headed deep into the woods. He did slow down so the man could catch up, but he kept Cheryl tight in his arms. He didn’t let her down for a moment.

And yet, Cheryl never felt safer.

#fanfiction #fanfic #DC #Red Hood #Jason Todd #Dead by Daylight #DBD #Cheryl Mason #Dwight Fairfield #Jane Romero #Laurie Strode #The Hillbilly #crossover #HarcourtHolmesII

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poptod · 4 years

Text

The One Time Debt was Good (Elliot Alderson x Reader)

Request: Hi there could you do an Elliot x reader where the reader gets liked fucked up or something and Elliot helping her clean up the cuts and blood and stuff (ok thanks bye have a nice day 💓)

Took me a bit but I finally finished it. I made it gender neutral bc that shit fucks. also, there’s a small paragraph of graphic injury description. part 2

He’d warned you about this, you knew that, and you knew you should’ve listened. He hardly ever warns you against anything, hardly ever tries to stop you from hurting yourself, so when for once he told you not to do something, of course you had to ignore his advice. The one time he tries to care about you, and you have to ignore it.

To be fair, with or without his input it was a bad idea. Mosh pits aren’t exactly the safest place, not for someone like you at least, especially metal mosh pits. You hadn’t expected this in any future vision, though; your clothes are almost completely torn off of you, shreds just barely covering your bruised, blood-drenched skin. Thankfully most of it wasn’t your blood - a fight broke out and you were pushed straight into the middle of it, so a good amount of it probably belonged to the very people who beat you to a pulp.

Your first thought, practically crawling out of the concert, was I should probably go to the hospital. A perfectly rational thought and a good idea, but you then remembered you’re still in debt from the last time you were at the hospital, and that was three years ago. Fortunately for you and unfortunately for Elliot (you assume, you don’t think he likes you very much) his apartment was closest to you, so gathering your shreds of humanity and the fifty-two cents in your pocket, you made your way to him.

Several people stared at you, several didn’t, and by the time you were knocking at his door you felt a little faint. Leaning on the wall, you barely raise your knuckles to rap at the door and within a few seconds you can hear his footsteps. A sigh leaves you, relaxed and anxious all at once - he’s comforting, at least he is to you, but again, he doesn’t like you very much.

Slowly the door creaks open, though it takes him a moment before he looks to his left to find you breathing heavy against the wall, dry blood flaking off your skin and sticking to the wall. He doesn’t say anything, of course he doesn’t, but he opens the door a little, and you walk in with a tiny ‘thank you.’

“I’m really sorry about this,” you manage to get out, your throat dry and horribly sore from screaming. “I would’ve gone to the hospital, but… you know. Can’t really afford that.” Vaguely he nods, not meeting your eye as you ask to use the shower. With his permission granted you wash the blood off yourself, the dirt and grime, noticing the splotches of red, yellow, and blue that are the permanent reminders of the night. The bruises practically coat your ribs - when you press down on them it hurts so badly you wonder if you broke something.

When you get out you hesitate to redress yourself, considering your clothes are still grimy and bloodied, but before you can even make a decision on what to do the bathroom door opens just a crack. One hand carrying a stack of clothes sneaks in, placing the clothes on the counter before quickly retreating behind the closing door.

This is exactly why I’ve got the stupidest crush in the universe, you think, groaning internally at yourself. These little moments, rare and far between, moments where he does something purely human, keep you around him. Grabbing the clothes, you pause for a moment, taking in the scent and softness before dressing yourself. There isn’t any underwear, which you should’ve expected, and any sane person would probably just wear their own underwear, but instead you go commando. In the foggy mirror you examine yourself in the baggy sweatshirt and pants, wondering how to go about thanking him.

Surprisingly, you have even less time to think about it than you thought, since as soon as you open the door he’s standing there. For a while he just stares at you, and you stare back, confused as to what he’s trying to achieve. Finally he opens his mouth, hesitant to speak but he eventually does.

“You’ve… got a thing.. down your back,” he says, which is confusing in itself. With a furrowed brow you walk back into the bathroom, taking the sweatshirt off and trying to look at your back in the mirror. Sure enough, there’s a massive cut down your spine, and it’s still bleeding a bit - it’s astounding you haven’t noticed it yet, considering just the sight of it makes you sick.

“Oh dear god,” you say, feeling the acidic burn in the back of your throat grow worse.

“Here,” he mumbles, managing to maneuver you while barely touching you so your face is to the mirror. “I can stitch you.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” you say quickly, your heart racing at the thought of stitches. You’ve gotten them before, but that was with an anesthetic, not straight out. In fear you whip around, hoping that’ll keep him and his needle away from your skin, but now you’re face to face with him and suddenly the needle seems friendlier. Your breath catches in time with his, the both of you frozen in the moment as you both try to decipher what’s happening. He stammers when he gains control of his body again, stepping back so his back is against the wall and he’s as far from you as possible.

“I have vodka,” he says, “if that’d make you feel better.”

“Yeah, that actually would,” you say with a sigh, relieved to be able to catch yourself as he leaves the bathroom. He returns a minute or so later, trying desperately not to stare at your naked torso. He unscrews the cap, and after you take a few gulps of the drink (which does nothing for your sore throat), he pours a little down into your cut. You wince, your grip on the sink tighter than your clenched teeth, a headache sprouting from the tension in your jaw.

“Ready?” He asks, looking at you over your shoulder through the mirror. You nod - you’re not going to get much more ready, so you might as well get it over with.

As the needle prods at your skin, poking into your flesh and sprouting little droplets of blood, you try not to think on the sensation. You try to think of anything, anything besides the cool metal pulling string through your back and tugging at your skin. Instead you focus on him, on his concentrated face; he’s biting at his cheek, his mouth opening to talk to himself in words you can’t hear.

It takes a shorter amount of time than you thought it did. The pain is now aching, spreading up your spine and into your head and down through your legs.

“I guess my skin must’ve snagged on someone’s spikes,” you groan hoarsely when he finishes up, tugging at your ripped skin as he tries to knot the string in place.

“I told you not to go,” he says, low and quiet, still not meeting your eye.

“Doesn’t matter now,” you say with a sigh, rubbing your side with your hand to massage the pain out, though it does very little. When you turn around he glances up at you, sparing just a second to watch you before leaving the bathroom.

Rubbing your face wearily you follow, your steps careful and slow as you try to put the sweatshirt back on. It proves a lot more difficult, what with the string preventing your skin from stretching, but you manage to get it on eventually. He’s in his kitchen filling a glass with water when you enter, and as usual he can’t stand to look at you.

“Thanks for patching me up, by the way,” you mumble, leaning against the counter with your hands gripping it tight, still trying to ignore the pain in your back and ache of your bruised legs and arms. He sets the glass down, and for a moment it looks as if he’s going to ignore you as usual, but he turns to you with pursed lips.

“Why do you do stuff that you know is going to hurt you?”

Your eyes widen at his straightforwardness, stuttering as you try to come up with a plausible answer. The only problem is you never even realized you do that, you never thought you were looking for pain, but when you look back at your past decisions it seems obvious. How long as he been putting up with your masochistic tendencies?

“I… I don’t know,” you answer honestly. “I never realized that I do that.”

Your thoughts go back to when you were little - in your teenage years you had a history of self harm, but you never thought of it as a hatred thing. It was just another way to feel pain, another way to feel real in a world where so much is faux. The memory of a razor cutting your skin to shreds just to watch your blood drip freely from your hips and arms makes you curl in on yourself, something that Elliot notices.

“I think I need to sit down,” you say, your voice cracking with the lightheaded feeling swirling around you. He lets you sit on the couch before he speaks again, sitting on the couch with you but as far from you as he can.

“Take my advice, next time,” he tells you, crossing his legs.

“And for now?”

He doesn’t answer. The TV buzzes in your background as exhaustion takes its’ toll on you, the fight, the walk, and the cleaning up tiring every bone in your body. It doesn’t take long at all until you’re lying down, your eyes closed as you can’t bear to keep them open. You’re still conscious, still listening to the dialogue of a show you’ve never watched before and the typing on Elliot’s laptop. It’s not long at all till the typing stops, and he sets his computer down on the ground as quietly as possible. With the shuffling of clothes and footsteps, you hear him come closer, and the cushion your legs are resting on dips down.

A thousand thoughts run through your head, a hundred theories and at least fifty conspiracies tackle what in the world Elliot could be doing, but none of them lead to a satisfying answer. Then he’s touching you, something he never does, not unless he absolutely has to - and it’s surprisingly affectionate. You’re barely able to keep your breath under control as he brushes your hair back, fingers just barely skimming across from your temple to behind your ear. Clothes rustle again, and you can feel his heat right up against your cheek. Every single one of your thoughts is now focused on one thing: stay absolutely still.

Somehow you manage to do it, somehow you’re still breathing even with closed eyes, though you have no idea if there’s a prominent blush on your cheeks. You’d guess yes but he still hasn’t moved; he sounds like he’s muttering something, but even right next to your ear, the heat of his speech brushing your skin, you can’t pick out what exactly he’s saying.

He’s so close, so unbearably close that you can’t decipher just when his lips touch you - he’s been hovering over your temple so long that the difference between his heat and touch is thin. Sometime in there you realize he’s kissing you, one long, sweet kiss on your temple, and suddenly the entirety of the evening is something you know you’ll never forget.

The cushion resumes its’ given position as he stands, and the rustling of his clothes combined with the absence of his heat tells you he’s gone. With a buzz and a click, the hum of the television goes out, and Elliot retreats to his bedroom.

You fall asleep soon after, your dreams more pleasant than ever with the new revelation.

#elliot alderson x reader #elliot alderson #mr. robot #rami malek #rami malek x reader #male reader #female reader

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dramaticironyoflife · 4 years

Text

Exam Escape

Ignis adjusted his glasses and shifted his weight slightly. So slightly that it didn’t appear that he had moved at all. He was surveying the mess that was the prince’s apartment. Bags of trash lay absolutely everywhere. He wasn’t sure whether to be appealed or astounded by the amount of litter that had accumulated over the course of a few short days. However, it was exam week for his young charge and it was natural that chaos would dramatically increase in such a time of stress and panic.

But that didn’t mean Ignis had to like it.

He sighed and set about trying to straighten the mess. He wasn’t quite sure where to start though. The advisor was decidedly off this Friday. Perhaps it was the daunting reality that, after today, Noct would be home for the whole of the Summer. As long as he had not managed to fail any exams, that was. The long hours of chasing the prince down and running through practice exams had worn Ignis down over the last few weeks. Even last night Noct has called him up in a frenzy and wouldn’t settle until Ignis had drilled him on at least half a dozen practice questions. Not the oddest activity he’d done at 3:27 in the morning but the prince’s excited state had left him unable to drift back off. He thought of this as he took a gulp of Ebony. His fifth can of the afternoon. Gladio had absolutely refused to let him train for their full session. He instead led Ignis through a series of stretches to attempt to get him to relax. He probably would’ve let the advisor sleep through a portion of the session as well if Ignis had not so stubbornly refused. Gladio had a small victory in the end though. He’d made Ignis promise not to drive himself home that night as his sleep deprived state was hardly considered safe. This was a point that Ignis not only couldn’t argue but flat out didn’t want to. Gladio brought a certain amount of peace into Iggy’s life, taking on a good portion of the responsibilities that came with watching over the future heir.

Ignis finished piling the trash together and began to sort through the rest of the mess. Magazines and comic books had been mixed in with the important reports and briefings that Noct had, most probably, neglected to read. Future king or no, the prince procrastinated better than anyone Ignis had ever met. He sorted through the papers, making different piles before sitting back on his heels. The time was ticking by far too fast for Ignis’ liking. He wasn’t needed to make Noct’s dinner tonight, thank heaven, and would rather like to leave before he and Prompto began their celebrations that came at the end of each exam period. There would most likely be shouting and cheering and all sorts of merry making that sounded absolutely dreadful to Ignis’ blossoming headache. Still, he couldn’t help but come by the rooms and see exactly how bad it had gotten over the past three days. Once he’d witnessed the pigs dye, he couldn’t bring himself to leave. He cursed his instincts to help the prince and resisted the urge to sweep everything left on the floor under whatever available spaces lay before him. Honestly, he was almost sure that Noct would never realize the difference. He swept the floor carefully, picking up odds and ends he’d missed as he went. He shifted the sofa out of the way and grunted as he bent to retrieve a few magazines and marbles that had taken up residence there when the door slammed open.

“FREEDOM!!!” The shout was so loud that Ignis jumped. He lost his footing and landed none too gracefully on his behind. It seemed though that neither of the boys had heard him.

“YEAH!!” Noct joined in the blond’s excited squealing and tore off his jacket, tossing it in the direction of the kitchen. Ignis peered over the edge of the sofa, unwilling to get dragged into the celebration. Prompto slipped of his satchel and grinned definitely at Noct,

“We did it! We’re done and you wanna know what I think about school?!” Noct applauded, waving his hands like an impromptu rapper,

“What’d you thing about school?!”

“You wanna know what I think about books?!!”

“What about ‘em, Prom?!”

“YOU WANNA KNOW HOW I FEEL ABOUT THIS SATCHEL?!”

“WHAT?!”

“I’LL SHOW YA WHAT I THINK!!!!” With this and a somewhat pathetic war cry, Prompto slammed the bag down on the ground and began jumping on it repeatedly. Noct cheered and began some odd dancing ritual around the excited teen. Ignis blinked.

He was definitely not coming out now. He sunk lower behind the sofa and tugged out his phone. He scrolled quickly to his contacts and located Gladio’s name. He pressed call before he could over think anything.

Gladio was lounging on the sofa in his dad’s office. Clarus was sifting through some papers, allowing Gladio to scroll through his phone undisturbed. Gladio grunted as Iggy’s contact lit up the device and pulled himself upright. Clarus glanced at him, cocking an eyebrow.

“Hey, Iggy,” Gladio announced the greeting and his dad nodded before resuming his work. “You ready for me?”

“Six, yes, come get me.” Gladio tensed. The words were whispered in an almost desperate voice.

“Iggy? Where are you?” His dad noticed the change in his son’s voice and dropped his paper. Gladio was tense, ready for action.

“At Noct’s...” Ignis peered quickly at the boys to see they were now throwing assignments into the air like makeshift confetti, still shouting in jubilation.

“What? Why are you at Noct’s? I thought you said...”

“That I wouldn’t go over to his chambers today, I know! I tried, Gladio, believe me. I just knew that his apartment was a mess and I thought it would be nice for him to come back to a clean apartment-”

“Just so he could mess it all up again?” Gladio chuckled and Clarus relaxed. Gladio rose from the sofa and grabbed his jacket. He raised a hand in farewell to his father before slipping out into the hallway. “Hang tight, Iggy, I’m on my way.”

Ignis heard the call disconnect and sighed, hunching further in on himself. Being tall and lean was a disadvantage in this moment. He felt dread sink into him when he heard the boys approaching the sofa.

“You wanna order pizza while I set up the game?” Noct’s voice was followed by the sound of someone throwing themselves onto the sofa. Ignis flinched as it shifted slightly with the force of the prince’s body. Prompto’s giddy response was followed by some tapping.

“Whoever made apps for ordering pizza is a genius.” Prompto commented, his voice now also sounding dangerously close to Ignis’ situation. “They eliminated one of the most awkward conversations in human history.”

Noct hummed in agreement as the noises of the TV hit the room. Prompto cheered and then the sounds of the two gamers settled on the apartment.

When the noises coming from the boys were grunts, shouts, and explanations that would’ve made any well spoken individual cringe and no longer intelligible words, Ignis deemed them invested enough in their game for him to start his escape. On top of this, Galdio had texted that he was less than five minutes in his estimated time of arrival. Ignis huffed silently and set his eyes on the bedroom, mere feet away.

The journey to the bedroom wasn’t a long one but it wasn’t one that Ignis would ever want anyone to see him perform and not one he wanted to perform again himself. Although it was almost comical to see that he could slip past the boys without their knowledge due to their distraction. He lay on his belly and slid himself neatly across the wooden floor a good portion of the journey. The remainder of his mission was merely going the rest of the way without being seen. He crouched at first, creeping along like some common criminal. Once he was near the door however, he was forced to reassess his situation. The door was open but only just enough for him to slip through if he stood. Eyes never leaving the boys, Ignis slowly inched himself to his full height. Noct stood at the same time, shouting at the TV and tossing his remote off to one side. Unfortunately, the side that was closer to Ignis. Prompto was laughing at the prince’s tantrum and teasing him relentlessly. Noct, vowing revenge turned to pluck his remote off the floor.

Ignis had never prayed harder in his life that he would remain unseen. Or turn invisible. Or that the floor would swallow him up. Instead, it was the well timed delivery of the pizza that saved him. The doorbell was the diversion Ignis needed to slip to safety. Once in the bedroom, he forced himself to ignore the mess that was taking over the prince’s personal space. He pulled out his phone.

In Noct’s bedroom, near the window. Gladio texted back a few minutes later.

Here. What’s the plan? Ignis sighed before sliding the window open and peering out. Gladio was standing below him, looking up with an amused expression. Noct’s window wasn’t very high off the ground, Ignis had no doubt that he could make the jump and role the landing to prevent injury. Assessing the height once more, he nodded.

I’m going to jump, stand back. Gladio’s eyebrows rose and he looked up at Ignis then pocketed his phone. Ignis nodded and pulled his long limbs through the window. He took a deep breath and then pushed himself off the edge; only to land in Gladio’s arms.

“What in the Astals?!” He gasped. Gladio grunted and deposited his catch onto his feet.

“What? You’re wearing nice clothes. Didn’t want you to ruin them.” He shrugged and began to wander back towards the street and their get away car. Ignis followed, grumbling and straightening out his outfit.

----

“Gladio!” Noct and Prompto looked up from the campsite at the squeak they hardly recognized as Ignis’ voice. The Shield was holding the Advisor in his arms while the thinner man struggled.

“Nope! You’re going to rest or I’m going to tell Noct and Prompto about the ‘Exam Escape’.” The two boys blinked, whatever the ‘Exam Escape’ was, it made Ignis freeze in his attempts to free himself. He stared at Gladio with wide eyes,

“You wouldn’t.” Gladio cocked an eyebrow,

“Not if you rest.” Ignis groaned and resumed struggling,

“I can walk myself to the tent, thank you!” Prompto and Noct exchanged expressions and shrugs.

#ffxv #ignis scientia #gladiolus amiticia #prompto argentum #noctis lucis caelum #fanfiction #My writing

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wrathfulspark · 4 years

Text

Petrichor

On a Sunday night, as others reluctantly prepared for their workweek ahead, Elidi sat unaccompanied at the bar sipping some whiskey on the rocks. At Pack Masters Pub everyone left her alone for the most part, despite her being fairly well known and an enforcer of the law. These individuals only cared to drink or brawl anyhow. With her back leaned against the countertop, she faced the scrappy regulars, where a cluster of them fought over some trivial reasonings. Elidi simply lifts her arm up and out of the way as a fellow patron smacks headfirst into the counter beside her, the glass is raised to her lips where she downed the rest of its contents before turning around to ask for another.

While she patiently waited for her refill, her fingers tapped restlessly against the crystal, lambent hues downcast. In a way, Elidi welcomed her noisy surroundings, a needed diversion from impending memories. A well-embraced haze muddles her mind, the effects of the alcohol warming her cheeks, unaware of how many refills she's had already. The recollections were analogous to nightmares as the years carried on. It was approaching the ten year anniversary since Elidi was blessed by an unidentified Mythos, and her perspective on justice is altered indelibly.

She had just begun her career as a police officer, 22, and prepared to open up a new chapter in her life. Generally, she was stuck with novice tasks, issuing tickets or warnings, dispersing any confrontations or altercations, and she dealt with a lot of drunks. Her natural capabilities with water, although not indomitable, were sufficient enough to get her out of many difficult situations.

Alaric Fanes, a freshly turned vampire, weak to his desires and sloppy, quickly caught the attention of law enforcement and the public alike with his numerous killings. Careless as he may be, he managed to narrowly avoid apprehension each time. The weather was overcast that particular Thursday, the sun hidden behind rain-filled clouds that blackened the sky above, with a pleasant scent of rain hovering. It was nothing but a coincidence that she spots the vampire, dormant in the shadows between the general store and the fitness center. It was even possible his hunger became insuperable to ignore, and he didn't expect many to be looking for him throughout the day. There were also fewer civilians out and about because of him, either frightened or just taking extra that precaution.

As quick as their eyes meet, Alaric bolts, Elidi's uniform a dead give away. Pursuing a vampire is futile for a witch, the species as a whole is faster than magika could ever hope to be. Teleportation was dangerous, even with the location set in her mind, who knew what she'd transmit into. Despite these facts, Elifi ran after him, in advance calling in her location, then headed into the alleyway he disappeared in. Though as she turned the corner, Alaric waited for her there, knocking her into the brick wall and pinning her with his hand around her neck. Desperate attempts are made to pry his grip off her, water formed hastily by the witch to aid her escape. Cut into his complexion, formed about his head to pull backward, suffocate even, but what is air to a creature that no longer needs it? She remembers his fangs nearing her jugular, the way they seemed to tauntingly glisten with saliva and the sound of the water that dripped from his skin, mocking her vain attacks. Within her struggle, she manages to free one of her hands, jabbing it into his chin to push his teeth upward and away from her flesh. Irritated with her squirming, as punishment a hiss emits from him before Alaric is quick to snap her wrist, followed by a firm shove into the wall, where her head smacked heavily into the bricks. Assured this was her demise, Elidi was astounded when he stilled, dropping her and moved instead to stare wordlessly out the alleyway. The witch slumped earthward, cradling her wrist delicately with her blurred vision fixated on him, reeling.

A boy near the age of 14 walked by, a skateboard in hand and one earbud in, oblivious to the situation around him as he texted leisurely on his phone. She understood then why he let her go. Elidi willed herself to move expeditiously, no farther than pushing herself into a lunge as Alaric turns, his fist connecting with her jaw. The impact in his punch is abundantly strong, forcefully slamming her rearwards into the wall behind. She coughed violently, splatters of blood splotching the pavement beneath trembling hands.

The sound catches the young boy's attention, horror-filled his gaze while his frame turned toward the duo, slowly backing up as the vampire approached. While her vision was distorted she could still makeout Alaric's silhouette approaching the teen slowly, who now stood frozen. "Stop it." He paid her no mind as his grip seized the boy off the ground, the skateboard clattering noisily as it fell. In the background she strives to stand, ignoring the protesting in her bones, scrawny whips of water grappled his forearms. "Stop it!" Finally, Alaric turned, looking over his shoulder to Elidi, the malicious glare in his hues making her blood run cold, and stilling her scramble. The noise that follows haunts her to this day, the teen's scream echoed throughout the empty streets as the vampire's fangs tore into his neck, a revolting, deafening noise. "STOP!"

Overhead the sky dimmed considerably, rain falling heavily around them, the wind howled in her ears. In spite of her endeavors, she wasn't able to reach the child fast enough, his body writhing midair permanently engraved in her mind. This made no sense to her, the boy did nothing wrong, he had an entire life to live, he probably had a family, friends he wanted to hang out with still. Why couldn't she move fast enough, why couldn't she stop him? Why?! A scream of outrage emits from her, precisely as the sky opens up above, releasing a flash of lightning that connected straight with Elidi's frame.

Eons felt like they had come and gone, with Elidi standing a front a being so luminous she was incapable of viewing them directly. A steady humming resonated encompassing her, accompanied by the faint flickering of flames extensively. The air was hot, heavy, nearly suffocating. Two scintillating hues stared at her, orange and yellow, unblinking. The entity remained reticent, yet the presence felt anything but horrifying. All she could do was stare before she is sent crashing back down to earth, where her situation is harshly brought back to light.

In those seconds of unconsciousness, she had somehow closed the gap between herself and the vampire, who had spun around to face her. The child's lifeless body lay at his feet. Blood ran nether ward from the vampire's chin and onto the pavement as her hand gripped his countenance tightly, tainted blood painting her palm. Luminous eyes peered into the vampire's own, smoldering with her outrage as sparks funneled through her fingertips. Lightning pierces through his porcelain skin, the air nearby crackling with her wrath as his flesh sizzled beneath her palm. Smoke lies in Alaric's place, a pile of steaming ashes that she stares at with heavy disdain, panting heavily.

With a gasp she turns to face the child, dropping to her knees next to his frame, in hopes he was still alive. Vaguely she remembers the sound of sirens, clutching his bleeding wound, and the boys faint breathing up till she herself collapses.

A drunken customer slamming his pint glass down against the counter startles her back to the present, an annoyed glare tossed in their direction. Absentmindedly, she pressed her fingertips to her nape, her skin scarred from that day. She wasn’t quite ready to let go of the past just yet.

Regardless of her actions and the medical staff alone, the boy succumbed to his injuries and passed on transport to the hospital. Although grateful for her newly acquired abilities, she only wished to have obtained them sooner, to prevent this unnecessary death. Finishing off her drink, she requests another with her elbow propped up on the counter to support her cheek nestled in her palm. "Such a cruel world.." The witch spoke lowly to herself, muttering her thanks as the drink is set in front of her.

#hello would you like a big ass starter that is just describing her origins #yes? okay #TRRPGStarters

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sserpente · 5 years

Photo

A/N: Request from anon. I got these a while back and just had to write them at some point. James getting trapped in a cave with RC? Um, yes please. Here’s what I came up with! Enjoy, my lovelies! ;-)

Words: 2524 Warnings: smut

Hatred was a strong word. You hated hypocrisy and ignorance, intolerance too. But you probably hated nothing and no one more than James Conrad. You didn’t quite know what it was about him that you despised so much. Was it how honourable, righteous and brave he was, the fact he was just a little too perfect? Honestly—a former soldier, a handsome British decommissioned Captain… every woman would be envied if she shared a bed with him at night. But not you! Oh no… not you. You hated this man with a passion, if anything because you knew a man like him—so hunky and decent—would never date someone like you.

You had a past. A criminal past… multiple thefts had turned into assaults, illegal trading of stolen artefacts had resolved in getting involved with the Russian Mafia. The government had decided to give you another chance, in other words, send you on a pointless mission with James Conrad and a few other hopeless souls to do research for a couple of mad scientists instead of throwing you in prison. You were hardly a trustworthy and innocent young woman—something James made sure to remind you of whenever you spoke up and suggested different strategies.

Shock waves of pure electricity rippled through you whenever he impaled you with his stern blue gaze, an effect you hated he had on you. You knew you had screwed up, you knew you had done bad things. You knew you regularly imagined him bending you over his lap and spanking your backside until it was bright red whenever he looked at you like that… almost as if he was trying to read your thoughts. You sincerely hoped he couldn’t.

“If we hurry up, we can reach the top of the mountain by sunset,” he just explained, drawing a map into the sand with a dry branch. “We climb the front and set up camp near the forest. Someone will guard the fire, we don’t know what wild animals lurk in the shadows.”

You frowned at the dirt to your feet, a disgusted expression on your face. “How are we supposed to climb? Did you happen to have brought professional gear with you? All we have is a bit of rope.”

“One could have thought breaking into museums to steal paintings and jewellery gave you a bit of experience in that area.” James shot back, staring daggers at you. Swallowing thickly, you turned away again. Arsehole.

“Then let’s go. I’m hungry.” His name was Slivko. A very young man and a soldier—way too immature and childish for you but at least, he did not treat you like vermin.

James nodded, ignoring his unnecessary comment. Much more important than food was to reach the summit without falling to your deaths—and doing so before the sun would set. Standing up, he brushed the sand off his knees and shouldered his gun. You all followed suit, hoping for the best.

It took you a rough twenty minutes to reach said mountain. Twenty, silent minutes you spent attempting to kill James with but a single glare… if he noticed, he did not show.

“I say we split up. Slivko, take some of this rope and make sure you don’t slip.” James turned to you. “You stay with me.”

You smiled bitterly. “Aw… and there I was already building a raft to escape.”

Yet, he replied nothing when he approached you and tied the rope around your hips. You shivered involuntarily when his fingers brushed against your body ever so slightly. The other end, he tied around his own hips so you could both fall to your deaths. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

“Let’s go.”

Slivko and his team went first, spreading out across the vertical surface of the rocky mountain. There were a few roots and thinner tree stubs to hold onto but mostly, it was solid stone you were dealing with. You could already feel the blisters and bruises you would be treating tonight.

James was right. You did have experience with climbing. You had once climbed the Louvre and avoided the security guards, not harming a fly. Still, there was a massive difference between a modern building and a crumbling mountain.

Reluctantly, you began to heave yourself up next to James, watching his every move before making your own. Any step could be your last the higher you climbed—especially on a deserted island. You couldn’t exactly say you were afraid of heights but when you looked down to where you had started, you felt a little sick. Usually, you climbed with professional gear. Security measures that would prevent you from dying in case you slipped and fell. Now, there was nothing.

The rocks were getting wobblier with every single metre. Little bits and pieces rained down on you both, coming from where Slivko and the other soldiers were climbing. A crunchy sound echoed through the air, earning him a strict “Watch it!” from James. Perhaps it was too late for that—for when you looked up with a shocked expression, the heavy rock, about twice as big as you, was already shaking. You all halted, holding your breaths. Then, the rock fell, causing an ear-piercing rock fall.

“Hold on tight!” You heard James screaming. Hold on tight? How? Your right hand slipped, leaving you holding on to the stone wall with your left hand only as one of the rocks as big as your head dashed past you. You were about to steady yourself when it was James who let go. No… he didn’t let go. The rocks he had been holding on to crumbled from the impact, ripping him into the depth beneath you. The rope between you stretched, the force of his body weight pulling you down with him and you were falling.

Panicking, you closed your eyes. This was not how you had wanted to die. Would you feel the collision with the ground? You might not be a decent person but you still had things to live for! You didn’t want to die, you didn’t want to… all of a sudden, all air was knocked from your lungs, causing you to gasp loudly. The rope cut into your skin, burning horribly. When you finally dared to open your eyes again, you were dangling from a cliff. Conrad was above you, his face distorted from exhaustion. He must have landed on the ledge!

“Climb the rope, (Y/N)!” He bellowed, his voice dripping with pain. He did not need to tell you twice. Quickly, you pulled yourself up until James could wrap his arms around your shoulders. Your whole body was shaking when you curled up on the dirty ground, adrenaline still cursing through your veins. Never before had you faced the Grim Reaper eye to eye.

“The… others?” You managed to choke out. James was still panting. He peeked over the edge, his expression darkening. He didn’t need to tell you what he saw. There must have been corpses at the bottom of the mountain.

“I can’t see them all. They might have survived.”

“So contact them.” You insisted, looking around yourself. The ledge you were sitting on formed the entrance to a dark cave. It appeared uninhabited and might just pose as a shelter for the night.

But James was already fondling his radio. “My bloody radio is broken, (Y/N).”

“So what the hell do we do? We need to get out of here.”

James turned, his blue gaze deadly as it bore into yours. Enraged, he pointed at the sun. “Do you see this? It will be dark any moment now. Attempting to climb now would be suicide. We try again tomorrow and see if we can find the other survivors.” He paused, waiting for you to react. When you only nodded, he went on. “Stay here. I will explore the cave, see if it’s safe.”

“Absolutely not. If you get shredded to pieces by a wolf or a bear, I’ll be on my own! And I really don’t want to eat your body parts to survive.”

Conrad only shook his head, clearly repulsed by the idea. “Stay where you are, (Y/N).”

Surprising yourself though, you actually stayed put, waiting for him to return and spending the time checking your body for any injuries. There was a huge, wet blood stain on your stomach. When you lifted your shirt you found a cut right above your navel. Nothing too deep, you figured. It stung a little but with the disinfection spray in your backpack and a band aid you should be fine.

James returned to you just when the sun began to set. “It seems fine to me. There are no traces of animals living in here.” He paused. “You’re bleeding.” And for the first time since you had first met, he did not sound condescending. James seemed to be downright concerned for you, if anything because you were still trembling. In the end, you were a woman alone in the wilderness and even though you were hardly helpless, in this very moment you needed him.

“It’s nothing. I’ll patch myself up.”

“I can help you. Go inside and lie down.” You swallowed. There was no point in refusing now, was there? So you obliged, taking off your shirt to let it dry, leaving you in your sports bra only. Behind you, James hissed.

“Here. Take my jacket and lie down. And give me your backpack.”

Sighing, you did as you were told, watching him intensely as he tended to your wound to ignore the pain. But once he was done, you were shaking even more. For a brief moment you wished his fingers would linger on your naked skin just for a bit longer.

“Sleep a little. I’m gonna try and repair the radio.” James’ hand brushed against your arm so gently and reassuringly he left you behind completely astounded. Wow. Just for a second you could, almost, believe that you didn’t quite hate him after all—and that he didn’t hate you either. Only then was it he seemed to realise his “mistake”. He withdrew as if he had burned himself, hurrying away.

You awoke around an hour later, ripped from sleep cruelly by an animalistic moan. Your eyes narrowed. Thinking at first the cave might be inhabited by animals after all, you flinched and listened again closely. Oh no, it was speaking. Cursing, to be precise. You rolled your eyes as you got up to join James only a few metres away from where you had rested, stepping closer quietly. Apparently, he was still trying to repair that radio. But…

“Fuck… ah…” He was panting. Holding your breath, you inched even closer to him, watching the muscles on his back flex with every movement. It was only then you realised what he was doing. This man had the audacity to masturbate in this godforsaken situation! Your jaw dropped. You could not see him but it was obvious enough now what was happening.

Your curiosity you could understand, not however, that you desperately wished to join him. You hated James for your very own reasons but that did not mean you had to find him repulsive, right? Quite on the contrary… he was incredibly hot. What would he look like, you wondered? How… long and thick would he be and Gods, what would it look like when he spurted his cum into his own fist?

“Fuck…” You heard him again. You bit your lower lip. “(Y/N)…” Yes… wait, what?! Had he just said your name?! Was he masturbating… to you? Your eyes widened when you remembered his flustered reaction when you took off your shirt to let the blood dry, wearing no more than your sports bra and now his jacket too to keep warm.

You couldn’t watch him finish… not without your help. A malicious smirk spread on your lips when you approached him, placing one of your hands on his back while the other sneaked around his waist to grab his hard cock, simply pushing his own hand away.

James tensed. You could tell he was glaring down at your fist grasping his aroused rut, feeling his thick shaft pulsing beneath your touch. Suppressing a moan, you said nothing as you began to jerk him off, finding just the right pace to drive him crazy soon enough.

“You’re awake…” He choked out, his chest heaving.

“You called me. You could have just asked, you know.” You teased him, grinning mischievously behind his back. You could practically feel him rolling his eyes only to moan the fraction of a second later, causing you to giggle at him.

Losing all of his self-control, his composure fell off of him like a heavy coat as he began to groan wildly and thrust into your fist for more friction. And oh sweet Gods, witnessing and feeling him cum felt even more enticing than you could have possibly imagined. James’ cock twitched in your hand, shooting his seed all over your fingers and onto the rock wall in front of you both. The urge to draw away and lick your digits clean was strong, yet you helped him ride out his orgasm, listening to his animalistic growls until he had calmed enough to turn around slowly, his member beginning to soften again.

For usually, his blue gaze was judging and condescending, it was now lustful and demanding. Like a predator, James towered above you, ready to devour you like prey. You knew there was a difference between love and lust and you certainly didn’t expect anything to change between you now… well, nothing but hot and dirty sex, maybe—the true definition of a quick and good hate fuck.

You were already half naked and you were more than ready to rip those trousers off your body and have him take you so thoroughly you would be unable to walk tomorrow.

“We both know this is a bad idea.” He purred darkly then, inching so close you could feel his warm breath on your lips. He was right, of course. You were not on the pill and first aid kits usually didn’t come with a stash of condoms.

“You could just… return the favour, you know.” Your voice was shaking. For Fuck’s sake, why was your voice shaking? Your arousal was pooling between your legs, robbing you of your senses. James was about to reply, a cheeky smile forming on his lips when suddenly, the radio began to rustle.

“Captain Conrad, Captain Conrad, please respond, Captain Conrad!”

Just like that, the heated moment was gone. Pulling his trousers back up again, James’ eyes widened as he hurried over to the little device and yelled clear and stern orders into it—you would meet the rest of the team, what was left of it, tomorrow, near the summit of the mountain, to finish this suicidal expedition and finally go home. Yet when his blue eyes locked with yours again, there was a carnal longing and desire sparkling in them; a silent promise that he was not quite done with you yet.

A/N: Part II coming soon! ;-)

If you enjoyed this story, I’d be flattered if you supported me on KoFi! kofi.com/sserpente (or hit the “Support me” button on my blog) ♥

#james conrad #james conrad x you #james conrad imagine #james conrad x reader #captain james conrad #captain james conrad imagine #captain james conrad x you #captain james conrad x reader #captain james conrad smut #james conrad smut #kong skull island #kong skull island imagine #tom hiddleston

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dreamss-of-boston · 5 years

Text

Healing

After SnK chapter 115 (Support), Reader discovers Hanji and Levi washed up on the riverbank.

Warnings: A tiny bit of swearing, descriptions of wounds, lots of blood (you know why), SPOILERS - DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE NOT CAUGHT UP ON THE MANGA

link on AO3!

this is deadass some therapy i whipped up post-115, in which the reader takes care of both hanji and levi bc i can only see them suffer so much. im not sure if im gonna make this a mini-series with eventual levi x reader, but we shall see! pls don’t think of this as me trying to re-write canon, this is only a little day-dream i had of what might have happened post-115.

Your home by the river was warm inside. Since it was raining, it gave you an excuse to start a fire. You were planning on doing laundry today, but with the terrible weather, that was no longer an option. The rain pattered against the roof as you sat, nestled in a blanket by the crackling fire while your stew cooked in front of you. Your home smelled delicious; you wished your family was here with you, but your father and mother had to travel far into town in order to settle a debt with the bank. So, it was just you for the rest of the week; you and the other animals in your little farm.

You glanced out the window, dismayed to find that it was still raining steadily. The clouds had cleared up maybe two hours prior, just for a little while, and then it had gone right back to raining. You had hoped it would have stopped raining to give you enough time to go out and re-stock the hay to feed the cow, but it looked like you would need to brave the cold and wet today to feed Bessie.

She sniffed at you interestedly as you stuffed fresh hay into her feeding bin. You rubbed her snout affectionately, smiling as she leaned up to meet your hand. The chickens were clucking away, and you looked in their coops to find that there weren’t any eggs today. You sprinkled some feed on the ground for the chickens, and when the cold started to get to you, you decided it was time to get back inside.

As you turned to go back into your house, something very dark and hairy had appeared on the bank of the river since you last looked at it. You squinted, trying to get a better look at what it was; an animal? But it was so big…

You hesitated a moment; it was potentially dangerous, investigating this situation. While you didn’t live in a city let alone a town, you had still heard the news of how dangerous the world was right now. Still, something in your gut told you that something was off. With a deep breath, you began to cautiously approach the river bank.

As you got closer, you saw brown and black hair, and dark green cloth, and then - the insignia of the Survey Corps. That really surprised you; after confirming that these were indeed humans, being pushed against the side of the bank by the current, you hurried down to them, mud and rain caking your boots and dress.

“Hello?” You said cautiously as you got closer. You reached out a hand, only to have a hand grab back. With a yelp, you pulled back, but the other person’s grip was too strong. You looked at them, their face finally visible, surprised to find a person with dark brown hair and glasses staring at you wildly.

“Help me carry him.” They demanded, and before you knew it, you were hauling the man with black hair up the bank and towards your home.

“Um-- I have shelter,” you offered meekly, not entirely sure why you did. These people just seemed desperate, and you wanted to help. The brown-haired soldier said nothing, just kept glancing behind them as if someone were following them, and they were pushing you to move at a quicker pace despite your obvious struggle. You weren’t the strongest, and carrying a whole human person (even with help) was a challenge. Still, you made it to your front porch in record time, and you flung the door open, closing it just as quickly to prevent any more rain getting into the house.

Without even consulting you, the brown-haired soldier had pushed the little vase sitting on your kitchen table to the floor, hauling their friend onto the wooden surface. It wasn’t until he was laying on his back that you saw that his entire face and body was covered in blood and shrapnel. It was unlike anything you’d seen before-- and you and your mother had been doctors during the titan raids. You had helped clean up soldiers’ wounds and carried corpses to be burned or buried; but this man before you was a sight to say the least.

“The lights!” The soldier hissed, snuffing out your candles one by one.

“What-- why?” You asked incredulously, although you helped extinguish the candles, as well.

“We’re being followed-- get down.” They ordered, pushing you to the floor as they crouched down with you. You did as they said, although you were sure to explode with a flurry of questions in a moment. Any inclination you had to speak was silenced soon enough, though; the unmistakable sound of horses hooves thundering towards your home froze you in place, and you shared a worried glance with the brown-haired soldier. Their jaw was set with a strong resolve, though you could see the flickering of panic within their gaze. You glanced at the fire as the horses came closer; would that give away the hint of life?

Without thinking too much, you quickly pulled the soaked green cloak off the soldier's back, and crawled towards the fire. You smothered it quickly, thankful you had more matches and firewood so that once this was over, you could continue cooking your stew. Turning back to the soldier, they nodded to you appreciatively as the horses inevitably came to a stop just outside your home. You heard Bessie moo at the new arrivals, and followed the soldier as they crawled under the table.

You always kept the curtains drawn closed whenever you were home alone; you silently thanked your past self for doing that without thinking. There were voices outside; you didn’t recognize any of them, but to the person beside you, they meant danger.

“How could we have lost them?” One man exclaimed.

“Shit, we’ll really get our asses handed to us.”

A pause. Some shuffling.

“Do you think anyone’s home?”

A knock on the door.

“Hellooooo?”

More waiting.

“Maybe we can take some eggs for the road?”

“They must be gone for the day. Plus, I don’t think they’d be able to haul him all the way up here alone. We’d see the blood.”

Another moo from Bessie.

“Let’s keep going. Maybe there’s a town further down…”

The voices faded and the sound of galloping hooves resumed, this time fading in the other direction as the group made their way further downstream.

You gave it a moment before you crawled out from under the table, putting your hands on your hips as the soldier crawled out after you. They immediately began inspecting their friend, who was currently bleeding out on your table. You gathered that he was in a serious condition, if not already dead. So, you bit back all of your questions as you rushed into your mother’s and father’s room to retrieve their medical supplies.

“I’m a doctor-- I’ve worked with soldiers before.” You explained as you began cutting away sopping wet clothes-- drenched in either rain or blood-- bit by bit. The soldier stepped back, obviously relieved as you began to work. Before you knew it, they had re-lit the fire and two other candles, bringing them over to you so that you could better see what you were doing.

You nodded a thank-you, astounded at how many injuries this man had sustained. Porcelain skin was stained red, shrapnel was sticking out of too many places. You began to work on his torso first.

“You’re probably wondering what happened.” The soldier sighed, plopping down into a chair. “Well, first of all-- my name’s Hanji, nice to meet you.” They pushed their glasses up onto their forehead, rubbing their eyes. As you pulled out fragment after fragment, they explained their whole situation to you: the coup, the rogue soldier being kept prisoner by the man you were attempting to fix, the explosion. You listened solemnly, thankful that your work gave you a free pass at not having to respond.

When Hanji finished, you had started cleaning off his face, gently wiping away the blood to reveal the soldier beneath. In the silence, while you stitched up wound after wound, you thought perhaps Hanji had fallen asleep. Your stew bubbled in the distance; once you finished stitching up this particularly long and deep gash across his entire face, you would remove it from the fire. You suspected this man had lost his eyesight in one eye; the cut was rather deep.

“So, who are you?” Hanji asked, much to your surprise.

“(F/N, L/N). Nobody important.” You said with a wry smile, and stood back with a sigh. “Your friend might live… might. I didn’t notice any signs of internal bleeding while I stitched up his torso, but he’s pretty unresponsive. I’m sorry I can’t do more.” You said, and went over to wash your hands in the little basin by the window.

Hanji sighed. “Thank you. You’ll never know how much of a help you’ve been.”

“Who is he, anyway?”

“Humanity’s strongest soldier.” They said, gazing at him solemnly. “And a good friend.”

You nodded, unsure of what to say. “...Do you want some stew?”

Hanji looked at you with a smile. “I’d like that.”

[-]

You told Hanji that if Levi-- they had told you his name while you spoke over dinner-- made it through the night, then he would have a better chance of living. You and Hanji worked together to carefully move him into your bedroom, laying him gingerly on the soft bed. You would prefer it if he bled on your sheets and not your parents’-- Hanji couldn’t thank you enough. Once you found out the two were Survey Corps soldiers, you were more than eager to help.

You were able to give Hanji a cot to sleep on. They used the one your father would take on hunting trips; it was soft, and relatively comfortable. They insisted on sleeping on the floor while you slept in your parents’ bed, and before you settled down for the night, you checked on Levi one last time.

He was breathing a bit more steadily now, and you decided to take that as a rare, good sign that he would live. You wondered for a fleeting moment how he would possibly continue being a soldier after sustaining these kinds of injuries; he would have to be decommissioned, surely. Just as you were about to turn away, his eyes began to open just the slightest bit. You paused, silently encouraging him to open them more. He just stared at the ceiling for a moment, his steel gray eyes focusing on nothing in particular, and then they closed again.

[-]

The next day brought life. The rain had cleared up, and Levi was still breathing. Hanji was relieved beyond all measure; luckily, they hadn't sustained any wounds themselves, but you suspected they were catching a cold after being in the rain and then the river for so long. You had enlisted their help to change Levi into some of your father's warm, dry clothes before settling him into your bed the night before so as to prevent the wounded soldier from getting any sickness.

As you brought a mug of hot tea to Hanji, sitting by your fireplace, they smiled at you warmly.

“Thank you,” they said, taking a sip. “If you ever get to talk to Levi, you should make him some tea. You'll get on his good side.” Hanji chuckled to themselves, and you just smiled politely. It must have been a joke that only they understood.

You did your morning chores as usual, and when the afternoon came, you went to check on Levi again. As you sat on the bed, inspecting the bandages to make sure no infection had started, Hanji's voice coming from the doorway gave you a start.

“I might need to leave you soon.”

You paused, turning to them in confusion. “This man is in no condition to travel.”

“I know.” Hanji sighed, pinching the bridge of their nose. “I… won't be bringing him with me.”

Clearly, it pained the soldier in front of you to be making this kind of decision. You sensed that they weren't telling you the whole story; there must have been something deeper going on, something dangerous that couldn't be discussed with a civilian like yourself.

You sighed, looking back to Levi, still sound asleep and breathing steadily. You decided you would change his bandages after dinner tonight.

“You've hardly been here a day,” you said cautiously. The thought of this person leaving you with their friend in your care, with the potential of dangerous people on the lookout for him, was daunting to you to say the least. “Wouldn’t you prefer to stay for supper? Maybe you can leave tomorrow--”

“I’m sorry.” Hanji cut you off, crossing their arms. They almost refused to look at you or Levi. “But there are a lot of people out there that need my help; I need to find a way to fix this. Sitting here, hiding here--” they sighed in frustration. You folded your hands in your lap, staring at Hanji’s shoes absently. “I know what I need to do. I know he’d understand…” Hanji came closer to you, and gently placed a folded note on your bedside table. It had Levi’s name written on it, and although you knew neither of these people very well, your heart ached at the tender gesture. Based on the physical wounds on Levi and the scars on Hanji, you knew these two had been through a lot; you could hardly imagine what sort of hell they faced daily. The closest you had ever come to a titan was pulling the corpses of soldiers out of giant decaying bellies.

You stood up, allowing Hanji to sit next to their friend.

“Let me at least make you some tea before you go.” You said as Hanji took hold of Levi’s hand, gingerly holding it as they gazed at his bandaged face. The soldier only nodded, and you turned and left to give them some time alone together.

While the pot of tea warmed over the fire, you gazed outside the window absently. Bessie was chewing on some grass, flicking her tail this way and that while the chickens clucked away. The sky was more vibrant after the rain had wiped everything clean the day before; the sun seemed to be clearer, brighter. As the pot began to boil, you heard Hanji’s footsteps as they emerged from your room, wiping away the vestiges of tears from their eyes.

“I really can’t stay.” They said, pain in their voice.

You bit your lip.

“I’ll take care of him. If you need a horse, there’s a farm not far away from here, maybe two miles east-- the farmer, his name is Ernst, tell him that I sent you and maybe he’ll give you a deal--” You said quickly, wringing your hands. This whole situation was painfully ominous. You felt like the fate of the world was in these soldiers’ hands, and all you could do was wipe away the blood from their eyes and bid them farewell.

Hanji placed their hand on your shoulder, giving you a reassuring smile. “Thank you, truly. I doubt anyone will come looking for Levi here.” They pulled on their Survey Corps cloak, which was covered in soot and smelled like fire after you had used it to smother the fire yesterday. Hanji paused, glancing at you cautiously.

“Would I be able to borrow some of your father’s clothes?” They asked quickly, and you blinked slowly at the odd request. “As a disguise; I need to not look like myself if I’m to make it anywhere past your town.”

You bit your lip; clothes were expensive, and your family didn’t have much money. Still, this soldier was indeed very desperate, and given the times they were living in, anything you could do to help was valued beyond measure. With a nod, you once again ventured into your parents’ room, and pulled out some clothes that looked like they might fit Hanji.

When you gave them to the soldier, they smiled and once again thanked you. Once they were changed, they gave you their uniform and told you to burn it just in case anyone came looking. You only nodded, feeling a knot tie itself in your gut. You couldn’t help but get the feeling that you had dug yourself into a situation you wouldn’t be able to get out of.

Hanji thanked you again-- you gave them some bread and cold meat to start their journey. As the soldier left your home, trudging upstream, you turned back to your home, still nestled in the rolling grass by the river. Now, apparently, you were the caretaker of humanity’s strongest soldier.

#snk #shingeki no kyojin #snk fanfiction #levi ackerman #levi ackerman fanfiction #hanji zoe #hange zoe #levi x reader #snk 115 #snk spoilers

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juminss-cat · 6 years

Note

Oooh! How about RFA + minor trio come home and find out that MC rearranged the entire living room or bedroom (or any other room!), including the location of furniture, entirely on their own (I like to rearrange my room every half a year or so, and I love moving all the furniture by myself). Have a lovely day!

Thank you, sweetheart! I hope you have a lovely day, too!

Yoosung:

⭑ He’d actually mainly like it? Like, as long as you don’t touch his computer or any of his essentials; you can move his school stuff all you want, but anything to do with LoLoL stays put otherwise there will be hell to pay, and by that and I mean pouting and whining until you tell him where you put it all.

⭑ He likes how fresh it all looks, how he can come home and see something different for the first time in ages. Lbr, this boy probably hasn’t moved any of his furniture since he first moved in omg.

⭑ Yoosung’s also super impressed that you managed to do it all by yourself?? Like, he can barely lift the goddamn couch and you managed to move everything! Is confused at the same time, but mainly just proud and also his ego takes a lil damage

⭑ Although he likes it, he’s also worried that you’ll hurt yourself, so he’s always making sure that you don’t hurt your back or any other part of you doing all the heavy lifting…literally. If you do hurt yourself, he’ll bring you icepacks or heated pads and rub the area that you hurt.

⭑ He just loves you so much that honestly you could probably sell all of his stuff and replace it with the most hideous furniture you can find and he’d only vaguely complain. But again, do not touch the computer.

Zen:

♪ Boy is worried you’ll hurt yourself. Like, super worried. Don’t get me wrong, he’s also super impressed because you managed to change the layout of his entire living room by yourself in under a day. But like, what if his jagiya gets hurt?

♪ Is confused when he first comes home because he swore the sofa was in a different position, but it’d been a long day of rehearsals and he really doesn’t care, he just wants to sit down. He’s a little unobservant at times and sometimes you actually have to say to him that you moved around a few items for it to click, usually only when it’s super late and he’s super exhausted.

♪ His things don’t have places as such, it’s usually just where he put them first, so you can move pretty much anything without him even batting an eye. He likes the fact that you add your personal touch to the place, however you wish to do it.

♪ Honestly, he doesn’t really have any qualms about it, apart from the potential injury risk, and, like Yoosung, actually welcomes the change in layout from time to time. It got so familiar when he was living by himself, and the changing furniture only reminds him that you’re now in his life and he couldn’t be happier.

Jaehee:

♨︎ Is just a little put out at first. She’d gotten so used to everything being in a certain place and having a ‘home’ that to see it rearranged threw her a little bit. She didn’t mind it, per se, it just took a little getting used to.

♨︎ She also likes to have input or a heads up before you rearrange the entire living room, especially before you touch any of her Zen merch omg.

♨︎ In actual fact, if you let her, rearranging the furniture together is something she loves to do. She likes how it feels like you’re both adding a personal touch to the place, making it into a home instead of just a house. She likes to put on Zen’s musicals or a CD and sing along with you as you move things around.

♨︎ When you rearrange it without her, however, she’s astounded as to how you can lift it. Like ?? It’s not light furniture and yet you managed to move it all around in the time it took for her to come home? She’s amazed and very impressed by it all.

♨︎ She also likes how fresh it feels, like spring cleaning almost. It’s always fun to change it up a little bit and it minimises her stress from her workload to have a change of scenery at home, too.

Jumin:

₩ On the one hand, he loves it. He loves how he can come home and see it different; it serves as a reminder that you live with him and he’s no longer alone, that he’s found the love of his life and he can share his wealth and estates with them.

₩ On the other hand, it does take him a little bit of getting used to. He had everything mapped out in his mind in vivid detail, he could traverse the entire penthouse with his eyes closed and the lights off if he needed to, and now that the layout has changed, his mental map has been thrown off.

₩ However, he adapts pretty quickly and doesn’t really mind all that much. He’s said more than once that he’d happily replace everything with items you wanted, all you had to do was ask. This is a compromise almost, keeping his original furniture but adding your touch to it, making sure the penthouse feels like your home as well as his.

₩ One thing he does ask though is that you don’t rearrange his study area. He has all his papers organised in a particular way, all of his work items filed away neatly and, while he’d never be mad at you for moving them, it would annoy him a little bit.

₩ He’s also concerned for you. The furniture is heavy and he’d much rather his bodyguards moved it around for you to prevent injury, but ultimately it was your choice and he didn’t push you to do something you didn’t want to do; if you wanted to move it alone then you had his blessing.

Seven/Saeyoung:

☾ Boy loves it omg. He likes the change, how new it all feels, how it’s like walking into a new house sometimes. But, like Yoosung, do not touch his computers or he will cry. All of the stuff he needs is laid out exactly where he needs it to be, and moving it throws him off completely.

☾ You can also expect to find some…questionable items while moving and cleaning stuff. They range from things you knew about such as dresses and wigs, makeup and things like that, to things that left you blinking in shock, such as an old porn magazine he had lying around or a few toys just shamelessly left in the bedroom. You’d dated him long enough to know he wasn’t especially vanilla in bed, but the lack of shame he had made you blush.

☾ poor Vanderwood omg

☾ He’s also the best if you get hurt moving things. He’ll carry you around everywhere and bring you ice to soothe the area of pain. He’d cover you in kisses and give you lots of massages and hugs.

☾ Like the others, he loves how his house has your personal touch to it, how he’s constantly reminded that he’s no longer living alone, but that you’re now in his life, that you’re there for him, through good and bad. He loves it and he loves you.

V/Jihyun:

☼ If he hadn’t had the surgery to fix his eyes then like, he wouldn’t really care because he couldn’t see? Although it did present the problem that he’d bump into things a lot more as he hadn’t mapped out where you had moved things to, and, where he was expecting an empty space was now home to an item of furniture.

☼ If he had had his eyes fixed, he still wouldn’t mind, lbr. He’d be a little surprised at first to see it all rearranged, but he wouldn’t complain at all. He liked how the house was also your home and he trusted you to rearrange the furniture in a way that you both liked.

He loves helping you, though. Boy’s an artist and that kinda laps over into interior design too. He handpicks paintings for the walls, the wallpapers, carpets, items to place on surfaces.

☼ He loved the personal touch it added, as well as ridding memories and ghosts of his past, fuck you Rika.

☼ Boy is highkey worried about you getting hurt, though, and pleads with you to let him do the lifting of the heavier items. You shoot him down with a pointed look and he sighs and backs down, making sure to help you if you do get hurt.

Unknown/Saeran:

☹ You kinda had to keep three people happy with the arrangements tbh. Given Saeran still wasn’t fully on his feet and was staying with Saeyoung at the bunker, and with Vanderwood occasionally lodging, your freedom to arrange things as you pleased was somewhat limited.

☹ Not that any of them minded, really. Just don’t move anything of any importance to them and they don’t mind at all.

☹ Saeran loves it. After living in a broken family and then mint eye, he’s never had a place that was partly his. It was either his mother’s or Rika’s. He never had the power to change it or have any say in it at all so he liked to watch you rearrange things.

☹ He’d quietly voice his opinion at times, or even join in and help you move the sofa or the bed, dragging the rest of the furniture into place. While it was technically his brother’s place, the touches you added to made it feel a lot like home, a place where he felt safe and loved and he loved you for it.

☹ Highkey feels bad that he can’t help more and feels somewhat weak when he can’t lift things on his own, but you reassure him with kisses and love. If you do hurt yourself, he feels even guiltier and makes sure to treat you like royalty until you feel better.

Vanderwood:

⚉ “MC, Why is the living room turned around?” Boy is so confused. He left on a mission a few weeks ago and now he walked into what felt like a completely new house?? It takes him a while to get used to the new layout and you hear him cursing in the night when he bumps into a piece of furniture while navigating in the dark.

⚉ He loves it when you rearrange the stuff at the bunker, though, especially if it means pissing off Seven in any way shape or form and the two of you almost turn it into a game, who can move the most things to piss him off the most.

⚉ When it comes to your shared home, he’s pretty lax. He just asks that you keep all his belongings and ‘necessities’ such as his gun and taser in his bedside cabinet. They’re his safety net and he likes to know that he can protect you shoulder his past track him down.

⚉ If he’s home, he insists on helping you lift things, making sarcastic remarks when you’re struggling to lift something before coming up and moving it for you, blushing when you place a soft kiss on his cheek.

⚉ Boy just loves you a lot, okay? He’d do anything for you, and honestly, he likes his home having your touch.

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earthbovndmisfit · 6 years

Text

Title: 8 pm. Pairing: You know it, my guys. It’s jonawagon!!

Notes: A little something I made using the Pride Prompts from @cutequeerpositivity (thank you for sharing these with all of us!!). The prompt for the first day is (was?) First Kiss, so, a bit late as usual, but here it is! Hope you guys like it!

Warnings: None. Just some fluffy gaye stuff under the cut. Read More is only for length reasons.

7:50 p.m.

Ten minutes early. A bit of a feat for someone like Speedwagon. Punctuality wasn’t precisely his forté, and he was aware of it. This time, however, he did everything in his power to prevent that from getting in his way, and there was a sole reason why:

He was going to see Jonathan again tonight.

They had agreed to go for a couple drinks. A celebration of sorts. They hadn’t had the chance to have one since they had come back from their mission to defeat Dio days ago. With all the injuries and the psychological baggage too fresh still, they had decided then the best option was to wait a little and heal some first before they could think of doing anything else, and the time was just about to come. Of course, they kept seeing each other through the course of those days. It wasn’t like either would stop caring and wondering how the other was doing, but tonight was going to be slightly different from these past days.

“Robert!” He heard a voice calling his name not too far from where he stood. That unmistakable voice… He didn’t even need to see the tall figure to know who it belonged to.

“Mister Joestar! Good evenin’.” The ex-thug greeted, removing his hat for a moment, out of respect towards the gentleman.

“You don’t have to continue addressing me like that, you know that? After all the things we’ve been through together?” The taller man’s words were gentle, matching his smile. “Please, call me Jojo, or Jonathan. Either are okay, I promise.”

“Got it, Mister–, uh, I mean, Jojo.” The blond laughed, a bit embarrassed at himself before he picked up where he left off. “So, how are you feelin’ tonigh’?”

“A lot better. I don’t feel that much pain anymore. It’s astounding what Hamon can do.”

“Lucky you. I gotta deal with it the traditional way.”

“Is pain giving you trouble still?” A silent nod from Robert came as an answer to his query. “Well, there’s a healing technique Mister Zeppeli taught me. It consists on using the ripple to heal other people. I still got to work on it a little more, but it’s proving to be effective so far! Maybe I could try it on you to help you a bit, if you’re okay with it?” Jonathan said, patting the other man’s shoulder, to which Robert flinched slightly. A mix of already existing pain in his body and Jonathan’s hands being too heavy. It didn’t help that the younger sometimes didn’t truly realize just how strong he actually was… “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Speedwagon laughed, finding Jojo’s ashamed face to be quite endearing. “I’ve been through much worse than this, and I certainly don’t wanna cause you any trouble either.”

“It won’t be a problem at all. It’ll be my pleasure.” He reassured, to which the blond nodded, unable to turn down his kind offer.

“Alright. If you insist. Jus’ please, let’s not get my diaphragm into this…” A pretty obvious joke that Jonathan picked up immediately as both men laughed.

“Understood. So, shall we get going?”

“Yeah. The less crowded the bar is when we get there, the better.” They started walking down the street, making some small talk every now and then as they walked past some shops on their way to their destination. “Jojo.” Speedwagon called at some point, just a couple blocks away from the bar.

“What is it?”

“Your tie. It’s a mess.” How could Robert miss that until now? Hard to tell.

“Hm?” Jonathan hummed, a bit confused at first before he looked down, only to confirm what his friend had just informed him of. “Oh! Yeah, I… I always have a bit of trouble with ties…” He admitted, embarrassment written all over his face. After all, people in a position like his were expected to have that sort of small details under control. Anything else was unacceptable. He didn’t even want to wonder what his father would have said had he witnessed that…

“They can be a pain sometimes, but it’s jus’ a matter of trial and error most of times. ‘ere, let me help you.” He said as they both stopped, stepping closer to the wall of a shop so these two large men wouldn’t be standing in the middle of the sidewalk, blocking the way for everyone else out there. It was not like there were a lot of people out that night, but still, it wouldn't be polite to do otherwise.

Speedwagon began to undo Jojo’s blue silken ascot, straightening the fine fabric in his hands so he could work best with it and give it a more proper look than getting it all tied but wrinkled up. Once that part of the task was done, he began to tie the ascot, keeping in mind not to tie it too tight. Unfortunately for Robert, being shorter than Jonathan, and having to look up at him, gave him the perfect angle for his eyes to begin to wander a little further up. Brown hues were suddenly fixed on those full lips before him and the way they moved. They seemed so soft, yet so firm. Robert was completely lost into them when he realized Jonathan had been speaking all this time. Unable to get an answer from him, he called his name, which served to drag him back to the real world; a shade of red across Speedwagon’s face. Luckily for the former thug, the dim light from the lamps on the street did an excellent job at keeping it a secret from Jonathan.

“Robert?”

“Ah… yes?”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes. Yes, absolutely. I was jus’… Sorry, I got a bit distracted. What were you sayin’ again?”

“It’s nothing big. I was just asking where did you learn to tie a tie?”

“Oh…” And here he realized he’d just made yet another mess of Jonathan’s ascot while lost in his own mind. He began to undo his mess, trying to attract as little attention to it as he could. “I learned years ago, from a friend I ‘aven’t seen in ages, back when I first started wearin’ suits. He taught me the basics, since his father worked as a tailor for an upper class family, so he knew a thing or two on the matter.”

“A tailor… Seems like an interesting job.”

“I guess so, but I’ve heard it requires a lot of talent and skills t’become a successful one. Else you’ll be up t’the neck in debt for all the masters’ fabrics you’ve screwed up.” He added as he was done straightening the tie once more.

“Well, I guess that’s true, too…” Jojo replied and both chuckled a bit. Silence then took over. A comfortable one. However, Robert still couldn’t keep his gaze away from those lips that had caught his eye so fiercely. He had somehow managed not to make yet another mess of the poor ascot, though. He was in the middle of his task when his gaze went up a little further for no particular reason. His heart nearly stopped the moment his eyes met Jonathan’s. Just how long had he been looking at him? Had he noticed him staring, dumbfounded, at his mouth? God… It was so embarrassing…

However…

…what happened then took the blond completely off guard at first. Jonathan’s larger palms went to rest on Robert’s waist; the taller man leaned forward, meeting Speedwagon halfway as the latter gently pulled him a little closer to him by his tie. One pair of lips finding the other, pressed softly one against the other in a chaste touch that came straight from their hearts in what some would call the heat of the moment. They both slipped their eyes closed for as long as that moment lasted, enjoying the tender caress, not really thinking about the consequences or anything else. Right now, there were just the two of them, and nothing else mattered.

Both then pulled away, slowly; their gazes finding each others’ as they did.

“I… I’m sorry, Jojo, I… I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s alright, Robert.” Jonathan’s palms still on the other man’s waist as he went on, knowingly, “I wanted it, too.”

#jjba #jonawagon #speedwagon #jonathan joestar #robert e.o. speedwagon #pride prompts #reblogs are always welcome and encouraged #feedback too!#it's all up to you to decide if this is set in a 'more canon' setting (with the possibility of jonaeri+jonawagon)#or in a completely separate AU #basurito #speedguapo

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screechingcandymagazine · 3 years

Text

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For More Info :- what is physical fitness

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harcourtholmesii · 3 years

Text

Traitorous Thoughts

Notes: My favourite character from Marvel, I wanted to peer into his mind a bit as Avengers: Age of Ultron played out. Let me know what you think!

Words: 1804

Warnings:

- Violence

- Blood

- Trauma

- Betrayal

- Anxiety and Depression

- Reference to Death and Injury

Enjoy!

He came to in the freezing cold, snow burning against his naked skin. A soft fabric was hastily draped across his shoulders by timid hands, and through the white light, he could see the world coming into focus around him. Trees stood tall on all sides, their canopies disappearing into the white sky above his head. He could smell smoke and the bitter scent of gasoline somewhere nearby; through his bare legs and hands, he could feel quakes of electricity still coursing through the dirt.

Bruce stood on shaking legs, hand reaching to a branch for support. He peered around him, taking in the sight of the carnage he had left behind. An upturned vehicle, bodies sprawled about, some curling in on themselves in pain whilst others remained still in the snow. A cement pillbox was torn to pieces, machinery and artillery shredded apart in shrapnel across the forest floor. Against the white of the snow, the red stood out in a stark contrast that made him feel a pit deep within his stomach begin to form.

He could see that head of red hair as Natasha disappeared over the ridge line, calling out for Clint. He couldn’t see Rogers anywhere, and since his earpiece had been abandoned he had no idea as to the whereabouts of Tony or Thor. Left alone in the snow, he began the slow and embarrassing trudge back to the quinjet. He could see how his toes were already turning blue in the crunching snow. Every step burned.

The trek back was almost shameful. Entering into the metal confines of the ship, the feeling of being vulnerable and exposed was lessened ever so slightly. He never was particularly fond of large, metal contraptions that could act like a box, trapping him inside. Every trip on the quinjet caused him distress. He never let it show, but he could feel the other guy shifting beneath his skin and deep within the recesses of his mind.

He hurried himself into a sweater and some loose sweatpants, and could almost immediately feel the change of temperature. He sighed softly, allowing himself just a moment to relax and sit down. Now all he had to do was wait.

It felt like it had been too long; surely the others would be back by now. Without communications, he was blind to any and all things occurring outside the quinjet. He hated it. Waiting to see who would return and who wouldn’t. Bruce didn’t question anyone’s abilities; he knew their skills and their strengths, but it wasn’t the gunmen or the military personnel he was worried about. No. He was waiting to receive those words that something happened and it was his fault.

When Natasha and Steve had returned to the quinjet carrying Clint, he felt sick to his stomach. There was a large gash against his side, just above his hip, that was leaking blood all over the floor. Steve moved to the cockpit and Bruce could only just barely make out the words that Steve was saying. ‘Enhanced’… ‘Badly wounded’… ‘Medical attention required’… ‘Can’t wait’… Bruce had stopped listening.

Hesitantly, he approached his teammate, crouching before him and how he was laid across several seats. Clint was nursing the wound at his side. Natasha, at Bruce’s approach, skirted back a bit, granting him space. His deft but freezing digits began to test the surrounding area. He wasn’t that kind of doctor, but he was the best they had for the time being. He tore the already ripped material further so he could see the wound better. Natasha passed him a flashlight, and Bruce clenched it between his teeth.

It was gruesome; a gunshot, imbedded deep into muscle and flesh. He was lucky. It seemed to have not hit a vital organ, but the blood loss was a problem. Natasha offered him the medical kit. Her hands were shaking. Bruce hadn’t seen that before.

He took some gauze and pressed against the entry point. Clint hissed aloud, and Natasha’s grip on the medical kit tightened. He could hear the material of her gloves straining beneath their grip. Steve, who had returned to the rest of them by this point, gave his order for Natasha to fly them out of there.

‘Stark and Thor will catch up. They’ve got the sceptre.’ Well, that was great news. At least something good came from their attack on the HYDRA base.

‘Banner.’ He turned his eyes up to Steve, removing the flashlight from his lips.

‘What is it, Cap?’

‘Take a break.’ Bruce didn’t understand.

‘I… I need to tend to Clint-’ He started, but Steve cut him off, stooping down beside him until they were almost level. He rested a firm hand on Bruce’s shoulder, maybe trying to comfort him, but all he felt was frustration.

‘He’ll be fine. You’re just stressing, Banner. We don’t need that.’

Oh.

That’s why.

~X~

The look of betrayal in their eyes. He couldn’t stand it. Every time he turned his head up from the paperwork, articles and files, there were glances and stares from everyone present. Thor’s eyes held the most emotion certainly; those stormy blue irises filled with a turbulent gale glared down at Bruce from across the room. Clint’s eyes were colder, more distracted by the work ahead of them, and both he and Natasha shared a disappointed look between them. Steve’s eyes glared between him and Tony, and he refused to hold Bruce’s gaze when their eyes met.

It was Tony’s eyes however, the warm, chocolate brown gaze, that made Bruce feel worse than ever. Those eyes were sad, grieving for the loss of JARVIS from a mere two hours ago, and pained from the bruising around his throat. Bruce shuddered, wondering the strength behind Thor’s grip on Tony’s neck and how his breath rattled out of his throat in those moments. Then, there was the almost apologetic look that Bruce hated the most.

Tony took all the blame in that moment, and they both knew why everyone turned on Stark then. He was vulnerable, merely human who asked they study the sceptre in the first place. He was the easy target. Bruce, whilst he helped and was just as involved and to blame for Ultron’s appearance, no one wanted to test his, and therefore the Hulk’s, resolve. Well, Thor might have, but he knew the dangers of letting loose the beast in Stark Tower.

Tony nursed his throat in one hand, rifling through the folder with his other. His gaze remained apologetic, and Bruce just didn’t know why the man would feel the need to apologise. It was Bruce that should have said something. It was he that should have stepped in front of them all and prevented the damage. If anything, he could have suggested they not leave the sceptre alone. He could have told Thor to let Tony go. But he didn’t.

The words in the dossier blurred into a grey mess; he couldn’t see through the haze of tears. He blinked them back. Like Hell he was going to cry. He had no right to. He didn’t deserve to. He had made so many mistakes already. The other guy’s voice rumbled through his head.

‘Coward.’

~X~

He came to on the quinjet this time. He could hardly recall what had happened, but he knew a blackout meant he had transformed. Had it been a code green?

Looking around at his fellow Avengers, Bruce was astounded to find them in such a disarray. All of them were a mess, out of focus and distracted. A news report played in the background. He didn’t take much notice of it at first, until a flash of hulking green appeared in the handheld camera view.

He sat up, and watched as the screen played out for him all he had missed in gruesome detail. Natasha’s hand was on his arm, as if trying to coax him away from the screen, but he was far too overcome with what he was seeing. He had been doing so well. He hadn’t had a rampage for the past year, since working with the Avengers. Now though, he had done something horrible. Unforgivable. And he knew that at the end of the day, he would be protected for his actions by the team.

‘… reports of a monstrous, green figure tearing apart Johannesburg have come flooding in. The creature, in question, is responsible for millions in damages, at least eleven people dead and nineteen others are missing from the wreckage. Iron Man, a mister Tony Stark from New York, gave a brief statement, taking responsibility for the damages…’

Protected, again.

He doubled over, falling to his knees and wrapping the blanket tighter around his form. Natasha’s hand on his arm had fallen away and he preferred it. Why would someone ever dare to, let alone want to, touch him after what he had done?!

He knew his importance to the team as their attack dog was why he didn’t face the consequences for his mistakes. The doctor part was just an added bonus for them; Tony was intelligent enough to read the necessary papers or perform the experiments required to give them their advanced tech and look out for the team’s wellbeing. Natasha could speak all the languages Bruce knew plus ten and Clint could pilot the quinjet. Bruce could do these things, but it was unnecessary.

The other guy? Now, he was necessary. And dangerous. They were willing to take the risks and allow him out on the field, and perhaps they were right to do so. But Bruce should not ever have been excused from his actions, whether he was aware of them or not.

He curled up on the floor, the blanket the only comfort he was allowing himself. He couldn’t allow this to happen again. He dare not let him out again. If he did, he wasn’t sure what would happen.

~X~

‘...But I need the other guy.’

He was falling, through air and between steel engines. The machinery clanked and shrieked all about him, but it was near muted to Bruce’s ears.

He felt sick.

Why?

Even now, as Bruce felt the clothing begin to tear, he could feel the tears pour and his mind at war with the other guy. He was holding him back, pressing him down; pleading with him not to come out.

Too late.

As he felt his vision fade and the rage in his heart burn, he knew he couldn’t come back from this. The coward he was, he retreated deep into the back of his own mind.

There, in the dark, he could see the thick, steel chains that rain out of sight and into the shadows surrounding him. He cuffed himself in links too large for his wrists, and he curled up there, alone.

As he should have always been.

#fanfiction #fanfic #Marvel #MCU #Marvel Cinematic Universe #Bruce Banner #Hulk #Age of Ultron #Avengers #Tony Stark #Iron Man #Steve Rogers #Captain America #Black Widow #Natasha Romanoff #Hawkeye #Clint Barton #Thor #HarcourtHolmesII

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