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oh-saints · 2 years

Note

Hi. I loved your last Ruben one, could you do a Ruben one of him suprising you on Valentines Day?

thank you, nonny, and have a blessed valentine's day to you! here's my lil vday choco for you

surprise

rúben remembers you never bother valentine’s day because you’re always busy with work, so he decides to do something out of your character for your first valentine’s day together. it’s always good for a change, no?

rúben dias x you

word count: 1.1k

note: happy valentine’s day, lovelies! <3 this is actually inspired by real-life happenings between me and my bf, whom accidentally had requested something to be inspired by him for my mini vday gift for him. so ofc, only fitting to fit the scenario with the only one he’d approved me cheating on him with. but as usual, i happen to write at dawn so this is yet to be proof-read.

“gatinha,”

rúben hears your whisper from above, just like an angel calling for him from the sky. he smiles involuntarily as he felt your hand grazing his broad shoulder, down to the scapula and lower to the spine. he always loves when you trace the silhouette of his back, something you’re unable to do when standing because he towers you like the giant to the goliath, and there’s also something in your touch that comforts him like no other.

“wake up,”

and he swears can hear your whisper above everything else, no matter how loud and obnoxious the world they’re living in might be. the clarity hidden behind your voice is unmistakable, so pure and rare, and he feels so privileged to be able to hear them. because you use an entirely different set of tone and voice to everyone you consider as colleague, as if you tuck away your wholesome personality under the sleek shirts and pristine suit jackets you always don to work.

“baby,”

the moment rúben feels you’ve placed a featherlight peck on the back of his neck, he’s a goner. he can no longer pretend to be asleep anymore. if there’s one thing that can fight the 1st place that belongs to your touch, it’s your pecks that you like to place all over his skin.

he groans at the sensation of your mouth. he has to, because he has to think of a way to make his blood rush back to his head and not down south. it’s too early in the morning and too early for what he has in mind for the rest of the day.

“good morning, my love,”

but of course, you don’t know what he’s planning so you kiss him breathless anyway. as much as he wants to complain you for taking the carpet off his feet, he’s not going to refuse the way your hands move up gently to cup his face and feel his stubbles underneath your palm. interesting how the soft skin and dainty, french nails contrast his unshaved facial hair.

“bom dia, meu anjo,” unlike rúben who’s into physical touch, you’re a puddle of water whenever you hear rúben’s morning voice. it’s rugged, rough and everything you imagine his voice is like from how he looks like. and that includes sexy in the list. “leaving me so soon?”

“you know i have to.”

you have to shut rúben up before he lets out another word from his beak. you can’t take it, not until you stand up and make distance between the two of you, so you kiss him again before he can speak again. slow and deep this time, your lips are goading him good, knowing you won’t get another dose of this until the day ends, and he growls inwardly at you nipping the bottom of his lips.

wrong move.

you pull away rather harshly and rúben’s momentarily shocked at your sudden movement. only when he notices the growing rose pink tint on your cheek does he realise you have to stop yourself before you have to explain to your boss why you’re late into a client meeting this morning.

“alright, sweetheart. you have a good day at work, yeah?”

but good is understatement to what you have, so far.

as soon as you arrive at work, a huge bouquet of colourful flowers has sat prettily on your desk. too pretty that you don’t want to move it anywhere else, but have to because you don’t have any space left to open your laptop. everyone openly throws playful jealous comments towards you, saying “sorry we don’t have a specific centre back to receive flowers from.”

and you wish they never do because goddamn, that specific centre back surely has a way with words.

Meu anjo, my angel,

I surely have lived thousand lives before this, one that have asked for you, but I thank God everyday that He only gives me you now. Happy Valentine’s Day, minha vida <3

the note succeeds to make you giddy from head to toe, like you’re celebrating this cliché day as if it’s your first.

well, technically, it is. it once slipped from your tongue, the fact that you never think of celebrating valentine’s day. somehow, life cruelly doesn’t give you a chance to celebrate it. it’s either your relationship doesn’t last till february the 14th or there’d always something that came up on that day that makes you have to cancel all your other plans. so you just gave up one day and think of it as any other day. if it’s weekend you sleep it off; if it’s weekday you go to work.

rúben vowed to make your first valentine’s day memorable, once he heard about your behind-the-story, and you know he keeps his words—he always does, like a perfect gentleman he is. but you never expect anything of this grandiose scale because it turns out, the flowers aren’t the only thing on his mind.

as soon as lunchtime grazes its presence to the world, your boss calls you into his office, only to let you know that you’re dismissed for the day. for whatever reason, you don’t know and he doesn’t want to blow the whistle. you have to ask him if he’s firing you.

thank god he’s not. he says, “enjoy the rest of the day,” though, which makes everything more peculiar than it is that you have to pray for the world not to end any moment, despite knowing that you have yet to apply for annual leave for the past year. but that is so you can hop on the jet and fly to spain on the summer, like what you plan with rúben.

but you have the answer as to why your boss is super nice to you on this special day when you’ve descended the building. your humongous boyfriend is already waiting by his car, sunglasses perched on his nose like it’s a sunny february in australia. his smile when he sees you might as well be considered the sun, at this point, and you can only take pity to your boss because rúben must’ve flocked him with his overwhelming persona so you can have a half-day off.

he basks you in his warmth that he radiates from his big, muscular body and you always like it when he bear-hugs you like that. it makes you feel small and short, yes, but it also makes you feel loved and secure—something you truthfully have been missing a lot in life, due to the hardworking life you lead to provide for your family.

“ready to go?”

“where to?”

“do you trust me, my love?”

“always, rúben.”

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infin-8-morphosis · 2 years

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Floaty shoulders are attached by a muscular sling, perhaps there could be something like a back-sternum that they hang from?

Hmm, maybe! Their shoulderblades already come from an extension of their vertebrae (their topmost process?) which would really be the only place a 'sternum' would be able to come from evolutionarily (they have a whole history! Hope I can model it all someday 👀).

It's possible though, if it came from different vertebrae to where the shoulderblades came (which sounds more reasonable) or split from the shoulderblades (sounds odd but worth exploring, its previous connection vestigialised but maybe it didn't) either way though, unless its still connected to the vertebrae (in which having a bone straight through your body sounds inconvenient... if it broke that'd be so lethal on your innards) it would also be floating. Though, hmm. I suppose having a rib or two connect to it wouldn't reduce the room for the lungs too much.

Since I've only modelled the bones I'd imagine theres lots of opportunity for muscles/cartillage/etc supporting it by connecting to the ribs, maybe even the neck, since it still feels way too unprotected, so I might give it neck ribs, which could also support it, maybe.

It's a work in progress! Thanks for suggesting and making me think about it :]

#Definitely no expert on any of this #so I might be way off!#but thats the cool thing about doing it in 3d is I'm realising a lot about how actual bones n muscles work that I 'knew' but never really #understood properly #their shoulderblade I actually based off a birds keel #also just remembered the word scapula #if thats any indication I don't know much #uhm real tags #aznswer #ooh new tag #speculative evolution #speculative biology #spec bio #spec evo

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olivia200312 · 3 years

Text

Prime Missing~ TFP! Optimus x Half-Predacon! Reader *Request*

Requested by the lovely CreatorCat

Plot: Hi there! Could I please request a TFP Optimus x half Cybertronian and half Predacon female Autobot reader? Only Optimus knows she is like that. Her Predacon form is a dragon and her vehicle form is a mustang car (Wildstyle colors from Lego Movie). Her fighting style is dancing (dance fighting, usually coordinated with music only she can hear in her earpiece, unpredictable). It takes place during Beast Wars where they meet Ultra Magnus. Optimus goes missing and the reader is very upset because she has a crush on the Prime.

Ultra Magnus grows a crush on her after seeing her fight in battle. He is concerned she'll get hurt because her style doesn't fall into the protocol and can't be monitored. He forbids her from joining the ranks in battle until she 'shaded up'. The reader is devasted and falls into sort of depression because that she wouldn't be able to dance or fight anymore and that was what she lived for. Optimus returns (finally) to find his crush (the reader) not herself anymore. They have been 'broken' and fight the way that Ultra Magnus saw fit. He's horrified because this wasn't 'his Y/N' and confronted Ultra Magnus. Afterward, Optimus takes the reader aside and confesses and she smiles for the first time in 'forever'. The next battle she's in, she breaks protocol and does her original style of fighting much to everyone's happiness (except Ultra Magnus). She also reveals her Predacon side to protect everyone from the Decepticons and Predaking.

What do you think?

That's a long request ever since I got a request to write a high school version. Lol. So, I read the entire text here and began to think. Do not think it is a bad way. I absolutely love the request but however, I don't like a few things. I'm not familiar with Beast Wars at all. I know only like literally one character and that is Optimal Primal. He is in fact the new Prime in Power of the Primes after Optimus' death. Don't believe me? Watch the 10 episodes or follow the OC book that I'm working on since I'm partnered up with Alita-One and others on Quotev. Furtonaly, I don't like Beast Wars at all since it's different. I also couldn't help but cringe a bit since it's TFP playing in Beast Wars. I remember some clips and scenes where Optimus actually goes missing after the base got exploded and Ultra Magnus appearing. I also remember Predacon's Rising.

Also since I don't like hurting other lovely characters (either rejected or friend-zoned), I made Ultra Magnus different. He'll be not crushing on the reader, but don't worry, he'll get tasted with his own medicine. Revenge will arrive.

Head area:

Brain: Processor / Brain Module

Head: Helm

Face: Face plate

Ears: Audio receptors / Receptor Orifice / Audials

Nose: Enstril / Olfactory Sensor

Eye brow: Optical Ridge

Eyes: Optics

Mouth: Intake

Lips: Dermas

Teeth: Denta/Dentas

Tongue: Glossa

Chest area:

Chest: Chassis / Thoraxal Cavity

Back: Hexa-Lateral Scapula

Spine: Bipedalism cord / Back Strut

Chest and back armour:

Chest plate

Back plate

Mid-section plating

Neck guard

Side plating

Arm area:

Arms: Arms / Restarlueus

Forearms: Bitarlueus

Hands: Servos

Fingers: Digits

Arm armour:

Gantlets

Shoulder pads

Arm guard

Lower area:

Pelvis: Pelvis

Butt: Aft / Skid-Plate

Thighs: Tibulen

Calves: Cadulen

Feet: Pedes - the high heel bits are called Struts or Heel Struts.

Lower armour:

Skirt plates

Aft plate / Skid plate

Thigh guard

Ankle guard

General/Internal components:

Muscles: Cables / Pistons - It depends on the area in question.

Veins: Fual lines

Stomach: Tanks

Lungs: Vents - used to stop the con/bot from over heating.

Heart: Spark

Tattoos: D-con/A-bot Insignias and the lark

T-Cog: The thing that allows all Cybertronians to transform, be that their arms or their whole body.

Bonus:

Penis: Spike

Vagina: Valve

Body: Frame

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

"Jack, meet Ultra Magnus," Arcee introduced her human partner to the missing commander of the Autobots.

Jack looked shocked as he took a look at Ultra Magnus. He was light blue while Optimus was dark blue. The commander had a strict look on his faceplate. What was his problem? Sure, there was a war still going on because since Cybertron, the home planet of the Cybertronians, including the Autobots, Decepticons, and the Predacons, was dead so the idiotic Decepticons moved the war towards Earth when they discovered that the Autobots had been hiding there. Honestly, Megatron was too evil and stupid for actually settling the war on Earth. Earth! The planet was involved in many wars already, especially WWI and WWII.

But let's get to the point: what's been happening?

Well, the Decepticons discovered where the Autobots had been hiding. Before it got blown up, Optimus ordered everyone to leave the base and a serious warning: don't use the phone to call or send anything. If they do, then the Decepticons can track your signal, which can lead a serious danger. Jack went with Arcee, Miko with Bulkhead, and finally Raf with Bumblebee. Eventually, the base got exploded. Optimus got seriously wounded that Smokescreen found him. He was a smart rookie for hiding him so that Optimus can possibly heal and be safely hidden. Sadly, the damage was too much that Optimus was slowly offlining. He didn't want to leave, especially not Y/N. She was a half-Predacon and half-Cybertronian. She was an Autobot. So, it means that Y/N's carrier or sire was a Predacon while the other was Cybertronian. She was found wounded in a forest by Optimus and he took her to the Autobots base. Poor Y/N... She remembered how scared she was when she was there. I mean, she was wounded, lost on Earth, and didn't know anyone. She lost her creators thanks to the war. She eventually learned fast how to take care of herself.

When Optimus met her, he couldn't help but thought that Y/N was a unique and beautiful femme he'd ever seen. I mean, she was half-Cybertronian and half-Predacon. He had seen full Predacons before like Predaking. Soon, he'll meet Darksteel and Skylynx who were brothers. Y/N had wings and a tail so she was very unique. She was thankful to fly and control her balance more. The human kids loved Y/N. Miko, of course, asked too many questions that at one point, Jack and Raf had to stop her since they noticed when Y/N got uncomfortable and scared.

But anyway, that all happened before the big explosion. Optimus grew in fact closer to Y/N that he was the only one at the base who Y/N trusted. She would stay by his side, help him and ask questions. Optimus gladly helped her whenever she was scared or asked questions. He also found her adorable in secret. He sometimes asked himself about her like her wings for example. Were they sensitive? Maybe they were? He will only know if he touched it. If Y/N ever allowed it.

While Y/N was with the Autobots, it didn't mean that she met everyone. She didn't meet Ultra Magnus at the time. He was a strict commander of the Autobots and was light blue and red. His vehicle was very similar to the Prime. His shoulderplates were weird, kinda. No disrespect. But oh boy, Y/N hated Magnus. When he saw her, he was only coldhearted and strict towards her. Y/N's fighting style was dancing but the commander didn't like it that he forbid her to do so. It was like this:

The Autobots just came back after a fight again with the Decepticons. The fight was brutal this time. Apparently, the Decepticons had a new 'weapon' and it was a full Predacon! It was a male and in fact, the ruler of the race when they went instinct many years ago thanks to Megatron himself. Shockwave managed to bring the king back from the dead. His name was Predaking. He was huge! After all, he was a male and a ruler. Since Y/N was half-Predacon, she actually can't transform. Some Cybertronians who were half-Predacons, couldn't actually transform. Some can, some couldn't. Y/N didn't mind that she couldn't transform. She liked how she looked, even having a Predacon tail and wings.

But everyone was wounded. Y/N fought against the male Predacon himself. Their fight was rough and they bit and clawed. But Y/N managed to trick him by dancing. Fighting was a little bit of dancing if you didn't know. You were moving and using your whole frame. It was exhausting for Y/N, but she won.

Ultra Magnus, however, didn't like her fighting style that he brought her into a private chamber. He closed the door and faced her, with his usual strict expression. "Soldier, I want you to change the style."

Y/N lifted her optical ridge up in confusion. What did the commander mean by that? Her armor? Her outgoing? What was it? "What do you mean?"

"Change your fighting style. Also, I forbid you from ever going to fight with us."

Y/N couldn't believe what she heard. Was he really serious? Was he going to forbid her from going out to fight? But what about Optimus Prime? He still wasn't found! He was missing ever since the big explosion that the Decepticons caused weeks ago. The human kids spread around together with their guardians and they weren't allowed to not use any technology or else the Decepticons will track them down. Jack, stupid enough, used his cellphone to text his mother that he was fine. It was understandable for a kid to text its parent to let them know that they were fine. But when it came to the war between the Autobots and the Decepticons, then it was important to listen to the advice.

Ultra Magnus simply left the private chamber, leaving the poor half-Predacon femme alone.

That's basically how it happened. Ever since that day, Y/N didn't come out a lot from her berthroom. She was very spark broken ever since the strict commander told her those words. He forbid her from searching Optimus, who was still missing at the moment. How could he say that? Y/N cared deeply for Optimus just like the entire team. He was their leader but also someone that would protect others and be willing to sacrifice his life.

Y/N would only recharge all day. She ate and drank of course but it wasn't a lot like she used. Basically, how a normal Cybertronian ate. If you didn't know, humans can die from broken hearts. It was in fact a Broken heart syndrome, also known as stress cardiomyopathy or takotsubo syndrome. It was very sad to have that like heart disease. Not only humans can have that syndrome but also Cybertronians, especially the Predacons, full or not. Y/N attracted that syndrome. Everyone says that action speaks louder than words, but words hurt more than actions. Y/N had shortness of breathing and having chassis pains. That was the most common syndrome of heart disease.

Ratchet, the medic of the team wasn't blind at all and was trained to notice signs of any health problems. Since Y/N was showing those signs, he did the tests and diagnosed her with Broken Heart Syndrome or should I say Broken Spark Syndrome? Ratchet kept a close optic on her and made her take medication, especially if she showed signs of chassis pains and shortness of breath.

But meanwhile in the main room of the base...

Ratchet was updating Y/N's health on the Cybertronian computer since it was important for the medics to keep new updates so that they can keep the information. There was actually no standard treatment for the syndrome that Y/N had, but you can survive with medication and as long as you're being careful. Not only do doctors like Ratchet keep updates safe but also dentists as well. Ratchet was mad at Ultra Magnus for saying hurtful words but kept it quiet. It was time that others should watch out for what comes out of their mouths. Words can damage someone and give an illness. He began to ask himself how would Optimus react if he found out about that...

Bumblebee then walked up to Ratchet and beeped a question at him.

Ratchet signed and looked over his shoulderplate. "No, Bumblebee. Y/N is still a little bit weak to come out. I am doing the best I can to help her on track. But her syndrome doesn't have a standard treatment. Just like on humans."

Bumblebee frowned and let out a sad whirl. He saw Y/N as his good friend and cared for her as a friend. He was mad at the commander for saying those words that he nearly attacked her. Didn't the idiotic commander notice at all how much he damaged her? Why was he even doing this?! Just because she was a half-Predacon!? Bumblebee clenched his fists in anger as he started to shake.

Ratchet, being a smart aft medic, noticed it and quickly placed his servo on the scout's shoulderplate. "Easy, Bumblebee." Just as Ratchet wanted to say something further, his computer caught a signal. He quickly went to the device and Bumblebee looked curiously over his shoulderplate.

"Hahaha!" Ratchet began to laugh and clapped his servos happily. That caught everyone's attention as they walked up to him, except Y/N, who was still sadly in her berthroom to rest. She did hear Ratchet's happy laugh, which was confusing, but she didn't bother to check since she felt weak. Ratchet turned around fast with a big smile on his faceplate. "Optimus is alive!"

That caused everyone to cheer happily. Y/N fell asleep at that time. She didn't hear Ratchet's loud voice that said that Optimus was alive and coming soon to the base.

2 hours later~

"Awesome! Optimus is now like 2.0!" Miko happily jumped as she was fascinated by Optimus' new look.

"It's good to have you back, Optimus," Arcee said with a smile.

Everyone was saying how happy they were to see and have Optimus Prime back. The leader was smiling as he listened to everyone with respect. He was happy to see them as well. Even though he was almost offline for good, he thought about others, especially Y/N. But wait, where was she? He saw his friends but not Y/N. He frowned. What happened to her while he was missing? He wondered about her every day. He nearly did join the AllSpark and taking the servo of his mentor, Alpha Trion. The old smart mech understood his student's decision. He even teased Optimus to get the spark of the half-Predacon. He blushed.

Ratchet seem to realize Optimus' frown and he immediately knew that it was about Y/N. He walked up to his leader. "Optimus, I have to speak to you. It's urgent."

Optimus nodded in understanding. Of course, he heard Ratchet's serious tone, which meant that he was deadly serious, especially for being a medic. His job was to take care of others and help if needed. They both went to a private chamber to speak while others stayed. Ultra Magnus, however, got a bad feeling...

Ratchet closed the door and turned to face Optimus. "Optimus, while you were gone, others had a fight against the Decepticons. They had a new 'weapon' it was a full Predacon... a mech. He's named Predaking, the ruler of the Predacons. Y/N fought against him. I must say, I am impressed with her fighting moves. Dancing. Ultra Magnus didn't like her style at all. I saw them going to a private chamber. I learned from Y/N that Magnus forbid her from going out and he forced her to change her style..." He sighed and took a deep breath. "As a result, Y/N has Broken Heart Syndrome, also known as stress cardiomyopathy or takotsubo syndrome in humans. But I called it the Broken Spark Syndrome. She has trouble breathing and having chassis pains. I made her take medication."

Optimus couldn't believe what he heard. How could Ultra Magnus do this? He was getting angry. The commander took it too far by his words. He look calmy at Ratchet and nodded. "Thank you for the information old friend. I will speak to commander Ultra Magnus and see Y/N."

Ratchet nodded back and they left the private chamber. Ultra Magnus knew that he was busted. Optimus slowly walked up to the commander, with a disappointed and angry expression on his faceplate. He took the commander to somewhere private and let's just say that Optimus was so stern. He also finally punished the commander for what he said to Y/N. Ratchet was satisfied and mumbled under his breath: "As humans say: 'Get rekt'."

Optimus then walked through the hallway corridors, searching for Y/N's berthroom. Each bot had a nameplate hanging against the door. It was easier for everyone to find each other, except for humans since they were so small. But good that the kids remembered which room was who. They drew small symbols on each door of the bot. Ratchet got a symbol of a doctor, Bumblebee got a bee, Arcee a motorcycle, etc. Y/N had a dragon, even though she couldn't transform into a Predacon.

Optimus knocked on the door gently as he found Y/N's door. After no response, he softly opened the door and peaked in. He smiled softly once he saw Y/N recharging peacefully. But he was still worried about her health after all. He walked to Y/N, closing the door softly to not wake her up. He caressed her helm with his gentle digits and he smiled once he heard her purr. Predacons can purr a lot. Yes, even Optimus can too but not a lot like the Predacons can, even half ones. Optimus continued to caress as he sat down carefully, lifting Y/N's helm and laid it on his lap. For some reason, laps were so comfy. No wonder humans and Cybertronians fall asleep easily, even falling asleep on someone's body. It was so cute when a male slept on top of the female as a couple or friends. Family too. But mostly, females slept on top of the males.

Y/N softly moaned in her sleep as she moved a bit. She felt very comfortable. But that's when she groaned and had trouble breathing. She panted and Optimus got worried. He then noticed the medication on her nightstand. He grabbed it and then Y/N gasped and sat up, her servo on her chassis.

"Easy, Y/N," the familiar deep voice said.

Y/N snapped her helm towards the very familiar deep voice and gasped. it was Optimus! Wait, he was really here?! She was about to say something but Optimus silenced her by cupping her cheekplate, causing her to blush a lot. He helped her take the medication and soon, she breathed normally. But she felt then sleepy again. Optimus noticed it and softly pushed her down. "Recharge, Y/N. Your body needs more rest."

Y/N smiled softly and fell asleep. She can now catch a lot of rest since Optimus was alive and well. She found him more handsome. His new look, now strong body, etc. But she loved his hips, smile, voice, and smirk. As she was sleeping, she felt soft dermas on hers. Optimus was kissing her, just like in the movie Sleeping Beauty.

I apologize if it isn't familiar a lot. I decided to try and make it a little cuter for the fans, especially the ending part.

#optimus prime #transfomers #transformers prime #tfp #tfp optimus prime #fluff #one shot #romance #x reader #reader #x predacon reader #broken heart syndrome #comfort #missing #optimus prime x reader

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wind-becomes-lightning · 3 years

Text

Bones

Hello! Kali today mentioned that she wants that big cute med!student Obito and so our little groupchat, as we do, started spinning story ideas and this is my version. I hope Hela ( @whatshernameis) will upload her much more spicy and hot version of this idea someday, but yeah this is my spin.

I'd like to formally apologize to any medicine student out there, as it is probably painfully obvious: I'm not one. I hope you enjoy anyway.

For @foolishkali. Because it was her idea and I love her.

Pairing: Obito X Reader

1532 words

Ao3 Link [x]

You are a failing medicine student and try to study the bones in the human skeleton while in a study group with your classmate Obito. He has unconventional study methods.

You watch the boy next to you on the couch sigh in a frown, his eyes quickly moving over the pages of the book opened up before the both of you. There is no way you can remember all of this in time for the exam. The human body has 206 bones they say, and somehow you are expected to know and place them all. Impossible! Especially when you factor in the problem that you can’t keep your eyes away from your study partner.

Obito laughs as he finds your gaze on him, his black eyes shining on you fondly. “It’s difficult, isn’t it?” He states it as a fact. You nod and let your eyes move over his face. The round face, the scars, the boyish smile. How can you ever be expected to learn something while he is so handsome right next to you? “I will fail.”

Since you’ve started studying medicine it has only been a haze of classes and exams and trips to the library. You are scraping by, passing exams with the lowest of grades. You know something needs to change, you need to practice more and harder if you ever want to become a doctor. And you do. It was always your first choice of profession.

So you thought to yourself, why not make a study group with Obito? He at least passes his classes without any troubles. There was also the added advantage of spending time with him alone, which you enjoy. However, whenever you are with him you can’t keep your mind from wandering around his looks, the hair, the eyes, the way he scratches his neck when he is thinking. And so you get no actual studying done. Perfect.

“You want me to quiz you?” Obito closes the book and looks at you. A light flashes through his eyes. “Uh sure”, you say. You wonder for a second how he wants to quiz you without the book. To your surprise he takes your hand between his fingers, his touch more soft than you anticipated. Then he touches down the bones in your fingertips from the top down. “What’s this? '' he asks, his fingers lightly pressing the tip of yours. “Phalanxes - Distal, Middle, Proximal.”

Obito touches down your hand, eyebrows raised in question. You feel your heart beating, but you still follow his touch with quick replies: “Metacarpal. Carpus. Radius.” He is merciful enough to let you skip the many bones in the wrist. For a second you think he might let go of your hand as he reaches the end of it, but instead he just smiles and gives you a praising: “Well done”, and continues up your arm.

“Ulna, that's the Radius again, Humerus.” There aren’t many bones in your arm so he is already reaching your shoulder. “Scapula. Clavicle.” Your breath feels like you are taking part in a race, short and heavy, as his eyes are still fixed on yours. Smiling kindly he lightly punches you in the side: “See you can do it!” For the life of you, you can’t explain to yourself how your brain is still working with his presence this close.

He puts a soft hand on the back of your neck as if he was trying to pull you closer to him. You forget to breathe for a second, his fingers feeling like electricity on your skin. “Vertebrae” you breathe, your voice shaking a little. He grins: “Which one?” You force your brain to work. “Cervical.” He nods and winks a little at you.

Keeping the little smile on his face he puts his hand on the lower part of your cheek, his thumb brushing your bottom lip a little. “Mandible.” You force yourself to breathe regularly, in and out, in and out. He leaves his finger on your lips, his eyes fixed on them. Maybe you both are thinking the same thing. You feel warm in your neck, hoping your cheeks won’t flush. A moment passes in which both of you just sit and look at each other, nobody moves.

Then he takes the finger away, his hand now placed on the top of your head. You breathe out deeply, feeling as if you had held your breath for a long time. “Skull”, you say, a bit defeated. Obito gently rubs the top of your head, his fingers moving through your hair: “And?” You shake your head. It is as if his finger on your lips has wiped your mind clean of any rational thought. “Cranium”, he answers for you.

You have not realised how close he has gotten to you. His breath feels warm on your skin as he speaks. It is ridiculous how hard your heart is beating and he must have felt it when he touched your neck. “I-I don’t think I know it all yet. Should probably study more” you say in a weak attempt to wiggle yourself out of the conversation, entirely helpless in the way you are lost in his scent in your nose. He smiles: “No, you just need more practice. Let me show you.”

His hand moves down your back, trailing your spine. “This is the Thoracic Vertebrae” he explains, his fingers moving up your spine again. His touch sprouts goosebumps all over your body. Your mouth feels very dry. His hand is now on your lower back, circling it. Everytime he comes around again your shirt moves a little bit higher, until he finally circles his fingertips on your naked skin: “Lumbar Vertebrae.” Your breath catches in your throat.

He keeps his hand on your back and throws his head back a little in a laugh: “Well, I can’t go much further down from here.” You level your eyes with his, looking up slightly from where you are sitting. One heartbeat passes, then another and then you find the courage to take your hand and put it on his lower cheek, just like he did before. “What’s this?” you ask, now stroking his lower lip with your thumb. His hand continues to touch your lower back.

There is a moment of hesitation before he moves you forward, his hand pushing your back closer to him. You take the thumb away but leave your fingers on his face as your lips find his. You sigh into the feel of him, utterly melting from the first moment you collide. “Tongue,” he whispers as if he is naming it like one of the other bones and you reply “Right” and give it to him, tasting the way he feels on the tip of yours.

You let your hands fall down to his chest, flying over them as you kiss along. “Manubrium” you continue naming the bones you touch as you go along. “Sternum. Ribs.” Maybe this was always supposed to happen. You’d liked Obito since you’d first laid eyes on him when he sat down next to you in your first lecture. Of course you had valued the time with him as a friend, a study partner and confidant. Still, this feels so right.

His hands move along your legs. “Femur” he names the upper part, his lips trembling against yours. “Patella” he touches your knee you kiss his neck as he does. “Tibia. Fibula.” You go over his hand with your fingers, his mouth again on yours. “Middle Phalanx. Proximal. Distal.” He laughs and you laugh too. You know this is stupid, but you’re having too much fun to care.

“Continuing,” he grins, his forehead leaning against yours. His hands wander to your hips and he pulls you even closer. “Pelvic Girdle.” Your nose now presses against his, your eyes so close to his that you blur out. Softly you stroke over his back and whisper against his lips: “Thoracic Vertebrae. Lumbar Vertebrae.” He kisses you gently: “I see, you are receptive to my teaching technique.”

You knock your head slightly into his: “Shh, you.” Once again your lips are drawn to each other, tasting another until your head spins. You’ve wanted to do this - all these months you watched him. Of course he is fantastic at it, not like you ever doubted it. You don’t know where to put your hands next: “We are almost out of bones to easily name”, you laugh and he cups your face.

“I feel like I need more practice before the exam, we should go over them again”, Obito replies with a sly grin. “If you always study so intensely, you’ll be a great doctor someday.” You let him kiss your cheek and your neck, your heart leaping at every little touch. “Oh yeah”, he chuckles. “Just wait until we have to learn every muscle in the body.” He pauses, his head back in front of yours. Forehead pressed to forehead. His black hair tickles your nose. “Or human… sexuality.”

“Pff,” you push your shoulder into his and he falls back into the couch cushions, laughing. “I’m just saying, maybe it would help you pass your classes for a change.” His smile is a tease on his lips and you climb on top of him to kiss it off his face. The book slides off to the ground.

“Shut up.”

#naruto #Naruto Shippuden #obito uchiha #uchiha obito #uchiha obito x reader #uchiha obito x you #i have no clue if people are even interested in this its so stupid #anyway #fanfiction things

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cinnamonspice99 · 4 years

Text

Hey guys, so I got this ⬆ card on that 50 pull event, and this particular part of the history gave me ideas! I don't write that much (this is actually my second fic here on Tumblr) because honestly I’m lazy and I don’t think I’m really good at it, but well I needed to write my thoughts on potential things for that “spa day” with Diadaddy. I won’t give much context not to spoil the history of the card for you guys, so sorry about that. Please keep in mind that I’m NOT a writer and english is NOT my first language so forgive me for grammar/time/words mistakes, also feel free to comment if you liked it or if it is a constructive criticism. To anyone who reads it I hope you enjoy it and thank you for your time! 😊 (Also if you haven’t read my other/first fic pairing Lucifer and want to feel free to check it out too but I warn you I’m a horny b*tch so it’s also a NSFW hehe 😈 🤣).

DISCLAIMERS: 18+ NSFW; SEXUAL SCENARIO; MASTURBATION; FINGER PLAY; EXPLICIT LANGUAGE; A FEW CURSING; PENETRATION; MORE VANILLA THEN KINKY I GUESS.

Fandom: Obey Me!

Main characters: Diavolo and F!Reader.

Word count: 2,868K

Royal Treatment Spa Day

You were asking yourself how you ended up in this situation to begin with, in the moment you were sitting naked in a huge bathtub with roses petals, lavender and some other devildom flowers that you didn't know of floating in the milky waters at the big luxurious private bathroom of a famous Spa in Devildom, scented candles, incense burning and the distant sound of the decorative fountain adding to the relaxing environment . Except that you weren’t entirely alone, you were alone with the Royal Prince of Hell himself (who was also butt naked in said tub). You cursed Asmo for being the horny bastard that he was and Diavolo for asking you to go with him instead, but above all you cursed yourself for not knowing better what “a relaxing spa day for two” meant for the avatar of lust. (You also knew that Diavolo wasn't naive, taking advantage of the situation when it appeared before him smiling with “the purest intentions” at your oblivion).

“Ughh demons…” you thought to yourself.

But there was nothing to be done about it anymore and here you were completely nude with Diavolo right across you, in a place where you’re supposed to relax but being very NOT relaxed at all. You were trying to keep yourself not to look at him, focusing your attention on the fancy chandelier, the fire dancing in the candles or anything but those muscular tanned pectorals just above the water or the cocky side smirk together with an intense amber gaze the prince was giving you. You fidget a little and he chucke.

“What is it? Are you not feeling relaxed? Do you want me to get you something?” he asks seemingly worried.

“NO!” you scream and then immediately cover your mouth with a hand, he looks at you with amusement.

It was already hard enough not to look at him undressing to join you in the tub, and you were very thankful that the milky water covered things beneath it.

“I mean... no, thank you my lord… I’m… I’m good” you swallow, trying to look at his eyes without blushing and failing miserably at it.

“Are you certain my dear? For someone in a spa you look rather tense, does my company make you unconfortable by any way? I can leave if you…”

“Oh no my lord! This whole thing was planned to help you relax, and you don’t make me uncomfortable at all, so don’t worry. Is just that… well you see…” you trale off biting your lips.

“Yes? Carry on dear it’s okay.” he gives you a reassuring smile.

“Is just that, frankly, being naked with your highness… with you… makes me a little nervous that’s all.” you finally say it with a sigh.

Diavolo just looks at you for a moment and then he begins to laugh, his characteristic enthusiastic laughter, while you on the other hand stare right back at him with an incredulous look.

“Hey! Stop! Are you laughing at me?” you say pouting and splash a bit of the water at him.

“Of course not my dear I just think it’s cute, but don’t worry I would never do anything to make you uncomfortable on purpose or touch you without you wanting it” he says still laughing a little and with a surprisingly caring look that you didn’t remember ever seeing in his eyes.

“Even you being the most beautiful sight I had the pleasure to behold in ages ” he adds with a sincere yet intense look.

Immediately your face goes red and a fire starts at the lower of your stomach, you stay there looking at him without knowing what to say in return as he keeps his gaze at you, his smile fading from his handsome face, only his eyes now adding more and more to the burning inside you.

“I…what? I thought we had agreed not to look at the other as we undressed” you say in a moment of clarity.

“Yes we did. But can you blame a demon for giving in into temptation?” He answered with a deep voice, his tone serious for a moment.

“But don’t worry I just took a quick peak” his smile back again and you just reply sarcastically.

“A quick peak hun? Yeah right”

You both smile at each other for a moment and he says:

“See there’s nothing to be nervous about, it's just me. I’m glad you are more relaxed now but I do own you for breaking our promise, tell me how can I compensate you?” he asks.

For a moment several devilish possibilities cross your mind, pranks and challenges, but then you remember that he is the prince (and not one of the brothers, minus Lucifer clearly) also the sensation in your belly is still there and you look at him thinking about sliding your hands on those big arms or the muscles of his torso and back and… “wait wait wait WAIT” you think stopping before things get out of track.

“Well?” he asks, still waiting.

“A massage” you ended up saying.

He smiles.

“That’s hardly a punishment dear, but if it’s what you want me to do then come.”

“Wait right now?” you ask, surprised.

“Yes?” he gives you a funny look while you curse yourself yet again.

“shit I didn’t think that through” you think and hesitantly sits next to him with.

“Excuse me darling” he says before putting his hands on your shoulders.

You tense again for a moment and he leans in your ear and says in a smooth voice.

“Relax, you’re in good hands.”

A shiver runs through your body and you tighten the hold of your enlaced hands at your lap. He presses against the muscles of your shoulders for a while and his hands goes to your scapulas, drawing circles in there with his thumbs, until they found their way to the top of your spine where he slides then down pressing all it’s way and you close your eyes and squeeze your legs together letting a small breath out.

“Is that good?” He asks seeing your reaction, his deep voice oh so close to your ears.

His hands again drawing circles but this time at the base of back, you don’t reply afraid to open your mouth at all and letting any embarrassing sound out, instead you just shake your head in a “yes” as his hands slide to your waist and you let a tiny little moan out unconsciously.

“Oh. I guess it is” He says teasing and you are mortified.

“I’m so so sorry my lord, it’s okay you don’t have to continue it was a stupid idea I will…” you say as you start to move to get back at your side of the tub but he holds you firmly by the waist, right where you are.

“Why do you say that? I think it was a marvelous idea! I’m having a very pleasurable time, and clearly so are you…” he says from the crook of your neck, holding your back pressed firmly against his chest. You shake feeling his strong hold and his warm breath at your sensitive skin, the fire in your stomach now impossible to ignore, your pussy getting wetter with every second.

“My lord, I don't think we should…” you start.

“Diavolo.” he interromps “There’s no need to be so formal it’s only us in here” One hand goes to the back of your neck massaging there, as the other still holds you in place and starts slow movements at the base of your back .

“Hunm… Diavolo… I don’t think we should continue, we might do something we’ll regret later” you say a little breathless, unable to stop the clench between your thighs.

“Dear I’m positive I won’t regret anything with you, and I can assure you neither will you” he says in a sexy way giving a small kiss at your shoulder, stopping his hands and letting them rest at your waist again. You turn your head and look at him. That your core wants him is no secret for you, and you look at his eyes overflowing with confidence and lust, and at your own desire mixed with uncertainty.

“I’ve said before I won’t touch you without you wanting it as much as I do, if a massage is all you want then is all that you’ll receive. But... if you’re feeling like something more, then I’ll be honored and very happy to indulge you” he says in a strong voice.

For a moment you just keep looking at him, the two of you trapped in each other's gaze, and you think to yourself “Fuck it! We only live once.” and kiss him a little hesitant at the beginning, and when he presses you harder against him you can feel his dick twitch at you ass as he kisses you back with a ferocious need, devouring your mouth, you reach one arm to his head lacing you fingers in his red hair as his tongue invades you, conquering every spot, dueling, dancing with you own until you are gasping for air as he slides his hands down on your thighs, kissing and sucking at you neck, he squeeze your left thigh and bites you and you moan.

“Hunm, you have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to hear this” he kisses your earlobe, sucking at it as his hands go up your stomach.

“Diavolo” you call his name drunkenly, your core moist and throbbing for him.

“Yes darling?” he says lavishing your neck and running his hands around your breasts not really touching it.

“Stop teasing, please” you whine.

“If you want me to touch you more intimately you’ll have to ask dear. Give me your permission and I’ll kiss, and lick, and caress, and fuck you all over. You’ll be glowing and it won’t be because of the spa treatment sweetheart.” He chuckle.

You start grinding your ass against his bulge eliciting a grow from him “please touch me.” He smiles holding your jaw and turning your head to kiss you hard on the lips, the hand there going to your throat as the other slides it’s way down your body to your clenching pussy. He kisses you as he slides the tip of his fingers up and down your vulva, spreading your legs a bit more he circles and presses against your clit, getting you moaning between his lips, humming in return, until he enter you with three fingers at once and you scream, your head going back resting at his shoulders as he fingers fuck you.

“Hunm you like it when I touch you here dear? You’re such a little slut for me are you not?” he kisses your cheek but you don’t reply, just looking at him, his hand around your neck as his fingers curl and reach your g-spot, and you give a little cry closing your eyes at the sensation.

“It looks like I found you weak spot” chuckles “Lets see how long it takes to get you there darling” he speeds his ministrations adding a fourth finger as his thumb stimulates your clitoris. The hand on your throat goes down to your breasts playing with your nipples, pinching at it as he kisses and bites at your neck and shoulder, the constant thrusts of his firgers at your spot with the stimulation of your clit and nipples being too much.

“Dia… I… Ahh hun… I’m going to...” you try to warn him.

“Cum for me.” he demands.

And as if obeying a direct order you came with a loud moan as your body shakes and your back arch.

“Hunm that must be one of the sweetest sounds of all three realms” he says removing his fingers from you, your cunt immediately clenching again at nothing. “Here, taste yourself” he says bringing his fingers to your mouth and you suck at then cleaning your juices from it, you can feel his dick pulsating at your back and he kisses you again tasting your flavor on your own mouth. He then turn you around and gets up, you now can see him in all his mighty naked glory, and all you can do is look astonished at his thick girth, to say he’s big would be a euphemism “He’s huge” you think, and for a second and you worry he might just rip you open. You bring your gaze back at his face, passing it through his toned abs and chest right back at his eyes, and he looks down at you with a knowing smile. He offers a hand and helps you to stand taking a languid look at your bare body himself and you can’t control another clench, your pussy needy to be railed. He sits on the marble edge of the luxurious bathtub and taps at his lap with one hand the other holding his hard member.

“Look what you did to me dear” he says starting to stroke himself “Won’t you be a good girl and help? ”.

Smiling, you walk to him, your pussy as wet as it can be dying to be buried and stretched till the limits by his fat cock. You straddle him getting his member in your hand, he holds you and closes his eyes with a satisfied exhale as you sink at him, slowly, adjusting to his enormous size, biting your lips when finally he enters you completely. You never felt so full in your life, his dick reaching till your cervix just right.

“Shit you’re so tight.” he exclaims, his browns pressed together and he kisses you in a sensual and adoring way.

You start to move as he holds you tight, his kisses now making their way down passing your throat until his lips, teeths and tongue are at your nipples, sucking and licking as you bounce up and down at his girt, riding him, and he thrust at you, you both meeting halfway. He hits just the right spots while you on the other hand clench at him oh so deliciously with every movement. You are moaning and gasping and so is he.

“Fuck… hahh… yes baby don’t stop, just like that.. yes...” he praises you.

“Dia I’m getting close.” you say as the movements get harder and faster, both your climaxes fast approaching.

“Don’t hold back, scream for me” he says.

You meet him harder and harder and in no time you reach your limit point screaming his name in a high pitched voice, and with your walls clutching at him from your orgasm he soon follows reaching his own with a deep grunt, spaying his royal seed in your warm womb. With ragged breaths you collapse at his chest and he hugs you laying on the marble with you above him, still connected.

“Are you alright my dear?” he asks, caressing your back with one hand.

“Yes” you answer still in daze.

“Hahah now that’s what I call relaxing” he says in good spirits and you look at him. “Follow me to the palace later, Barbatos will give you a potion to avoid a possible pregnancy, and we can also have some tea” he says kissing your forehead and smiling content.

“What? You don’t want a little mixed heir my lord? You joke.

“Oh no darling, I would love to father your children, but I must make you my queen first don’t you think? He says, exiting you as he moves you both back to the warm waters of the bath.

“You’re joking right?” you say incertain.

He laughs again and replies in a conspiratorial tone.

“Yes… but you never know the future...”

“Barbatos does though” you say as he starts to wash your skin and press against your sore muscles.

“Indeed he does”

And that’s all he says, you decide to just let it go as you lean on him relaxing and enjoying his pampering. But you could never imagine that he wasn't really joking and where that afternoon would lead you in the not so far future.

#diavolo headcanons #obey me!#obey me imagines #obey me headcanons #obey me diavolo #obey me #obey me fic #obey me hc #diavolo

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taeyamayang · 3 years

Note

hi! congrats on 400+! i saw your post after you went to bed so i hope you had a peaceful sleep!! good morning as well :D

i’m juniper, i use they/he pronouns, and i’d prefer to be matched with a guy! for cards—hearts, clovers, and spades. as for my personality—i’m very introverted & it’s a struggle for me to try and get to know people & like trust them / open up to them. i’m stubborn and easy to anger, struggling with feeling empathy and properly caring for people. i do try very hard to work past all of that & be kinder, softer, and more forgiving towards others and myself. i think the songs i am not a robot & are you satisfied? both by marina really capture my personality. some of my hobbies include reading, writing, drawing, and gaming. i’m also trying to learn how to code & i’m interested in astrology and reading tarot cards! word—cosmic.

i just wanna thank you for doing this and i hope you have a great rest of the week! take your time with it and please rest when you can <3

a/n: juniper, i have no idea if you'll see this post but thank you so much for including a song in your description of yourself bc it helped me a lot to get to know you (even in surface level) and write for you! also, i am not a robot by marina just?? hits me?? it's like a callout to myself holy shit i ended up staring at the wall of my room vensvsjs anyway thank you for requesting, i hope we're mutuals bc i'd like to get to know you more like for real lol ♡

you chose: HEART, CLOVER, & SPADES

HEART: soulmate

YOUR SOULMATE: Asahi Azumane

TROPE: soulmates | friends to lovers

GIST: You are born with the weighing scale constellation on your scapula, a soulmate marker that would tell you about the star sign of your other half. In your opinion, you are not exactly compatible with Libras because their seemingly outright affection and softness around people contradicts your personality. It could be that Libras remind you of your shortcomings. Well, except for one. Laying your orbs on him for the first time sends tingles in your senses as if the universe is telling you he's the one. You've found the right person. He is the only person capable of loving you and your cosmically complicated persona. He erodes your edges, kneads your hardened heart, and blows tender kisses on your wounds. He is your venus, the marker of love and beauty.

CLOVER: star-crossed lover

YOUR LOVER: Oikawa Tooru

TROPE: friends to lovers to exes

GENRE: ANGST | hurt no comfort | slow burn | 626383k mutual pining then yall both lost each other | romance

GIST: You spent an awful time convincing people that he was real, that he isn’t a product of your imagination. To you, his touch was tangible. You could vividly remember the warmth he left on your back when he pulled you in an embrace. His smile imprinted in your mind cannot simply be a product of your quirky fantasy. What you felt for him was real. It was so real that you could vividly remember his voice in your head and his laugh? It was music to your ears whenever he chuckles loudly. He exists because you would often see him everywhere. Still, you cannot understand why you were the only one who could see him. Until one day, you find yourself standing before his tombstone, his death recorded decades of years ago. He was the ghost of your lover who failed to meet you in the same cosmic timeline.

SPADES: ex-lover

YOUR EX: Yamaguchi Tadashi

TROPE: couple goals

GIST: Breaking up with Yamaguchi was the last thing everyone expected from the two of you. As a known couple on the campus, everyone was endeared with the fondness you have for each other. For others, you were destined to be lovers—that the cosmic stars written across the crest of cheeks are somehow a signifier of your fated love with him. But soon, you realized you were fooled--fooled by your own selfish expectations. Yamaguchi was too good for you. He was more than enough you could ask for. He found you in your most vulnerable state, but his love could not amend the void in you. You thought his devotion for you could overpower the numbness that sits inside you, but it couldn’t. A person could never fix something they did not break. You broke up with him not because you’re tired of him or fell out of love with him. You want to learn to be gentle with yourself at your own pace. You want to be kinder and more accepting of your own flaws without the possibility of hurting him in the process of finding yourself. You take your time intending to return to his embrace as a whole piece so you could love him ardently.

Masterlist | HQ Masterlist

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mafia-nct · 4 years

Text

For _____ Or Worse (Part 3)

Genre: Mafia!AU, Mafia Boss Taeyong, Fluff, Angst Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of illegal activities, Mentions of guns and drugs, Mentions of blood. Word Count: 4k Description: Who would’ve thought that a night with, what you thought was, a handsome stranger would change your life forever.

Part 1/ Part 2/ Part 3/ Epilogue

Y/N POV

“Turn left at the next intersection.” Announced the monotone voice of the GPS.

The conversation you had with Doyoung replayed in your head over and over again: “Taeyong was shot [...] he’s been in a coma ever since.” Wasn’t he supposed to be some kind of super skilled mafia man. The kind that bullets could never stop. How can a mafia boss get shot to the point of ending up in a coma?

When Doyoung stopped talking, you didn’t hesitate to ask if you could come see your ex-lover. Because after everything, and even though you tried to convince yourself of the contrary, you still liked him. A lot. “I was hoping you’d ask that!” Had said Doyoung at the time. “I’ll send you the address and the code for the gate. If you want to stay, I know Taeyong has a sofa bed in his office. And I’m pretty sure he won’t mind you using it. I’m sorry that’s the only thing we have, all of the other rooms are used for illegal activities.” You didn’t mind, you didn’t mind at all. The only thing you wanted was to be by Taeyong’s side. Hold his hand and hope everything will be fine. When you ended the call, you packed a bag in a hurry and left a note for your roomates: “Gone at my mom’s for a few days.” Before leaving your apartment: heart pumping and mind racing.

“You’ve arrived at your destination”

The GPS voice felt so far away as the sight in front of you stole your breath. In a semicircle, taking the entire cul-de-sac, slightly hidden by trees and a tall iron gate - stood the biggest house. No, mansion you could’ve ever imagined. Stopping your out of place car, you entered the code Doyoung gave you on the keypad by the front gate. It didn’t take long before a green light started flashing and the gate opened slowly allowing you to make your way up the driveway.

The closer you drove to the mansion, the more impressed you got. It was marble white with a black roof. It had windows on two floors and in the middle of the circular driveway stood a fountain that looked like it came straight out of Italy. On the right side of the entrance, was a downward path that led to a garage door. Aligned across the facade of the mansion were ten foot high greek columns. The ones by the entrance - two on each side - were taller and bigger.

Despite the fairytale like view, Taeyong was the only thing on your mind. You needed to know how he was doing. If he was going to be ok, if he’d get through this, if he’ll ever wake up.

You parked your car in front of the entrance and got out. Right by the door stood a man with jet black hair and blue highlights, sharp features and large shoulders. With your bag slung over your shoulder you jogged towards him.

A smile small appeared on his lips, his almond shaped eyes following you. “Hi Y/N, I’m Doyoung. It’s very unfortunate that we have to meet in these circumstances. Nonetheless, I’m glad we finally are.”

“It’s nice to meet you too Doyoung.” A silence followed, you had so many questions for him, but one stood out. You looked at the ground and readjusted your bag strap. “Doyoung,” you started looking back in his eyes, “what happened exactly?”

Doyoung took a deep breath. “I’ll explain everything as we walk. My only question is: are you ready to see him?”

You nodded rapidly with no hesitation. Your heart beating faster at the thought of being in his presence again.

“Just so you know, he’s in really bad shape.” Warned Doyoung.

As your heart dropped to your stomach, Doyoung opened the door to the mansion.

The first thing that greeted you was a double staircase that reminded you of every royal family related movie you’ve ever watched. At the bottom, layed a gold and burgundy rug with an intricate design.

“Follow me.” Said Doyoung bringing your attention back to him and away from the decor.

As you walked side by side, he started to talk. “Like I already told you, we had a mission two days ago. The mission was easy: Ten and Jungwoo, our drug dealers, had to make a deal with a drug lord who started to trespass on our territory. The rest of us had to hide in different parts of the warehouse where the deal was supposed to go down.” He looked straight ahead as he talked, clearly focusing to remember everything. “Five of our guys weren’t available that day which reduced our men count from eighteen to thirteen.”

“Why weren’t they available?” You asked.

Doyoung answered immediately. “They had business to do in China. We would’ve been fine without them, but we could all feel that Taeyong was uneasy about it. We’re rarely down by this much. Our youngest member, Jisung, volunteered to be on the field. We all said no. He’s a hacker and one of our explosives guys; he’s never on the field and if he is, he’s in a van far away. His experience on the field is close to none. But he begged for days, he’d been wanting to gain field knowledge for so long. Taeyong thought about it for a while and finally, unwillingly, agreed to put Jisung in the mission.”

Doyoung stopped in front of two wide open metal doors. Inside, on each side of the room, were rows after rows of hospital green curtains. And at the end of the room, another set of metal doors this one closed.

“It was supposed to be an easy mission, we’ve done more complicated than that. Nothing was supposed to go wrong.” Doyoung stared at the room, sadness in his eyes. ”I think that’s why Taeyong agreed to put Jisung in the mission. Unfortunately, everything was going too well. Something was bound to happen at any moment, we could all feel it. And it did.” Doyoung stepped in the room, slowly and kept his pace. “They started shooting, they wanted to overthrow us, so we all stepped out. To protect Ten and Jungwoo, but also to take them down. A guy fired two shoots in Jisung’s direction, he never saw them.”

Doyoung stopped in front of a curtain and faced you. “Taeyong did though.”

Your lips parted, tears welled up in your eyes. This explained everything. It all made sense. Of course he’d take a bullet for one of his members. He’d do anything for his crew, they were family to him. He cared so much about them. Taeyong was willing to die for one of his men if it meant they were going to be ok. That was your Taeyong, putting everyone before himself.

“He saved the kid.” You whispered.

Doyoung nodded. “Remember what I told you.” He added before leaving.

You pulled the curtain slowly your hands shaking. Tears slid down your cheek at the sight in front of you. Blanket tucked under his armpit, skin almost blending in with the sheets and eyes closed. There he was, there was the man that owned your heart. A choked sob left your throat. Doyoung was right, he looked bad. You dropped your bag on the floor and sat in the chair next to his bed.

You lifted your hand softly placing it against his cheek, immediately reminiscing at how he used to lean in your touch. You bit your lip, his skin wasn’t as warm as it used to be. Your tears slid down your cheek uncontrollably. You hated yourself. You should’ve called him. You should’ve try to mend the broken piece. You should’ve forgave him. You should’ve told him you lo-.

“Sorry to disturb you.”

Startled by the voice, you jumped in your seat before turning around. The owner of the voice held a clipboard in his hands. His light brown hair styled out of his forehead, round glasses on the tip of his nose and his lips were tightly pressed together forming a straight line.

He stepped forward. “I’m Winwin, one of the medics here.”

You dried your tears with the back of your hand sniffing. “Nice to meet you Winwin, I’m Y/N.”

“I know.” He said smiling; his eyes shifting to his unconcious boss. “I’m aware Doyoung told you what happened, but if it’s ok with you, I’d like to inform you on what’s going on medically.” You nodded. “He was shot two times. Left shoulder and ribs. Obviously, as you can guess, he lost a lot of blood and lost consciousness because of it. Luckily for him, he got here pretty quickly, and we have a universal blood donor on the team as well as three guys with the same blood type as his. The bullet that hit his ribs broke it and also grazed an organ. We had to stop the bleeding and stitch him up. The bullet that hit him in the shoulder pierce a pretty important vein as well as his clavicle and scapula. Fortunately, the other medic and I were able to get him in stable condition after many hours on the operation table. Now, all we can do is wait.” He breathed out and looked at you. You smiled at each other. Smiles holding nothing but sadness. “You can talk to him if you want. Some studies say it does nothing to improve the condition of the unconscious patient. Some say it does. I don’t know if he’ll be able to hear you, but I like to believe in the latter.”

“Thank you Winwin.”

He bowed his head before leaving you alone.

You grabbed T’s right hand, intertwining your fingers with his and kissed the back of his hand.

“Hey baby,” You started, it felt awkward talking to him like he was conscious. Like he could hear and answer you. Take you in his arms and hold you tight to comfort you. But it also felt nice, to finally be able to say everything that’s been on your mind. “I missed you. I missed you so much.” You choked out your eyes filling with water again. “You’re, without a doubt, the best boyfriend I’ve ever had. I know we didn’t last long. It’s all my fault. I’m sorry.” You brought his hand to your lips kissing it again as you sobbed. “You do bad things but you were never a bad guy, not to me at least. You made me feel like a queen. You made me feel safe. After all, you did come to save me.” You chuckled drying your tears. Breathing deeply before continuing. “I’m sorry I was too stubborn to call or text you. I’m sorry I tried to forget about you when the truth is that I want everything that has to do with you. I want the good, the bad and the ugly. If you can hear me, I want us to try again. I -” you bit your bottom lip trying to keep another wave of tears at bay. “I need you to wake up Taeyong, because I.. I think I love you.”

The stiff air coming out of his office sent a chill down your spine. No one had been in here in a while.

The cream carpet under his desk contrasted with the dark colour of the floor and the furniture. The light grey curtains were wide open letting the sunlight pierce through the close sheer curtains underneath. A gold metal bar cart split the room in two; right desk space, left chilling space. The far left wall was actually a bookcase. Filled with books with no more space for another one; the colours of their spines all different from each other. In front of the bookcase, now open in a bed, was a mustard yellow couch that matched with the two armchairs in front of Taeyong’s desk.

These were all details you failed to noticed the first time you were here. Your emotions blinding you, preventing you to notice how much care Taeyong put in his office. From the design, to the colours matching, to how clean his desk was. His desk. Staring at it, you remembered how he sat on it, begging you to listen to him, begging to hear him out, begging to let him explain. Something you should’ve done instead of breaking his heart and simultaneously yours.

You took off your shoes by the door before dragging your feet to your new bed. You dropped your bag beside the bar cart before climbing on the bed. Your head hit the pillow and his scent invaded your senses. The pillow, the covers, the room smelled like him. Everything smelled like him. Tears rushed down your cheeks as you nuzzled your face in the pillow inhaling his perfume. You wanted to be in his arms more than anything in the world at the moment.

From outside of the room, you heard loud footsteps approaching quickly. You sat up, doing your best to dry your fresh set of tears before the door opened in a loud bang. At the entrance of Taeyong’s office, stood a boy. Not a man, a boy. He looked tall for his age. Dressed in a pair of light blue jeans and a white shirt he had both of his hands in his pockets. The ink on his arms did nothing to make him look older. His eyes were red and so were his cheeks. His bottom lip quivered.

“I’m sorry. This is all my fault.” He cried. Lowering his head letting his tears fall to the ground.

This must be Jisung you thought. Your gaze softened at his state. “Oh honey come here.”

His body shook as he let out sobs approaching you, tears racing down his cheeks.

“None of this is your fault.” You reassured holding him in your arms as soon as he sat down next to you.

“I should’ve seen them coming.” He choked out, tears preventing him from speaking normally. “I should be the one in a coma. I can be replace, not him. It’s my fault I didn’t see the bullets.”

You ran your hands up and down his back to soothed him as he cried his heart out in your neck. His tears wetting your shirt making your own fall down on his head.

“Taeyong made his choice,” you whispered trying to keep it together for the broken boy in your arms, “you had nothing to do with this.”

You held each other crying all of the water in your bodies. Once you calmed down, Jisung lifted his head from your shoulder. His tear stained cheeks probably mirrored yours.

He swallowed a lump in his throat before speaking. “Boss really likes you.”

A small smiled formed on your lips. “I really like him too.” You answered raising a hand to dry his cheek.

“I’ve never seen him so happy when you were around and he was so devastated when you left.”

You dried his other cheek. “Me too Jisung. Me too.”

The boy nodded as you dried your own cheeks.

“Can I stay here tonight?” He spoke. Breaking the small silence that had formed. “I don’t want to go back to my place. I don’t want to be alone.”

He looked down, probably ashamed of his request.

“You’re in luck, because neither do I.”

Being surrounded by guns, knifes and drugs is not something you’ve ever thought you’d had to get used to. But here you were, a week and a half later. Still not used to hearing the sound of guns echoing from the practise room or seeing the younger boys, what they called Dream Team, prepare bags of cocaine for the market.

Other than getting used to Taeyong’s world. You spent every moment you could with him. Going in the infirmary to talk to him about anything or read a book while you held his hand. Never failing to kiss his forehead before leaving.

You got to know his crew. From awkward Mark, to flirty Ten, to over the top Jungwoo, to silent Taeil, to prankster duo Yangyang and Haechan and exasperated Kun. Without forgetting Jeno and his anger issues.

They were a great crew. They always made time for you even though they worked like madmen to keep the mafia running. They always made sure you were ok, that you felt safe, “You’re the boss’ girl. You’re one of us now.” Had said Johnny. Unfortunately, not having their boss around and overworking themselves took a toll on all of them. The bags under their eyes were getting deeper everyday. You could feel their exhaustion running through their veins. So you decided to help them in your own way. Homemade meals always brought your energy up, they seemed to wash the day away. You started cooking dinner every night in hopes these meals made them feel better. And when you started to cook, they were never far away. Either working on the kitchen island or the dining table.

Tonight was no different, like clockwork they all started to show up in the kitchen as you gathered everything you needed for the recipe. As everyone settled in their place - small conversations about numbers, reports and other stuff you didn’t understand bloomed amongst them - you started to chop vegetables.

It was peaceful and calming until the loud steps of someone running could be heard. All of your heads turned towards the noise, Jaemin’s blue head popping in the kitchen.

“He’s awake!” He exhaled. “The boss is awake!”

A chorus of “oh shit”, the scraping of chairs followed by a horde of boys running towards the infirmary happened very quickly. You stayed glued to your spot. Your feet were as heavy as cement, your legs felt like jelly. He was awake, he finally was awake. You were going to see him, tell him everything. Be in his arms again, something you’ve dreamed of for a long time. A hand grabbed yours, bringing you back to reality.

“Let’s go see boss or, if you prefer, your prince charming!” Smiled Doyoung.

You nodded gripping his hand as he led you to the infirmary.

They were almost piled up on one another. The entire network surrounded Taeyong’s bed. Shoulder to shoulder, pushing the one next to them trying to get a good look at their, now, awake boss. Their backs were making it impossible for you to see Taeyong. Doyoung still held your hand tightly keeping you grounded.

“Boss sit down!” You heard Winwin order.

“I’m fine Winwin!”

His voice was hoarse probably for not having spoken in a long time. But it was his. It definitely was his. You let go of Doyoung’s hand as your feet seemed to have a mind of their own. They moved alone, guiding you towards him. You lightly placed your hand on the boys in front of you. They moved out of your way immediately after you touched them. Parting as if they were the sea. Clearing a path for you and him to reunite.

Finally, time stopped. He was there. The light at the end of the tunnel. He really was awake. A tear slid down your cheek, hoping all of this wasn’t some stupid dream. He had his back to you, his red hair all over the place and was arguing with Winwin as he tried to get up. He was back. He was alive.

“Boss, you’ve been in a coma for a week and a half. You need to lay down you haven’t fully recovered yet!”

“I said I was fine Winwin. Now let me get up I have things to do!”

“Baby, please sit down.” You whispered your voice cracking at the end.

TAEYONG’S POV

He was dreaming he was sure of it. He dreamed of your voice so much, there was no way it was real.

He dropped his weight on the bed as he stopped arguing and the room fell silent. He turned his head slowly. Afraid that if he turned it too quickly, you’d disappear. Afraid that if he turned to fast, he’d realize it wasn’t real. Afraid he’d imagine the whole thing.

When his eyes set on you, he let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. For the first time in two months, a small smile appeared on his lips. You were more beautiful than he remembered even with your eyes filled with water and your tear stained cheeks. He got lost in your eyes, falling for them all over again. He missed you so much.

“Hey guys, how about we go finish what we were doing?” He heard Johnny say. His eyes never left yours, he was so enchanted by your presence that he almost didn’t notice his crew moving out of the room. Leaving both of you alone.

He fully turned around looking at you properly. “What are you doing here?” He softly whispered.

You looked down, a sob escaping your lips. “You were shot. I couldn’t leave you alone.”

His heart swelled at your words. He wanted to jump to you, hold you in his arms, comfort you and tell you that everything was going to be ok, but he couldn’t. He wasn’t strong enough yet. Taeyong laid back down opening his good arm for you to lay on. He smiled as you immediately got his message and laid down with him.

Legs tangled together like you’ve done a hundred times, holding you as close as he could to his chest, your fingers gripping his shirt and your face in the crook of his neck; he kissed your head blinking tears out of his eyes. You were back. Back in his arms, exactly where he dreamed of having you for the past months. It was bittersweet, but it didn’t matter. You were back with him.

He felt your lips press a soft kiss to his neck. His whole body warmed up at the action.

“I thought I lost you.” You whispered against his skin.

“Me too princess.” Feeling your hand run up and down on his chest again grounded him. It was such a simple action, but it always brought him peace when his mind ran wild. And right now, he was more than thankful to be able to feel your touch again. “I’m sorry I killed a guy.” He confessed.

You lifted your head from his shoulder and stared at him a faint smile on your lips. “Well, you did save a kid so I think that cancels out.”

He brushed hair out of your face, his hand lingering on your cheek. “I missed you so much Y/N!”

“I missed you too. I’m sorry I broke up with you without letting you explain yourself.”

He smiled. “Well, you’re here now so I think that cancels out.”

You both chuckled. Basking in each others presence you placed your hand on his cheek stroking it with your thumb. “I know we have a lot of things to talk about, but I really need to tell you something.”

Taeyong nodded encouraging to go on.

“I think I love you.” You breathed.

His chest erupted in flames. His whole body felt like it was on fire and big grin broke out on his lips. This is what happiness felt like, he was sure of it.

“Good, because I think I love you too!” He said before crashing his lips with yours. The fire in his chest never flattering.

#NCT-WRITERS #nct mafia au #nct 127 mafia au #mafia taeyong #NCT #nct taeyong #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct series #nct reactions #lee taeyong #nct dream mafia au #wayv mafia au

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aggresivelyfriendly · 4 years

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Hello babes!!! OMG, today has been a long week! A wonderful, dream big come true week! HARRY IS SOLO ON THE COVER OF VOGUE! Also, I have a new installment of Tryst for you all based on this 👆photo! Without further ado, I give you...

Scotland!

It's the pose that does it.

She's been so, mon dieu she hates the moral judgment of the word. But it remains the right one here, in any language. Soo good, since she decided he couldn't give her what she needed, or maybe wasn't ready to, or didn't see her like that. Nothing more than a flying fuck when he got itchy on the road and she was available to scratch.

But here she was, with his encompassing form around her back and his arm causally slung across her collarbone and she could barely keep her lip from between her teeth to smile.

Smile for the camera, Helene. He'd whispered in her ear and she was thankful for their blustery setting the clothing covering her chill bumps.

All day, She'd been trying to keep dry and get some candid shots to go into the vault. Sometimes she wondered why they paid her to take so many images, most of them, a greater preportion than usual, just lived in her computer or Jeff's computer never to be used.

Would they ever release them? To the utter delight and meltdowns of this man's rabid fans.

She gets it, Helene does. What they see in him, she sees it herself often. And she sees more, his dick has made her soul smile on more than one occasion. It didn't start with these libidinous thoughts, it wasn't one of those moments where he was a living lighthouse or hedonism personified. It's the first scene with the imaginary fish and he's having a bit or trouble. He's also cold and wet. Which are two sensations he doesn't love, but seems to include in every damn piece of art he makes. He's throwing the little bean bag onto the rock and it's not meant to be gentle exactly, but he seems irritated, not concerned as you would be for a suicidal fish when you yourself are suicidal. His character at least. Thank god. But his physical discomfort is intruding on his ability to act right now; he's barely holding on. He loses his balance while frustrated and falls into the water, cursing.

Helene will not laugh.

She hides her giggles while they change him. He got his Gucci denim outfit uncomfortably wet. Why would you chose that outfit to go to a watery death? She is overthinking. As always.

He's ready to go again, fresh Gucci down to his drawers, and by the 10th take, he's in the swing.

When Harry nails it, He gives the director and Helene the biggest grin and she's charmed. The lights have turned on and the fog has lifted. He shines.

He is finished with this set up and Helene has just put her gear away. Harry brushes past her to get around a rock and presses an affectionate kiss to the easily accessible top of her head.

"Thanks for coming, Tiny. Know it's cold."

Helene smiles at him, and somebody else with a camera, someone not her, clicks their picture.

It's always weird when she is the subject. She's pretty sure she has more photos with Harry, selfies at least than with any boyfriend she has had, in her life, which flashes before her eyes, with a highlight reel of her beneath Harry, while he turns her around towards the camera.

The arm that was across her scapula, turns her like a top and her stomach flutters with the motion. His motion. His arm has come across her clavicle, like it did in LA, and she comes together like the place in between those bones, a shallow place where her heartbeat is thumping visibly.

She's thrumming.

Not that there is a damn thing she can do about it. He can do about it. Anybody can, they have so much work to do.

The quiver in her chest and bones and betwixt her legs stays with her all day. Through lunch with all the people she's missed on their break, around the lunch Harry's had cooked for them, with all the little flourishes he likes. All the different food needs accommodated, hospitality on show. It's a wonderful midday after a bitter morning, the sun's even peaked through. The whole group brims with happinesss. Helene and her table included, she laughs and kisses Molly's cheek, she's so cute.

She stays away from Harry though, through at least theee set ups, one not involving him where she could see his intention to hover and smell her pent scent. So, she puts distance, physically between them all day, especially when they move on to the shoot at the docks.

She's taking far away shots. It was easier to control the pulse at her center when he was in the loose jumpsuit. Now in the tight sweater vest, where he looks like some movie star from a bygone era, she's struggling.

It's sending her. Fly her to the moon.

So she keeps her distance and captures him from afar. She'd been doing so well.

Still is! She reminds herself.

The day is long because of her longing, but Helene makes it through.

"You coming to the pub." She jumps a bit at his breath near her ear, her hair is stirred by its breeze. She's surprised, she can usually feel his approach 10 paces off.

"No, need my bed." She begs off. She's begging he doesn't press, with those puppy dog eyes and dimples he knows how to wield.

"Really?" He pouts. "Need your company." He insists.

Oh, he's reached for the big ammunition, he's used everything in his arsenal, he's even touching her arm. He turns her again and she knows she going to say yes before he bites his lip and says, "please."

"Qui." She exhales. She'd like to qualify the sigh as resigned, but it's full of breath and melodic.

"Yes!" He presses a kiss to her forehead and squeezes her before he wanders off to gather troops.

So much for distance.

The pub is lovely, if their wine selection a bit limited. She can see why Harry picked this for his fictional island. He has excellent taste and this is so picturesque and any number of stories, real and imagined, could be contained in its Walls.

He tastes excellent.

He's across the room holding court. He's a little drunk, and he's just thrown his head back and she can remember the shape of his Adam's Apple on her tongue, and the taste. God the taste of his skin, especially after a show. Her lips would be raw from the salt afterwards, and dual thirsts would greet her in the morning light. Water with something more mineral from his skin.

Helene gulps her wine and tries to tune back in to the English around her. The mix of accents and the still difficult language is enough for her to have to get her mind out of the gutter intentionally to follow along.

Not the gutter, Harry's room.

She's squinting and translating something someone has said in her head and wondering how many times somebody has refilled her glass when another intoxicant fills her senses.

Harry's hand is on top of her head and then sliding down the back of her hair. It's exactly like he does when his dick is in her mouth. But he's usually not grinning like that.

"Tiny!" He's so jovial when drunk. "This seat taken?"

There is no seat. It's the end of the booth, there is a small amount of brown leather, and Harry wedges himself onto it and picks up her legs, uncrosses them and lays them over his own to make space. He's solved his own problem and worsened hers.

She quirks a brow at him and he just kisses it like it's totally normal she's basically on his lap among all their colleagues. Only in this group he's made close as family would this not look risqué. Only with him. She's thinks only Sarah and Mitch know about them. Know that the 'know' each other. And they aren't on this shoot.

Nobody is looking at them funny, so she had better stop staring at him.

She tears her eyes away, like the wrapper of a condom, and goes back to translating.

It's useless when he starts running his nails along her thighs. She puts her hand on his to stop him, but he just grips her thigh instead.

It is not a step in the right direction. It's only leads one direction for her thoughts. To the way his huge hands look on her tiny body. The way his palm can cover her whole stomach and his fingers reach her honey pot still. She has photographic evidence. Between that thought and the wine, she needs to leave.

"Where are you going?" He looks very sweet, except the glint in his eye. She narrows hers at him.

"My room."

"Already?" He pouts.

"Qui."

"I can't really leave yet."

"I didn't ask you to."

He tilts his chin. "Maybe not out loud." He whispers just under her breath.

She exhales.

"Will you wait up for me?" He looks up through his lashes.

She can't even answer but her head moves up and down like a teabag into hot water in the morning.

She's boiling.

He grins. And leans up to kiss her cheek. "What room?" He murmurs. She knows he could find out if he wanted, but it would also alert the front desk, which might make it to the media, or worse, a fan with Twitter.

"24" she whispers through the veil of her hair. Pulls away from his tractor beam eyes and smiles at the table. Gives a few hugs and a big wave.

The inn is small, quaint. She's on the second floor, which is the top floor, waiting. Helene's kept her clothes on. The same outfit she has had on all day. Jeans, loose, and a t shirt, her dad trainers. Should she change? She tries to remember what Harry had on at the pub. He had changed a fair few times throughout the day.

She think he was wearing a hoodie, his name emobossed on the breast in some language or another, Gaelic?, and loose light jeans. Dirty vans adorning his feet.

She hopes she ends the night in his jumper, or wakes up and slipes it over her shoulders.

The hours slip away and her eyes have kettlebells attached to them. She's just about to take care of single girl tasks, washing her face and putting on the extra lock when the knock comes.

"I was about to go to bed without you." She leans against the door jamb. She's not purposely jutting her hip. She's not!

"Ahh," he teases, touches the smudges below her droopy eyes and pulls her blonde hair. "You tired."

"Qui, it's been a long day." She breathes.

"What?" He laughs and pushes her into the room with his hips, "your call time was hours after mine!" He flashes his big green eyes.

"Maybe, but I don't have your stamina." She counters. Harry the athlete raises a brow at her statement.

"I've never had a problem with your endurance."

He let's that lie there, and she can tell both of their mind's are roving over memories of late nights turned into early morning mapping flesh.

"No, I suppose you are right." She goes easy when he pulls her forward and his mouth slides against her like a skeleton key into a waiting lock. She expects the kiss to escalate, but maybe they are both a little tired, exhausted from a long day, while longing for an extended night. His kiss remains deep, full of tingling tongue touches, but doesn't get faster, her back doesn't hit the wall, and there are no stops where she is pressed against or onto furniture.

He has some embedded geography of hotel rooms, because he navigates the suite like the globetrotter he is. They are both fully dressed, and the squeezes and rubs over the fabric are exciting, reminiscent of juvenile contained eagerness. When her knees hit the back of the mattress, Helene decides the adults need to take over and hikes the tucked in button down up and over his head, forgoing the buttons.

The black ink on his golden skin is a trail familiar to her fingers tips and she follows it down, down to the leaves framing his joyful path. She can feel the pressure of his erection on the slide mechanism of his trousers and against the strained teeth tethered together on his zipper. If it wasnt metal, it would unzip itself against the force. She sighs when she pulls him out. His dick makes her so proud every time. She can't imagine what it's like to carry it around.

No wonder he is so self confident, the word cocksure occurs to her and she giggles.

"Are you laughing at me?" He looks down and she's charmed, for all his assuredness, he's still vulnerable. It's why he is so endearing.

"Non," she's got him naked and guides him back to the head aboard. He looks more tired than her suddenly, he had a bigger day, job. She'll keep up the inversion of the evening, she can recall no other time together where she had clothes on while he was naked. "I was just think how much I appreciate your dick."

"And it made you laugh?" Oh he's still a little offended.

Helene will have to make it up to him. She ruts against his lap and takes stock.

He's half mast. Which is a rare state for him, in her experience. She nuzzles into his lap and laps from his base to tip. She can feel the plumping under her tongue and decides that's not quite adequate.

She can fit him all the way like this. It won't last, so she takes advantage and mentally pats herself on the back as she seems to expand her capacity as he swells. Once she can't muzzle her nose into his patch of hair anymore she pulls off with a gasp and looks up to his panting face.

"I wasn't laughing at you," she nods towards his bobbing shafts. "In my head, I thought how I'm proud of your dick, and decided it was the wrong word. But the right feeling." Helene put him back in her mouth with her tongue extended out, and stroked him from her throat to the squirming tip.

He's chuckling now and she smiles with her eyes at him. "You're proud of my dick?" His dimples are the size of salad plates.

"Qui, aren't you?" She flashes her brows while She straddles his lap. She's not sure she's satisfied her mouth hunger for him, but they have all night.

"Well...." He blushes, which makes her giggle. She's fully naked on his bare dick and he's blushing.

"Know you are." She whispers in his ear. "You have every reason to be."

"Mmmhmmm." He could be responding to her statement or her rocking over his lap. If one of them tilted just so....

"You've been cocky!" She emphasizes that by moving her hips to an almost position. "Enough before."

He looks just a touch frustrated.

"Should I show you how proud I am?" She slips the tip in, just the tip. Not quite to the popping point. It's a tantalizing suspension, just rocking while his eyelashes flutter. "Show you why you deserve to be cocky?"

"Mmmmm," he hums, vision now between their legs, mesmerized. "Please." He breathes and looks at her.

"Do we need a condom?" She's not sure how active he's been.

"Not for me." He grabs her hips and tries to push her down, as tantalizing as the pop of a champagne bottle, the moment of jubilant anticipation.

"Better safe than sorry!" she dismounts and grabs a skin. He breathes a breath like he is frustrated.

"Oh, Cherie, ne t'inquiète pas!" She teases and strokes firmly, guiding his foreskin over the sensitive tip. "We're only beginning." He helps her roll it down and lifts her thighs to press against the headboard on either side of him. She's glad it's padded. Harry's done waiting, or being gentle and shy. She can't even acknowledge the pop of their joining she loves, she's too busy catching up to the rough thrust of his pelvis up and into her own. "Merde!"

"Mmmmhmmmm." He hums and catches her lips with his own, a net to butterflies. It's soft, slow and sensual, in opposition to the bruising hold he has on her hips. He can handle her with one of his big hands. The other has found its place on her sensitive nipples. This escalated so fast she thinks the ending will follow the beginning with no middle to enjoy. She was hoping to fuck him slow.

Her hands slide down the headboard, it's coarse beneath her hands in comparison to the hair that fills her hands in the next moment. She pulls his neck back a little roughly. "Wait."

"For?" He keeps working her over his dick and it's compelling, and she loves it, but he's showing her why her makes her proud, and that wasn't tonight's lesson.

"I want to come."

"Good, that's what I want to." He hits her spot unerringly. And she's nearly convinced.

"No, non, on your tongue." She has to forcibly take herself off him. She lifts her knees and places her hands on his shoulders to hoist herself up. It's a favorable arrangement, her legs as long as his torso. "Allez." She suggests and his answer is a smile and the extension of his tongue right up her slit.

Helene has to grab the headboard to stay upright. She knew she was on the way. But how close she was to her journey is even clearer when his hands draw her ass cheeks apart and he's spreading her wetness over both holes while manipulating her clit with his tongue.

When he fits his mouth over her hood, creates suction and licks while fitting two fingers inside her separated by just inches of skin accessing both holes, she clenches without prologue. "Fuck." She rides his face until her orgasm has ridden out its welcome and he pulls his fragrant hand out to aid its twin in holding her steady until she's clutching the headboard and coming against his tongue again. Her wriggling at the over sensitivity only aiding his quest for number two.

She slides down his body slow and she's done, until she remembers her intention when his dripping shaft, wet with her and leaking a few drops for himself, prods her ass. She was gonna run this show, swing her hips like a pendulum so he'd enter a trance like state while inside her, the suspended animation of ecstasy. Helene needed to come so she would be calm enough to do it. To hypnotize him, slow and sweet.

She just needs to control the tempo, bang out a rhythmic unhurried beat on his hips.

It only takes a minor shift in alignment to throw them off their orbit. Send his mercury into retrograde with her pussy. She slides over the tip with ease, she's wet enough that she doesn't even have to work him in like normal. Though it still prickles her nerves with that familiar addictive burn she's only had with him and a few others. Those that pushed her boundaries. She's a globetrotter when she fucks Harry though. Her exhale would be loud if his groan wasn't louder.

"Fuck, Helene!" He looks down again and she decides now that she has given him dinner, he needs a show. Time to mesmerize him.She flexes her pelvis, rounding back and holds the headboard hard to find her beat. It's a slow jam, all the flavor of a samba. She's got a circle like a Ferris wheel and he's stuttering her name like he's afraid of heights but loving the ride.

"Again." Helene demands, her head against his forehead.

"What?" Harry's staring at her motion hard, distracted. Helene stops, she wants his attention, his eyes, his mouth, his dick, every inch of him focused on her, including those inside her. She rides the circle to the top, just his tip inside, and hovers. No other passengers are getting on, she just wants him to admire the view. She clenches and knows he can see it when he shivers.

Helene uses her nose to nudge his gaze up. He looks up, down, up, again. She pulls out enough to nearly unseat him and his fingers dig into her hips. "What?" He repeats.

"My ñame." She looks him in the eye and presses her panting mouth to his while she slides all the way down, his pubic hair against her swollen clit. "Say my name."

He breathes it out, like a prayer, "Helene!" While she takes them to the top again. "Helene!" He shouts in exhalations when she slams down to his pelvis harder. "Helene!" She swings back up slow, and drops like they've found themselves on a rollercoaster.

By now her name is a chant, "Helene, Helene, helene, fuck Helene!" He's squeezing and staring and licking her lips sloppily and she can tell he doesn't know if he should stop her, try to help her along so they can get off together, or just cum.

He looks desperate to finish.

So she stops, and he looks frantic. "Baby, please!"

Helene shrugs, kisses him and grinds herself against him inside on her spot and outside on begging pleasure zone until she's almost there. She squeezes him rhythmically to keep him ready.

She's almost there. They can hop off this ride together now. So she starts the ascent to the top again, slow circles until he's panting and chanting again, and then it's a free fall ride for them both.

Helene loses her stomach and screams his name in harmony with his chorus of hers.

Their sweaty foreheads rest together, until he is chuckling.

"Quoi?" She catches her breath enough to ask.

"I was just thinking, I definitely won't need a photo to remember this one!"

She feels proud, but she knows there is an image he's forgetting, one that will remind her of this Scottish adventure forever.

Months later, they've found themselves together, like together together, when she comes across it. She posts it, with a longing thank you.

When Harry gets home from set, he's smiling like a Cheshire Cat. "You trying to tell me something?" He shoves his phone at her with the open Instagram.

Helene shrugs. She's feeling proud, even prouder than she felt a year ago.

And she wants to show him.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #tryst #Scotland #Harry styles smut

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anthropwashere · 4 years

Text

deadfic: To Build His House

Further deadfic for @goodintentionswipfest, have the abandoned 6k of a giftfic for @phantomrose96 I wrote in 2017 as thanks for

a) for getting me back into FMA b) breaking my heart with all that damn good fic of hers

This was to be a continuation of her fic Giving Tree, which is so completely my jam it isn’t even funny. It will definitely help if you go (re)read that before reading mine.

“Can you give me a house?" ‘"I have no house," said the tree. "The forest is my house, but you may cut off my branches and build a house. Then you will be happy." And so the boy cut off her branches and carried them away to build his house. And the tree was happy.’ - The Giving Tree, Shel Silverstein

White. That’s all he sees at first. A white canvas, stretching on in every direction, as pure and unmarred as a freshly fallen snow. His eyes sting. He squints, disoriented and off-kilter; his mind’s a haze he can’t think clearly through. He can’t remember what he’d been doing before—

Wait.

His eyes sting.

“Oh no,” he breathes, and he’s breathing, exhaling out his dismay. His lungs deflate, his vocal chords hum, his throat rasps and his mouth’s as dry as sand. His tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth, swollen and pinched between his teeth. His chapped lips part reluctantly, catching on his teeth, peeling apart like a wound.

He’s in his body again, and it’s all he can do to keep breathing.

[[Welcome back.]]

He hears many voices speaking as one, a crowd perfectly in sync; young and old, masculine and feminine and a childlike singsong spun through. He can hear his brother’s voice loudest of all, speaking confidently, speaking with that ear-to-ear grin he reserves for fights he knows he’s already won. It seems to come from nowhere, or perhaps it’s only that he’s still struggling to see with his own eyes. He can see Edward’s Gate, of course; it’d be hard to miss the towering stone slab suspended on nothing, an intricate design upon the doors that seems both ancient and freshly carved. There are words, he knows, but he— his body, his body, his body— is sitting too far away to make any of them out.

And sitting opposite him is God.

Before East City, before his armor fractured and his blood seal splintered, before he woke up in this white void between two stone slabs face to face with this same thing, he never understood what Edward had meant when he’d mention any of this. It was an accident usually, a slip of the tongue that made Edward go still and look up at him out of the corner of his eye, as if he expected him to remember. He never did, but he’d pressed Edward to explain, once or twice. Edward’s voice always hushed a little, as respectful as he was fearful, as scared of the thing he called Truth as he was angry at it for taking so much from them. Edward always broke off before he ever said much, brushed it aside like it didn’t give him nightmares that he had to be gently shaken out of more nights than not.

After East City, he understands now why Edward calls it Truth instead of God. He doesn’t feel the same need to make a distinction between what’s sitting here and what people think is waiting for them when they die. It doesn’t scare him, like it scares Edward, and it isn’t bravery that makes him think this way. He thinks of God like a gemstone; faceted, blinding and plain in turns. The God sitting opposite him isn’t the one that took his body— or, it is, but it’s only one part of the greater whole. It is all and it is one, and it’s also so much more than that.

God has three of Edward’s limbs now.

“What happened?” He asks. It doesn’t hurt to talk, but his body is out of practice.

[[Don’t you remember? Think carefully.]]

It smiles at him fondly, a suggestion of teeth in an otherwise absent face. It had smiled the first time he’d passed through the Gate too, on that terrible night. He remembers it so clearly now; reaching into the light for the shape of his mother, only to be grabbed by his own hand. God had unraveled him that night, grinned with his stolen face before casting his soul into the twisted, broken thing they’d made. He shudders, the sensation of hot blood pooling in his throat as fresh as when it had happened. He licks his teeth, looking down at his pale, too-thin hands. His long hair tickles his spine and falls into his eyes, obscuring God briefly. His fingernails are too long too, but not as long he’d think they’d be, considering he hasn’t clipped them in years. They look torn, ragged. What does God do with his body when he isn’t in it?

He shakes his head. No, that isn’t what he needs to be thinking about right now. Where had he been before this? What had he been doing?

Resembol. They’d been in Resembol. Brother was recovering from his surgery, only just beginning his rehabilitation. The bandages had only come off last week, and his left shoulder still looked more like raw meat than scar tissue. It would be another month before Granny and Winry could put the protective plating on. His third automail limb, a steel port cupping his scapula, support struts clamped to his ribs, his remaining nerves threaded into a half dozen sockets for the control wiring to connect to.

God tilts Its head, watching him intently. It doesn’t have eyes that he can see, but he can feel Its gaze like a physical weight, cold and alien, like a bird watching a worm wriggling across the dirt. It sits loosely, in a comfortable sprawl. Edward’s arms are in Its lap, and Edward’s leg is curled neatly under It. His face twists, the guilt natural but the feel of muscle and skin reacting to his emotions almost as alien as the thing watching him. Brother should hate him. His weakness the night they tried to bring Mom back cost Edward his right arm, and the left now as well. Brother should want nothing to do with him, should want to leave him in this place to wither.

But Edward, impossibly, doesn’t seem to resent him at all. Edward just smiles at him, even through the pain, trying to reassure him. Sorry about the setback, Al. We’ll get back on track as soon as possible, okay? Like it was Ed’s fault he’d lost— traded— his arm. He hasn’t heard Ed complain once, not once, since they’ve been in Resembol, even with the winter cold and the spring thaw snapping at his old stumps, even with through the worst of the outfitting process, even with—

The spring thaw.

[[Ah, is it coming back to you now?]]

“Yes,” he says automatically. The spring thaw. He remembers now, and how could he have forgotten? That had been the closest Brother has come to being angry with him since they’d returned to Resembol, shouting himself flushed and sweating, demanding that he not go out there. But the thaws and the spring storms are always difficult this high up in the mountain. The river flooded every year, a [unfinished]

Winry doesn’t know what to do.

“It’ll be fine,” Ed says. “I can handle it.”

“Leave it to the search team,” Granny chastises. “They’ll bring him home just fine without any help from you.”

“Al fell in the river. He’s too big to fish out without alchemy, and I can’t do alchemy one-handed.”

Granny’s face hardens. “You’re in no condition to go traipsing around in a storm, Ed.”

“I’m the only one who can save him. There’s no other options—”

“There are plenty of good folk out there happy to help you boys if you’d just give them half a chance, and none of them are recovering from surgery.”

Winry watches Ed’s right hand briefly touch the empty port making up his left shoulder. The soft click of steel against steel is an admission all on its own. He’s only wearing a faded tank top so the new scarring is on full display, raw and pink, licking up his neck and across his collarbone. He’s standing in the doorway to the kitchen, boots on and a frightening calm draped across his shoulders. She keeps expecting him to shout, to crack the wall with his one fist, to tell them both to go to hell as he charges out into the storm and damn the consequences. Ed has always been short-tempered, volatile and furious when the world doesn’t follow his expectations. She’s never been afraid of him before, and there’s no reason to start now… is there?

He’s nodding agreeably to every sharp word Granny snaps at him, and he still insists that he has to go. “You don’t understand,” he says patiently. “If he fell in the river his blood seal in all likelihood has washed away. There’ll just be a suit of armor down in the riverbed.”

“So let the search team find Alphonse’s armor,” Granny says. If anyone’s angry it’s her, glaring up at Ed over her glasses, a screwdriver tightly clenched in one hand. The half-assembled arm on the kitchen table lays forgotten, curls of wire spilled across the pitted wood. Ed’s new left arm. “You’ll only earn yourself a fever if you go out there.”

“I can get over a fever,” he says.

“It’s much too early to put so much strain on your body.”

“You and I both know I can handle it.”

Granny scoffs, throwing down her screwdriver. A few bolts scatter across the floor, but no one makes any move to pick them up. Ed just smiles.

“I’m not asking for a whole arm, Granny. Just enough of one I can clap with.”

Her pipe clicks against her teeth as she purses her mouth, looking like she’s sorely tempted to toss Ed out with nothing but the clothes on his back. Damn the consequences. “Oh? Is that all you’ll be doing? And what about when you do find him? If his seal has washed away, do you intend on cutting off your leg next to bring him back again?”

He shrugs, sheepish. He’s only got the one shoulder, the left port empty and stiff. Funny. Winry can’t find the beauty in the easy motion of his automail. It’s been four months since he came back home with the wrong arm missing, and the absence on his left side still makes her breath catch. “What’s a limb to a life?”

Granny all but snarls at him. “Idiot boy! You’ve only got the one left!” But then the fury spills out of her in a slow, weary sigh. She touches her hand to her temple, eyes falling shut. “How many more times do you intend to do this?”

“I’ll handle it. Granny, please—”

She smacks her hand on the table, rattling metal plating. Winry jumps despite herself, but Ed doesn’t react at all. “Don’t beg,” Granny spits. “It doesn’t suit you.”

Winry is sitting opposite her at the kitchen table, Ed’s new fingers so many unconnected joints scattered between her hands. They’ve been taking his new arm slow, no need to rush order it because his port still needs time to heal. Slow jobs like this they like to share over cups of coffee, Den napping quietly at their feet. Ed’s been antsy, pushing himself too far too soon with his rehabilitation, but none of them had been surprised. He’d done the same thing with the first two limbs, and he’d been out the door and on his way to Central in a year. Still, even Ed’s not crazy enough to start slinging around a new arm on a new port after four months.

Except he is. He’ll always be that crazy, when Alphonse is in danger.

“Is—” She hesitates when both of them look at her, bites her lip until she can bring herself to ask, “Is Alphonse... dead?”

Ed shakes his head, no harsh snap of denial, no insults, no shouts. Just a calm, frightening certainty. “If his seal has been damaged, then his soul will have returned to his body.”

“But— but that’s good, isn’t it?”

For the first time since Mr. Caddeo knocked on the door and told them Alphonse had fallen into the swollen river, Edward’s face betrays some real emotion beyond this eerie, placid confidence. His mouth parts, his shoulder hunches, his eyes scrunch up. For one brief moment he almost looks like he’s about to cry. But it passes, like ripples in a pond, and that gentle smile returns.

“No, it’s not. The place his body’s at—” He chuckles, softly. His right hand is a fist at his side, gears humming protest. “I don’t think you can call it a real place. To be trapped there, I think…. I think you’d have to go crazy just to cope.”

Winry can’t say anything to that. She looks down at the spilled finger joints, the empty casings, the miniscule screws that will hold his fingers together once she’s put them together. Sheets of rain beat against the house. A hard wind rattles the windows. It’s mid-afternoon and the sky outside is black as coal dust, and Ed wants to charge headlong into the storm.

Ed says, “I can’t leave him there. Not for one second more than I have to.”

Granny’s voice is flinty, unwavering. “I can’t condone this.”

“I’m not asking you to. But I’m going to look for him, with or without your help. You can give me an arm, or I’ll go out there with a shovel.”

She sighs again, shaking her head. Winry watches the slump of her narrow shoulders, the weariness weighing down her small body. Granny’s never looked so old as this. “You’re gonna kill yourself if you keep this up, you know.”

“He’s my brother,” Ed says. “He’s all I’ve got left.”

The dummy arm barely qualifies as automail, only just complex enough to still hurt when the nerves are connected. Ed grinds his teeth and goes rigid, but doesn’t make a sound. It’s a skeletal thing, cobbled together out of old parts with no external plating to speak of, clusters of wiring carefully pinned away from the joints. It’s only real use is to help Ed adjust to the feel of using a prosthetic, a stepping stone to the arm she hasn’t finished building yet. It doesn’t have much in the way of fine motor control, and lacks pressure plating in the fingertips or palm. Weights can be attached to it to accustom the port to the eventual feel of the real thing. It’s controls are rudimentary at best; the elbow bends fine, but the wrist and shoulders don’t have much range of motion and the fingers tend to react as one.

It’s not meant to be a stand-in for real automail, just simple exercises. But Ed needs an arm; the dummy will have to do.

Winry walks him through the basic exercises mechanically, feeling like an outsider watching herself talk. “Don’t do anything crazy, okay? The dummy’s not built for your usual stunts. When you find him, you have to let the others do the heavy lifting, okay?”

“I know. Thanks.” He stands up, adjusting to the weight. Even stripped down to bare essentials, it is still heavy. He’s worked up to having it on a few hours at a time each day, but that still left his stump aching, even if he never said it out loud. He rolls the shoulder carefully, the leather support harness across his bare chest creaking.

Granny watches him as he struggles into his tank top again, eyes slitted. “Two hours, Ed. Not a minute more.”

“Right,” he says, walking over to where his red coat is hung up by the front door. He regards it for a few seconds, then gingerly raises both hands to clap. There’s a flash of blue light, and when Winry can see again the coat is hanging differently than before. He takes it down with his right hand and tuts.

“Sloppy,” he mutters, but starts to put it on anyway. Winry quickly steps toward him to help, expecting him to snap at her to quit hovering, almost disappointed when he doesn’t. Once the coat’s on she can see what he did to it. The left sleeve is gone, the fabric added to the rest of the coat so that it hangs more like a half-cape to protect the dummy arm. He lets her do up the top three buttons and smiles at her wordlessly.

This is a bad idea. No stopping it now, though.

“Winry,” Granny says, “Go with him, will you? Try and keep him from doing something stupid.”

“Right.”

It’s a long walk into town proper. By the time they get there Ed’s white-faced and breathing shallowly, and only nods when Winry offers to run into the general store. Someone should be there who will know where along the river Al fell in.

She finds Mr. Ragsdale just outside, a gangly middle-aged man who always smells like sheep no matter how much of Mrs. Karlson’s fancy soaps he uses. He sobers when she catches his attention, the other man he was talking to trotting off into the storm. He crouches slightly to speak without shouting over the hard rattle and patter of rain on the general store’s wooden porch.

“There’s some dozen or so folk out there trying to find a trace of him,” he tells her. “That armor of his must’ve fallen to pieces with how rough the current’s gotten. There’s no telling how far down he’s all gone.”

It’s Resembool’s worst-kept secret, what Ed and Al did. Only Winry and Granny know the full details— and Winry never saw whatever it was they made in their basement, only knows the ashen horror that painted new lines in Granny’s face that never left— but there was no way to hide the truth in such a close-knit village. Al stomping around in the armor, Ed missing two limbs— three now, it’s three now, and soon maybe another, oh Al, please be alive, please—

She takes a shaky breath, paws rain from her eyes, keeps pace with Mr. Ragsdale’s longer strides.

The only alchemists in Resembool are Ed and Al, and before that their dad, wherever he’d gone off to. No one has the knowledge to look at their crippled bodies and think taboo, but everyone’s heard horror stories about alchemy experiments gone bad. Rebounds, destroying buildings and shredding people to pieces. No one’s ever asked Winry what the boys tried to do; maybe no one wants to know.

As for Ed’s left arm, he’s stuck to the official story Mr. Mustang had spun about a car accident in East City. Everyone in town had shook their heads and tutted, said it was such a shame, what bad luck the Elric brothers have, to have been through so much so young.

Yeah. Bad luck.

Mr. Ragsdale hesitates when he sees Ed, leaning against an unlit house and shaking. He doesn’t look surprised to see Ed, just resigned. “Ho, Ed. Good to see you on your feet.”

“Yeah,” Ed says. “Any sign of Al?”

Six months after signing off on Edward Elric’s convalescent leave, Colonel Mustang receives a phone call from Resembol.

“Fullmetal,” he says once the operator patches the call through, and watches the head of every other person in the office swivel in his direction. “I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.”

“Yeah, well, I figured I owed you a status report.”

His voice is raspy, worn, perhaps lacking some of its usual ire, but he sounds healthy. He doesn’t sound like someone halfway through exhaustive and painful rehabilitation. Mustang huffs. The idiot owes him a whole lot more than a phone call for not court martialing him into a lifelong imprisonment. “Oh? Good news, I hope.”

Edward chuckles. “Afraid not. I ran into a minor complication with my rehabilitation. I don’t think it’s any big deal, but I’m not dumb enough to try and tell a couple of lifelong gearheads how to do their job.”

“What happened?”

“Ah, I couldn’t tell ya for sure. Automail surgery is complex stuff. I’ve never been able to wrap my head around it. I mean, the first two ports went on more or less okay, so you think the third one would too, right? Show’s what I know, though.”

“It isn’t serious, is it?”

“Nah, I’ll be just fine. It might take me an extra month to report back though, two tops.”

“Take all the time you need. You’re in the middle of an extensive rehabilitation, after all.”

“Eh, it’s nothing I’m not used to.” His tone is dismissive, but there’s a slight tremor to his voice, a weakness Edward would never admit to. It’s not enough to comment on, but Mustang’s imagination fills in what Edward refuses to say. Torn muscle and broken ribs, infection and fever, leaking stitches and black-edged burns. Any number of things can go wrong with such dangerous surgery. “Still, at this rate I think I’m gonna miss my assessment. I’m not sure what to do about that.”

“It shouldn’t be any trouble, considering your condition.” His mouth twists, the unspoken lie like ash on his tongue. “I’ll submit a waiver on your behalf. You’ll have to worry about it once you’re back on active duty again, but for the time being you can focus on your recovery.”

“That’s suspiciously charitable of you,” Edward says, wary. “I kinda expected you to be hounding me for monthly status reports until I came back.”

Mustang sighs, hides his face in his free hand. The rough fabric of his ignition glove rasps against his eyelids. “...You lost an arm. It would be cruel of me to expect anything more from you.”

“...Right.”

Mustang sighs, dropping his hand. His team is still listening attentively, though they’re at least trying to be discrete about it. “Is there anything else?”

“I… yeah, actually. If you see Alphonse around, you mind letting me know?”

“Alphonse?” He echoes, surprised. “He left?”

Edward makes a noncommittal noise, a grumble that lacks teeth. “I pissed him off, and he decided to do some research on his own. I don’t blame him, ‘cuz I’m wasting valuable time here recuperating, but I’m worried about him.”

“I think a capable alchemist in an eight-foot tall suit of armor can handle a little research—”

“You KNOW what I mean, Colonel!” Edward snarls, and the anger in his voice is—not a surprise, no. Anger is Edward’s knee jerk reaction, or at least an emotion he has the easiest time showing. Mustang had expected a retort, but not one with so much venom. Edward’s breath catches, a sharp inhale hissed through his teeth.

“Fullmetal?”

“...I’m fine.” He almost sounds it too, but that tremor in his voice is stronger than he can stifle. “It’s just…. Al can be as reckless as me when he gets an idea in his head. He’s not invulnerable. I’m his big brother. It’s my job, to make sure he’s okay.”

A job that’s taken both of his arms from him, and Edward made it explicitly clear before he left for Resembol how much more he’s willing to give to keep Alphonse tethered to that armor.

Not for the first time, Mustang’s imagination gets the better of him. He pictures a boy more automail than flesh before his eighteenth birthday, blind and deaf, perhaps mute as well. Stolidly painting the blood seal anew with an unfeeling finger, forced to rely on past experience rather than sight or touch to know he’s done it right. Willing to trade every spare part of himself to bring his brother’s soul back again and again, loss calculated down to the number of ribs he can afford to replace with steel struts. Organs, too. Who even needs two kidneys? Two lungs? Halve the liver, two or three meters of the small intestine. The skin is an organ too, and he’d have plenty to spare on his torso. Fractioning himself away, leaving Alphonse to do the legwork when his piecemeal body can no longer support the metal that’s left of him.

Fullmetal. What a cruel sense of humor the Fuhrer had.

Mustang shudders, hunched behind his broad desk stacked with paperwork that seems so meaningless compared to Edward’s dedication, compared to Edward’s sacrifice. Lieutenant Hawkeye and the others have given up any pretense of busywork, watching him with furrowed brows and grim mouths.

This isn’t sustainable. This isn’t sane.

...But it isn’t his place to say as much. He’s Fullmetal’s superior officer, not his guardian. So long as Fullmetal is physically fit for duty, there’s nothing for it. Suggesting a psychological evaluation, suggesting that something beyond bad luck and an overactive willingness to throw himself into danger to protect others might be behind Fullmetal’s two— and soon to be three— prosthetics, would condemn them both.

“Colonel?”

He’s gone too long without answering. “I understand,” he says, mustering as even a tone as he can. “I’ll keep an eye out for him. In the meantime don’t overdo it, and I expect a status report on your recovery next month.”

“Augh, seriously?”

“It was your idea.”

“Me and my big mouth. Fine, fine, you’ll get your report. Just make sure you let me know first thing if you hear from Alphonse, okay?”

“Of course.”

“All right, thanks. I—” A muffled voice on his end interrupts him, too indistinct to make any words out. “Ah, okay, Granny. Look Colonel, I gotta go.” The line clicks dead before Mustang can reply.

When he hangs up the receiver, the silence in the office is like a physical weight pressed to his chest and bowing his shoulders. All of his subordinates are sat stiffly at their desks, waiting.

Lieutenant Breda is the first to speak.

“How’s the Boss doin’?” He asks, hesitant. Mustang knits his fingers together, rests his hands on desk to steady himself. He’s careful not to rub the fabric too roughly, leery of making any sparks. With his focus a scattered mess now, it would be all too easy to accidentally start a fire.

“More or less as well as can be expected,” he replies. “He called to inform me of a delay to his estimated return date. It seems he’s run into a minor setback with his outfitting.”

Sergeant Fuery leans forward, alarm in his expression. “Did he say what went wrong?”

Mustang can’t help but smile wryly at that. “Does he ever?”

“How long does he expect to be delayed?” Lieutenant Hawkeye asks.

“A month, two at the most.”

Warrant Officer Falman shakes his head, disbelieving. “I can’t believe how tenacious Edward is.”

“You’ve met him, right?” Lieutenant Havoc asks, laughing.

“No, I know. I just meant how incredible it is how quickly he intends to return to active duty after being outfitted with a new automail arm.”

“What d’you mean?” Breda asks.

Falman shifts nervously when he realizes the whole office has their eyes on him. “Ah, well. When I first heard about his automail I was curious, so I did some reading on the topic.” Mustang stifles a smile at that; Falman’s curiosity paired with his near-perfect photographic memory are both excellent qualities in a soldier. He’s saved untold hours of work. “There’s a good reason it’s still pretty rare to see automail in the military, and even then it’s usually people who were outfitted before they joined. The average rehabilitation time for a full arm replacement is two years, and that's for an adult. He's going to be [unfinished]”

Havoc stubs out the butt of his cigarette and draws a new one out of the crumpled packet on his desk. “If he says he can do it in a year, he’ll do it in a year. He’d know best, right? Since he’s already been through this before.”

“And that was an arm and a leg,” Fuery adds. “Not just an arm like it is now.”

“Almost surprised he’s not tryin’ to come back in half the time,” Breda says. “The Boss doesn’t know how to sit down and take it easy though. Guess he must be having a harder time of it than he’d ever let on, huh?”

Mustang hums, picking up his pen again. That’s certainly Fullmetal’s way, to play things close to his chest, to shoulder his burdens so no one else can be bothered by them. It’s a surprising display of maturity, for a boy only 14 years old.

Only 14 years old, and he’s lost— traded away— three of his limbs.

“Colonel?” Hawkeye’s tone is all calm, professional interest. “You’re certain Edward is all right?”

Of course. She was there, when Fullmetal committed the taboo in the hospital parking lot. She saw his arm peel away in a burst of alchemical light, saw the blood and heard his screams firsthand. In six months she’s never yet said as much to him, but Mustang doesn’t doubt that she blames herself, for not realizing what Fullmetal intended to do to bring Alphonse back again.

“He’ll be causing trouble again in no time,” Mustang replies. That, at least, is a certainty.

Two days later Alphonse arrives at Eastern HQ. Without Fullmetal he isn't allowed access to the base, so the gate guards call Colonel Mustang’s office and Sergeant Fuery offers to sign him in. When they both enter the office there’s a chorus of greetings; despite his intimidating appearance Alphonse has endeared himself to the soldiers with his soft-spoken insight and razor intelligence. Those long debriefings Fullmetal had with the brass gave the younger Elric plenty of opportunities to rub elbows with enlisted and commissioned alike.

Alphonse shuffles by the doorway, embarrassed enough to duck his helmet sheepishly. “Ah, thank you, everyone. It's good to see you all again.”

“It’s been too quiet around here without you and your brother raising hell every couple of weeks!” Havoc says, and he and Breda laugh loudly.

“Oh, yeah. I guess it’s been awhile, hasn’t it?” Alphonse clasps his hands at his waist, looking across the office to meet Mustang’s eyes.

“What brings you to HQ?” Falman asks.

“I’m not staying long. I know it isn’t really right for me to be here without Ed—” His voice catches, his hands wringing. Mustang frowns. Something isn’t right.

“You’ll always be welcome here,” Hawkeye says, reaching out to pat his arm.

“I— thank you, but—” He pulls away, his backplate bumping against the closed door. “—I just wanted to make sure you all knew about Brother, before I left.”

“He called,” Mustang says from his desk, and doesn’t miss the way Alphonse’s pauldrons jerk in surprise. “Just the other day.”

“He did? Really?” At his nod Alphonse hesitates, helmet spanning the room again. “...I see. Then I owe you all another apology.”

“An apology?” Fuery echoes. “What for?”

His helmet ducks again, his spiked pauldrons hunching as his leather hands fall to his sides. “It’s my fault,” Alphonse whispers, his child’s voice cracking. “It was all my fault. I was stupid, I was careless, if I’d just paid better attention it wouldn’t have happened and Brother wouldn’t— he wouldn’t—”

“Alphonse,” Mustang calls out sharply, and the boy flinches, falling silent. He gets to his feet and closes the distance between them, his subordinates parting uncertainly to let him through. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

The pale lights in Alphonse’s helmet flicker. “...What did he tell you?”

A chill runs through Mustang, a cold dread ghosted down his skin. No. Let him be wrong. Let him be wrong. “Fullmetal said there had been some complication with his port,” he replies slowly. “He informed me that his estimated return date would need to be pushed back two months.”

“Two—!” Alphonse breaks off, his gloves tightly fisted. “Of course he didn’t tell you. That idiot!”

Mustang’s throat is dry, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth, his lips reluctant to part. Let him be wrong. “What happened.”

Alphonse’s anger bleeds away as quickly as it had come. His voice is barely more than a whisper; dull, without inflection. “There… there was a flood. The spring thaws are always bad, but this year was worse. Half the village might have gotten washed away if I hadn’t gone to help. It shouldn’t have been any trouble, but I— I lost my footing. It’s hard, sometimes, to tell where I am. To be sure of my footing. I fell into the river, and got pulled under. The last thing I remember is being dragged across the river bottom, before my blood seal…”

He shudders, his overlapping plates clanking. “It was almost two weeks before they found my armor. Brother, he— he didn’t hesitate. He pulled me back again.”

Again.

There is a long, awful silence. The gravity of Alphonse’s hushed account sinking in, horror growing on everyone’s faces. Breda, Havoc, Fuery, Falman, and Hawkeye have all known the Elrics for years. They’ve known the truth behind Fullmetal’s automail and Alphonse’s armor. They’ve all grown to care for the boys, in their own ways. Every one of them had been stricken six months ago, when they’d seen what Fullmetal had done to himself to save Alphonse. And here they’re gathered, hearing it all over again.

“What….” Hawkeye swallows, looking away. “What was taken from him?”

The lights in Alphonse’s helmet have all but gone out. “...His leg. It took his leg.”

13 months after he’d walked out of Mustang’s office with a bandaged stump where his left arm had been, Fullmetal returns.

The worst part is, at first glance Mustang can’t tell anything’s different.

Fullmetal strides in like he owns the place, hands in his pockets, a bored expression like he’s already itching to stride right out again. He’s grown, a little taller and a little filled out. There’s a maturity to his face, a strength to his jaw and a new focus to his eyes. When he turns to shut the office door Mustang catches a glimpse of his braid stretching halfway down his back. Red coat, black jacket and pants, white gloves. It’s almost like nothing’s changed at all.

“Miss me?” Fullmetal asks, grinning [unfinished]

“He's trying to protect you from your own fanaticism!”

(Phone rings, Mustang makes to answer it, Edward smashes it. On his way out pauses to put shoes on [uh…. I think I was going to have Mustang demand Ed to show his feet when he tried to lie about the leg? I honestly don’t remember.]

“Fullmetal! Fix my phone!”

Derisive, “Are you an alchemist or not? Fix it yourself.”)

[super roughed here. Was going to have Ed bail East City pretty quick, try poking around Central for any sign of Al before resigning himself to Izumi’s fury in the hopes he’d find Al there. Imagine his surprise when she knows what the automail means, whoops.]

When Izumi kicks his ass across the yard she notes something is off at once. Edward's too heavy for his size, the thud of his limbs against the dirt too pronounced. She flips him again for good measure, feels how unyielding his arm is in her hands. Assumes two limbs are prosthetic, furious he was foolish enough to be hurt so badly since the last time she saw him. Transmutes a spear and demands he defends himself. Short one-sided fight as Edward doesn't want to spar against her, ends up blocking a slice with one arm, she sweeps his feet out from under him and puts the blade to his neck.

“How shameful! And where's your brother? Is he in as sorry a state as you?”

“I don't know! He ran off six months ago! I was hoping he'd be here.”

“I haven't seen him.”

“Damn it!”

Claps his hands, transmutes a blade and cuts her spear. Of course she knows what that means. “Idiot boy! Do you have even one limb left to call your own!”

On his knees he flinches. “No!”

“...That thing took so much from you?”

He realizes she's done it too. Bows his head, unable to meet her eyes. “No. The first time, it only took one of my legs.”

#fma #fmab #fullmetal alchemist #my writing #deadfic

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velnoni · 4 years

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Let Me Adore You

Commissioned for @narutos-fat-meat

Pairing: Todoroki Shouto x Sero Hanta

Word Count: 2.6k

Also on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29141784

Summary: “Instead of regretting what we cannot do, it is better to do what one can.” A meeting that runs against the time of death. A story about the short blossoming love between a kitsune and a dying human. Truly it’s beautiful in it’s own right.

Tags: angst, fluff, food, implied sexual interaction/intercourse, sad ending, death.

Conscious comes rather slow, sluggish like honey being squeezed out of a container. When Sero had finally woken up it wasn’t in his bed. And he wasn’t lying down but rather sitting on his knees in the nightwear he went to bed in. Beside him was a small basket he’d brought to bed with a bright yellow balloon, barely filled with air tied to the handle. He yawns loudly and blinks the sleep away before slowly rising to his feet.

Where he was a land bordering between two worlds. His world and something...entirely else. He remembers the first time he woke up here, frightened and lost as he wandered around the endless field. Green grass going miles and miles as far as the human eye could see, trees so tall and proud and lined up with impeccable symmetry that if Sero were a child he would’ve loved to sit on its sturdy branch and call out to friends below. The first time he’d had come here he was barefooted and prayed that it was all just a strange dream. It was what motivated him to keep running until bare legs touched the water of this world. What had brought him to the ocean? He didn’t know. He hadn’t even realized he was walking into the ocean until the salty seawater reached up the thighs of his scrawny limbs. The water was cold, incredibly cold. And all Sero could do was stand still and look out to the ocean that stretched far beyond the horizon.

It was heavenly and outrageously enthralling. The sky had a slash of purple rippling through the orange and pinks that decorated the air. Clouds swirled about and Sero could see the sphere of the sun in the far distance. It was as if someone had been given a paintbrush and had let their imagination run wild. The mesmerizing colors of the sky, shimmering so brightly in his onyx eyes that all Sero could do was sigh in awe. The air was crisp and clean, a far cry from the city. The building anxiety had just melted away.

“What are you doing here?” And then he’d met him. The voice, stoic and voided of life, reverberates through the air. It was slightly deep and authoritative enough to startle the meek human and caused Sero to fall in the water. Salt had filled his lungs for a few seconds before he came up for air, limbs thrashing and him gasping and snorting the water out of his system. His pajamas were stuck tight to his skin and his now wet hair obscured his vision.

He calls out “Who are you?” At the moment he didn’t get a look at the person. He was still busy gaining some proper footing. But when Sero had pushed his hair out his face with both hands he was surprised at what he saw. A kitsune, with neatly parted hair that reminded him of a candy cane. Heterochromatic eyes consisting of grey and blue, cold and stoic like his face. He was tall, taller than Sero and something about him screamed authority. There was a scar on his face that was somehow attractive in its own right and he wore a kimono dark enough to be mistaken for black with white petals adorning it spatially.

He was beautiful. Perhaps Sero would’ve enjoyed the view more if he weren’t informed that a human being so close to the shore meant that they were soon to die.

The basket bounced with each step Sero took until finally, a small traditional Japanese house came into view. If someone had told him that he started walking faster he wouldn’t deny it. It’s just that he was eager to see Todoroki that’s all. He never met a kitsune before, let alone one mysterious as him. The house was a decent size and the only thing besides land that Sero could spot, something about domains Todoroki had explained at one point. Upon reaching the house he opened the wooden gate and immediately went to the back as he did upon earlier occasions.

Peeping from behind he saw the kitsune sitting on a blanket with his eyes closed. His hands lay gently in his lap. Today he was wearing a white yukata, crisp and clean like freshly hung laundry. He looked to be at peace. A gentle breeze flows and it stirs the tranquility of his dual-colored hair. The words beautiful echo in Sero’s head as he steps forward. The soft crunching of the grass makes Todoroki’s ear visibly twitch and he slowly opens his eyes to see the scrawny human holding a basket out.

“Brought ya something.”

...

The two sat beside each other, Sero watching with dutiful eyes as the kitsune sunk his fangs into the meal he made. It was a steamed meat bun, no longer warm but just as tasty telling from the minuscule rising of Todoroki’s eyes. After spending time with him it’s gotten easier for Sero to pick out his little quirks. It made it easier to converse.

“It’s good. Thick and rich.” His Adam apple bobs when he swallows the rest of the treat down and Sero's eyes follow. His fluffy tails, four of which Sero found peculiar (Todoroki had explained he’s still young) poofed up and swayed as Todoroki stares down at him in expectation. The raven hair laughs, joyful and uncaring, and sets out another plate. The yellow balloon attached to the handle steadily grows as the two spend the night together. They talk about trivial things, mostly Sero taking and Todoroki humming but very much immersed in the conversation about his mundane life. Sero doesn’t miss how Todoroki leers at him when he talks about one of his friends. It puts him on edge but in all honesty, he already has one foot in the door.

When the yellow balloon is round and succulent, ready to pop he bids Todoroki a goodbye with a promise to bring the recipe on his next visit.

Todoroki is hesitant when Sero wags the strange pastry in front of him. The spices were strong and the wet, white, and gooey sugary substance dribbled down the sides of the bread and onto Sero’s fingers. Sero had called a cinnamon bun. And it would be rude of him to not eat what his...what was Sero to Todoroki? He never truly pondered the status of their relationship. Hanta Sero was an interesting human. Even knowing that his days are counted he comes with assortments from his world just to share with someone like him. The person who would lead him to the afterlife. It left a grime taste in his mouth when he thought that way but that was reality.

The way his onyx eyes twinkled, reflecting the colors of the sea. How silly he looked completely drenched like a dog. He was interesting from the very start. His stomach rumbles.

The human looks up at him, slanted eyes and an ordinary thin smile. The cinnamon bun is still in his hands. Todoroki bows down a bit and sinks his mouth on the sugary treat, his tongue grazing the tips of Sero’s fingers, eyes staring in human as he slowly consumes the food. He pulls off slowly, his gaze heated as he swallows. Sero had long since retracted his hand, face tinged red as the fur on Todoroki’s skin.

He licks his sharp nails of the sweetness, eye crinkling a bit as he hums in content. “It’s sweet.” If it were anyone else they would think Todoroki is stating the obvious, that the way his tail puffed out was simply a coincidence and that Sero was simply just a friend.

“I-I’m glad you liked it!” So what was Sero to Todoroki?

...

The next time they ate together Sero had used the kitchen in his home, this time bringing four balloons to extend his stay. Todoroki noticed how Sero despite being a decent height for a human had to tiptoe to reach the cabinets. His shirt would ride up a bit and he could see the outline of his scapula poking. The ears upon his head twitch at the thought of wrapping his arms around Sero. Would he jump in surprise at the embrace? Would Todoroki feel the poke of his bones against his chest? Or perhaps Sero would press into his touch and allow someone like him to give him warmth. His mind is in the cloud, thinking up small scenarios as the aroma of curry fills the air. He almost goes to ask but forgets when his name is called out.

Another time he visits the sky is dark with stars in the sky. Beautiful and speckled across the heavens. He would’ve adored the sight a bit more if Todoroki wasn’t sucking his lips dry. The kiss is wet and feverish, needy and consuming Sero’s oxygen. Sharp fangs nick Sero’s tongue and a soft moan is dragged out with little effort before Todoroki is gently shoved off. There's frustration in his eyes at being disturbed.

“Didn’t think you would be so forward Todoroki ~” the teasing of his voice earns him an uncharacteristic huff and the beautiful trails behind the kitsune flare a bit. “Is it wrong to claim what’s mine?” And although the words were flattering Sero wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t blind to the predator like stare Todoroki sent him when he thought he was looking. How Todoroki almost swallowed his finger whole. The purrs he lets out when Sero combs his tail. He was sure that there would have to be strong trust between a kitsune and the other for their tail to be touched. Like an honor or something. But at the same time, it felt like Todoroki was holding himself from enjoying. Well, at least tonight was a change of pace.

“No. Not at all” he finally answered. Just how much time did he have left? His brows furrow in disdain but he snaps out of his when he feels his shorts being tugged down.

“Pay attention.” Shouto shifts himself upward to loosen his yukata, the fabric slipping out in a lewd manner. There was low rumbling in Shouto’s chest as pins Sero down. He was sure at some point he had lost consciousness after what happened.

Sero wondered idly the next day that if they were in his house would the neighbors hear him scream.

...

“So why did you live all alone here?” This time a green balloon was attached to a tree branch as they sat together, staring outward into the pretty landscape. Their pinkies were connected, an option much preferred than full on hand-holding. Todoroki doesn’t answer, at least not at first. It takes a while to break down his walls, Sero notes for each time he visits. So instead of answering Todoroki stares into the vast scenery of yellow and orange. For a second a flash of pain filters through his eyes but it is gone before Sero notices.

His answer makes Sero laugh. A very soft and ebullient laugh that makes Todoroki’s cheeks tinge ever so delicately. It’s weaker than before.

“I guess I like to be alone.”

...

It’s two weeks till Sero’s next visit and Todoroki idly wonders if he miscalculated when Sero would pass away. And even if he did he would’ve known, he would’ve felt it. Tending to the garden by himself wasn't out of the ordinary but he missed scolding Sero for slacking off or hissing when he sometimes jumps on his back to scare the poor yokai. When he finally saw Sero trekking up the hill no he did not pounce him and no he didn’t nuzzle into his chest. Todoroki was not on the verge of crying...although he did like it immensely when Sero coos at how cute he was. It was a rare sight, a large fox-like creature straggling in the lap of a sick human. He didn’t even notice the plastic wristband on Sero’s arm.

Fate was fickle and mocking at its victim was it not?

...

“You smell strange.”

“Yeah, the hospital got a strange smell. Bunch of old people and chemicals and stuff.”

“You look tired.” Someone yawns. “I guess I am.”

“Would you care to rest beside me?”

“...I don’t think I'll be coming back here.”

“I know. It’s my job to guide you across the ocean and I’ll fulfill it to the end.”

“Hanta.” He gets a strange look. “Call me Hanta.” “Then call me Shouto.”

...

A bunch of balloons, so many with messages and with flowers that Shouto immediately recognizes when Hanta wakes up by the shore. The calling was already having the human walk in the shivering waters. He swallows the lump in his throat. People die all the time, it's normal.

He’s led so many people across the shore but never once had a human fed him as Hanta did. Laughed when there was nothing to laugh about. Asked questions that he’d no doubt not get an answer to. He never gave up. He was an ordinary person...no; an extraordinary person to Shouto. He loved him. He loved him so fucking much that it hurts, that the greedy side of him wanted to lock Hanta up in his house for good. But it wasn’t possible. It never was.

“Shouto!” He was waving at the kitsune. Hanta wore a smug smile on his face, the hospital gown fluttering just above the water. His hair was neatly combed down and Todoroki fought the urge to kiss his forehead. Instead, he stood a few steps away on the sand, arms full of flowers. He stares and stares at Sero with a gloomy emanation. He finally understood his resolve. How could he not realize it? “Hanta I love you.”

“I love your cooking, how you laugh, your eyes—everything!” His cheeks felt warm. Warm like when Hanta had first kissed his cheek. Warm like how the food filled his growling stomach. Burning like their night of passion. He blabbers on, more vocal and more vulnerable than he’s ever been in centuries. “I love you. So so much...I didn’t want to say it because I knew this would happen! I was lonely but you changed that.” There’s a crack in his voice when he confesses. The swarm of regret and insecurities, the love he held for this human. He has so many secrets he wishes to share with Hanta. If only they had more time.

He steps into the water, careful not to get his clothes wet but it backfires when Sero drags him in, laughing and snorting when he falls headfirst. “About time you said it! I was waiting for like forever!” Shouto rises from the water, tails, and ears flatten down as he looks up at Sero. Under the bags of his eyes, he could see them crinkle with blissful happiness and content. How melancholic was this moment indeed? Just like those few months back when they first met. Only this time it was Hanta pushing Shouto’s hair out of his face to leave a very long and loving kiss on hips pretty lips. It was sweeter than any cinnamon bun, lovelier than the times they spent in bed, and painful too.

It was breathtaking. Shouto’s tails were sagging in the water and his knees were going numb from the cold but he minds it not. When they pull away for air Hanta is rubbing his fingers across the ugly scar on his face.

“Yeah, I love you too.”

So what was Sero to Todoroki?

His first love.

Instead of regretting what we cannot do, it is better to do what one can.

Author Note: A few things I’d like to mention. I had to rewrite this so many times because it just wasn’t clicking. The first idea was for Todoroki to eat Sero’s heart and fall in love with him but I didn’t like it. The balloons and the ability to meet someone in a dream is a reference to xxxHolic. By bringing or taking stuff in the dream world it’ll appear or disappear in the real world and vice versa. In the series, it was said that the balloon held dreams so I went okay this time the balloons symbolize how long you can stay in the dreamland. When the person awakens the balloon pops. Lastly, the shore was a reference to Toilet Bound Hanako Kun.

Finally, that last quote was by Yuuko Ichihara, a character from xxxHolic. I’m really glad that this commission gave me free will and I hope y’all enjoyed the somber ending as I did.

#boku no hero academia #boku no hero fanfic #my hero academia #my hero fanfic #bnha todoroki #todoroki shoto #shoto torodoki #sero hanta #hanta sero #bnha sero #mha sero #mha todoroki #bnha rarepairs #todoroki x sero #sero x todoroki

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 4 years

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Saving Grayson {8}

Summary: Dating your guardian angel often comes with complications.

Warnings: angst, fluff, indications of smut

Saving Grayson Series Masterlist

It's easy to do and worry about consequences later. The easiest thing in the world is to take action when your heart yearns for adventure, but tomorrow always comes. It's inevitable.

For Y/N, the morning brought a warm embrace. Grayson's arms wrapped around her as he littered her neck with feather like kisses.

"Wake up!" Grayson exclaims, wanting to start the day. He didn't mind staying in bed with her, but he wanted to show her the world. His world.

She groans, her hand getting lost in his messy bed hair. Craning her neck to avoid his sweet attack, Y/N giggles.

"It's too early." She whines, earning herself a peck on the lips.

Opening her eyes, she finally saw a view worth waking up for. Grayson's eyes are dark yet joyful, his lips form a devilishly handsome smile and his long hair falls on either side of his face just asking to be combed back with her fingers.

He's a vision of beauty, more of an angel than she could ever be and there were few times she ever lost her breath in a very interesting life, but he stole the breath from her lungs.

"You're beautiful." She whispers in awe, reaching for his cheek. The short stubble pricks at her soft palm and he angles his lips so he'd kiss her palm before leaning down to kiss her.

"Not nearly as beautiful as you, my angel."

Y/N's eyes widen, her heart stopping with the nickname. It's the last thing she expected him to call her.

Does he know?

"You're positively unearthly." Grayson's nose brushes hers, his lips coming down on her bottom one.

Gasping, Y/N shakes her head, breaking the kiss.

"What do you mean?" She asks and he frowns, confused.

"By what?"

"Angel? Unearthly?" Her voice is pitchy, her mind racing and she can't tell if he has uncovered her secret or if it's just his usual charming words to get a girl blushing.

Pushing himself up, Grayson sat back on the balls of his feet, running a hand through his locks. "I meant you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. It was meant as a compliment."

Grayson raises an eyebrow, unsure if he said something so wrong to earn this reaction. "I can find a better nickname than angel if you hate that one so much."

Sighing, Y/N hides her face in her hands in embarrassment. She panicked for no reason and ruined a perfectly enjoyable morning.

"No, no. I just...I like that...Angel, I mean." Offering a small smile, she sat up as well, her right hand resting upon his shoulder, feeling the bony clavicle under her palm. "

"Yeah?" Grayson smirks as she gets closer and closer, his left hand resting on the small of her back as she straddles him.

"Yeah." She confirms, her voice low and seductive, her lips inches away from his.

"Angel." He breathes out with his husky voice, teasing as his right hand laid upon her left scapula, just where her wing usually sprouts.

Lips parted, she exhales slowly, unused to the feeling of his fingertips on her shoulder blade. No one ever touched her there. For angel blood, their wings and where they come from is something sacred.

She melted into him, allowing his lips to dominate her. It felt just as good as the first time, perhaps even better now that she didn't overthink her choices.

Grayson may be her charge and she wasn't happy about it at first, but she didn't care anymore.

Grayson IS her choice and no one will take that choice away from her.

In the weeks that followed, they were attached at the hip, constantly finding out new things about one another.

Grayson learned she wanted to travel the world, to swim in every ocean. Y/N learned Grayson wanted a family, as many kids as he could financially afford to have. Fortunately, he didn't plan on any before his thirties because he too wanted to see more of the world.

She met his brother and sister, even his mother and Gizmo, and he met her mother. They they talked about their fathers and exchanged memories they had difficulty talking about with other people.

Grayson is a morning person, she was definitely not, but they found a way to make it work considering they spent every night in the same bed, even if they argued.

And they did argue.

Y/N hated how loud Grayson is when she's trying to nap, Grayson hated how she drank milk straight from the carton. He hated how much TV she watched and she hated how many times she had to take care of his wounds or in other words, how often she had to save his life.

One time he had fallen from a tree, but she managed to set up a blow up mattress under it the moment he decided to climb it.

He also hit his head diving into the pool and she had to jump in to save him even though she spent three hours doing her make up while following a very complicated YouTube video.

There was a time he nearly killed himself with a nail gun and she was the one who had to wrestle it out of his hands.

Death really wanted Grayson Dolan and that created a rift between them. Grayson wanted to have fun and that included the most dangerous things she could fathom and Y/N always ended up being the party pooper.

"You will get us both killed!" She shouted as he tried to fix an electrical outlet.

"I can do this." Grayson groaned, annoyed as this was the third time she was warning him of something that day.

"Are you an electrician? Did I miss that diploma on your wall by some chance?!" Words dripping in sarcasm and frustration only sparked Grayson's temper and while he wanted to stop himself from exploding as he managed so many times before, he was losing it.

"Maybe it's time you go home, Y/N!" Throwing the tools on the ground, Grayson stood up and faced her. He hated the hurt expression on her face, her eyes filled with tears as he dared look into them.

"You want me to?" She croaks, unable to breathe as her chest fills with undeniable pressure and pain. She's worked her ass off to keep him alive and he wanted her to go?

"I -", sighing, Grayson shakes his head but he was right.

Spending so much time together, their arguments grew and he couldn't deny his feelings for her are strong but he needed a break you evaluate it all. To evaluate them.

"I do. At least for a few days."

Nodding, Y/N swallows thickly, unable to even see through her tears. She was planning to have a romantic dinner, to spend the night watching a movie in the backyard and skinny dip in the pool before taking him to bed. She planned to give him a night he will always remember. A night where she would have told him she loves him with a her heart.

But he didn't want her. That's all she could hear now.

"Clearly I overstayed my welcome. I won't be told twice." She dashed out of the house, getting into her car.

She knew it would be a dumb idea to get into a car and drive off when she can hardly see or breathe from the pain and tears, but she couldn't stay there. Especially not when Grayson's regret quickly grabbed onto his heart and he followed her outside.

Slamming the gas pedal, she left him in her rear-view mirror, ending back on the road. She closed her eyes to help wash the tears out, allowing they to fall and her vision to clear.

Her shaky hands were hard to steady on the wheel, her eyes going back to the rear-view mirror in hope of seeing Grayson's car behind her.

That was her mistake.

It only takes a moment to take your eyes off the road and for Y/N, that moment would prove to be fatal as she slammed into a deer.

Losing control over the vehicle, she ended up going off the road. The car flipped and her eyes closed before she crashed into the tree.

"Gray", she whispered as pain took over her body and she gave into the darkness.

Tags: @dolansontheblock

#dolan twins #grayson dolan #grayson dolan x reader #grayson dolan angst #grayson dolan fluff #grayson dolan fanfiction #grayson dolan fanfic #grayson dolan fic #grayson dolan au #grayson dolan series

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olivia200312 · 3 years

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So Long~ Bay! Optimus x Human! Reader (Lemon) *Request*

Requested by the lovely RudyPascall456

Plot: Bayverse Optimus (Tf5) x Human! Reader. They have been through so much. So much that it's impossible to remember it all. Currently, the reader and Optimus in cuddling each other whispering sweet words to the other. Optimus purrs from the warmth of his sparkmate. Primus how he loves her. Optimus pulls her close and kisses her. They share loving kisses, just wanting to show their love for each other in every way possible. Optimus shivers in delight when the reader touches his hips so gently. Optimus says it's been 5 years that anyone who had touched him liked this. The reader kisses him and continues to feel his metal muscles that she missed so much. Optimus lightly kisses the reader down her neck as the reader giggles. The reader then said she forgot how much of a cute mech he could be. Optimus purrs and shares yet another kiss. Optimus then begins to kisses the ready feverish. And says through the kiss he wants to show her how much he loves her. The reader pulls their bodies together making Prime growl. Oh, how he loved skin-to-metal contact. The warm skin mixing with the cool metal. It made it feel special and wanted something of this love that could never be betrayed. Optimus then undress the reader as the reader moans softly. Optimus purred and kissed the reader's breast softly making the reader moan softly. She knew Optimus adored her body he can be so gentle at times and so rough. She loved it either way. In return, Optimus stopped and allowed the reader to remove his codpiece and see his spike. Optimus then smiled and locked their lips into a heated kiss of passion. The reader stroked his spike as Optimus teased her pussy. And from there they fragged. In the end, Optimus says if there was one thing he would ever need in his online it would be her and no one else. The reader said the same goes for you, Opty. Optimus then cuddled with the reader and recharge the reader fell asleep.

Lol, another smutty request from the same user. But it's a human this time. Once this is done, I have other requests to finish since others are old requests and some are new. This book is damn growing fast! When the 100th one-shot is published, then the book is complete! But I will also publish the last one-shots.

Head area: Brain: Processor / Brain Module Head: Helm Face: Face plate Ears: Audio receptors / Receptor Orifice / Audials Nose: Enstril / Olfactory Sensor Eye brow: Optical Ridge Eyes: Optics Mouth: Intake Lips: Dermas Teeth: Denta/Dentas Tongue: Glossa

Chest area: Chest: Chassis / Thoraxal Cavity Back: Hexa-Lateral Scapula Spine: Bipedalism cord / Back Strut

Chest and back armour: Chest plate Back plate Mid-section plating Neck guard Side plating

Arm area:

Arms: Arms / Restarlueus Forearms: Bitarlueus Hands: Servos Fingers: Digits

Arm armour: Gantlets Shoulder pads Arm guard

Lower area:

Pelvis: Pelvis Butt: Aft / Skid-Plate Thighs: Tibulen Calves: Cadulen Feet: Pedes - the high heel bits are called Struts or Heel Struts.

Lower armour: Skirt plates Aft plate / Skid plate Thigh guard Ankle guard

General/Internal components: Muscles: Cables / Pistons - It depends on the area in question. Veins: Fual lines Stomach: Tanks Lungs: Vents - used to stop the con/bot from over heating. Heart: Spark Tattoos: D-con/A-bot Insignias and the lark T-Cog: The thing that allows all Cybertronians to transform, be that their arms or their whole body.

Bonus:

Penis: Spike

Vagina: Valve

Body: Frame

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

Everyone was at the fields of England. The battle was finally over. Optimus Prime was back himself instead of being Nemesis Prime. He was being processor controlled by Quintessa, an evil manipulative femme who brainwashed the Prime and even blamed him for Cybertron's death, which was not true at all! Once Optimus was being controlled, he got send back to Earth to get the staff.

Before The Last Knight story started to play, Cade was being involved, together with Shane, Tessa, and Y/N. If you know the story, then you know what happened. After the Age of Extinction story was over, Optimus said his goodbyes to others, including to his sparkmate, Y/N, and left to find his creators. Everyone was heartbroken, especially Y/N. Tessa took off to college and Shane was with her. Cade and Y/N eventually had to go hiding from the world so they moved into a scrapyard. The Autobots followed, along with some Dinobots. They promised to work together after all when the Autobots freed them. Both Cade and Y/N were known as heroes since they helped the battles like in China and to stop Lockdown for good. Optimus managed to offline him for good.

Do you think that's where the story started? In the middle ages of England when King Arthur was the ruler? Transformers did exist much longer than you think than humans. Primus created the Cybertronians and Cybertron. Everyone was happy when Optimus returned but immediately, his behavior, especially his optics, gave everybody a sign that something was awfully wrong with him. Look at his optics. Instead of gentle blues, it was like purple/magenta. He was being controlled. Bumblebee managed to at least bring him back but however, he was more awake when he saw Y/N... His sparkmate. But after Optimus was awake, he had one thing to finish: destroy Quintessa. Actually, the glitch mysteriously disappeared. It was like out of nowhere. After the battle was over, the Autobots split up to start a brand chapter in their lives. But they promised to stay in close contact for any emergencies. Do you know where Optimus went to live? With Y/N.

After being through so much in their lives, they were cuddling on their two-person bed. Optimus was in his bipedal holoform to not hurt Y/N. He still had to be careful though since he's metal while Y/N was soft and had skin. Optimus was also whispering sweet things into Y/N's ear, causing her to blush and giggle. She was currently in her loose comfortable tank top and lace panties matching Optimus' colors. She was at her home and in bed so why? She became very wealthy when the fight was finally over with Quintessa. Cade also got wealthy so he finally lived in a house instead of a scrapyard with Y/N, the Autobots, and the Dinobots. He also fell in love with a woman named Viviane. She was nice. Since Cade's wife died when Tessa was young, he was single for years. Tessa wanted her father to find love and be happy. Cade finally found a new love while Y/N and Optimus were together for years.

"Oh, Optimus," Y/N giggled as she nuzzled her lover.

Optimus, in response, purred as he felt warmth from Y/N. He was the knight in shining armor, Y/N's savior. Primus, he loved her so much. He wanted nothing but to make love to her and keep her safe. He will do anything to protect her. He then cupped Y/N's cheeks in his servos and kissed her with passion. They shared loving kisses as they were lost in pure love. Y/N then touched her lover very lovingly, causing him to purr. He wasn't in fact touched like this 5 years ago when he was starting a relationship with Y/N.

Optimus pulled away from the kiss, staring lovingly into her gorgeous E/C eyes. He stroked her cheek softly as he pressed his forehead against hers, carefully. "It's been 5 years, Y/N. May I make love to you?"

He was so cute when he asked for permission. He was treated with respect by many Cybertronians than you think. He had a kind spark and he was smart as well since he loved to read datapads as Orion Pax. He had good leadership when he was transformed into a Prime. He changed his name or destination (Cybertronian's language) from Orion Pax to Optimus Prime.

Once Y/N heard Optimus' question and permission, she pulled their bodies together, making Optimus growl. "Does this answer you?"

Optimus clearly understood the message. Y/N wanted this. She wanted Optimus to make love to her. It's been 5 years when they had sex or interfaced. So lovingly and romantically, Optimus undressed Y/N until she was naked under him. Optimus remembered the first time he saw her naked. He was so in love, wanting to take her body as his. It was his. They were together. And, oh boy, was Optimus so ready to take Y/N's body again. Once Y/N was naked, she stared into Optimus' optics and saw that it was full of lust. Her eyes were full of lust too. She then moaned when she felt Optimus kiss her breasts as he massaged them and squeezed as well. She felt Optimus suck on one nipple since it got hard like the other one. He was sucking on it like a baby that drank milk. Y/N threw her back in pleasure for a second before she lifted it up and stroked Optimus' helm as he sucked. Eventually, he moved to another nipple and gave it the same attention as he did to others. Sucking it like a baby but also licking and biting it softly. Y/N moaned from the pleasure. Oh, how much she missed having sex as well with Optimus Prime here. Optimus missed having sex too with his human sparkmate.

Y/N's head was very gently pushed back on the pillow as Optimus hovered above her. "Take my codpiece off." Y/N was a bit surprised when he said that. She wanted to secretly take his codpiece off and see his big, hard spike again. She saw Optimus smile and she took his codpiece off. His spike was big and hard, happily in the air. "Such a big boy.~"

Optimus spread Y/N's legs more open to reveal her womanhood that was soaking wet. By the sight, pre-transfluid came from his member. Y/N grabbed Optimus' spike and started stroking it as she felt him tease her pussy with his digits. They both moaned as they kiss each other heatedly. The tongue and glossa made contact with each other. It was wet that was also full of saliva, probably. Y/N moaned the most into the heated kiss as Optimus continued to tease her pussy with his digits. She heard Optimus grunt since she's stroking him. That's when they both stopped and Optimus got between her legs on top of her. Y/N giggled sexily as she wrapped her arms around his neckcables. That's when Optimus just couldn't take it anymore that he slammed himself right into Y/N's pussy. Y/N screamed as Optimus rammed into her like an animal in heat.

"Take me, Opty! T-Take me! Oh, fuck!~" Y/N was talking dirty now. She felt just like in heaven. It had been 5 years ever since they had fun in bed. Optimus watched her expressions as he enjoyed seeing her in pleasure. He enjoyed it, even more, when Y/N talked dirty.

"Look at you... Locked under me, making noises. You'll bear with my sparkling. You'll look perfect with a swollen human tank." Now, it was Optimus who was talking dirty. He was imagining his mate being sparked with his sparkling. Even pregnancy sex was also possible but then the female was pregnant, of course. Optimus was planning to have sex with her while she's pregnant. He was aware that his future sparkling will be half-human or half-Cybertronian. He will still love them dearly just how much he loved his sparkmate.

"P-Put your babies inside me! G-Give them to me! Aaaah!~"

Optimus rammed into her harder he watched his spike for a moment that was turning white because of Y/N's juices. He enjoyed it a lot. He then buried his helm inside of Y/N's neck as he left love bites. Y/N moaned and screamed loud as enjoyed this every second. That's when finally a knot formed into her stomach. "I-I'm cumming!~"

Optimus grunted into her neck in response and he felt Y/N's walls clasp tight into his member. Since he was big, he felt almost nearly impossible to pull out. He thrusts final times before he finally came, hearing Y/N scream as well since she also came. They both panted as Optimus stayed inside for a while to let his hot and sticky transfluid adjust. He then slowly pulled out and laid down next to Y/N, panting.

"That was so good," Y/N panted as she snuggled up to Optimus.

Optimus hummed in agreement as he held her protectively in his arms, spooning her as well. He then laid his servos on Y/N's stomach as they snuggled up and fell asleep together.

#optimus prime x human reader #optimus prime x reader #optimus prime #tf bay #tranformers #transformers 5 the last knight #tf 5 tlk #romance #smut #one shot #x human reader #x reader #reader

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uberrapidash · 4 years

Text

I'm typing this for my own uses, but people are welcome to read it if they want.

I saw an ortho for the first time today. He confirmed scapular winging and referred me to a geneticist for testing for EDS.

I saw an orthopedic this morning.

It is Scapular Winging

He said that I do have scapular winging on the right side.

It's good to have this confirmation because my PCP had said before that it couldn't be scapular winging because my scapula wasn't moving in a specific way that she was looking for. But she told me herself that she had never seen winging on an actual patient before. So now she'll better know what it looks like on future patients.

my PCP is a new doctor

(Getting sidetracked here: My PCP is a pretty fresh doctor. I really appreciate how she kinda "thinks out loud" to me. I imagine it wouldn't normally be a good thing for a doctor to be like, "Hmm, it might be this, but I've never seen it on an actual patient before... lemme go look it up." I understand how it can seem unprofessional and can foster doubt in the patient. But I understand that doctors "practice medicine" and that it is called a practice for a reason. And I hope she never stops thinking out loud to me, and I hope that she doesn't become too jaded in her work as she encounters patients who cause problems because she was just being honest.)

Causes and Treatment, EDS?

The ortho said that it takes a long time for winging to develop, and that it will take a long time and lot of work on my part to correct it. I said I was hesitant to begin physical therapy because I was doing PT about a year ago and it made me worse -- it increased joint laxity, caused painful pinching in my spine, and increased my already-debilitating fatigue. I talked a little about some of the other things going on in my body, and the ortho referred me to see a geneticist because it seems possible I might have a subtype of EDS.

So! Finally! Another step forward.

I asked about causes of winging. He said that it can start with an injury (like a sports-related injury) or that it's seen frequently in patients after they have had a surgery like open-heart surgery. I had a breast reduction in October, I told him, and he said "That makes a lot of sense now, actually."

But he also said that some people with "rib issues" can develop these kinds of problems, too.

So I'm not seeing a physical therapist. I'm going to make the hour-long drives to see my chiropractor in my former city, and I'm going to research physical therapy for scapular winging on my own.

Incurable Condition

One of the things he said to me when he was talking about EDS was, and I can't remember his wording but it was in essence something like, "What would be the point of learning you have EDS? There is no treatment for it." And I was like "INFORMED TREATMENT!!!" What is with these doctors who think it's not important to diagnose an incurable condition?!?!?! Wtf! It affects *my entire fucking life*! I told him that it would have been good to know a year ago when I was doing physical therapy which was hurting me more than it was helping me, oh and also here's my PCP over here running every blood test that she possibly can (we've made it all the way to Epstein-Barr...). I can't work a job without heavy accommodations, I need another surgery and this is something that would be really important to know about beforehand, etc. There are also comorbidities that I can get a head start on trying to prevent or lessen their impacts, etc.

Didn't address ribs, possible miscommunications

He didn't address my ribs at all.

I had sort of an issue in making the appointment with him. When they called me to make the appointment, they said that my PCP had listed 3 problems in my referral -- bilateral shoulder pain (which I don't have???) and my ribs -- but that they only see 2 issues at a time. First of all, wtf. My whole body is having issues. Second, I'm not having shoulder pain, and if the pain around my right scapula counts as shoulder pain, it's not bilateral because it's only on one side. So I told them that.

Then they said that my PCP had made the referral for the ortho but that they wanted to make me an appt with one of the ortho's PAs. I said that I needed to see the doctor if possible. They said that the doctor only specializes in shoulders. Okay so wtf.

Well I saw the shoulder doctor anyway. So he didn't address my ribs at all. But what else was I supposed to do?

#personal #medical #scapular winging #EDS

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chasseurdeloup-retired · 4 years

Text

Make You Better || Regan and Kaden

TIMING: Night of the exorcism LOCATION: Kaden’s apt PARTIES: @kadavernagh and @chasseurdeloup SUMMARY: Someone needs a hug. CONTENT WARNINGS: Discussions of parental death and grief

Kaden had lost his mother. Again. Even knowing that his mother was a murderer, a connasse, Regan knew that the loss still had to be heavy and painful. Perhaps even harder to talk about and feel, a second impossible time around. She wasn’t even sure Kaden would want her there when she’d asked -- he liked his solitude at times -- but he didn’t hesitate. So she was on the way. Except -- the stupid freaking wings. She settled on wrapping herself in a blanket and sneaking into the car. Caught herself going 2 miles above the speed limit. She never did that. The panic was getting to her, the asphyxia in her throat as she thought about Kaden, alone, mourning his mother. Almost there. She barely remembered to put the car in park before jumping out and charging over to Kaden’s apartment. Even swaddled up, she felt the wings flit against her back when Kaden opened the door. He’d been crying. His eyes were red, his cheeks were streaked and shiny, and her heart jumped. Regan stepped inside and wrapped her arms around him, squeezed him, maybe too tightly. She sometimes offered meager words of understanding to next of kin who came into the morgue to confirm the identities of deceased loved ones. But those words failed her here. The situation was unprecedented. “I’m here, Kaden. Whatever you need.” She breathed, pressed against him.

As soon as Rebecca left, Kaden had planned to go to the bedroom, let Abel out. Instead he pressed his back to the door and slid down to the floor and stayed there for who knew how long. He knew this would be bad, seeing her, sending her away forever, not to pass on, just gone, but he didn’t think it would be that. Seeing her like that was awful. Feeling her rage burn inside of him, thoughts plaguing his mind, that was worse. If things had gone differently, he knew what would have happened. Everyone he cared about would be dead. At her hand with his body. He had to get up off the floor, stop thinking about that. Just long enough to get to the dog who was still barking and distressed. The walk he intended didn’t happen. Once he let Abel out it was just him curled up in his fur letting the flood of all he’d been holding back out while the dog licked at the salt on his face occasionally. He could barely remember half of the messages he sent. Other than asking Celeste for advice and telling Regan to come over. At first he thought about telling her no, he could just handle it by himself. But he typed otherwise without too much hesitation.

When the knock came on the door, Abel was there far sooner than he was. Kaden had to step over fallen books and skulls, some plates from the other day, steer around the displaced furniture. Seeing her there, even in the silly blanket, it just felt better and worse all at the same time. He thought he didn’t have any tears left after however long it had been while he was on the floor, but he found them again as he wrapped his arms around her and clung to her like it was the only thing keeping him upright. It might have been. He didn’t know what he needed beyond a hug, so he simply buried his face in her shoulder and stayed there for a while. It eventually hit him that his arms were around her wings. Probably crushing them a little. Pinching at least. “Did-- uh-- I didn’t--” He sniffled in a deep breath and tried again. “I’m not hurting you, am I?”

The past few weeks had been challenging, to put it lightly. But every time Regan thought she was seeing Kaden at his most despairing, there was a new bottom to be found. Surely there was no worse than this, she thought, her chest welling up as she looked at his wet eyes. The death of a parent. She noticed that the whole side of his face was red, like he’d had his face pressed against a hard surface, and something about that tore at her insides. She held him, felt him sniffling against her shoulder, and not for the first time she wished she could be warm -- not just her skin (though that’d be fucking nice), but she wished she had Cece or Erin’s effortless talent to comfort, to bring Kaden through this. Her comfort felt cold by comparison. Abel was clearly concerned about his human, too; he hovered nearby with his tail held low and his ears pricked with what Regan took as worry. Apparently he’d also learned his lesson from last time not to stick his nose in the wings.

Speaking of -- her spine jolted as Kaden’s embrace tightened, and there was a fierce pinch over her scapulae. The sensation was alien and uncomfortable, but she wiggled slightly to ameliorate the pinch and decided it didn’t matter right this second. It mattered more that he was hugging her anyways, and she realized with a pang that it was a first. Regan was content to stay there for a minute, maybe longer, however long Kaden needed. And he clearly needed this. But his eyes winked open, bleary but concerned, and -- was he really asking about that right now? Regan gave him a small smile in response and kept hugging him. “Um, little tight around the back. But it’s -- really, I don’t mind.” She paused, really taking in the room around them. It was a mess, an echo of her own apartment, but so much worse, given her own lack of personal effects. And -- those were skulls. The ones she gave him. Her eyes were immediately drawn to them, and she smiled a bit despite the circumstances. Looked back at Kaden. “Do you want to sit together? I’ll order food. Um, and maybe tell them to leave it outside, given it might take us an hour to reach the door.” Before he could open his mouth to protest, she interrupted. “And I know you’re going to say that you’re not hungry, that you have food here, whatever, but you’ll want it later.” A gentle sigh. “We can talk about anything. You can tell me what happened, what you’re feeling, or I can ramble about autopsies, complain about Dr. Rickers. His beard is back, you know.”

After feeling like his face was burning from everything that had happened earlier and from so much fucking crying, the chill from her skin was more than welcome, calming in a different way than warmth would have been. Like being woken up or refreshed by a cool breeze or the cold side of a pillow. Kaden nodded and loosened his grip around her back ever slightly. Only then did it really register what had just happened. Her wings. He’d-- he’d been touching them this whole time and it was… fine. It wasn’t really any stranger than her lack of body heat and he’d gotten pretty used to that by now. Whenever she touched his hand, he expected it to be ice cold, it was normal to him in a way. Strange to think wings could be next.

Kaden took a deep breath in before he pulled away from her. He still felt completely drained but not as entirely empty. “I’m not--” The interruption was immediate. But she was right. He’d said it enough to Blanche by now, he knew she was right. “Yeah. good idea. Uh, doesn’t matter to me, though. You pick.” He took his hand in hers and stared down at it before turning his head to look behind him. One glance around the room and it was clear there was nowhere to sit just yet. Mess didn’t begin to cover it. “Uh, bedroom is a little cleaner. If you want to sit there. As much as I hate eating in bed.” While that was true, he also could only see the shape of his mother, full of hate, pushing against the limits of the circle that was now burned into his rug forever. He shut his eyes and scrunched his nose and fought to remember the figure of her at Hanging Rock. Which was still hard to see. Hard to feel like he even liked that version of her anymore. He felt little paw pads and nails digging into the top of his leg and his eyes opened to see Abel on his hind legs balancing to say hi to his owner. A trace of a smile cast on his face as he rubbed under the dog’s chin. “Sitting. We should sit. Somewhere. And tell me about the beard.” He had a feeling he’d spill everything that happened in a minute or so but his mind was a mess and all he wanted was to hear something that wasn’t about ghosts or fairies or werewolves.

They could worry about food a little later. Regan was going to have to borrow his phone for that one, anyway. At least he wasn’t going to argue after that initial, half-hearted protest. Regan kept her hand curled around his arm as they broke apart, and nodded at his suggestion of the bedroom. Navigating to the couch right now was going to be a challenge, and she wasn’t even sure the couch was in any condition to be used. She gave Abel a quick pat on the head and guided Kaden toward the bedroom, stepping over fallen books and decor and miscellania. There was a heaviness to his walk, like he could barely hold himself up, and it made Regan’s chest tighten with concern. Beard. She could talk about the beard. That would help. Well, Kaden seemed to think so.

Kaden was right -- the bedroom was in better shape, though clothes were scattered across the room and it looked like the drawers of his cabinets had vomited everything out. Regan took a cautious seat on the bed, wings successfully flicking themselves out of the way this time to not be sat on, and twisted her lips in thought. Whenever she visualized that full, white beard, hairs covering every inch of her morgue, her anger was summoned. She couldn’t help it. “I swear it’s fuller than before,” she said, mouth sinking into a frown. “Erin, um, sent him Nair disguised as beard wax, or something. Long story. Might have been my fault. And there was respite for a while, but now it’s -- it’s back, and it’s huge, and it’s shedding even more.” She realized her teeth were showing, lips curled back in annoyance. Calm down. Sure, he was horrible, and unprofessional, and demeaning, and wouldn’t shut up about his grandchildren, but -- right. Calm down. She glanced at Kaden, sighed. Pressed her head against his shoulder. “Is this helping any? Because it kind of feels like you do actually want to talk about what happened.” Regan bit down on her lip, considering how to word this. “I understand, you know. That she was still your mother. Despite everything. And this was like -- I may not understand what happened, exactly, but I -- I know it was like losing her... again.”

There was salt strewn across the floor now that the circles didn’t matter, little paw prints imprinted in some of the larger piles. And everything else was in disarray. Still better than the living room. As Kaden sunk into the bed, he couldn’t help but notice her wings twitching out of the way as she sat next to him. It was still strange to see them move on their own for whatever reason. Probably because so often they seemed disconnected from her. The reminders that they weren’t some wholly separate entity attached to her were always a little jarring, as much as he knew otherwise. Any disgust he harbored towards them was hard to muster up after feeling the pure rage from his mother’s spirit. He didn’t want to feel anything like that. Possibly ever again if he could help it. Indifference was still about all he could manage.

Kaden sighed and leaned into her. It was hard to focus on what she was saying. He wanted to. All he wanted to do was just ignore all the thoughts etched in his mind from earlier, all the horrible things that his mother had screamed into his head, the pain of her spirit being ripped out of his body. And worst of all, what it all added up to. He shut his eyes and tried to picture the other medical examiner without his signature beard, Regan brushing away the little white hairs. All he saw was the circle burning into the ground, the lines of anger digging into his mother’s face, the look on Rebecca’s face when she spoke in that other voice. His eyes shot open and Regan was looking at him. Shit. Even in the middle of a rant, she could see this wasn’t working. “It’s-- I mean…” His lip trembled before he could even try to force down the emotion. “I want it to.” He clenched his jaw and took a deep breath through his nose. It didn’t hold everything back. For a moment all he could do was nod at her words. “It sucks. And it hurts. And she was-- I saw her this time. And heard her.” He didn’t need to say it was awful. Regan knew. She had to. “I feel guilty for wishing--” For wishing he didn’t have to let her go. Like that. “Mourning that feels wrong.”

Regan wrapped an arm around Kaden’s back and held him close; normally that filled her with warmth, but right now, he was just so sad, and she ached with him. It was weird seeing him this vulnerable. Awful. Tears pricked her own eyes whenever she looked at him. This dredged up some buried emotions, mourning alone by necessity after her dad died. She wasn’t going to let Kaden mourn alone, too, just because he felt guilty about it. Her heart sank when he said that he saw his mother, heard her. When had that happened? She had been here, presumably, before “going away”. The state of the house spoke to that; she doubted the mess was all from when Blanche came over.

“I’m so sorry.” There was little else that could be said. Regan could only imagine the vitriol and the venom his mom spewed at him, knowing that he could hear. “Whatever she said to you, it’s not true, okay? She -- I don’t see reason to detail out everything she said in my apartment, but I’m guessing it was just as bad or worse, when you heard her. It’s not true.” She reached her arm out, stretched it over his and intertwined their fingers. “And she was your mother, Kaden. She may have almost murdered us, but I -- there -- maybe there were things about her, about growing up with her in your life, that weren’t bad. Maybe there were even good things.” Though from the sound of things, they were mostly bad. And Kaden had been submerged in her toxic beliefs for decades before shaking free of them. Regan pushed that thought back and squeezed his hand. “Do you want to tell me something positive? About -- about her?” Maybe there was one thing. Something tiny.

This was the third time he’d mourned the last time he’d see his mother. Every time he’d thought it was truly the last. Her death, when he tossed the coin; those hurt. This one was the worst. This time Kaden knew it was final. More final than death, even. Every trace of her soul was gone from the earth. Destroyed. And if he’d just been an adult for two minutes and faced his problem before it swallowed him whole, maybe it could have gone differently. Maybe there was no use in worrying about that now, but it clung to his mind almost as fiercely as he clung to Regan then. He was grateful not to be alone for once in this. As if on cue, Abel hopped onto the bed and curled up next to Kaden’s other side. It was hard not to try for a smile at that as he gave the dog’s scruff a quick ruffle. Plus, he’d reached one of those points where there were no tears left. Even then, had a feeling that wouldn’t last, they’d find him again.

“I can try,” Kaden said with a small nod, gripping her hand in his. He scrunched his eyes closed, trying to push away all the recent memories of his mother to clear the way to his childhood. It all felt tainted. He knew now she never said she was proud of him, even when he was sure she had, had never given much praise at all, really. Just always expected the best, better from him. Held him to such a high standard. And before he’d thought that meant it was because she thought so highly of him. It didn’t feel that way now. He scraped and searched his mind. “She, uh, she taught me to bake. Some of it, at least. I, uh… I think it was the only time I ever saw her relax a little.” Part of it made him never want to pick up a rolling pin ever again, associating it with her. If he could cut out all the parts of him that were like her, he wouldn’t be that ever, right? He could do that. “But I feel like everything I remembered about her, it was-- it wasn’t right. Like I changed it or thought--”

Had she asked the wrong question? Galen, she really was no good at these kinds of things. Kaden looked like he was in physical pain as he tried to conjure up a memory that wasn’t horrible, and Regan’s stomach twisted with anticipation. Was there anything? Maybe his mother really had been this monster throughout Kaden’s whole life; she figured that the thoughts she’d voiced, the hate she spewed, it couldn’t have appeared out of nowhere. It was there all along. And now that Kaden knew, it likely colored everything else. Regan could empathize with that -- just before her dad had died, the comments he’d made forced her to see everything through a new lens, one where he lived in fear of his daughter. Sometimes it really was better not to know, wasn’t it? She stayed leaning against him, squeezed his hand. “If --” But Kaden thought of something. Baking. Of course. Regan nodded. She didn’t want to interrupt, to break his concentration.

His next comment confirmed what she’d suspected. This experience had burned the edges of all of his other memories with her. Maybe deservedly. But looking back, seeing what used to be happy moments for what they really were, it hurt. It hurt worse than most things. Regan hugged him, rubbed his back, and even Abel seemed to sense his owner’s distress and pawed his knee. Or maybe he just wanted his stomach scratched. She breathed in and looked him in the eyes, saw fresh, shining trails on his cheeks. “Like you were trying to think the best of her?” Regan gave him a small, watery smile. “She was your mother. I think it’s natural for you to have wanted her approval, to have trusted her. But seeing all of those moments in a new light, it’s --” She looked at her lap for a moment. “--It’s painful. Transformative. And then you’re stuck mourning, regardless.” She stayed silent for a beat, reminded again of her own dad. Vulture, he’d called her. “It’s okay not to know what to do with that.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s--” It was so accurate it cut through him. The memory of talking to his mother’s ghost at Hanging Rock choked him. How clearly it started to become to him that his memories had been glossed over with lies. Kaden hadn’t considered just how bad it could be. “I was never good enough, though.” Even at his best, even trying his hardest. So certainly not now. “I don’t-- I don’t think she was ever proud of me. I can’t remember her saying it.” Not once. A smile, maybe. A nod, perhaps. But that was it. All he ever did, all of it was to try and make them proud. Or what he thought they’d be proud of. Until now. Fuck. Did he even want her to be proud of him anymore?

He did. Desperately.

But he wanted it to be for exactly who he was and not for some unattainable standard. Which wasn’t how the Langleys saw it. Be the best or you get yourself killed. Not how he intended that statement to be fulfilled, he thought, letting out a small tear choked laugh.

Tracing patterns with his thumb on her hand as Kaden held it tight, it struck him again how well she hit right at the core of what he was feeling. And as much as this hurt, it was lessened ever slightly in her presence. When he looked up at her again, she was looking down. Shit. He should have known. She’d just lost a parent. And didn’t let him or anyone else in once while mourning. She wasn’t just talking about his mother. He gave her hand another squeeze. “I’m sorry.” For not being there, for what happened, for putting her in this situation, for all of this dragging it all back up so soon.

Regan’s brow furrowed as Kaden said his mother had never been proud of him. She believed it was never said. Some people were like that, unfortunately. She was pretty sure her own dad only ever declared that he was proud of her when she managed to stay away from a dead squirrel on the lawn, or expressed interests outside of what he considered “morbid”. Regan sighed through her teeth. If Kaden’s mother hadn’t ever been proud of him, would she have been so disappointed now? Didn’t one emotion necessitate the other? She wasn’t completely sure. “I’m proud of you, you know.” She leaned further into his side, giving him a gentle nudge on the shoulder with her head. “You questioned what she taught you. That’s -- as far as I can tell, her not being proud of you means you turned out to be a good person, Kaden. Not that that makes any of this easier. I know. Nothing does.”

Why was he apologizing? Did he -- Regan looked up at him, felt his hand squeeze hers, and she knew. Her breath caught in her throat and eventually trailed out into a long sigh. “I’m sorry, too.” She shook her head. It wasn’t even her dad that ate at her, at this point. It was the hole in her life that used to be filled by Reilly and Al. It was everything feeling wrong, like there was death around every corner. It was wings and screaming. She swallowed, let go of his hand, and shook out her nerves a bit. She really didn’t want to discuss her dad with him now, maybe not ever. “Hey, um… how about that food?” She raised an eyebrow and, without waiting, fished in Kaden’s pocket for his phone. She ordered Chinese food to be delivered outside, as discussed, and collapsed back onto the bed. Right on the wings. She’d forgotten about them for -- well, for a while. How? How could she forget about them? Still, that alien sensation squirmed back under her skin, and she sat back up, switching to her side. Abel also stretched out across the bed, like a person, somehow taking up more space than his size afforded him. “I think your dog is telling you to get a bigger bed.”

Kaden could feel his breath grow shaky again as he inhaled. Even if he still wasn’t sure being a failure at what he was born to do was something to be proud of, it sure sounded nice when she said it. And shit, it just felt nice to hear someone say it. Even if it wasn't the same. Maybe it was better. He sniffled back a fresh wave of tears. He wasn’t sure how he could feel comforted and so fucking hurt at the same time but there it was. Words were too hard and he was fucking sick of tears spilling out between them. He turned and kissed the top of her head instead before squinting his eyes shut and forcing out the water flooding into his eyes.

When she stood to order the food with his phone (where was-- oh right, banshee and glass didn’t mix), Kaden was pretty sure he drifted to sleep for a minute or two. It was all so draining, keeping his eyes open was a struggle. They blinked back open when she settled back onto the bed and he watched her briefly struggle with the wings. Weird how easy it was to forget about them now. His head tilted as he watched them sprawl just a little from her back onto the side of the bed. He waited for the pit to drop into his stomach, the familiar feeling of disgust, but something about all of it, her, the angle maybe, her wings almost looked delicate. Ethereal, even. Before he could even begin to process what the hell had just floated through his mind, Abel made himself comfortable. Settling in right in between them. His head pounded as he laughed but it still felt better than the majority of his day had treated him. “The biggest bed in the world wouldn’t stop him from doing that,” he said shaking his head at the dog who was sprawled halfway across him. Kaden went to nudge him out of the way and got slobbery kisses from the dog instead. He laughed again and angled the dog’s nose away from his face. “You’re staying right?”

Regan couldn’t help but smile a little as she watched Kaden’s eyes starting to close; he was struggling to stay awake, and she figured she might be putting his food in the fridge. But that was okay. She knew he’d eat it eventually. It was more important that he rested, especially after the day he had. She relaxed -- well, a little, as much as she was capable -- and sprawled out next to Abel, gave him a scratch behind the ears. She was pretty sure that was a common place to scratch dogs, and he seemed to like it. She laughed as Kaden unsuccessfully tried to push him off the bed; it looked like Abel became dead weight, rolling over and licking Kaden’s face instead. Regan made a mental note to avoid kissing that particular cheek. “Yes, I can say with a high degree of confidence that he’s staying here, although I hope you didn’t actually expect him to answer you ba--”

What Kaden was asking then hit her over the head. He wasn’t talking to Abel. “Oh.” Regan’s hand froze mid-scratch and she sat up. “You mean, for dinner. Of course. I ordered food for two, and I’m not -- I won’t just leave.” But she studied his face. He didn’t just mean for dinner. The wings suddenly felt heavy as they snapped tightly against her back. Her hand reflexively went to her neck, trying to palm the necklace that wasn’t there. She still wasn’t used to feeling the damn things against her at night, they roused her constantly, and she had no doubt that’d be a rude awakening for Kaden, too. Probably in a literal sense. And that was -- well, that was just sleeping. Everything else was certainly off the table. “I, uh... I wouldn’t want to take Abel’s spot on the bed. He looks pretty comfortable.” Regan didn’t want to sit on the bed anymore. She hoisted herself off, gave Kaden’s shoulder a quick squeeze and found her eyes looking to the floor, cluttered with clothes and books. So many of them with French on their covers. “Dinner. Cleaning. Maybe some Forensic Files, because somehow it’s always on. It’s a very reliably programmed television show. I’ll tell you more about the beard hairs, if you want. Then I should probably --” Her stomach felt like an empty hole. Kaden still looked so deflated, and his eyes were puffy, and... “Do you want me to? Stay?”

Kaden wasn't sure what was confusing about his question. She’d come over. It was late. It wasn’t like she hadn’t stayed the night there before. Even though he was sure nothing but sleeping was happening this time, not while he couldn’t fucking walk across a room without feeling like his knees would buckle. Still, apparently this was a complicated question because she sure had a lot of things to say without answering the question at all. Why was this so diff-- The wings snapped closed and that answered that.

As she stood, Kaden struggled to push himself to sit up a little more on the bed and that was enough to make him sure he wasn’t standing again any time soon unless he absolutely had to. Abel flipped over and rested his head in Kaden’s lap, eyes fixed on Regan, like he was wondering why she left the spot he’d allowed her. “I’m pretty sure he was fine with you there.” A small grunt from the dog didn’t exactly back him up. Traitor.

The more she talked, the more Kaden was sure she’d always intended to leave. Putain. Why did that sting a little? He should have guessed this. “I mean…” Yes. “I just thought without the--” No necklace, no time limit. However, 100% more wings. That was the issue, obviously. Did she still think he couldn’t put up with them? Maybe telling her about the ‘hate crime’ had affected her even more than he thought it had. He shook his head. There was no reason not to say what he wanted. “I, uh--” He sighed. Spit it out. “Yeah. Yes. I would. If, you know. Only if you’re…” Sure? Comfortable? He didn’t now. Both, even. “Don’t feel like you have to, though,” he said, offering her a half hearted smile that he’d meant to be a lot more assuring.

Without the -- without the what? Then it clicked. Of course. Part of him, even if he didn’t fully realize it, was viewing the lack of the necklace as a positive. Certainly not that it was broken, but that she didn’t need to wear it around him. It meant staying longer, staying overnight without panic and early alarms. Regan met his tired eyes, listened to his nervous, broken sentences, and slowly, cautiously sat back down on the bed. Abel immediately rolled back onto his back, nose pointed to the ceiling. They were in a relationship. Hell, they loved each other. This shouldn’t be a barrier; it was stupid. But at the same time, they both clearly felt some discomfort over it, right? Her mind was tired, drained; she didn’t want to think about wings or screaming or “death predictions”. Kaden looked even more exhausted for different reasons entirely. The decision coalesced in her brain. She scooted closer to him, giving Abel a polite nudge out of the way, and leaned against him again, stretched out her legs so she was lying down. Everything seemed to loosen up a little. “I’ll stay, but only if I can rearticulate that coyote skeleton that fell to pieces. I think Abel might be tempted to use it as a chew toy.”

Relief washed over Kaden as she sat back down on the bed. He wasn’t delusional enough to think those wings weren’t going to smack him at least one more time in the middle of the night by accident. And he wasn't sure how he felt about it but he was pretty sure he was going to be dead to the world for the night the second he let himself drift to sleep. But more than anything, he just didn’t want to wake up alone. Not after all this. Not to all of this. It was a disaster. All of it. Maybe not them, though. Not yet, at least. Not right now. He smiled as she leaned in and Abel settled in somewhere on top of Kaden’s legs. “I’d expect nothing less. But good luck finding all of the--” He stopped short. That wouldn’t be an issue. They both knew that. Guess there were worse weird supernatural powers to have. They couldn't be finding a missing sock, though? He pushed out a breath, not quite a sigh. “I’d like to watch, though. And make sure Abel doesn’t get any ideas.” As long as he could keep himself upright, that was. Sleep was coming for him fast. The thought of what he might see in his dreams didn’t scare him as much as it did earlier the night. Especially since he could count on the nightmares being interrupted by a set of wings at least once. Strange what had become comforting.

#wickedswriting #writing #chatzy #make you better #regan #kadavernagh #cw parental death #cw grief

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the-goddess-of-mischief-writing · 5 years

Text

Two halves becomes one whole {2}

Description; Many meet trough friends, you and Steve on the other hand met in the most unusual way. So how did you and he meet?

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Chapter 2/9

Word count; 3.950

Warnings; Mention of injury

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing

A/N: So... I'm not dead? It has been so much in school this time I've been gone and I'm sorry I didn't have the time to publish this chapter earlier, but I didn't want it to be un-edited. However, here it is at last.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Steve hadn’t let you out of his sight after your talk, even though you thought he would go, most likely pulling you with him, on his daily run he missed earlier that morning, but he didn’t. He spent time with you, talking about every random thing coming to his or your mind. You truly felt that talking to the blonde man did calm you.

”You serious?” You snorted, not too much ladylike, to something Steve said. The laugh escaping under your breath and the shake of your head made Steve feel that the heated moment from before eased up even more. He knew it wasn’t time for taking up the conversation you earlier had again, perhaps it never really would be, but he replayed it in his mind. The way he saw your facade crack bit by bit the more you told him about the likelihood about you and Bucky, being anything really, was impossible when he came to the compound. He saw your past haunting you almost as much as Bucky's. It made him chew on his lip when the memories came back. How you just moved, what you said had looked so different then.

Left shoulder. Scapula. Not enough to kill him, but if the shot would’ve hit its target, not even his superhuman powers would’ve saved him.

They’d just rounded up the mission, another HYDRA base, as it seemed they only popped up somewhere else as soon they thought they were done. His shield was at his feet and he began crouching down to pick it up, although halted mid-movement. The new tech Stark equipped him with was unusual and foreign, so it would take some time getting used to. Instead of his worked in movements, he now just lifted his hand slightly to retrieve it. He waited for the magnetic force in his suit’s gauntlet to make the shield come back into its place, though it never had a chance to appear. It hit him like a slap to the side, although the immense pain suggested it was more than that. He didn’t know for sure if it was a critical hit, his mind blanking out a bit as he lifted his hand to the wound. The time slowed down as he felt the hole in his suit and the fluid coming from it.

”Rogers, what are you doing, your heart-rate raised point seconds ago?” Tony’s voice came through the com, Steve concluding he must be in the jet already to notice his charts. ”Hit”, his voice came out low, not by choice but it felt like something held him back from speaking louder. His eyes searched the area, the clipped forest the signals from the Hydra base lead them to. He didn’t understand, they’d cleared the area, no more of their agents should be left.

He was zoned out enough to not hear the words of his teammates trough the com, although the mull of their voices still reached him. Suddenly he caught something, something shimmering a distance away. He fixed his concentration on it and if he hadn’t lost enough blood for it to be deadly, he swore he saw something move, rather someone. It only looked like a shadow at first, then he saw it morphing -almost questioning his sanity- until he saw the person standing up. He recognised the form as a woman and the thing she skilfully slung over her shoulder he only identified cause he’d seen Bucky make the same move in the ’40s. It was a rifle.

”Steve, answer your damn com, could you?” Instead of hearing it in his ear, he heard it from behind him. Nat’s voice made him turn his head, his body following it. Her eyes widen seeing his hand, tightly pressed against his wound, something which couldn’t have been created more than a minute ago, or else he wouldn’t be as steady as he was on his feet. The shock on her face disappeared when she jumped to action.

”Steve’s hit, shoulder, injury severe by the looks of… everything, affects going to show sooner rather than later, he needs med guys”, she said while pressing even harder on his shoulder and the pressure made him grunt, as the stabbing pain made him wobble. He blinked, trying to get the dizziness out of his head enough to clearly see when throwing a look over this shoulder once more. ”Nat”, he gripped her fussing hands, stilling them enough for her to look up at her. ”Sniper”, the words trailed away when he, trough the corner of his eyes, saw Nat looking the same way he did.

The women were still there, not far away from where she stood up at first, looking over her shoulder. Her hair waved slightly in the silent wind before she made a gesture to them, which made Steve grit his teeth. She saluted him. ”Tony, it was a sniper. Affiliation…”, Nat glanced up at Steve, who only shook his head. ”Unclear. If you’re able, search the area, she can’t humanly possibly have come far” ”Tony is already in the movement and I’ve already contacted Cho, the only thing which should make it impossible for us to take him to her is if you don’t get him into this jet”, Bruce voice sounded over the com.

It was a struggle, but Nat had been able to, with the help of Clint meeting her up halfway, take Steve to the jet. The ride home to the tower was nerve-wracking but not a second too short as Dr Cho met them as soon as the jet landed in the hangar. She couldn’t say for sure, but when Steve had trouble lying down on the stretcher, grunting and flinching away, which just created more pain, she suggested a broken bone in the shoulder.

The x-ray went fast and with a quick look, Dr Cho could say with certainty that the shot had gone through the scapula, a critical hit for anyone really, although for the circumstances the breakage had been clean. No splitter with the bullet, neither had bone been wrongly fixated, so the only operation necessary would be retrieving the bullet and fixate the broken bone for it to heal correctly. After the surgery and Steve’s awakening, he was informed he would be ok. The tissue would heal quickly, although the bone would take some time. He would be out of the game and even if he was a super soldier, rehabilitation would be necessary to build up the muscles and other soft tissue.

They found her. Maybe a month or so after the incident, but they found her. Steve didn’t believe they did at first, seeing as a ghost never reappear.

”Hey Rogers, I think I found your shooter”, he remembered Tony informing and Steve have possibly never reacted as quickly as he did. Flying up from his bed, feeling the discomforting pain shooting trough the still not fully healed shoulder. He’d come into Tony’s lab, which served as his office more than the actual one, a big picture of the women on display. Both Tony and Bruce watched it, live footage which had been stopped in action.

”That’s her”, he couldn’t say he recognised her eyes, as he hadn’t seen it from the distance, neither her hair colour as it seemed to have been in an up-do then. ”Are you sure, don’t wanna get the wrong person. Shooting Captain America ain’t a light crime”, Tony cocked an eyebrow his way, but Steve only nodded. Her movement reminded of the shooters, even if those he’d seen had been few. Something with her seemed to fit the picture and though Tony hadn’t been able to get any footage that time, he didn’t need the comparison. ”Well then we take her in, probably without as much fuss as possible”

The moment you heard a knock on your door and lowered voices outside, you immediately knew what would greet you when you opened. With a smile, you met a small part of the Avengers who stood outside your apartment door, the rest most likely station at other places for back up.

"You are suspected of shooting a member in our team", it was Tony Stark who spoke and you couldn't but shrug at was he said. "Sure", no denying, neither confessing, something you had learned to do. After that, you followed with them without any hustle, knowing it damn well would worsen a situation that already was under control.

Steve hadn’t been with the ones who took you in, Nat had. She gave him the information about how it went. So the only thing the man found reasonable, even though his injury, was meeting you. He didn’t think he would be able to do it, because Nat almost had pushed him down in bed when he said where he was going, but in the end, he walked down the corridor, the redhead trailing behind him. Even though he didn’t need to limp, the subdued pain emitting from the wound made him do it. He didn’t know if this was a bad idea or not, because you had tried to kill him, although still you hadn’t shown any hostility since you'd come.

Steve stopped outside the interrogation room you quite repeatedly left and came back to, he heard. Looking through the window, he saw you sitting there, a smile on your face as Clint sat opposite you. Your eyes gleamed in the light, while you laughed at something the man said.

Why did you laugh? The question surfaced in Steve’s mind when he saw you, sitting in cuffs, smiling as if you sat opposite a friend. As he pushed the door open all the eyes turned to him, the conversation dying with his entrance. Your gaze flickered over him, staying a bit longer on his shoulder. In the end, they settled to meet his gaze, your face much more stoic then before.

”How are you doing?” Your question made him frown, sceptical to your casualty. ”Could be better”, his voice was bitter. ”Better could be dead”, the smart comment made him cock a brow towards you, yet he felt like if you weren't a foe, both Clint and Nat would’ve laughed. ”Better could also be not shot”, he answered and you only shrugged. ”Yeah, sorry ’bout that”, you apologised. Steve didn’t answer, he felt that most people would’ve mumbled out the apology but you hadn't. You said it while holding his gaze, something which could be seen as a real apology, although he felt like you just said it because you hadn’t anything to fear. ”Can I talk to her?” He asked Clint, who only glanced at Nat behind him before standing up. ”Steve, can I have a word with you before that?” Nat’s voice made him take a step back instead of forward towards the chair. ”You can’t talk alone with her. She’s the most hospitable person we’ve ever have the pleasure to take in, but we cant trust her just because of that…”, she pointed out in a hushed voiced, enough for only him to hear. He looked over his shoulder, not finding you looking at him expectantly, instead having an easy conversation with Clint. ”She could snap, I know that very well. You can stay if you want, I’ll be fine with either-or”, he said, only wanting to talk with you, not in the moment caring if all of Shields agents stood behind him.

A curt nod from Nat made him turn and take the seat in the chair. Clint nodded goodbye before beginning to walk out of the room, stopping when passing Nat and exchanging a few words. He didn’t concentrate on them, only hearing Nat would be staying, nothing new.

He sat there, looking at you, his shooter. There wasn’t anything special about you, nothing that at least would make him stop and think killer. You were one of those one could see passing by on the busy streets of New York, fitting perfectly in because no one really didn’t in the big city.

”Why?” ”Need to elaborate Captain”, you answered with a sweet smile. ”How many questions could I probably want to ask you personally?” He knew he sounded more bitter than he intended to, but it seemed you didn’t care about it. ”Oh, more than you probably think you could. Why did I shoot you the way I did? Why did I execute it on one of your missions? Why did I even shoot you?” You sported a sugar-sweet smile, one he actually didn’t think was fake, though you said such heavy things. He didn’t see you flinch, nor did your tone even waver when rhetorically asking any of the questions. ”You hit your head on the last one, why did you shoot me?” ”Because somebody wanted you to be shot” he narrowed his brows, no waver again. You weren't here to play, he noticed that. If he would ask, you probably would tell. ”You're an assassin”, your attention swayed from Steve to Nat when she said this. Browse furrowing much like his own. ”No”, you weren't an assassin, if you so had been you would give everything away to easy. He looked at Nat, her eyes swaying from you to meet his, the same question he had reflecting in her eyes. What were you? ”Your good with guns”, Steve caught himself saying it, too late to take back. ”Observant for only seeing me such a short bit”, you replied, pointing out he’d only seen you for what couldn’t be longer than seconds when he was shoot. ”Had a friend, capabilities similar to yours”, he thought of Bucky, though he didn’t believe his childhood friend had been this good with weapons, even if he wanted to think so. That concluded you were no ordinary war soldier and as you neither were an assassin, only one thing came to mind.

"Interesting friends you have Captain”, you hummed, even though you didn't expose yourself, he knew you compared Bucky to yourself. ”So how much?” This caught you a bit of guard. He saw the shock on you face before you answered, not verbally but with the motion to further explain, mentioning for him to once more elaborate. ”Don’t play dull, you know what I’m talking about. The number, how big was the number?” Steve felt his patience thin, not that he had a reason to feel like it as you, as Nat said, was the most non-hostile person they’ve ever taken in. ”Isn’t it selfish to ask for that?” You smirked when you saw that he would continue. ”No, not if I maybe want to turn myself in if the price is high enough”, his comeback made you chuckle. ”Are you sure the price ain’t gonna give you a heart attack?” You questioned him, as if you were worried about him after putting a bullet in his shoulder. Steve smiled while touching his injured shoulder. ”Didn’t die out of this, so I’m feeling the most alive ever after”, he joked, not knowing where it came from. You nodded as she lifted you finger. Steve saw Nat flinching at the side and he made a sign under the table for her to stay back. With your pointer, you drew a single number in the middle of the table.

”One? One what?” Steve asked, his curiosity almost licking the table where your finger had drawn the mark. You leaned back, crossing your arms while watching Steve as the answer was as clear as day. ”It’s a nine-digit number”, your voice almost echoed around him and if he wasn’t the slowest on math, he would’ve said the number Nat did. ”One hundred million dollars”, she almost sounded astonished as she said the number out loud. ”Yup”, you popped the p before continuing. ”Pretty number for America’s golden boy”, the smile, almost giddy on your lips, made him conclude that he was more than right. ”You’re a hitman”, he voiced his thought and he heard Nat huffing out her displeasure. He saw how you snapped to look at her. ”You serious”, you snorted. ”At least I get money for my job, instead of just a pat on the head”, Nat squinted her eyes, while Steve was in shock to say anything at the remark. He was grateful for when the door swung open, although none less surprised. Fury walked in, a few agents staying behind outside the room.

”Did you need to get into trouble?” He didn’t direct it at Steve, instead of at you. ”You knew you couldn’t keep me a secret forever”, you answered easily, but Steve saw how a minimal part of your jaw clenched, the smile much more forced than before. It wasn’t Fury who’d sent you, but he knew about the profession or else you wouldn’t incline to him with ”keeping you a secret”. ”Captain Rogers, Agent Romanoff, I suppose this interaction is necessary to clear her name, even though you are more than rightfully to be suspicious”, Fury said before taking a glance over his shoulder. ”It would be for the best Director”, Nat’s forced answer came and Steve saw the gears turning in her head. She noticed him looking, with the glance she gave him, they’d agreed on one thing. Something wasn’t right and they would keep it shut until, if ever, they needed to say something.

”Is the equipment off?” Fury’s voice brought back Nat’s eyes to him. ”Not for the moment, seeing as it was needed before. I’ll be back in a minute” ”Romanoff, you can stay and watch that nobody enters. I’m certain Captain Rogers can further tell the information later”, he said before Nat even was able to leave her spot. She cast a glance at Steve, not worried but wondering, before exiting with a curt nod. ”So Captain…”, Fury began once again ”This is one of Shield secret weapons, close to none know she exists inside the organisation. Meet Y/N Y/L/N, S.H.I.E.L.D’s very own hitman” ”Pleasure to finally meet”, the women said and then it went up to Steve why you knew Fury and possibly other people as well. You played a double game.

You didn’t know how far you would’ve been able to walk by the amount of pacing you’d done back and forth in your room. Probably a mile. You were equally surprised that you hadn’t gone down a floor yet.

”If you wanted an invitation to my room, you could just come down and knock, instead of coming through the roof”, you knew the voice, had heard it shout at you countless times in the gym, laughed with you till you cried, but at the moment it didn’t register fast enough. Faster was your movements, your learned habit, your instinct. Your hand had gripped the cold metal under the pillow on your bed before you could stop yourself.

Nat raised one of her eyebrows, which you only noticed by halting your movements and looking over your shoulder. It wasn’t the only shock in the room, yours was probably higher than hers. Although the action, you didn’t try playing it off, instead you just sighed and laid your hand on top of your pillow.

”If that’s how you’re going to meet Barnes, then I suggest you rethink it”, you slumped down on the bed, hands almost irritably rubbing your face. ”I know… I know”, you muttered as you kept looking at the pillow, almost sensing the cold metalled weapon laying underneath. ”How are you doing?” You heard Nat’s footsteps slowly coming closer. ”Honestly?” Even though it was a question, you knew the answer before she nodded. ”Not good, Steve reminded me a few days ago that Bucky would come here and begin getting settled. So I’ve been cooped up in here ever since”, you responded. You remembered the first time Steve mentioned the preparations for Bucky’s arrival. You hadn’t understood it then, but when Steve went out with the information that most of the team would be staying in the tower and missions would only be assigned if it was necessary, it was clear afterwards. You also remembered the second time, four days ago. Steve had caught you in the hall heading down to train when he reminded you, he’s going to arrive tonight. You couldn’t remember much from that training session, besides that you came from it with a split knuckle. It had been a month, maybe even two, since Steve and you went to the cafe and he told you everything. One, maybe two months since the stress of Bucky’s arrival made you go into meltdown and Steve comforted you. You felt that another wasn’t far away, but you knew Steve wouldn’t be close this time.

”I noticed”, she stopped before continuing, and the short while you glanced at her. She almost looked troubled by the faraway look in her eyes. ”I’ve seen Barnes here and there, but Steve said he would wait with the interactions a bit.” ”Understandable”, he had talked with you about it. How he should proceed with Bucky coming here and you’d advised him to take it easy. Make Bucky choose when he would go somewhere. Show him the places he will feel secure in first, the rest later. Secure places were important if he would start feeling safe. ”You know you ease Steve’s mind a lot helping him out with how he should think”, now you turned to the redhead sitting beside you. She had a gentle expression, although her red hair framing her face made it look a bit more intense. ”It’s only my pleasure”, you shrugged before continuing. ”It would feel useless if I took my degree without even using it”, she almost snorted out a laugh when you said this. ”You remember that you worked as a psychotherapist, right? Because I do. So you shouldn’t feel your exam is useless. Although what you can feel a bit futile about is not helping Barnes with anything”, a chuckle escaped you, the closest you’d been to a laugh the past days. ”Thanks, Nat, made me feel good then turning it around against me, really nice”, she only smirked, while standing up. ”You know you should help him, your the only one in the actual team having the right knowledge about how to”, you stood up after what she said it, your thoughts immediately going back to the conversation you had with Steve those months ago. You couldn’t do it. ”You know I can’t, I’ll just ruin it”, she cocked an eyebrow towards you all the while she crossed her arms. ”Why are you helping Steve when he asks?” ”Because he needs help”, you didn’t hesitate on helping Steve, he was one of your closest friends, almost bordering to family for you. ”And Bucky doesn’t?” You were shocked, your mouth opening and closing without so much as a sound coming from it. In the end, you let your head fall, shaking it, in disappointment or ignorance, you couldn’t tell the difference. ”I thought so”, was Nat’s final words before opening the door and exiting.

Series taglist: @buckysforeverprincess

Forever taglist: @krystallynx @haven-in-writing @flowerchild121 @thejamesoldier

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