#and not because he cares for her and it hurts him to see her corpse

[dullahandyke]

Thinking abt metis cykes again. I love her so so dearly shes just like me. I am deeply disinterested in any au where she does not die and I think her image should have been used to torment her loved ones more than it was. I dont think she should have a face

[wintergrofyuri]

"(blank) hates laios!" WRONG WRONG WRONG. SHUT THE FUCK UP

shuro is just as awkward as laios and it is made So clear he considers him a friend and likes him. he defends him when the canaries start talking shit and actively readies himself to physically fight them so they dont get to him.

namari also likes laios. she respects him as a leader and also defends him and readies to fight the canaries.

ive not actually seen anyone claim izutsumi hates laios, but a lot of ppl Are weird abt them. izutsumi and laios' relationship was rocky at the beginning. he struggled to figure out how to interact with her. but by the end, she actively seeks him out to talk with during the lead up to the feast. she hides behind him when falin wakes up. she has already realized shecan do what she wants and does not need to stick around, yet she does. she sleeps near him on the windowsill, waiting with him and marcille for falin to wake up. she has accepted him as part of her life and wants to keep him in it.

marcille does not hate laios. let me say this again.

Marcille Donato Does Not Hate Laios Touden.

marcille Loves him. in a platonic, familial sense. laios returns this just as readily. she yells at him. she whacks him. she tells him whats on her mind. she uses healing magic to ease his pain during the parasite fiasco. she reattaches his leg when he loses it. she teaches him magic. she lays her head on his corpse and cries before reviving him. she launches herself at him two times, when the canaries interrogate them and when he talks her down in the tower. he is a comforting presence to her. she trusts him, she cares about him, she worries about him, she imagines him as a big fluffy dog that loves and protects her. laios is her rock when falin is taken from them time and time again. and she tries to be his as well. she whole-heartedly, unconditionally, loves and trusts laios.

chilchuck does not hate laios. laios pays him his rates, no questions asked. laios trusts and respects chilchuck's job as a lockpick. laios does not see him as a child (at least, i cant think of an instance where he does so). chilchuck states, outright, he sees him as a friend and doesnt want to see him hurt. he actively worries about him as the falin situation gets worse. chilchuck respects laios. he shows almost 0 hesitation in helping get falin back, nor eating her by the end. he does not think of leaving him once, until he realizes he could lose him. chilchuck is cowardly with emotions and prefers to bottle things, so his first instinct was to bolt. he was angry because he was scared of watching someone he cares about destroy himself. laios is his Friend.

and holy shit. holy Fucking shit. kabru DOES NOT hate laios. kabru has the rockiest start known to man with him, and he Still helps him by occupying the canaries. he warns him about them. he hides the black magic from them just as shuro does. his whole Thing is trusting laios despite himself. kabru has his own baggage regarding other people, just like laios, yet he tries so hard to believe and trust this man. he Wants to. kabru is not very hopeful, but laios makes him Want to be. he states like 3 times he wants to be close to him and sees him as a friend. he stays through the entire feast!! the man who hates monsters, whose biggest trigger is monsters, actively, consciously, Willingly stayed through the entire monster meat feast. all to help his friend get his sister back. he could've left!! the feast was like an entire week!! yet he was there for every single day. he was one of the closest people to the door when falin awoke!! after reuniting with her brother, her friends, the people who knew her the most (plus senshi and izutsumi), the first person she greets is kabru!! he wants to be close to laios, he likes laios, laios is his friend and he cares for him, he wants to meet his sister!!! kabru fucking stays on the island with him as one of his closest, most trusted advisors when he becomes king!!!!! he wants to help him succeed!!!! he wants him to be happy!!!! laios is his friend!!!!!!!!

im just. people like laios!! laios is a nice guy! he is friendly and cares about people! he is weird, he doesn't understand most social cues, he oversteps boundaries, but they stay beside him, because they like him and he is their friend. he is their friend!!!!! friendship is not all sunshine and rainbows, relationships in general are not sunshine and rainbows. you will upset people, people will upset you, you will get into arguments, things will happen, but at the end of the day, the people close to you like you! they love you! they care for you! they want to work it out and get through it because they love you, but they will feel those emotions first! human relationships are complex and messy and life is complicated. even shows for toddlers know this.

if you truly believe any of these characters hate laios you are worse than a toddler. watch some fucking oobi or something. god. fuck.

take this

thanks

[gay-dorito-dust]

May I request BootHill and Argenti with a crush who’s reckless and accidentally confessed due to a particularly bad injury?

Crush doesn’t care for getting injured at all and always brushes off their concerns when they get injured but one day they just get rlly badly hurt and when they try to do the usual

“I’m okay”

It just kinda snaps in the boys?

(Sorry if this is too much)

Boothill

‘You fudging idiot!’ Boothill screamed when he saw the massive gash on your side. ‘You’ve gone and gotten yourself hurt again!’

‘I’m okay.’ You said as casually as you could while trying not to wince as Boothill began to put pressure on your wound to prevent it from bleeding out further. The gash fucking killed but you weren’t about to let him know how much it hurt, you refused to as you’ve dealt with far worse.

You haven’t, actually, that was a fucking lie to begin with.

‘I’m okay’ they say.’ Boothill scoffs, ‘yeah right, you’ve only gone and done it now! For fork’s sake would it kill you to actually act like you want to fudging live for once?!’

He knew you were a reckless spirit for the moment you first met, you were someone who didn’t care how many scars would litter your skin, only caring about finishing the mission no matter how debilitating the pain was. At first he didn’t care to know your name nor your reasoning as to why you act the way you did, but when he started to feel something for you, that’s when he began to worry himself sick over you.

Boothill genuinely wondered whether or not you cared that you lived after each and every suicide mission, you couldn’t be mended or rebuilt like he could, you weren’t invincible as you’d like to this you were and Boothill could only hope that today served as a reminder of that.

Boothill didn’t want to lose you, he couldn’t bare it as he’s already lost his friends, family and his darling Arabella who’s smile so wide you could see the her gap tooth on full display. Arabella was just learning to walk when she was taken from him along with everyone else who meant everything to him; Revenge was his only motive and loosing you would only make him surrender to it a hell of lot faster.

‘If all you’re going to do is shout about how stupid I am then you can fuck off and leave me here to die since I’m such a idiot in your eyes, mr spaghetti western.’ You barked, hating Boothill’s unnecessary comments and hating the worried look within his eyes even more, it made you feel useless and pathetic.

Boothill looked at you as though you’ve grown a second head, lost on how that was the conclusion you came to, you must be delirious from the blood loss. ‘Fork me do I have to spell it out for you- I like you fudging dummy!’ He exclaimed. ‘I’m mad not because I hate you but because you’re hurt and I’m scared of loosing you darling!’ He chuckled humourlessly as he presses his forehead against yours, the one time where he was glad that his face was the last places where he could feel your warmth seep into him. ‘Your recklessness has me on the edge of insanity more than once sweetheart. I mean do you know just how much it hurt to see you like this? I might as well have gone on a tirade and hunt down every son of a nice lady who played a part in your scars.’

You remained in stunned silence.

This confession wasn’t something you were expecting from someone like Boothill, it made you wonder whether you were imaging this for yourself, and the reality was that he wasn’t actually here with you and you were indeed dying alone with no one to provide you company other then dead corpses waiting for you to join them. So in hopes of proving yourself wrong, you lifted a hand to his cheek, watched as he melted against it, his warmth seeping into your skin.

He was here.

Boothill was here and this was real, all this was real.

‘I like you too your silly cowboy.’ You whispered before pressing a tender kiss to his plush lips. A battlefield wasn’t a great place for a confession nor for love to blossom but if that was the case then why did it feel so right for the both of you in that moment.

Later you were taken to medical and Boothill, your official partner, went back to talking your ear off about how reckless you were, but would press kisses to your forehead and hands to let you know that he’ll take care of you from now on.

Argenti hated it whenever you came back from missions injured and your carelessness towards the scrapes and bruises that littered your body didn’t exactly help either.

‘I’m fine.’ You said after spraining an ankle.

‘I’ll live.’ You waved him off dismissively after hurting your side during a mission.

It seemed as though you never held yourself in the same regard as he did, and Argenti couldn’t help but feel his heart break the more and more he witness you disregard other people’s concern, acting though you had a paper cut rather then a wound that wound take you out of action for a good couple of weeks.

So when he found you with your back pressed up against a wall and a deep gash on your leg that made it hard for you to stand never less walk.

‘My beloved rose!’ He cried as he rushed to your side, setting aside his weapon as he inspected the wound.

‘I’m okay, it’s only a small gash.’ You told him but Argenti wasn’t about to hear it, not this time. He wasn’t going to allow you the chance to dismiss him when you were severely injured. So when he levelled you with a stare, you began to wish you could take back your words as seeing such a stern expression on a man as beautiful as Argenti was actually downright terrifying. ‘This is vastly different than a small gash, this is a serious injury that could alter your life’s trajectory for good if we treat it with such disregard as you have done with previous injuries.’ He told you with a seriousness that had you listen to him.

‘And why do you care?’ You asked.

‘I’ve always cared.’ Argenti replied straightforward, ‘every injury I’ve cared. I worried for your health, your well-being, both physical and mental, but you don’t seem to do the same and that pains me because you are so-‘

‘-reckless?’ You cut in, having heard the same thing from pretty much everyone and believing Argenti would be no different from them.

‘-beautiful.’ Argenti said and your breath caught in your throat. ‘You are so beautiful to me, my rose. I have found myself grown quite fond of you in a short amount of time that any pain caused to you might as well be my own.’ He finished as he saw the conflicting emotions within your eyes and prays that you could find the truth within his words.

‘Why?’ You asked. ‘What would a knight of beauty want with a reckless idiot like me?’

Argenti smiled softly. ‘You may be reckless but you are far from an idiot my dear, I like you a lot and I merely say this in fear of a future where I may never get the chance to do so for multiple reasons. Whether or not you accept is solely up to you.’ Argenti felt as though he had finally gotten a heavy weight off of his chest, but felt a pinch of anxiety when you didn’t respond after a period of time, and began to wonder whether this was a smart move on his behalf.

‘I always dreamed of having a knight in shining armour.’ You admitted, raising a hand to cup the back of his head. ‘But I didn’t think that dream would come true until you came along and I knew in that moment I would give you my heart and so much more.’ Argenti breathes a sigh of relief as he rests his forehead against your own, nuzzling your noses together briefly. ‘I’d be more than honoured of being your knight, if you’ll let me.’

You chuckled as you looked at him fondly. ‘I’d be more than happy to my cherry haired beauty.’ You replied as Argenti was quick to scoop you in his arms and carried you to the medics, who told you that you’d be out of action for quite a while and Argenti was more then happy to be your caregiver during that time, you couldn’t be more happier at the opportunity of being with your knight in shining armour.

[lgbtlunaverse]

Fandom is so nice to Jiang Cheng's inferiority complex because in reality every single thing he gets accused of is something Wei Wuxian is better at than him.

Jiang Cheng killed Wei Wuxian? Nope. Didn't even get close. Wei Wuxian's own spirits tore him apart before jc could even get there. wwx:1 jc:0

Jiang Cheng tortures people? We get two and a half rumours and a mention from jin ling that jc has 'captured' demonic cultivators before, but who is also apparently confident that just letting wwx run off will kill the issue even though those earlier rumours said ~no one who sandu shengshou captured was ever seen again~

The word jiang cheng uses when he tries to talk big game about 'beating the truth' out of Wei Wuxian's is a word that carries the context of pestering someone to do their homework. Doesn't exactly strike fear into my heart.

Wei Wuxian? Excellent at torture. A prodigy. Did you fucking see what he did to Wen Chao? Dude didn't have fingers anymore because wei wuxian made him eat them. He ripped out his hair, burned his skin off, and then stalked him for several days just to prolong the pain. He forced Wang Lingjiao to bite Wen Chao's dick off and then made her shove a stool leg down her own throat! 10/10, no notes. Absolutely horrifying.

Meanwhile Jiang Cheng's idea of torture is getting a dog to bark at Wei Wuxian for a few seconds. Weak, unoriginal, I bet fairy was literally wagging her tail the whole time. 2-0

Jiang Cheng made the entire cultivation world believe Wei Wuxian was up to no good on the burial mounds and ultimately orchestrated his downfall? lol. lmao, even

It's a big thing in certain corners of the fandom to really zoom in one one particular phrase at the end of chapter 73, where after wwx and jc have their staged duel to make the world believe they hate each other jiang cheng tells everyone wwx has defected and become "a public enemy'' or "an enemy to the cultivation world" or whatever the translation you're familiar with decided upon.

(As an aside, something I really like about this line is that the last half of it is almost exactly the same, like verbatim, as what wwx told him to say. like, the chapter is really hammering home just how much jc is speaking from a script here. wwx tells jc to say "今后魏无羡无论做出什么事，都与云梦江氏无关." and jc says "今后无论此人有何动作，一概与云梦江氏无关" the only meaningful difference is that he says 'this person' instead of wwx's name)

I've seen it said that this bit, the use of 'enemy' was said without wei wuxian's approval, that jc deviated from the script just to hurt his ex-shixiong for leaving him. And that this is what caused all the other clans to turn against wei wuxian. Regardless of if this is what jc and wwx discussed, or if jc had malicious motivations for it (considering my conclusions above, you can guess where i fall) it doesn't really matter, because the novel tells us when the clans completely freak out and become convinced wei wuxian is out to get them (though of course they've been wringing their hands about it since the literal day wwx ran off with the wen, months before jiang cheng visited) very neatly in chapter 75!

It's when they find out about Wen Ning.

And how do they find out about Wen Ning?

Because Wei Wuxian took him on nighthunts! And they kicked ass!

...Wei Wuxian, my man, why are you on nighthunts??? Why are you showing off your incredibly cool sentient fierce corpse buddy, who is way better and stronger than all the other fierce corpses, in front of the whole cultivation world??

Whatever his motivations (extra money, maybe?? they were strapped for crash) I can only draw the conclusion wwx had already given up on appearing calm or non-threatening and didn't care if the clans thought he was a threat, because they'd believe whatever they wanted anyway. Which he seems to clearly be aware of the whole time.

Regardless, we know that this is what created the myth of the Yiling patriarch. It's literally when the title first shows up!

Even if you really believe jc was secretly plotting against wwx in chapter 73, he's clearly doing a shit job of it because nothing he said made anywhere near as big an impact as this. Flopped!

The other point people use to argue Jiang Cheng caused wei wuxian's downfall is Jin Guangyao's speech in Guanyin temple about how jiang cheng could have saved wei wuxian if only he stood by him. Setting aside that jin guangyao is trying to get into jiang cheng's head here, and isn't necessarily saying what he really believes (though it very well might be! who knows with a character like jgy. assuming he's always lying is just as misleading as assuming he's always saying the truth) the fact is, if you read the speech closely, what he's talking about is not the 'public enemy' line, he's talking about the bond between them. The fact that people wanted wei wuxian out of yunmeng jiang, because the two were too powerful together.

He's talking about that one time Jiang Cheng very publically kicked wei wuxian out of the sect!

Which, unbeknownst to Jin Guangyao, was in fact Wei Wuxian's idea the whole time.

final score: 3 for you wei wuxian, you go wei wuxian! And nothing for Jiang Cheng bye.

[feyascorner]

okay first of all i ADORE ur writing… wanna take a bite out of it..

anyway… uh… can i uhh… order a uhh…. astarion x tav.. and like..tav has a fucking insane pain tolerance and always has.. and like… uhh… one time she gets fucking TOTALED in a fight and like obvi it would hurt… and shes like crying subconsciously.. and when some1 points it out shes like “what???? why am i crying wtf???” and like looks down and is just fucking BLEEDING… n then.. astarion comfort…

only if u want thoo!!!!

a/n. Im like the exact opposite I'm very dramatic about the slightest pain but this is such a cute request so Ty!! ALSO PLS EXCUSE IF THIS IS A LITTLE CLUNKY I HAD TO TYPE THIS OUT W MY FINGERS🫠🫠

Astarion is grateful for your tolerance to pain.

Of course, he doesn't particularly enjoy watching you in pain, but he’s no fool. He knows the sting and the soreness that comes after he drinks from your neck. Well, at least, it should sting. However, it never seemed to bother you, and for that, he's forever grateful for it.

These strange sentiments expand past his thirst for blood, as the relief he feels when you’re battered up after a battle and you smile at him as if nothing’s wrong is incomparable to any other feeling he’s felt.

That relief does not come currently, however.

The battle was nearly hopeless. Overwhelmed in number, mages casting counterspell, fighters constantly aiming at you…he’s lost track of it all. By some miracle you and your companions stand victorious, and when he sees that you offer Karlach a lopsided smile, confirming that you're fine, he reaches to pick up one of his daggers.

“Tav—what in the hells, are you okay?”

It’s then that he spots the way your lip quivers and tears glisten threateningly at your eyes. And when you meet his own, they begin to drip down your cheeks like crystals and roll off your chin. He's seen you in tears before, but out of something more positive—not from pain. Before he can even tell what he's doing, he's rushing toward you.

“Why are you—” he sees the blood seeping from your stomach, and his face would've gone pale if he could.

You finally lift your hands to your face, eyes wide when your fingertips brush against the dampness of your cheeks. “Oh. Why am I?…”

Shadowheart scrambles to scrimmage around her bag. “Here, let me—gods, where did I—did we use all the healing potions?—”

“Oh for hells sake. Because you're bleeding!” Astarion hisses, his hand intertwining with yours as he drags you toward the nearest tree where he sits you down. He freezes when you flinch but you shake your head, wiping at your eyes. Your other companions are still searching the enemy corpses for anything that might relieve you of the pain, but they're taking far too long for his liking.

“I’m okay, it doesn't really hurt that much.”

“You’re crying.”

“I didn't even know I was-” you wince.

His eyes narrow. “Lay down.”

“What? No, I’m really fine!”

“Gods, love, please for once, listen to me. It’s quite straining to watch you clamber around with that ghastly wound on your stomach.”

You frown, but he guides you down anyway, careful to lay down your head against the grass. “Now wait patiently. Maybe if we’re lucky, our dear friends will find a potion before I start developing wrinkles.”

A momentary silence hangs in the air. It’s by no means uncomfortable, but there are words on the tip of his tongue he wishes to say. And when he notices you staring, he sighs.

“If you're hurt, tell us. I don't care how high your pain tolerance is—if you're hurt, call us. Call me. Don't be a fool and bleed out over a few enemies when we’ve been through so much worse.”

The sincerity in his voice is almost embarrassing. But with the way you're watching him so seriously, he can't bring himself to dwell on such irrelevant factors.

Then, you smile again, as if you've forgotten about the pain. “How minor can the pain be for me to call you?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“Can I call you when I stub a toe?”

“Absolutely not.”

“I will.”

He stares at you with lidded eyes and you laugh. He feels the weight on his shoulders get a bit lighter.

“You may call for me whenever you wish.”

[thesilmarillionblog]

𓏲 𓂃 L o s i n g Y o u

Part: 7

Click here to read the first part.

Summary: Everything was good as a member of Payback and Soldier Boy's secret girlfriend until the team and your relationship with him began to fall apart due to a new member and her developing relationship with Ben right in front of your eyes.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Reader

Warnings: heavy angst, hurt, language, PTSD, soft Soldier Boy, Soldier Boy gets hurt, anxious reader, mention of torture

Word Count: 3373

A/N: English is not my first language.

* This story is inspired by the song "Losing You" by Dream Evil.

Your senses began to awaken when a hand removed the mask covering your face. Your body felt numb and lightheaded, making it difficult for you to see anything, even if you were able to free your hands from the tight handcuffs. Your legs felt like jelly, and it felt like all of your strength had been stolen away. From a distance, you heard someone calling your name, but you had no idea who it was. Everything was terribly cloudy, complex, and hazy.

The voice attempting to communicate with you was most likely that of another evil scientist who had come to torture you and grab more samples from you. You thought, Oh, my god. How did things turn out for you? How much time have you spent here? Months, weeks, or a year? You struggled to remember every memory; your head hurt so much that you grimaced.

Ben snarled at Butcher, “Give me your fucking coat,” trying to quickly cover your body with his own as he saw you were only wearing a very short, thin, filthy dress that smelt terrible.

Ben said, “You still look beautiful, you know, but you definitely need a good and long shower, baby,” as he saw you straining to completely awaken. He kept observing your facial expressions, fascinated and concerned at the same time, since you appeared so innocent and confused in the metal box. You may have gotten the same upgrades as him, given his newfound abilities, and if he wasn't careful with you, you could do a lot of damage. If it were the same for you, though, he could manage the energy in your chest with ease.

You smelled blood everywhere and felt panicked the moment the smoke burned your eyes and made it difficult for you to see properly. Your body shook from anxiety and terror. All around you, you heard faint whimpers and shallow breathing that sounded like they were ready to pass away. The smell of death and pain filled that place. You knew you had to leave this torture house as soon as you could, while you were still able to. You used all of your strength to push the body in front of you against the wall and across the room harshly while that stranger forced you to put on a coat.

Ben groaned, “Oh, fuck, sweetheart,” as he realized he was through the wall. With a raised eyebrow, he grinned to himself. It wouldn't be that simple, he realized. After all, you were his equal. 

Butcher realized that this wouldn't go away as he had hoped and that he perhaps could have made a small mistake, and he took a step back in terror. He didn't dare get involved because he wasn't on Temp-V. 

You coughed in between clouds of smoke, and the heavy blood all over the area made your face drop. Indeed, you were once more in danger, and those creatures undoubtedly had new plans for you. You halted briefly as hot blood beneath your boots stopped you from continuing your frantic search for the exit. There were corpses all throughout the place, and they undoubtedly belonged to those people who had tormented you and forced you to sleep for who knows how long. 

“At this point, what will you do? Will she explode similarly to you or worse?” Ben stood up from the location he was thrown into, as Butcher asked.

Ben shook his head, scrubbing away the dusk and stones from his hair and clothes. “Stop whining like a bitch,” he shouted loudly. “I can handle this. She's just confused.”

You started to move out the door, but powerful hands quickly grabbed your waist and held your arms, restricting your movements just like the day you were tricked. You cried out, “Let me go,” as your heart raced in anticipation of being confinted or, worse, subjected to more agony.

You tried everything to pull yourself out of the desperate situation, feeling terrified and perplexed, but his grasp held you tightly, and it was strangely stronger than yours. 

A voice called out to your ear from behind you, “Calm down.” Once you found out, you knew it belonged to the man who once acted like he cared about you, then tossed you aside and tricked you with his new lover. That was when you truly realized what was going on. If your supe hearing sense wasn't playing tricks on you, it belonged to Ben.

“I want to get you out of here, sweetheart. I know how you are feeling, but stop resisting. Trust me.”

Ben spoke to you like he was whispering, yet you didn't feel at all at ease. Your body stiffened at the hurtful memories of him casting you aside, teaming up with Countess, and betraying you. He was the one who, along with Crimson Countess, imprisoned you in that icy, cruel location and made you endure unending suffering. His soothing murmurs sounded poisonous to the ears.

You fought to break free from his embrace as fury overtook the entirety of your being, but he applied even more force to you. Your gaze was fixed on the door when he settled his ruthless hold around your back, pressing his chest against your back to calm you. You felt so far away, yet so near to freedom. 

“It seems she's not very happy to see you, huh?” With a sly smile, Butcher smirked to Ben. “We must immediately leave this place. Any suggestions?”

Ben used the mask he had removed from your face moments before to cover your face once more, exposing you to the same smoke, while he managed to get a hold of both of your arms. You started to cry because you were horrified and felt betrayed, and your heart began to race since you had no idea what he would do to you. How come he was even abusing you in this way? 

You were still in his grasp as Ben leaned his head against yours, made you smell the smoke flowing from the mask, and whispered, “Sorry for this, baby. I wouldn't hurt you; I don't mean to. Just stay calm.”

Despite how much you tried to resist it, you have never felt more helpless against him. Tears were streaming down your face, and your eyes began to close. You wanted to talk to him right then and there and attempt to figure out what was bothering him so much about you. Though you planned to speak to him, the faint sound of his name vanished beneath the mask as a deep sleep overtook your already exhausted body.

“Thought you wanted to free her?” Butcher replied in a mocking voice as he observed Ben tightly holding the mask to your face while observing the painful look on your face. With an serious tone, Butcher continued, “We need to get the fuck out of here.”

When Butcher saw you two like that, he was surprised. All he knew was that everyone who knew them acknowledged Soldier Boy and Countess's romantic relationship. At the time, they were the most well-known couple. He was unaware of your relationship with Soldier Boy. As long as Ben followed through on his commitment to kill Homelander, he could care less about the possibility that it was an affair, something between you, or something else. He'd take care of other stuff later. 

Ben yelled, “Fuck off,” in a harsh tone. “Without this mask, we can't take her out like that. Until we get home, I'll keep her asleep.” 

“And how on earth will you do that, Mr. Loverman?”

Ben snapped, “Take that fucking tube,” and softened his hands immediately after applying the mask to your face a little too forcefully. While you were still a supe and wouldn't be easily wounded, he felt a little bad for unleashing his strength on you. You're being a supe did not, however, mean that using force against you was acceptable. “You will carry it while I keep that mask on her face till we get to the car.”

Butcher followed Ben's instructions and grabbed the tube Ben mentioned. As he strained to hold the tube steady on his shoulders, Butcher muttered a groan and said, “This shit is a bit too heavy.”

Even though he was stronger than the majority of other humans even in his human form, Butcher found it difficult to carry the tube. His jaw clenched and his muscles tautened as he bore it.

Ben was furious and was trying to find a method to carry you as he made sure the mask stayed on your face and forced you to stay asleep. “Be a fucking real man for a second,” he cursed. Ben lifted you in his arms and carried you in bridal carry while the other hand remained still on the mask.

“I should have used Temp-V,” Butcher complained once again as he followed Ben, who was making his way out of the room in quick steps, while you slept peacefully in his arms.

“Maybe you should just grow your dick,” Ben remarked as he headed for the car after getting a deep breath of fresh air. Sitting in the rear now, Hughie was staring at them, mouth agape with worry, seeing you in Soldier Boy's arms, blissfully asleep. 

Hughie tried to ask questions, but Ben shot him an angry glare and said, “Why the fuck are you waiting there? Fucking move.”

Hughie took a step forward and turned around without uttering a word. He watched, worried, as Butcher set down a big tupe on the seat next to Ben, who had come into the car, put you on his lap, and covered your face with a mask.

“Let’s fucking get the fuck out of there,” Butcher murmered after he gave a look to Ben and you.

Ben tenderly laid your body on his bed, and Butcher and Hughie followed him inside his room, their eyes wide with curiosity. 

“What happened to her?” Hughie asked Butcher and Ben, but neither of them responded.

In the hopes that you would be more at ease, Ben removed the mask from your face and waited for you to wake up once more. He saw you gently open your eyes, and his heart raced. Uncertain of your response, Butcher and Hughie put some distance between them.

You opened your eyes and let out a painful moan. When everything became clear to your sight at last, it was then that you realized you were lying in a bed that was comfy.

Ben slowly sat down next to you, placing his large hands on yours and muttering in a dry voice, “Everything's good; you're good.”

Was it truly good, though? 

With a feeble voice, you asked, “Ben?” while keeping your gaze on his green ones. He didn't look quite the same as when you last saw him. His beard gave him a more serious, grown-up appearance. “What's going on over here?” 

The two strangers who were observing you intently caught your attention, and they inhaled deeply. Ben was about to grab your hand, but you quickly moved to put some distance between you and avoid his touch. You smelled a lot worse than you looked, and you were wearing a long, black coat. You checked your body, and your face wrinkled with loathing. Oh god.. For how long has it been? 

You grimaced, gave Ben a fierce gaze, and asked, “How could you have done this to me?” before he could say anything more. 

Ben was briefly taken aback, but he wasn't shocked that you believed he was the one who had fooled and deceived you, placing you in such a horrible situation for decades—even though it had all been Vought's evil shit all along.

"Course it wasn't me." Ben immediately defended himself, gazing over your body. “I didn't even know,” he said.

You raised your hand to interrupt him before he could say any more lies, saying, “I just need a shower right now.”

You were careful not to touch Ben while he nodded and apologized in a low voice as he attempted to assist you in standing up. The two guys across the room were simply silently waiting and observing you when Ben sent them an angry glare, and they quickly left the room. Though you were ignorant of the dynamics amongst the three of them, you knew you needed to use caution if they were Ben's new fellow soldiers. In the end, you had no understanding of what was going on, and you received no change from anyone.

There was an unsettling silence the two of you had while you were alone in the room, but he soon showed you the bathroom. 

You murmured, gently keeping the coat against your body, “I need new clothes.” After everything that happened to you, you shouldn't have been concerned about how you looked, but you were unable to stop it. It was a natural inclination, after all, to feel clean. 

Ben smiled warmly at your hesitant attitude as he went to the wardrob with pride and showed you the t-shirt, underwear and all he had previously purchased for you with Butcher's money. He wanted you to see how interested and ready he was to start things again with you, as he had already given it much thought. Not only did he take your suit from Legend, but he promised to display it to you later. Your suit wasn't a priority, considering that the chaos all around you had already overwhelmed you.

“I'll be waiting downstairs, so we can talk about what happened properly,” Ben stated after clearing his throat. Then, you took the clothes from his hands and entered the bathroom, locking the door as though someone would dare to interrupt.

You took the longest shower of your life, showered head to toe, put on the clothes Ben bought you, and headed downstairs. Ben and two strangers were watching the news on TV, which seemed a little unusual because it was so modern. 

Ben did not make a scene, even though his face fell when he saw you sitting on the couch, distant from him. As you began to watch the news, you glanced at the gadget that Hughie was holding and clicked on it while wearing a serious expression. Then you turned to face Ben and requested, “Tell me slowly, what year we are in?” in a low voice.

With rush, Butcher responded, “It's 2022.”

“Oh my god,” you muttered, placing your hand over your forehead, while continuing to stare at the TV and gawking at all the strange things you had never seen before. Ben had stole your years.

Ben instantly spoke up and stated once more in a firm voice, “I didn't do this to you. Vought deceived both of us. Also, it has been about four days since those fuckfaces rescued me in Russia.”

“You’re welcome,” Butcher said, sipping his whiskey.

You questioned Ben once more in a suspicious tone, “How did you even find out what happened to me?” You had plenty time to ask all the thousand questions you had, but you still had priorities.

Ben's gaze strayed as he thought about sitting next to you and making a physical connection to ensure you listened him properly without you passing judgment on him, but he remained where he was. He never considered discussing Crimson again, but it seems that it was inescapable.

Ben only said, “I learned it from Crimson Countess,” trying not to show how insecure he was. He and the Countess had already done you an immense amount of pain. 

With a sad smile, you nodded meaningfully and said, “Of course she'd be the first to pay a visit.”

She remained his main concern even after all this time and your efforts on his behalf. But now it means absolutely nothing. While you were sleeping, so many years had gone by, and nothing seemed to matter anymore. You felt like you had undergone a complete change from the person you knew in the past.

“It’s not what you think,” Ben said seeing your disappointed face.

“I really don’t care, Ben,” you simply said with all sincerity. You weren’t lying.

Although it was difficult to accept their relationship and everything that had happened in the past, you now felt a little foolish for not just letting go. In addition, you spent years in a metal box and were tortured because of your naive attitude. You felt lost, and you had nothing now. You were left without even a place to go.

“Do you have something to eat?” you shyly asked Hughie, who had a humble and kind expression on his face. You have questions, for sure, but you needed to eat something first.

Hughie quickly said, “Sure, we can order something.” And you thanked him with a smile on your face.

Ben took a deep breath and decided not to press the issue because he thought you were a little too sensitive and hungry. His whole body was itching to sit next to you, and his eyes never left you. He was never fully aware of how much his body yearned for your attention and touch. Perhaps since so many years had passed between you, this need and yearning had always existed. But you were not the woman he had known before, and your gentle but determined attempts to keep him at a distance disturbed him.

You leaned back as you ignored Ben’s gaze on you and tried to focused on the TV to see how much the world has changed.

“I visited her to ask what happened to you,” Ben suddenly said with a rough voice.

Without getting into an argument, you just nodded and carried on watching TV, saying, “Okay.”

There was a headline that said, ‘Soldier Boy's terror killed at least 50 people in a week,’ when the information first came on television. 

Ben cursed loudly, and you murmered, “What?”

You were all fixated on the reporter commenting on the extent of Ben's damage to Ohio and New York while Butcher turned up the voice of the TV. You gasped as you watched an entirely wrecked street in New York and heard injured people telling the TV reporter how far Ben's explosion was heard from and how badly he damaged the lives of everyone inside, killing 19 people, including children. 

Ben's face was unreadable as he stared at the television, lost in thoughts and feeling a weight of guilt in his chest. He had no intention of blowing up in the first place. He was aware that the Russian song was the reason behind his unexpected outburst in the middle of the street. He had no feelings of hostility toward people.

When they also displayed the doctor's picture on the screen—who was heavily involved in your torture—your lips parted in disbelief. The reporter was telling the public that Soldier Boy had blown up his house and him as well.

“What have you done?” you murmered to Ben whose lethal green eyes were fixed on yours.

Next Chapter

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

A/N: Comments and reblogs are very appreciated!

And Happy Pride Month to my dearest readers and everyone! -`♡´-

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[ateliersss]

Part 2 - He Is Here

Pairing: Yautja x Fem!Reader Summary: After Akail freed himself and then you from your captors, you both had only one thing on your mind — to return home where his father and your mate was waiting for you. Cross-posted on AO3: here Warnings: English isn't my first language Word Count: 4.768 Part 1: here Masterlist

⇨ I started making it, tried my best, had a break down, then I listened to Lana Del Rey and my brain started working again. This is the result. I hope I didn't fail your expectations and you like it anyway.

⇨ Also, did you ever actually listen to their clicking/purring noises? Because I DID!

⇨ Want to join the tag list?

Fresh air, the rustling of leaves on the surrounding trees, the moonlight, even the hooting of an owl — you never thought you would appreciate these things the way you did right now.

Especially now as your son was holding you tightly in his arms, running away, leaving the facility site behind. You had already put quite a distance between here and there and yet you could still hear the blaring alarm of their security system.

To distract yourself, you focused on the safe embrace of Akail's strong arms, watched the surroundings passing by, and listened to the sounds he made. He tried to calm you down, but since you couldn't understand any of his words, this attempt failed.

The one thing you didn’t want to focus on was the blood.

The alarm went off while you were still stuck in this awful white room with that strange woman, announcing that your son had broken free. Immediately you were yanked out of the room and into the corridor, not caring that moving was difficult for you. The woman had tried to persuade the two men to be more careful, but they just ignored her and didn't stop dragging you roughly with them.

The grip they had on you was painful, the flickering lights and the alarm agitated you even more, and the fact that you didn't know what they were going to do to you, now that an angry alien was on the loose, frightened you.

You thought about the consequences of what you were about to do. Since you couldn't imagine anything worse than what you had already experienced, you just did it. You screamed. You screamed for your son in hopes he would hear you.

One of the men holding you pulled your thrashing body towards him to have a better hold on you, to silence you. You didn't stop fighting and even bit his fingers to stop him from restraining your voice.

You both stopped struggling with each other when suddenly a bloodcurdling roar erupted from behind you.

The small group turned around and encountered the looming figure of Akail. He had found you, like the clever boy he was.

Admittedly, it had been quite a sight. His body trembled with fury, his back arched and his mandibles flared. The armor and equipment that had been taken from him were now back in his possession and on his body. Even from this distance, you could see the blood as if he had bathed in it.

Blood, that was now also on the hideous white suit you were wearing.

Out of fear, and maybe it really just had been a reflex, the man holding you pushed you away.

Luckily — more or less, depending if you were either the big, enraged alien or the tiny, terrified human — you landed on your knees and the hand outstretched trying to catch you, the other hand wrapped around your swollen belly as an instinctive protective mechanism. The impact hurt, but at least your pup remained unharmed.

It had been the wrong thing to do, really. Watching someone hurt you and thus possibly his unborn brother drove him feral. All it took was one tearful look from you and he charged for your captors.

You scrambled to the wall and out of his attack zone. Closing your eyes, you only listened as one by one died in one painful way or another.

You were used to the most obscure, disgusting, and repulsive corpses as you and your mate occasionally went on hunting trips at home. However, the whole situation — from you being captured, the imprisonment, you not knowing what had happened to your son and how he was doing, to the present moment — had pushed you to your limit.

When the helpless pleas and painful screams finally died down, you felt two big hands picking you up. You buried your face into his strong chest, preventing you from catching even a second's glimpse of the bloody masses around you.

It was over, you tried to compose yourself.

Akail was still running, not faltering once. His mind was set on one thing and one thing only — getting you to the safety of your Scout Ship.

Soon you reached a familiar river and a clearing. Your tensed shoulders relaxed when you saw the huge outline of it. The human may have said that they had found the ship, but it was still there where you had left it. Apparently, they had made no move yet to transport it to their base.

You sighed happily. It meant one step closer to home.

Although you were now in safe surroundings, Akail did not put you down and carried you until you reached the belly of the ship where he kept his weapons and gear such as his masks and armor. You smiled up at him when he seated you on top of the huge workbench occupying the middle of the room where he normally repaired or worked on his equipment. The glass surface cooled your adrenaline-heated skin.

Akail exited the room while you settled into a more comfortable position, legs dangling slightly as you looked down at your baby bump and stroked it. You closed your eyes and listened to your inner voice. There was no pain, no other feeling close to discomfort that should worry you. In fact, you felt your sweetling kick against your hand.

You heard the well-known clicks of Akail, announcing you weren’t alone anymore. He was back, holding familiar gadgets in his hands. One of them were two earpieces that translated every spoken word of a Yautja in real-time. They were created especially for you and practically disappeared when you wore them, making your ears appear perfectly normal as if they weren't even there. The other gadget was a tight-fitting necklace made out of black metal with silver accents that translated your words into the Yautja language.

Their technology did wonders. The way both things worked was way beyond your comprehension.

The moment the earpieces were in your ears and the necklace was around your neck, Akail asked, “Mother, how you feeling?”

Thanks to the workbench, you were more or less at eye level so you could put a hand on his cheek, your thumb stroking the scale-like skin, as he nuzzled into it. “I’m fine, my little warrior.” You reassured him.

You felt his clawed hand gently press against your stomach.

You chuckled. “Yes, your little mei’hswei is fine, too.” As if to confirm your words, your pup started to kick against his brother's hand. “See?”

Akail shook his head, the clicking sounds growing urgent.

You sighed. “I promise, as soon as we arrive home I will go to Cahrein. He will survey me to confirm that everything is fine.”

That seemed to soothe him as he nodded. “Good.”

You smiled up at him and cupped his cheeks to pull him closer so you could reach his forehead to place a gentle kiss there. He immediately started making a purring noise. You had to suppress a laugh at that reaction. Instead, the smile on your lips widened.

No matter how many trophies he owned, demonstrating he was a killing machine, no matter that he was the son of a clan leader, no matter that he was Blooded, showing his level of maturity — he was still your little boy who sometimes longed for the comfortable and safe embrace of his mother’s arms.

At this moment, Akail felt like he was set back into the time when he was just a pup. It actually happened every time his mother showered him with affection.

When he was a Youngling, barely reaching your hip, some of the Un-Blooded — all still immature and not yet careful with their words like teenagers in their puberty on Earth — had harassed him about his non-Yautja part even though he was the pure image of his father, no indicator that he was partly human.

Already in his young years, he had developed a need to protect you. As soon as even one of them mentioned either your name or the word ooman, he landed the first punch which had degenerated into a fight which he mostly lost with his smaller size and his little combat experience compared to theirs. He lied to you about how he got the injuries when you tended to them. He didn’t want to worry you, didn’t want to tell you how those stupid, thoughtless Un-Blooded had disrespected you.

As he grew older and bigger, his father training him hard, the harassment stopped and turned into more friendly, harmless teasing coming from his friends and those with whom he had trained for the initiation hunt. They didn’t dare to treat you any other way than the mate of the Clan Leader deserved to be treated — with respect, obedience, acceptance, and appreciation. You were who you were, but with the things you've done in your years since arriving on Yautja Prime, you'd proven yourself.

From his friends, he had learned that Yautja mothers stopped pampering their pups the second they touched a weapon to train to be hunters.

“Too much coddling and spoiling love made you soft.”

That’s what every Youngling grew up with, but here he was. He was one of the strongest, one of the most determined, and one of the most promising Yautja in his clan, maybe even on his planet. Expectations were high considering who his father was and he would one day be following in his huge (figurative) footsteps, which he hoped to eventually fill.

And all that with a human who never stopped showing him her motherly love since the day he was born.

He was proud you were his mother, thankful, never ashamed. He would never dare to feel any different about you, not when you had stood against all odds to carry him in your belly and fought against death to give birth to him. That made you stronger than any other Yautja mother and he would never think about trading you to be pureblooded.

While his father forged him into a great and powerful fighter, showed him to be strong-willed, hard-working, and brave — the typical journey for Yautja to become hunters and respectable members of a clan — you had taught him mercy, thoughtfulness, and compassion. You tried to teach him at least a few things that were of great value on Earth, things that demonstrated that his mixed genetic heritage made him much more diverse than others.

“I’m going to contact your father to tell him we will be home soon.” You suddenly said.

Akail stepped aside to make room for you to get off the working bench. He offered you a hand when you started to struggle with the height of it and gently helped you to get your feet on the solid metal ground of the ship. While you waddled to your quarters, he turned to the door leading to the cockpit to start the engines and finally get off this damn planet.

The ship was built in such a way that you didn't even feel it take off a few seconds later while you pressed the right buttons to reach your mate. With one hand on your stomach, you turned around and encountered the holographic image of Mi'ytiar being projected into the center of the room by a device built into the ceiling.

You let out a shaky but happy breath. “My love.” You greeted him with a relieved smile as he reached out to place his large hand on the side of your face, the palm on your cheek and his clawed fingers in your hair.

Normally you would lean into his touch, but since that hand was only a projection, you kept your head still to at least give him the illusion that you were standing in front of him.

You wished you were standing in front of him. You longed for him. You missed him so, so much.

You watched his beautiful eyes dart over your face and then to the strange cloth you were wearing, looking for any signs that indicated the blood on it was yours.

“Yawne, what happened?” He demanded, his voice hard but concerned.

You bit your lower lip, already anticipating his reaction.

Mi'ytiar was calm and composed when it came to sticky situations, but his temper quickly overwhelmed him when it came to you. Last time he had challenged an Elder of all people who simply had handled you with more strength than necessary, completely forgetting that humans were far frailer than his kind. It had been merely an accident, but it had turned into a disaster.

So the first thing you wanted to do was to reassure him as you said, “I’m fine.”

His mandibles flared, a hiss escaping his lips. “What happened?”

You sighed. “Humans. They captured Akail.” You wrapped your arms around yourself. “They used the control on his arm to find the ship.” You paused for a moment and sighed. “I left it for some fresh air. They found me outside and brought me to the same facility they took our son to.”

Predicting his answer, you forestalled him before he could even open his mouth. “No! Don’t say it.” You hissed.

Mi'ytiar straightened his slightly bent position towards you in surprise. He looked at you with his head cocked to his side, not breaking the intense eye contact.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally relented and lowered his head. The gesture always made you feel powerful. It meant submission; only with you, never others.

Proud of yourself, you squared your shoulders and held your head high.

Sometimes there were small disagreements between you and your mate, but instead of arguing, you both only looked at each other while a silent battle was fought between your gazes. Mi'ytiar always backed down first, secretly loving your dominance, but also cursing your stubbornness.

You were his Life Mate, the human female he treated as his equal. Completely fascinated and smitten by your softness and loving nature, he was wrapped around your finger and would bend to your will. You had a certain power over him and you loved it, knowing that a being like him was capable of acting this way.

“I know I should have listened to you. You told me to stay within the safety of the ship and I should have listened to you. But I didn’t and I put our pup in danger. I’m sorry, tanhì.” You admitted, looking up at him with wide, apologetic eyes.

“Akail?”

“He freed himself and then me.” You answered, before adding in a whisper, “He killed everyone.”

His mandibles clicking, he said, “Good.” before eyeing the suit sullenly.

Mi'ytiar didn’t mind seeing you bloody. In fact, there had been times when the prey the two of you had been hunting together had bled all over you, which had aroused him to the point where he had just grabbed you and fucked you on the forest floor.

But he didn’t like this, not at all. The color wasn’t right. It was too red, too human. The possibility that it could be yours worried him far too much.

But it wasn’t yours. You had told him so and deep down he knew that, but it made him feel unsettled nonetheless.

In the meantime, you watched him and the hardly noticeable change in his eyes. He was very caring, something you loved the most about him, so you planned on putting him at ease when you reached behind you to open the suit. The light fabric slipped down your body and gathered at your feet. You stepped out of it and kicked it away with your foot.

Now you stood in front of him in all your naked glory. Your plan must have worked, because he didn’t hesitate to step forward and engulf your now much more visible stomach with his clawed hand. His infatuation with your pregnant body was beyond you.

Three months into your first pregnancy, a neighboring clan visited yours for feasts and a hunt. There you got to know a woman named Vulpine, the first human you ever met on Yautja Prime. She was soon to be mated with her Yautja who had only recently decided to commit himself fully to her, thus renouncing any sexual or even romantic relationship with other females. That’s how the concept of being Life Mates worked, after all.

You pestered her with questions. Not only how long she had been here, how she was coping with life on this strange planet and who her Yautja was, but also how he treated her in a pregnant state. Turns out, the only Yautja who was that infatuated with his mate being pregnant was Mi'ytiar.

Another thing was that he had been over the moon when you had finally voiced out your wish to carry his pup. He had taken such great care of you during your pregnancy, coddling you, literally hovering over you, not letting you out of his sight.

You had always wondered why he had been acting this way — maybe it was due to the fact that you were human and therefore you and your body were just different — but you never thought it was necessary to actually question him about it.

After a while you said, “We’ll be home soon, my love.”

“Good.” Mi'ytiar replied, nodding. “I will await you.”

And that’s what he did.

As soon as the ship landed, the ramp extended and the door opened, you saw Mi'ytiar standing there, waiting. You didn’t even hesitate to rush to him. He responded by lowering himself to one knee and reaching out to you, catching you when you threw yourself into his arms.

His mandibles clicked happily when he finally could touch you again and feel his unborn pup. He had missed you both so dearly. To be closer to his little one, he made himself even smaller, almost sitting on the floor, and pressed his forehead on your stomach while one hand rested on your hip and the other on the back of your thigh. Purring, he enjoyed the familiar closeness to his sweetling.

You were a mess, bursting with emotions — those goddamn pregnancy hormones — as you ran your fingers through his dreadlocks, felt their warmth and fleshy texture, and played with one of the golden rings Mi'ytiar used to style it, as you liked to call it.

While the two of you were completely engaged with each other, not caring what happened around you, you hadn't noticed how your son had also eventually left the ship to join the both of you.

“Father.” Akail greeted, announcing his presence.

Mi'ytiar lifted his head before pulling away from you to stand up. As was customary for Yautja, he placed a hand on Akail's shoulder in greeting and shook it slightly. Then he grabbed his son’s upper arms with his hands, Akail did the same, and they both put their foreheads together. They stayed like that for a moment before pulling away to talk.

You didn’t feel like you had to listen to them, so you didn’t, but you watched them with a smile. There stood your favorite people in the universe, your family, your whole world.

Soon, Mi'ytiar turned around and made his way back to you. Before you could say anything, he put one arm under your armpits and one under your knees, lifting you up. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he carried you away, knowing him to Cahrein, the healer.

You liked Cahrein and the feeling was mutual. He was responsible for tending to the wounded and sick, helped the females during their pregnancies and birth, provided ingredients, and maintained tools for the Medicomp when Yautja went on off-world hunts.

He was rather serious and professional, but you could see the curious excitement when Mi'ytiar first had brought you to him. You were a whole different species to him, something new he could learn about.

It was nothing unusual for your mate to accompany you on your check-ups, so Cahrein thankfully didn’t ask any questions, only saying a word when he confirmed what you had already told both, the father and brother of the pup — everything was fine.

That was all Mi'ytiar needed to know before he dragged you away and to your home where he shed you of your clothes and fucked you like a wild animal that was starved of your touch, sating his needs.

It felt like hours had passed when your sweaty and naked body slumped back against Mi'ytiar's torso, exhausted and fully satisfied. Mi'ytiar nuzzled into the hair on the back of your head.

While you were still trying to catch your breath, he regarded the bite mark he had left on your shoulder out of the corner of his eye. The sharp tips of his mandibles had broken into the skin on the front and back of your upper arm, your shoulder blade, and the spot of your chest where your heart was still beating frantically. Meanwhile, his teeth had dug into the edge of your shoulder, making it bleed.

You squirmed in his lap when he licked the dried blood to clean you.

When he was done, he gently took a hold of your hair to put it over your shoulder and out of the way. His eyes fixed on the second bite mark. This one he had placed on the nape of your neck. When he was done cleaning you there too, he chattered happily, proud that he had so evidently marked you as his own.

You tilted your head back to look at him. “What?”

“It never was able with other female.” He said, “Marking.”

You tensed at that before you lowered your head with your lips pressed together. You knew you were acting like a child when he placed his index and middle finger on your cheek to turn your head to look at him, but you stubbornly refused to do so. You even leaned forward to break the skin contact between your back and his torso. You had to bite your bottom lip to stifle a moan as his cock was still inside you, keeping his seed where it belonged. Even in its now soft state, it was still able to send pleasure down your spine.

Although you knew that only some Yautja were permanently bonded to each other and most of them had several mating partners, you had totally forgotten that he, of course, had been with other females before you. In fact, you had never really thought about it. The thought had never occurred to you as he had always been completely devoted to you.

Irrational jealousy took hold of you. Of course, it was completely normal for one’s partner to have been with others before you. That's how it worked on Earth, too. Nothing special, nothing unusual, and yet you hated it.

You had been 26 when Mi'ytiar took you with him. A year earlier you had broken up with a boy you had been dating for two years, and you had a few one-night stands before and after that. You had never cared about their former partners.

Now you did.

“What is it, yawne?”

“Nothing.” You mumbled, your lips twisted into a defiant pout. “It’s just… I never thought about other females having you like this.” You were still facing away from him as you continued, “It makes my blood boil knowing someone else has had you before me.”

A strange possessive feeling surged through you as you turned around to look him straight in the eye. “You are mine, only mine.” You said before turning back around, resulting in you not noticing him almost bursting with pride.

You were lost in your thoughts, completely missing his low, rumbling laugh. He thought you were adorable like this, secretly wallowing in your possessiveness. It made him happy, knowing he was able to elicit such feelings from you.

The next thought you voiced out was one you had back in the days when you still felt unworthy as the Life Mate of the great Mi'ytiar. “It makes me question why you chose me of all people to be bound to you forever and to bear you pups, something I never even thought would be possible. They easily could have given them to you.”

Now that you said it out loud, you realized one thing in horror — pups.

Pups with other females. His pups with other females. His pups with someone that wasn’t you. How did you never think about that too?! He never had mentioned them, not that you knew, but if…

“They could not.” Mi'ytiar interrupted your panicking thoughts.

“What?” You turned your upper body to look at him, his honest eyes looking back.

With his help, you fully turned around in his lap to face him without losing the closest, most intimate connection you both still had; between your legs. He placed his hands on your waist to pull you as close as your stomach would allow.

“I provide for clan in many ways. I am leader. I lead, I protect and I care for them. It is honorable to strengthen clan with pups. Only my seed never took. No female carried my pup. It was shameful to not provide clan with pups. Especially as leader.”

He paused to play with a loose strand of your hair. His fascination with it wasn’t something you couldn’t quite understand, but you didn’t mind.

“When you and I met, you was what I wanted. Objections were made when I dedicated my being to you, but I did not care. I could not provide with pups anyway.” He told you. “I forgot about them. I only wanted you, yawne.”

“I only wanted you, too.” You replied, smiling up at him. “Do you remember when we became Life Mates and you introduced me to a group of females so they could teach me more about the planet, the clan, the dynamics in it, and such? They taught me all the things the mate of a clan leader needed to know.”

One of those had been the mating act. You laughed quietly when you thought back to your reaction as they told you that fighting for submission was something like foreplay to them. First, the male had to succeed before the mating act could start. It certainly explained why Mi'ytiar had been confused the first time you had sex.

The affection and trust you had for him had been finally big enough that you decided to get involved with him in a more intimate way. Until then he had waited for you to give him permission to mate with you. You would never have credited him with such patience, but you hadn’t been the only one who had learned about his kind. While you took your time to get used to your new life, he had also learned about humans.

Not enough apparently because he had looked at you in astonishment like you were broken when you had just let him take off your clothes — clothing that was based on the Yautja style, made of leather, fur and, after a short trip back to Earth, thankfully also soft cotton — and you let him manhandle you.

But you did snap at him when he had been too rough and you had needed more time to get used to this new feeling. After your first time together it was your turn to teach a Yautja about you; about the female body and what it needed before he could ravish you, how he could pleasure it and take care of it.

“One of the females was pregnant at that time.” You continued, “And I wanted that, too. I wanted to carry your pup.”

“And you did, yawne.” Mi'ytiar purred. “Made me so happy when you told me you wanted my pup.” He turned your body to sit sideways on his lap, so he could pull you in with one hand for a cuddle while the other rested on your belly. “You gave what no female could. Proof I am not failure.” He nuzzled into the side of your head. “You are parul, my miracle.”

You opened your mouth to tell him that of course he wasn't a failure, but you closed it again, deciding to let him have his moment. Instead, you put your hand on the back of his head and pulled him closer to you.

You both fell into a comfortable silence, only his purring filled the air.

continue with the third part He Shan't Lose

[kinopio-writes]

Hello dearie!!

How are you? I hope you're doing well!

I saw that your asks were open,and your content is really cool and silly,So I decided to leave you a nice ask to enjoy!

Could I have a headcanon platonic! Alastor,Vox and Husk finding a random child next to their dead mother, except that they don't really understand that she's dead and think she's sleeping,so they pity the child and take them in?

The child is really polite and nice,pretty calm,too. Sure,they do child stuff,like running around,being excited,etc,but they still are more calm than others.

They always talk about their mother,how she's the only one left,and how they love her.

Would the characters say the truth? Would they lie?

I just love hurt/comfort and platonic relationships so :3

Anyways,I hope that's not too much,and that you enjoy writing this!

Have a really nice day,don't forget to drink and take breaks!

Stay proud!

-Nina <33

A/N: Thank you for the reminders, heh. Btw, I’m going to have to change the reasons as to why they took you in because I just don’t see characters like Alastor and Vox taking you in because of pity. Sorry about that. The rest is untouched. You’ll still get a bit of that hurt/comfort (mostly from Husk, lol. Both Alastor and Vox are non-existent, but Alastor is somehow better than Vox).

Warnings: Mentions of death

———

Alastor, Husk, and Vox adopting a deceased mom’s child

Alastor

• Alastor paid no mind to the dead corpse

• it didn’t really look that appetizing anyway

• “How unfortunate.” You heard a weird voice from behind you as a hand was placed on your shoulder. “A child mourning in the demise of its mother. Tragic, really. You have my condolences.”

• “What are you talking about, mister?” You stared up at the mysterious man, watching his eyes flick from your left to right eye while his grin only grew as the seconds went by

• “I think you’ve just found yourself the perfect dwelling,” he abruptly said, letting go of your shoulder to fix his bowtie as he sprung back to life. “Why don’t you come with me?”

• “But what about my mother?”

• “She is in good hands, I can assure you.” He offered his hand to you. “Come along, now. Children shouldn’t dwell long in places like these.”

• and so he took you in to be a patron at his hotel

• I mean, what’s more easier to redeem than a child? (assuming you’re a sinner. I don’t know if it’s canon anymore that only hellborns can reproduce. Look at Cannibal Town’s people)

• he intended to leave you in the rest of the residents’ care while they could only guess what his actual motivation was for taking you in

• but it seemed you ended up favoring him more than the rest

• you’d follow him around like a duckling—a lost puppy—you’re attached to him like a leech

• and you’re so well-behaved, too

• up until he leaves your sight

• he actually leaves the hotel a lot more often now because of that

• he finds you wrecking chaos in the hotel entertaining as hell

• and the fact that the others beg him to come back to calm you down

• I don’t think you would ever know what happened to your mother

• even when you talk about her a lot

• those rambles never really prompt him to say anything

• well, it’s not as if he knew what happened to her

• but, hey, at least he listens!

• maybe it’s because he feels a little nostalgic hearing the way you talk about her…

———

Husk

• Husk was fucking spooked when he found you lying beside your dead mother

• not because of the corpse, but because of the way you were staring at him

• with eyes dull and wide open, just like your mother

• while Husk wouldn’t have given two shits if it was a grown-ass adult, you were a child

• so he took you in

• “But what about my mother?”

• “Shi—I, uh—your momma will tag along soon. Now c’mon. She wouldn’t want you out here alone.”

• since Husk is constantly around the hotel, there were never really instances where you wreaked havoc

• you just silently watch him tend the bar and sometimes talk about your mother

• your talks about how much you love her make him feel pretty guilty for some reason

• but he’d probably tell you when you’re older enough

• only if you were asking him about her though

• he wouldn’t want to have to sit you down and tell you something that sensitive of a topic when you didn’t even ask

• “Why don’t I have a mother?” you would suddenly ask when you turned 18

• today was your birthday. Charlie insisted on having a little party for you just like every year. But you didn’t want one; you wanted to be with Husk for the day

• the man in question sighed

• he knew you were building up the courage to ask all day

• “I’m gonna give it to you straight, kid, I don’t know what exactly happened to her. All I know is that she’s in a better place.”

• “Oh…”

• “Do you…wanna talk about it?” He continued, voice a little unsure, “Not as a bartender…but as a dad.”

• you smiled, grateful. “I think I’ve already said plenty when I was younger. But thanks, Dad.”

• he smiled back

• you two would then sit in silence together, basking in each other’s presence

———

Vox

• so, uh, I’m going to have to completely skip the taking you in part with Vox because I genuinely cannot see him adopting a random child (unless he could gain something, but, like, you’re just a kid)

• so you’ll just get the aftermath of it (hope that’s okay)

• based on the way he handled Val’s tantrum, I think it’s safe to assume that he’s somewhat good with children

• but he’s a pretty busy guy

• he doesn’t have the time to take care of a random child, so he’d make sure to keep an eye on you on his cameras

• but despite that, your existence in the tower warrants his

• as you’re too chaotic whenever he isn’t around

• but only around the other expendable employees

• you’re relatively well-behaved when Velvette and Valentino are with you

• but he doesn’t exactly trust them to take care of you

• they aren’t exactly good with children

• so he tried doing video calls

• you will definitely grow up as an iPad kid

• he’d hear you talk about your mom during those calls

• he’d let you go on and on, but it’s not guaranteed that he’ll listen

• I don’t think he would ever tell you what happened to her (he doesn’t know, anyway)

• he won’t lie, he’d just work around your question

• skillfully

• like, extremely so

• even if you ask him directly, he still manages to dodge the question somehow

• I don’t know what else to say, he’s gonna be a pretty distant father—

[meanbossart]

What is it about Astarion that DU Drow fell for? Which traits/habits/quirks/whatever were the ones that he first noticed/piqued his interest?

Oh boy, I mean, at first DU Drow didn't care for Astarion at all. He was extremely on edge around all of these people and Astarion's rather invasive strategy only put him off further - his insight checks may be awful, but he can still tell when someone is trying to suck up to him a little too hard. DU drow thought he was attractive, of course (see.: the narrator's comment about the quote-on-quote pretty corpse) but otherwise didn't think very much of, or very highly of him.

Once he got his confidence back, and after Astarion caught onto the fact that he needed to play hard to get to string him along, there would have been a little while where DU drow only saw him in the context of a trophy or conquest - but admittedly, he also thought Astarion was funny, and he thought he was smart - even someone as dense as him could see that the guy had read him perfectly, and proceeded to adapt as necessary to get what he wanted out of him - and DU drow fell right into it, willingly so. There would have been some mutual respect there between them from understanding each other's games.

Their ritual of letting Astarion bite him definitely planted a little seed of something too. I've talked about it plenty of times so I won't dwell on it, but DU drow enjoys the intimacy implied in allowing someone to hurt him. This was far from an emotional turning point in the relationship, but it did prompt him to start seeing Astarion differently (not better or worse - just differently.)

(I'm a little drunk and went on and on, enjoy LOL)

Then, after one or two intimate encounters, the Urge would have started taking too much of a toll - violent lust turned into lustful violence, and hence DU drow didn't want to have sex anymore out of a fear of losing control during the act; yet, he had learned to trust Astarion by then and would seek out his comfort and companionship all the same. Faced with the situation where sex is no longer an option, I imagine Astarion would have been caught off guard and let the mask slip more often than usual. Pair that with the fact that DU Drow is a surprisingly affectionate (in private) but highly withdrawn person, left him in the role of leading their exchanges. Astarion, I think, would have felt the need to talk; if for no other reason but to fill the air whenever they were alone together. Eventually DU Drow would have started talking back.

These were long nights of just looking up at the sky and going through things that happened that day, what led them here, what the companions are doing, talking shit about whats-his-or-her-name, often just straight up gossip. Astarion eventually realized he could say whatever he damn pleased in front of DU Drow and nothing seemed to phase him, and vice-versa. DU drow enjoyed his bluntness, his earnest impulsivity that matched his own, he laughed at his jokes (as well as some things that weren't meant as jokes) he enjoyed his teasing and his reactions when he said something putrid in return, he liked the way he smelled when he was clean and he liked his stink when he was filthy, he watched him fidget with his own clothes and hair until Astarion gave him a weird look and aggressively asked what he was staring at. He enjoyed when Astarion got angry at something he said, because it felt very genuine - and he didn't use to think of him as a very genuine person.

Astarion was the first to notice something was wrong with him - so DU drow felt comfortable talking about it openly. On the other hand, DU drow never pressed Astarion about his past unprompted - instead just letting him talk about it if he so wished and without trying to milk it for more details when he did choose to do so. Because they spoke a similar language of violence and operated under the same hedonist-based beliefs, it was easy to talk to each other even when there was friction between them - similarly, they were both always willing to move past and quickly "forget" when someone said something truly hurtful.

I don't know if there was a key moment where he realized this had turned into love; that was probably a word DU Drow dropped quite unabashedly sometime after they got to Baldur's Gate, and before they faced-off with Cazador (to no reciprocation or acknowledgment then, not that he minded). But sometime during act 3, DU drow simply assumed that after this was all over they would still stick together.

[itsohh]

The True Ghost

AN: I kept editing this one and I feel like the vibes are a little over the place.

Summary: After getting shot in the head you find yourself not in the land of the dead but stuck in the land of the living without a real form. Unable to interact with anyone, your forced to watch your lovers suffer with your loss.

Word count: 2156

Warnings: MW3 spoilers, angst, canon typical violence, hurt no / little comfort

Masterlist AO3

The twist of your arm, the furious look on Makarov’s face. The shouts that echoed around you, then… nothing. 

You opened your eyes. 

When you sat up you did so with extreme ease, the weight of your body was non-existent. Perhaps that's what it was like on the moon. It was like being submerged underwater but with no force of any tide. 

You looked up from your sitting stare to see your entire team staring at you. “Got something on my face?” You joked but they didn't reply. When had Gaz and Ghost arrived? 

Soap collapsed onto his knees with a choke. He reached towards you but as his fingers were to come into contact with your skin, they phased right through. The warmth of his hand spread through you and you looked down to see what he had truly reached for. 

He had reached for you. More specifically your body. You scrambled to your feet to get a good look. Blood pooled under your head as a lifeless look was frozen on your face. 

“Shit.” You covered your mouth and looked at your team. “Shit!” You were dead? “Shit! Shit! Shit!” Your eyes went to Ghosts and his eyes closed for a second before he placed his hand on Johnny's shoulder, a sombre look in his eyes. 

Price couldn't tear his eyes from you as he radioed in. The call of KIA which confirmed your death. Your hand threaded through your hair and took a few steps away. If you were dead then why were you still there? A fucking ghost. It should have been somewhat ironic but you couldn't bring yourself to laugh. By the obvious lack of other ghosts around, it seemed you were a special case. Was it because you hadn't killed Makarov? Was that your unfinished business? 

The thoughts raced through your mind as you glanced over to see Soap lean over your body and press a kiss against your forehead. His hand shook while he held yours. As you stared at him you realised that his entire body was shaking

“I've got her Johnny.” Ghost's voice was broken, empty and Soap turned to look up at the man. Tears swelled in Soap's eyes and Ghost crouched down next to him. Ghost gently pried Soap's hand from yours and brushed your eyes close. 

If it hadn't been from the hole in your head you could have looked like you were asleep. “I've got her.” Ghost squeezed Soap's hand and the man nodded in return. It took all his strength but he backed away from you and Ghost went to pick up your corpse. 

You didn't know if it was comforting or not that they weren't leaving your body there. It was strange, you were so disconnected from it but at the same time, it was still your body. It was like a childhood home you no longer owned. 

“It should have been me.” Soap muttered as they started to walk and Ghost froze for a second. 

“Don't do that Johnny. Don't do that to her.” 

Soap glanced at Ghost's hardened expression and went silent. 

-

The car ride back was that same prolonged silence. You had sat in your designated spot, at least you had that going for you. With the whole ‘everything passes through you’ situation, you were just glad you didn't have to walk back. 

You watched as Soap entered his room. Not yours, not Ghosts, but his own dorm room. It was a place Soap rarely visited anymore. Ghost’s room had been a sanctuary for all three of you. 

He ripped his gear from his body, his hands shook and he threw it all to the ground. Tears now flowed in free fall and he staggered over to his bathroom where he flicked on the the shower. Soap stepped in immediately, not caring about the cold water. He desperately started to scrub at the skin on his hand even though there wasn't a speck of blood. 

You sat down in the corner and closed your eyes as his sobs started to echo in the room. He swore your name and choked on his tears. 

Eventually, the water turned off and he came out. His eyes were red and puffy while his muscles were dense. Soap's skin was red and raw from scrubbing it too much. He went over to the sink and leaned on his two palms. 

You got up from the floor and went behind him. So desperately did you want to confront him, to hug him, to tell him it was okay. It was an act in vain but you placed a hand on his shoulder. Warm but tense you looked forward and paused at the sight. 

Perhaps it was because you could see yourself but the reflection showed the pair of you. Honestly, you looked terrible. A picture image of the moment you died. Wet blood eternally stuck to the side of your head as your eyes lacked a certain warmth to them. 

A sudden smash came as Soap's fist collided with the mirror right where your reflection was. A fractured spider web formed and a stain of his blood tainted the centre of it. 

You flinched at the moment and covered your gasp with your hand. A choked sound still escaped, not that anyone could hear. You reached on to him as leaned on the sink. 

“Should have bloody fucking let me die.” He growled. “Should have saved herself but she had to play hero. Never seen her do something so stupid-” Soap slammed his bloodied fist down without a care for the pain that it would obviously inflict. 

Would he be the same mess if your position with Simon was flipped?  

His choked sobs came but you didn't attempt to vainly comfort him again. Perhaps Ghost could help- perhaps if you could somehow communicate a way to get your lovers to join hands…

You left Johnny's bathroom and went towards his bedroom door. 

You put your hand on his locked door handle to open it but once again it went right through. Brows furrowed you tried again but this time with a lot more concentration. 

Your eyes widened when it jiggled a bit but the stiff lock was just a little bit too much. With a sigh of frustration, you went to slam your fist on the door but ended up going right through it. With a stumble, you fell forward across the hall into your own room. 

Surprise crossed your face to see Ghost there. His mask off. His eyes were closed and he took deep breaths as if he were meditating. You couldn't help but wonder how long he was there. 

“I'm sorry.” He eventually said, his eyes cast at the ground. “We weren't fast enough and you paid the price.” He let out a deep breath. “I should have known that you would eventually go. But for a moment, I could play pretend.” 

You sat down on the bed next to him. He couldn't see you, he couldn't hear you but you hoped somehow that he knew that you were with him. 

-

Days went past and you saw two events. The official funeral that was done for all operators, a big fancy honourable thing that felt more political than anything. Then there was when they spread your ashes, a more quiet event where they flew to your homeland and did so.

You preferred that one. 

It got a bit boring if you were honest. Most of the time you just walked with anyone who was at base. Normally Ghost or Soap but sometimes it was Gaz or Price. On the odd occasion, it was Kate. You missed Farah and Nik. 

Ghost seemed to spend a lot of time in your room. Soap didn't. Their relationship had certainly suffered because of it. 

s

One night as you watched Ghost leave your room, you heard it. A small buzz. You went over to the nightstand to see your phone exactly how you had left it. It was on charge on the side table. You went to pick it up and surprisingly, it obeyed your command. 

With wide eyes, you slid your finger against the screen and it unlocked. A sound of glee left your lips as you tapped away on it. “My sweet baby boy, you recognise me.” You grinned at the phone. 

Consequences be damned, you hit Soap's name and opened your messenger.

I love you

You sent it without hesitation and as you started to type to Ghost you heard the shout. It was Soap's voice. Uh-oh. You placed the phone down and left your room to see Soap at Ghost's door. His first was raised and banged against the door while his phone was clutched in the other. 

The door eventually swung open and you saw Ghost there peer above Soap. 

“Johnny.”

“What the hell is this huh? Trying to fuck with me with her phone?”

“I don't know what you're talking about.” 

“Oh cut the bullshite, I know you spend half of your time in her room.” He waved the phone in Ghost's face and grabbed his collar. 

Ghost's brows narrowed. “I know you’re hurting Johnny-”

“Oh that's rich-”

Soap's voice was cut off by Price who had been woken up by the endeavour. 

“The hell is going on?” He barked and walked up to the two men. Price took the phone from Soap and looked at the message. A sigh left Price’s mouth.

“It's probably just a scheduled text message Soap. You know what she was like, always one to think ahead. Probably did it because she knew you well enough to know that you would refuse to watch her recorded messages.”

Soap let go of Ghost's collar and looked down. 

“She loved you, the both of you. She wouldn't want you to fight. I know you're both in pain but you're better off working together not against each other.” He clasped a hand on Soap's shoulder. “If you really hate it that much you could go disable it in her phone. It's probably where she last left it.”

“Passwords 2019.” Ghost finally spoke up. It had been a running thing that you never told Soap your phone password. Something to tease him about. Soap threaded his hand through his hair and nodded. 

“I'll…I'll go check out her phone.” His voice was quiet and then it dawned on you. 

As much as you wanted them to stop fighting, you didn’t want them to take your phone.

You turned on your heel and dashed through your bedroom door. With a snatch of your hand, you took it off the charger and went to put it in your pocket but then paused. It fell to the floor. It seems your pockets didn't work. With a roll of your eyes, you picked it off the floor, climbed onto your bedside table and turned it to silent. You balanced on the table and slid it on top of your dresser. It was tall enough that not even Ghost would be able to see on top of it

Last second you lost your balance and let out a cry as you fell onto to hover awkwardly above the ground. “Guess ghosts can fly after all.” You muttered.

Slowly you lowered your feet onto the ground just in time for Soap to walk into your room. It was the first time since you died. He went to your nightstand only to find it gone. A frown formed on his face and then he went towards your desk. 

He let out a sound of frustration but it was Ghost's voice that filled the air. 

“Can't find it?” 

“Did you take it?” Soap asked

“No. I'll call it for you.” Ghost brought out his phone and started to call your number. Yet it didn't make a sound. Soap stood up and started to walk to the bathroom to look for it. You followed him as he searched under the sink and when he stood up, his eyes made contact with yours in the mirror. 

He didn't say a word. Soap looked away and rejoined Ghost. Just in time to hear your voice through your phone. 

“I'm unable to come to come to the phone right now. Don't leave a message and please send me a text. Thanks!” 

“She probably hid it somewhere.” Soap’s eyes shut. “It's fine. I don't want to be in here.” He pushed past Ghost and left the room.

Pain swelled in your chest. You didn't want to hurt him- either of them. But your phone was all you had. Ghost glanced to the rest of the room and left. The door clicked behind him. 

Slowly you went for your phone again and unlocked it. It was still open on Ghost’s contact. 

You finally hit send. 

A moment later you surprisingly received a reply. 

I love you too.

I miss you

Rest well

[periprose]

Bedside Manner - Chapter One

The Ghoul x Reader

When it comes to job prospects in the Wasteland, being a nurse isn't all that lucrative. So you're Dom Pedro's assistant, where your nurse skills of administering drugs come in handy with sedating the Ghoul. (Not really following canon, just taking my own spin on stuff)

Genre: fluff, fallout angst (more in future chaps anyways), strangers to accomplices to ambivalent friends to lovers, heated moments of tension, probably eventual smut

Word count: 2.2k

Masterlist | Next Chapter

Holy fuck, does shoveling do a number on your back.

You groan as you roll back your shoulder, and throw the shovel behind you. 

Dom Pedro has been on your ass about this shift. You have to take the Ghoul to Dom’s workshop, where he’ll carve him up, when the sedatives have worn off and the pain will be ever-present and lingering. You figure Dom’s angry about something else– and what better outlet is there than torturing a ghoul?

It’s not something you like to do, carrying this extremely heavy, tall undead-man through Dom Pedro’s house by using a rope system and tugging, and then after Dom Pedro’s had his fun. re-administering drugs that will prevent the feral nature from taking him over, but it’s necessary and it pays well.

Pedro’s a little too elite to do this himself anyways. That’s why he hired you, a former nurse who used to work at a charitable hospital– one that was eventually claimed by the Brotherhood.

You try not to think too much about your former, much more fulfilling career.

The mildly disturbing scent of a living corpse hits you as you open up the casket. The Ghoul isn’t the worst ghoul you’ve ever had to look at, but he’s still a little creepy, and you stare at him as he lies there.

Is he awake? Pretending to be asleep so you’ll be caught off guard, and his gun will fire rapidly, making a bloody mess out of you?

You’re well aware of the risks. You just have to hope that today’s chemical cocktail IVs are correct, and enough is administered inside him so that he’s truly, really, fast asleep.

You carefully tie around his wrists and legs– you feel, somehow, the slightest bit of warmth, something that could suggest a pulse from the veins of his wrists– but you know that’s ridiculous and continue on.

/

Dragging him to the workshop makes you feel a little guilty. His face sometimes smacks onto the wooden floors of this cabin if you’re not careful, and you always whisper a hushed “Sorry!” Even though he’s not human.

You don’t want to be on his bad side, even if he can’t hear you. 

“Why the fuck isn’t there a more moral way to make caps?” You exhale, a common complaint you always have.

You tie him to the torture-chair, wrapping rope around his torso and arms and legs, so he can’t break free, adjusting his hat so it stays on, and because– despite the Ghoul’s reputation as a bounty hunter, you feel like he deserves a little respect with his belongings– and now you’re waiting for Dom Pedro to come and cut him up.

You don’t know why Dom Pedro does this. Is there some sort of use for ghoul skin and blood that you don’t know about? Or is it just purely torture, since Dom Pedro’s kept the Ghoul alive for so long, even giving him the false kindness of anti-feral ghoul drugs so he’ll be entirely aware of every inch Dom Pedro’s knife cuts into him?

You don’t know. And it’s not exactly like you’re important enough to know that information, anyways.  

/

The Ghoul stirs awake. He blinks– he’s back in the workshop, yet again.

He’s only half aware of how he gets here. He knows there’s definitely a woman involved– someone soft, with pliant fingers and hesitant motions that suggest she doesn’t want him to get hurt as she drags him from sleep to being butchered– he only vaguely remembers seeing her back, just once, maybe a few months ago.

He turns to the side, ready for Dom Pedro to be seething in the corner over whatever their beef was and brandishing that scary, rusted axe. 

He’s not there.

Oh. The Ghoul blinks again, his eyes clearing up as he does.

It’s you. You’re the woman, the nurse that Dom Pedro uses to administer all these drugs into him. 

It’s almost a little shocking, a little tantalizing to him to actually see you. Two-hundred years of memories doesn’t exactly give him the most clear of minds, but he knows you’re the one who’s always just hazy, on the edge of his peripheral vision after being tortured, in his dreams after you sedate him.

“Hey, nurse…” He can hardly talk, but you jolt in your spot, and turn to him. 

“Uh–” You stare at him, entirely flabbergasted. “You’re not supposed to be awake!”

“Well, I am. What’re you gonna do about it?” He yawns, still ever so slightly woozy from the drugs. 

The Ghoul notices a knife on the table. He tips his head toward it.

“Cut me free.”

“Are you fucking crazy?!” You shake your head immediately. “Dom Pedro will kill me.”

“Dom Pedro’s a bitch if he’s killing someone willing to do the hard work for what, a couple hundred caps?” The Ghoul raises his non-existent eyebrows, and you swallow. “You don’t know how rare that is nowadays.”

“And I’m supposed to just trust you? The Ghoul, the most terrifying, ruthless, brutal killer I’ve ever known?” You narrow your eyes at him, with every adjective tossed out of your hissing mouth, coming closer and closer to him.   

“I like how you describe me, keep going.” He jokes, looking up at you, but he snarls suddenly and you flinch.

The Ghoul grins in satisfaction, white pearly teeth, very square and rigid in their appearance, something that should look handsome on the right person and instead, is a little unnerving right now.

Still attractive, though, and you question yourself.  

“Let me go, sweetheart, and I promise your death won’t be as half as painful as he could make it.” He drawls, and you swallow but shake your head.

“I’m not interested in being a mercy kill.” You state, and he sucks on his teeth. 

“That’s a mistake.” He leans closer to you, somehow straining against your carefully tied knots to do so. “I’d be doing you a favour.”

“Well, I’m a coward. I’m not all rough and tough and shooting every single person I see, unlike you and Dom Pedro. I’m not gonna die in glorious battle, and I don’t want to die anyways.” You’re glum. “I only took this job because being associated with him protects me.”

The Ghoul is silent for a moment.

“And what if you were associated with me?” He asks, not actually intending anything serious, but he feels an urge to tease you ever so slightly. “That’s protection, isn’t it?”

“What?” You glance back at him. “Why would you do that?”

“Dunno.” He shrugs. “Maybe because I’m trying to bargain my way out of here, maybe because you’re the one who’s been kind enough to make sure I’m not chafing with how you tie these fucking ropes– and I’m assuming you drug me, right, sweetheart? You dull the sick pains he gives me.”

“Uh… yeah, I do.” You pause. “Stop trying to sweet talk me, Ghoul.”

“Nah, nurse. It’s funny and I wonder what Dom Pedro will do when he sees you talking to me.” The Ghoul says, another shit-eating grin upon his face.

Oh.

That’s actually quite bad, you think. The Ghoul hasn’t just been trying to coax you with compliments so you’d help him escape– the longer he’s kept you in this conversation, the closer you’ve gotten to his Plan B: Dom Pedro’s wrath.

“I’m guessing a smart lady like you would be more afraid of him.” The Ghoul keeps prodding, and you glare at him. “Rather than me.” 

You know he’s right. Your eyes give away what you’re thinking as you ever so slightly glance to the table.

There’s a syringe of chems there, meant to send him to sleep after Dom Pedro has done his worst. Usually Dom Pedro takes the initiative to do that himself, because as he tells you, he likes being the only one who can send the Ghoul to sleep, the closest Dom Pedro will let him ever get to death. And then you’re stuck with dragging his comatose body back to the grave that awaits him.

Maybe you can just put a stop to the Ghoul’s philandering right now, and get yourself out of here before things get bad. Dom Pedro wouldn’t even notice– the Ghoul would seem as out of it as he was supposed to be at this time.

It’s only a second of you looking over there, but the Ghoul is quick– too quick, immediately understanding what you intend to do– and he somehow pushes his chair forward, at you, aiming his foot to kick at you with what limited motion he has in his restraints.

You get shoved back with a grunt, and you see him edge towards the knife on the table– but you knock him backwards with a shove, and the chair tips back, only stopping on it’s back legs due to the ropes extending from them, tethered to the back wall and through the gear and pulley systems that are ever present in this workshop. 

The Ghoul’s kept his grip around your wrist, though, from where his hands are tied on the armchairs, and you fall back with him, balancing on your tippie toes and your hands on the top of the chair. Your hair brushes against his face as you lean forward, and you attempt to move away, but he won’t let go of you, instead sighing with gratification as he looks up at you from here.

“Huh. This is a compromising position, isn’t it?” The Ghoul licks his teeth as he keeps pulling you towards him, and you hear the wooden floor creak under you as the chair wavers in the air.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh, c’mon, cut the bullshit.” He scoffs, still trying to get you to budge into helping him. “You really think Ol’ Dom Pedro won’t think you’re conspiring with me now, after it looks like you’ve taken a lover–”

There’s a sudden sound at the porch of the cabin. You and the Ghoul both turn to look out the window– and it’s definitely one very drunk Dom Pedro struggling to open the door.

You duck, out of fear that he’ll see you through the window, in the delicate moonlight, and the Ghoul tuts as your face comes near his jaw.

“What’s it gonna be, sweetheart?” He looks at your trembling face nonchalantly, as you try to make a decision. “Free me, and we’ll escape together. Use the drugs, and you’ll be stuck under Dom Pedro’s grubby fingers making exceedingly meagre wages.”

“How do I know you won’t just abandon me as soon as you want to kill a bounty?” You whisper, and he rolls his eyes. 

“You don’t. But I always repay my debts.” He says, and you don’t really believe him at all, but the more time passes by, the more you know that he won’t even seem appropriately sedated for Dom Pedro’s wishes– so you wordlessly nod.

The Ghoul won’t let go of you, so you’re left careening to the side as his arms hold you to him. He’s keeping such a tight grip to ensure that you scrabble for the knife– and you do.

“No sneaky bullshit.” He spits out, and you, despite being of the Wasteland, had no mind to kill him. No, that would’ve certainly looked bad as well. 

Dom Pedro’s favourite lap dog, dead? His bounty killer, who does it for the love of the game? His favourite ghoul to torture? The one who did something so bad it’s basically unspeakable, and Dom Pedro would be livid if he wasn’t ultimately the one to kill him in the end?

You could say goodbye to your head if you killed the Ghoul. You know your place– even if you get paid to administer drugs to him, you’re no better than a dealer, a sweet face providing a nice bedside manner.  

You make quick work of the ropes restraining him, and the Ghoul stands up before ducking behind a table, putting his finger against his lips, shushing you.

You’re very careful now. Dom Pedro is coming down the hallway, and any second now, he’s going to check to see if you brought the Ghoul here.. Luckily, Dom Pedro’s so drunk, he’s taking his time, stumbling and groaning.

After mulling over it in your mind, you decide to take the full syringe on the table. Less evidence, and you figure maybe Dom Pedro will be so drunk he’ll forget you were supposed to be here anyways.

And after second-guessing it– you think fuck it, and take the entire briefcase of drugs with you.

The Ghoul whistles very slightly at the sight of that. “You’re committing.”

You resist the urge to ask him what other choice you have, since running out on Dom Pedro is a great way to have a bunch of bounty hunters after you– you’re relying on selling some drugs, and bribing the Ghoul with some so he’d have to continue protecting you after he inevitably says he’s completed his debt by helping you escape.

“Let’s go.” You mouth, and he nods.

He’s not one to care about personal space at all, though– and he lifts you up over the ledge of the other window, pushing up on your thighs, away from the hallway where Dom Pedro is finally coming in– and you feel your face turn hot at the close contact, halfway over the ledge into the outside, with his hands on your waist as he hoists you away.

You don’t even have time to think about it as you land lightly on the ground together, because he’s right behind you, hands still on your waist for a moment, and then he lets go, and together you move quickly.

[oceaneyesinla]

I was planning a Vampire!Giyuu x Reader fic, then decided if I was going to do it, there had to be monsterfucking.

Here's the result! This is my first full smut fic, so CONSTRUCTIVE criticism is welcome. I'm already planning to write more for this AU, because I love it so much.

Divider by @/benkeibear

CW: violence/gore, oral (f!receiving), unprotected sex, creampie

You could still feel the phantom frost of the man’s hand around your throat like a brand, and the bruises you could see blooming across your skin in the mirror were beginning to ache. You spent most of your time surrounded by vampires these days, and yet you were still caught off guard when one decided you would be worth a taste. The man - Madea, Urokodaki had told you when you finally got back to the house - only got so close because you knew he was part of the Kakushi. The way he grabbed you by the neck, faster than you ever could have reacted to, was unexpected. As was the way he dragged you along, forcing you down the nearest alley.

For a moment, you believed you had met your end. Begging was pointless; you knew that from the frankly disgusting look in his eye as he scanned your body up and down. You lived with vampires, but never before had you felt so much like prey.

You had closed your eyes, mouthing silent apologies to your lover. Then the pressure around your throat loosened and a terrible scream pierced your ears. A cool splatter landed across your face, and when your eyes shot open, you found Madea several feet away, clutching at the stump of the arm that was now resting at your feet. Another flash of terror shot through you; had something even more dangerous found you, and decided to fight Madea for his prize? Kanae had warned you about a mystery group of elder vampires, who killed without hesitation or remorse.

But when you scanned the alleyway, all you found was your lover, blood soaking into the thin fabric of his white shirt and a murderous look in his eyes as he bore down on Madea. All you could do was watch on in silence as Giyuu’s fist collided with Madea’s cheek, a visceral crunch making you wince as Madea was thrown a few feet away by the force of the blow. Giyuu crouched over him while he was still groaning, curled in on himself as if making some weak attempt at protecting himself from further harm. He had no such luck - one hand gripping short hair to the point of pain as the other pinned him against the pavement, and you stared wide eyed as Giyuu’s muscles flexed and Madea’s head came away, blood dripping from the jagged remains of his neck. 

Giyuu tossed the head to the side, slowly turning to look over his shoulder, giving you view of one eye, deep royal blue in the darkness, and full of something you could only describe as fury. Adrenaline still coursed through your veins and your heart and body were at war. This was your Giyuu, of course he would never hurt you - but the look in his eye was unlike anything you had seen from him before.

So distracted by your lover’s piercing stare, you didn’t notice the person coming up behind you until they laid a gentle hand on your shoulder. You flinched away, ready to dive towards Giyuu - whatever state he was in, he would protect you, of that you were certain.

There was no need. Kanae fixed you with a soft look and a soothing smile, relaxing you instantly. Something about her had always comforted you, and now was no exception. With slow, deliberate movements, she pulled a tissue out of her pocket, holding your chin in one hand as she wiped away the mess across your face. You appreciated the gesture; the feel of drying blood on your skin was one you detested.

“Giyuu?” Her sweet voice called out and when you looked back to your partner, he was standing upright, face a blank slate, “Would you take care of him, please? I’ll take Y/N back to the house.”

You let Kanae lead you towards the light of the street lamps, sparing one glance back at Giyuu, shrouded in darkness as he stood silent over the corpse. 

There was a quiet click behind you, dragging you out of your memories and you met Giyuu’s gaze through the mirror as he entered the room. His face was blank and he stayed silent, but the way his eyes slid down to your neck spoke volumes. As did the fact that he stayed away, avoiding your shared room even after Tanjiro informed you he was home.

You turned to take a step towards him, hesitating as he seemed to shrink away from you, pressing his back against the wall. His face gave nothing away, but those eyes … you could read them easier than any novel. Your lover was an open book to you, and you knew this story all too well.

One step at a time, you made your way to stand before him, only stopping when you were close enough to reach out. Your hand cradled his cheek, and his eyes squeezed shut, his whole body tensing under your loving touch. It was almost as if he expected harsh words and betrayed violence, and your heart broke at the thought.

On tiptoes, you kissed his cheek, hoping he could feel the smile on your lips, “Thank you for saving me, Giyuu.”

His eyes flew open at your words and pressed as close as you were, you felt his arm twitch, as if he wanted to reach out and hold you. You made the decision for him, wrapping your fingers around his wrist and dragging his arm around your waist, letting yourself melt into his chest. For a moment, he stayed tense and you wondered if you had made the right choice. Then he held you tighter, wrapping both arms around you and burying his face in your shoulder. You could just about make out the words he was mumbling into the fabric of your shirt - I’m sorry.

You tugged on his hair oh so lightly, your vampire responding to your touch immediately and pulling away. Only slightly, of course; his hold on you still firm. You hoped he could see the love in your eyes as clearly as you could see it mirrored in his own, “Stop blaming yourself. I’m right here, and I’m safe.”

“You almost weren’t. I clearly haven’t protected you well enough, if someone thinks they can touch what’s mine.” His voice was low as he stared into your eyes, and you weren’t ashamed to admit you loved his more possessive impulses. You were his, as he was yours, and after everything that had happened, you wanted him closer. You needed him to hold you, to force every thought from your mind but those of him.

A hand slipped round the nape of his neck as you leaned in, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that started out gentle but quickly heated up as you deepened it. A nip to his lower lip made him groan, and his hands slipped from their place around your waist to grab at the flesh of your hips. He used that grip to flip you around, so now you were the one caged against the wall. 

You only broke away from his kiss when the need to breathe became overwhelming, and your heavy breathing was the only sound in the room. Giyuu was watching you intently, pupils dilated and gaze intense. Once again, you felt like prey, but there was no fear running through your veins now. You pressed your thighs together, trying to subtly relieve the need slowly growing in your core. Ocean eyes trailed down your body, making note of your desperate actions with satisfaction.

A squeak escaped you as suddenly, you were in the air, and another rush of arousal flooded through you when you realised your weight was entirely suspended by one strong arm, wrapped around your waist as the other gently swatted your thigh. A pleased hum rumbled through Giyuu’s chest as you followed his silent command and wrapped your legs around his waist. As a reward, he returned to kissing you, his tongue slipping between your lips to explore your mouth. 

You didn’t even notice him moving until he broke away from your kiss, smirking when you tried to chase his lips and reconnect them. He laid you out on your shared bed, climbing over top of you just like he knew you loved - using his body weight to trap you against the mattress. Even if you wanted to escape, you couldn’t, and the thought of being entirely at the mercy of the vampire above you was intoxicating. By now, his pupils obscured most of the blue of his irises, and what was left was like a bottomless abyss, deep and inviting, drawing you in. 

Before you could reach up for him and drag him down into another passionate kiss, he began to move down your body, pressing open mouth kisses against your heated skin. He hesitated once he reached the black and blue of your throat and you opened your mouth to reassure him yet again but before you could, he pressed the lightest kiss of all against the bruises.

“No-one will harm you again. You have my word.” He shifted his weight, freeing up one hand to trace over the bruises with his fingers, before wrapping them loosely around your throat, “My hands will be the only ones to touch you like this.”

A full body shiver ran through you at his words, pitched low and deep and dripping with possession, and you could feel slick arousal pooling in your underwear. Entirely at his mercy, you could do nothing but submit.

He continued his exploration of your body, his mouth leaving a trail of heat across your skin as he travelled downwards, despite the chill of his lips. Once he reached the place where the swell of your breasts disappeared beneath your clothing, he sat back, staring down at you with hunger. You would have whined, demanding to know why he moved away but then with one quick movement and the sound of ripping threads, your tank top was nothing but shreds in his hand.

Rational thought would have you annoyed at the loss of a shirt, but rationality was overshadowed by the lust you felt at his action. You could do nothing but whimper as he bore down on you, pulling one nipple into his mouth as he rolled the other between nimble fingers. He teased at the sensitive bud in his mouth with sharp fangs and arousal shot through your core. It was a heady feeling, being in the arms of what most would consider a monster, but knowing you would never be safer. To feel the pin pricks of razor sharp teeth in your most vulnerable places, and knowing in your soul that you would never feel their sting unless you wanted it.

His questing continued, tongue slipping out to leave cool kitten licks against your stomach, just so he could see the muscles twitch and flex. You held your breath in anticipation as he finally reached where you wanted him most and a moan tore from your throat as he licked directly over your dripping sex through your underwear. More kisses were laid along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs as he settled himself in the cradle of your legs. Part of you knew that you should feel fear as one sharp fang dragged lightly over where you knew your femoral artery ran, but all you could process was anticipation, heavy and thick. 

Another rip, and the room air hit your core, making you shiver. Giyuu tossed the ruins of your underwear aside without a glance, eyes focused on the slick mess between your thighs. You whined for him to stop staring, legs pulling together a little to draw his attention away.

Lightning fast, one hand came to rest on each thigh, gripping the plush there firmly as he held your legs apart, eyes never leaving your cunt.

“Beautiful. Mine.” With those two words, he buried himself in your folds, tongue sliding from your hole to your clit in one sweep as his hands moved under your hips, arms locking around your legs, holding you open for him to do as he pleased. Giyuu was always good with his mouth, but now he was near feral, exploiting his lack of need to breathe to absolutely ruin you. You let out a wail as he wrapped his lips around your clit, suckling at the sensitive pearl and not letting up, even as your hands slid through raven hair and gripped tight. You knew better than to try and pull him away - all it would get you was an open handed slap to your pussy and an admonishment to not ‘ruin his meal’.

He released your clit, only to refocus his attention on your fluttering hole, pushing his tongue through the ring of muscle and delving inside. You could feel its cool touch running along your inner walls and you couldn’t help the moans escaping you. It always felt this way when your lover went down on you - overwhelming in the best way possible. His hands were grounding; pressing pretty bruises into your thighs in the shape of his fingertips - bruises you knew he would trace over later, his pride in claiming you obvious.

Your legs trembled as the coil in your abdomen tightened, and Giyuu redoubled his efforts, thumb moving to circle your clit as his tongue explored your folds. The final straw was the noises Giyuu was making, groaning into your pussy as he tasted you; getting high off the ecstasy he was drawing out of you. You came with a breathy cry, rocking your hips against his face as he lapped at you, prolonging your pleasure.

He gave you barely a second to breathe before he intensified his actions again, his tongue flicking over your clit as his fingers moved to play with your hole, still pulsing from your recent orgasm.

“P-Please, Giyuu. S-Sensitive.” You tugged at his hair pathetically, oversensitivity making the pleasure in your core almost too intense.

He growled against your folds, lifting his head just enough that you could hear him, the vibrations of his voice still making you shiver, “You can give me another.”

It was a statement, not a request, but you nodded anyway, whining when he whispered a good girl against your slick folds. Two fingers pushed inside you, and immediately curled, trying to find the spot you both knew drove you wild. All the while, his tongue swirled around your clit. It was almost embarrassing how wet you were; you could hear the squelching as Giyuu’s fingers pumped in and out of your hole.

His fingertips found that special little spot along your walls, and you clenched hard around his fingers, moans increasing in volume as your thighs tightened around his head. A firm press against your G spot, and a final flick against your clit, and you sobbed out a cry as your orgasm hit hard, whiting out your vision for a moment as you released the breath you barely realised you were holding. Your chest heaved with heavy breaths as you came down from your high, whimpering as you felt his fingers slip out of you.

You looked down at him and the sight sent a pulse of arousal through you. Giyuu’s lower face was covered in your juices, and he was staring back at you like he wanted to eat you alive. Your hole fluttered around nothing, and you were desperate to have him inside you. 

He brought his fingers up to your mouth, the ones which had just been buried inside you, and you didn’t make him ask. Obediently, you opened your mouth and let him slip them inside, wrapping your lips around them and cleaning them off with your tongue. His pupils dilated further as you sucked on the digits in your mouth, and you would have offered to replicate it somewhere else, but you knew he would turn you down. When he got like this, intense and possessive, the only place he wanted his cock was buried deep inside your cunt.

Fingers were removed, and replaced with his lips, catching you in a bruising kiss. You moaned at the taste of yourself in his mouth as your tongues tangled together. He settled between your legs and you could feel his bulge pressing against you even through the trousers he still wore. You broke the kiss, spit still connecting the two of you as you begged, “Please Giyuu, need to feel you inside.”

He pulled away from you, stripping faster than you had ever seen before. Within seconds, he was back above you, caging you in against the mattress as he teased your entrance with the head of his cock. You could see he was rock hard and you mewled underneath him, wrapping your legs around his hips to try and convince him to end his teasing.

“You want it, hmm?” He was smirking, and sometimes you hated his restraint. His only goal was to drive you mad with pleasure, and he would happily ignore himself to accomplish it.

“Yes, yes! Please!” You pouted up at him and apparently that was all he needed. One hand wrapped around his cock, drawing a deep moan out of him. He guided his cock inside you, sheathing himself to the hilt in one smooth movement. There was next to no resistance, your pussy still wet and ready from his earlier attention. You let out a moan as he settled inside your cunt, filling you up. The slight stretch was delicious and you pulled him closer, nipping at his earlobe before burying your face in his shoulder. He was everywhere - his touch, his smell. 

He began to move his hips with slow, deep strokes that made you gasp into his cool skin. Every time he pushed into your heat, you could feel his cockhead kiss your cervix, and the pleasurable pressure made your head spin. You ran a hand up and down his back, feeling the muscles tense and flex as he held you down, rocking into you. He was nuzzling at your neck, and his nose was poking at your jugular. He would never ask if he could drink from you, but you would always offer. You should be scared - a vampire, with strength greater than your own and hungry for your blood, was pressed against your carotid artery, but all you felt was desire. You wanted his teeth to sink into you. You wanted the sharp pain as his fangs pierced your skin. Because you knew that it would fade almost immediately, to be replaced by heat flooding your entire body. You trusted that he would never take more than you could afford to lose, and the lightheaded feeling you were left with made everything feel more intense - the feel of him inside you, the cool press of his skin against yours.

You wrapped a hand in his hair, pulling his face out of the crook of your neck and smiling as you felt his cock twitch where it was nestled in your walls. Ocean eyes met yours, and you whispered, “Drink from me. Please. Take what’s yours.”

His eyes widened slightly, but his surprise didn’t last long. Lust and hunger overtook anything else in his gaze, and you knew he was hungry for more than your cunt. One hand moved to cradle your cheek as he stared down at you, and before he leaned in once again, he whispered to you, “My beautiful girl. Mine.”

He buried his face into your neck again and you gasped as you felt fangs break your skin. A roll of his hips acknowledged your discomfort, and the friction of his pubic hair against your clit took the edge off the pain. Moments later, just as you had come to expect, the sting dissipated and instead, you were left with a pleasant warmth flooding through your veins. Your arm wrapped around his shoulder, and your other hand cradled his head against his neck, offering silent encouragement for him to drink his fill. He had worked so hard to keep you safe, and he deserved to take what would always be his.

Without detaching from your neck, he shifted your position - lifting your hips to change the angle of his thrusts, and you gasped as the head of his cock began to brush against your G-spot with every thrust. His hips were moving lazily as he drank, slowly winding the coil in your lower abdomen.

You would never tell him to stop, but he knew your body better than you knew yourself, and just as the lightheadedness began to set in, he released your neck, lapping at the blood dripping slowly from the twin holes in your skin. The site was a little sore, but you welcomed it. It was a reminder of his claim on you; a visible mark that you belonged to your vampire and no-one else. Maybe you were a little unhinged for being so enamoured by a creature that could kill you without breaking a sweat, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Gentle fingers brushed your hair away from your face, and caring eyes scanned your expression, checking in on you just like he always did. Clearly, your pleased, if slightly out of it smile must have reassured him, because blood stained lips lifted into a dangerous smile and a sharp thrust made you moan. Now that his teeth were away from the delicate column of your throat, his pace increased, skin slapping against skin as he fucked you, giving you deep, intense strokes that made you feel like he was rearranging your guts. You clung to him, leaning into the slightly fuzzy feeling created by the mix of blood loss and bliss. 

His body shifted and more of his weight pressed onto you, enhancing your pleasure and making it so his cock was near constantly pressing against all the most sensitive spots along your walls. You let out a cry as one hand slid down your tummy, thumb coming to rub tight circles around your clit as his palm pressed against your abdomen.

“Doing so well for me, love. You look so beautiful like this, spread out just for me.”

It was too much - your head was spinning and all you knew was the blinding pleasure your lover provided. Giyuu’s tongue darted out to run over the marks he left on your neck and you came hard, pussy clenching hard around his cock as you squirted around him, soaking his abdomen and probably the sheets underneath you too.

A few more deep strokes and Giyuu fell over the edge too, a final thrust pushing him deep into your cunt as he came, drawing a breathy gasp out of you as you felt his seed fill you up. As you both came down from your shared high, your laboured breathing slowly returning to normal, you stayed wrapped around each other - his forehead resting against yours, sharing the same space and indulging in the way he relaxed into you. He always went a little boneless after an orgasm, being the only time he truly stopped worrying about his weight on top of you. Yes, he indulged your desire to be trapped by him and his muscular body, but part of him was always cautious, always worried about your safety.

You felt a little boneless yourself, but infinitely satisfied. With some effort, you dragged a hand up to run through Giyuu’s hair, a fond smile spreading across your face as he relaxed even further, practically purring under your gentle touch. It was so funny to you, how a man who could rip a threat to you limb from limb, would fold so easily to sweet touches and praising words.

Eventually, you had to part, and you whined as he pulled his now soft cock out of you. His eyes drifted down and you felt your cheeks heat up as he stared at your now well fucked pussy. Ocean blue followed the trail of cum you could feel running out of you and you squeaked as his fingers gathered up the mix of your juices and his seed and pushed inside you.

He tried to look innocent, but you could see the growing smirk on his face, “It’ll make a mess otherwise.”

Once you were ‘tidied up’ to his satisfaction, he pressed kisses to your thighs then your forehead, “You were perfect for me, love. My perfect girl.”

The praise sent a wave of warmth through you, and you smiled up at him, “I love you, Giyuu.”

“Stay here. I’ll run a bath and come get you.”

You shook your head, grabbing the hand that was still resting by your head, “Don’t go. Stay with me.” After everything tonight - from your terrifying ordeal to the intimate moment you just experienced - you desperately didn’t want to be alone. You felt vulnerable and exposed, and you wanted nothing more than to be wrapped up in your lover.

Giyuu just smiled, stroking a thumb across your cheek before scooping you up into his arms, one around your waist, holding you tight against his bare chest and the other under your hips, supporting your weight. You let out a contented sigh, resting your head on his shoulder as he carried you into the bathroom.Maybe you would even convince him to join you in the bath. After all, it was big enough for two. You had a feeling it wouldn’t be all too difficult. The night had proven there was nothing your vampire wouldn’t do for you.

[charnelhouse]

Thoughts on “you couldn’t care less” “oh, I could” and “once I start I can’t stop” (especially for a big guy like ghost) together or separate both wreck me

A/N: Ghost x F!Reader (Red Fox). Trauma. Mentions of torture.

She throws it at him, spits it like a feral cat. “You couldn’t care less, Simon.”

He gapes at her, blood encrusted in the folds of his suit. Corpses littering the floor. “I couldn’t care less?” he echoes, tone stained with incredulity.

As if the evidence of his care isn’t at their feet.

She turns away from him, staggers slightly to the side before righting herself. She’s wounded and she won’t let him touch her. A pretty bird with a broken wing. His fury rages anew. It builds like a brushfire, and he wants another neck to twist. They had hurt her, and they had paid the price.

“What has two legs and bleeds?” she rasped, raising finger guns and pretending to shoot. She was slumped against the cement wall, crimson spit pooling to the floor.

“Red,” he growled, stepping forward with the keys to her cell door. The relief in his voice was muddied by his fear. Irritation was always his backup. “Not the time.”

“It’s me,” she murmured, exhausted and fragile and half out of her mind. “I think they hit a lung.”

It’s whiplash. Her joking to her shutting him out? She’s galloping toward hysterics, her fingers trembling as they loosely grasp the handle of the gun he had shoved into her hand. Fox had been ambushed and taken as a hostage. It was Ghost who had run after her, not caring that Price had firmly told him no - you're compromised in this particular situation.

“I just...” Ghost begins before trailing off.

He just what? Murdered a whole room of people that he was supposed to keep alive, but they had attacked Red, and he wasn’t capable of playing nice. Not when it came to her. “They tortured you,” he offers lamely. It’s the truth. He knows all about torture. It’s the mental shit that’s the worst, being used and shoved to the bottom of the barrel until there’s no light left.

“You jeopardized the mission,” she argues as she kicks one of the guards’ heads to the side. It’s limp, a water balloon filled with clay. She stumbles again and Ghost shoots forward, arm winding around her waist to hold her steady. “They’re all gonna blame me.” She places her palm on his tac vest, spreads her fingers. “I got caught. You killed them all. Fuck." She sounds resigned and bitter.

“I did,” he replies flatly. “My decision.”

Her lip trembles, her teeth clicking in her mouth as they start to chatter. A box of jumbled bones. She’s going cold and Ghost realizes that she’s in shock and perhaps that is why she’s making zero sense.

“You couldn’t care less because-because you shouldn’t care like this,” she tries to explain. “They’re gonna say you did it for me and I was weak and caught and forced your hand-”

“I did do it for you,” he replies simply, picking her up into his arms. Price is barking something into his earpiece and Ghost knows he’s going to get hell; he may even be put on leave for what he did. “They can say whatever they want.”

“No,” she protests, pushing away from him, but she’s so frail that it barely registers. A butterfly landing on his shoulder. She chokes on a sob and starts to cry and if that doesn’t kill Ghost, he’s not sure what will.

He bites his tongue, attempting to control himself from reacting. Her frustration, her tears, distress him and if she could see the expression behind his mask, she’d understand. Of course, I bloody did it for you.

However, she needs his kindness now. She needs to bash herself against him until she can no longer hold her weight. Douse her anger. Douse her resentment at herself because surely this is about her. She's mad at him for risking his own reputation to save her life.

"Simon," she sputters, and his name plops out wet. Helpless. Her breasts hitch, her heart thumping fast - too fast.

“Hey...hey...easy there, duchess,” he soothes, dropping his brow until it’s fastened against her own. “Breathe with me. We got Evac coming.”

“But...it's not...”

“No more of that,” he hums before inhaling and exhaling at a slow, even rhythm. Her ear is firmly planted on his chest, and she curls her finger around one of the straps of his tac vest. She clings to it. Her hairline is beaded in cool sweat. Blood in the air. He swallows thickly as he feels her attempt to follow his pace. “That’s a girl. Just like that. Breathe. You’re safe.”

[corazondebeskar-reads]

no quiet on this earth

Joel Miller x f!reader

originally for Febuwhump 2024 Day 10 - killing in self defense | Febuwhump masterlist

words: 2.8k

summary: You and Joel run into hunters on patrol.

-- I'm a fucking menace, and this is Joel & reader from "you know you never stood a chance" (spoiler warning). BUT this can be read as a standalone. I just can't seem to help myself/let them go.

warnings: established relationship, jackson, patrol partners, hunters, Joel and reader both kill hunters, canon-typical violence, graphic descriptions of violence, lots of blood, oral (m receiving), p in v unprotected, creampie, feelings, guilt/trauma, trauma response, a little hurt and a LOT of comfort, Joel takes care of you, one (1) ass slap, pussy/clit spanking

dividers by @saradika-graphics

They had been waiting for you. Not the biggest group of hunters that’s come ‘round, but there hadn’t been any signs. It was supposed to be an easy half-day route. 

It was also your first patrol with Joel. 

You’re already off to a rough morning. He’s settled back into Out There Joel, gruff and tense, and you’re already feeling useless again even though you know you can handle it now. 

You’re on horseback, you with a gentle brown mare that you’re a little irritated about. Penny is notoriously slow and usually used to teach people to ride. Tommy taught you to ride ages ago, but Joel fucking insisted. 

“Ain’t havin’ you have to deal with a spooked horse our first time out.”

“Our first time. I’ve been out loads of times,” you grumbled. He leveled you with a look so stern that you rolled your eyes. 

“Don’t start with your smart mouth,” he said. “Only way this works is—“

“If I do what I’m told. I got it. Same shit, different place.” 

To say you’re pissed would be an understatement. You thought after all the shit you’ve been through that he’d trust you now. And you’ve gotten quite good with your revolver and halfway decent with the rifle. 

Now, out here on the trail to the safe house, neither of you has said a word. Just like the good old days. Y’know. If they had been good. 

You’re nearly there when they make their move. They don’t have guns, thank fuckin’ god, but there are five of them and two of you. 

It becomes quickly clear that they want the horses. Joel makes quick work of the first hunter that lunges for him. 

One comes at him from each side, and you’re too worried to notice the other two do the same to you. 

One grabs the reins and the other tries to yank you from the saddle. Your boots are stuck, and they don’t seem to particularly care if they break your legs during the extraction. 

You free your feet, boots left behind, and let the brick house of a man pull you down. He doesn’t care much about your landing, so when you hit the ground, you grapple for your revolver. 

His partner yells, and he spins back to you, a huge fist aiming for your face. But it doesn’t connect, because your bullet does first. 

He was close enough that it would have been near impossible to miss, which also meant that his stupid body landed on you, turning your clothes into a sponge for his blood. 

Joel’s rampaged through the others by now and turns to take down the one trying to abscond with your horse. 

But he doesn’t make the shot, because he freezes up when he sees you. 

“Get the fucking horse,” you yell. 

He swears and loads the rifle, one neat bullet into the head of the escaping hunter. He hadn’t fully mounted your mare yet, and his corpse crumples into the soft spring soil. 

Joel whistles and Penny takes her fucking time to come back, giving him a very unimpressed look and shaking her mane. 

He heaves the dead man off you. “Where?” he says sharply, eyes darting all over your body. 

“Nowhere, Joel, I’m fine,” you say. 

He’s already dropping to his knees, hands gripping and patting every inch of you before cradling your face. “You’re sure?”

“I mean, I think so. Unless I’m in shock, but I guess we’ll find out in a little bit.”

“Not funny, sweetheart,” he mutters, doing another check, slower this time and more thorough. 

You let him. You feel kind of funny, dizzy almost, but mostly just… muted. Like the world around you is muffled and you’re suddenly hyper aware of how blood is turning tacky and your jeans are stiffening as it dries. 

“Hey,” he snaps. 

You’re pretty sure that means he was already talking to you, and when you look up and meet his eyes, they abandon their irritation for concern beneath furrowed brows. 

“Sweetheart, listen to me,” he says, voice low and slow. It draws out the Texan twang and loops you in. “You’re okay. You’re safe. I’ve got you. You did what you had to do, okay?”

“Okay,” you echo, but the word sticks in your throat, tasting of copper. 

“Say it.”

“I did what I had to do.”

You’ve done as he said, but he looks more worried for it. 

“Alright, c’mon. I’m gettin’ you home.”

“But—“

“Rethink that, baby. I ain’t in the mood to argue.”

“But we were supposed to—“

“Yeah, and plans fuckin’ change. We’re going back. Tommy and I can come out and deal with the bodies later.”

He stands and pulls you up, though you follow willingly. You hover where you stand as he pulls a rope from his bag and tethers it to Penny’s lead. 

“What’re you doing?” 

“Want you on Oakley with me.”

“I can ride,” you snap. “I’m not fucking hurt.”

“I know,” Joel says. “But you’re gonna ride with me.”

“Don’t start this shit,” you say, mortified when your voice and hands are trembling. “I can handle myself.”

He spins around, fury written in the curl of his lip. “I fuckin’ know that! I don’t give a shit. You’re riding with me, end of fuckin’ discussion.”

You open your mouth, ready to bite back, but he seizes you by the shoulders and shakes you a little. 

“Don’t you fuckin’ get it? It’s not about you,” he snarls. You’re crushed against him before you realize it’s an embrace. “You’re gonna fuckin’ ride up here, so I know you’re okay.” 

“Oh,” you whisper, leaning into him. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” he says, but the fight is already leaving him. He presses a kiss to the top of your head before he lets go. “Now get on the damn horse before I put ya there myself.”

You think you deserve credit for only hesitating a little, tempted to see if he really would. But his jaw ticks and you heave yourself up onto Oakley. Joel swings himself behind you, caging you in as he takes the reins. 

“You’re so fuckin’ stubborn,” he gripes. 

“I learned it by watching you,” you say, voice pitched in mockery of the vague memory. 

But instead of irritation, something akin to relief flashes across his face. “Yeah, s’that right?”

“Uh-huh.” Now that everything has calmed, you’re exhausted. He can tell because of course he can. He knows you too well. 

“C’mon, lean back. I got ya. Not gonna let you fall.”

You don’t sleep, not really, but you fall into something between the light and dark. It’s blissfully absent of reality. You’re only aware of the soft sunshine, the sway of the horse, and Joel. 

Joel, your Joel, is everything right now. All encompassing. You’re surrounded by his warmth and smoky musk, masking the chill and tang of the stains on your skin. 

His heart seems to beat in time with Oakley’s hooves and the steady pace he encourages keeps you lulled in this safest place. 

“Holy shit, what happened?” Carl asks at the gates, almost loud enough to knock you from your peace. 

“Nothin’ too serious, she ain’t hurt,” Joel’s smooth tone settles you back down. “But do me a favor and get the horses back? Send Tommy my way in a while. I’m gonna take her home.”

Home. It sounds so nice. But you’re already there, you want to tell him. There’s nowhere you’d rather be than right here. 

You must actually say it, because he chuckles. “Okay, sweetheart, but I can think of somewhere I’d rather be.”

It hurts a little before he leans in and murmurs in your ear. 

“I’d rather be in a warm bath with ya. That sound better than stayin’ put?”

“Oh,” you say. “Yeah, you’re right. Way better idea.”

He makes good on his promise when you get home. While he draws the water, he peels your ruined clothes off and sits you on the bathroom counter to rinse the blood into the sink. 

You sit very still with your eyes clenched shut as he cleans you. 

“I know,” he murmurs. “First one’s the hardest.”

You can’t quite stopper the whimper. 

“This is part of why I don’t like ya goin’ out there. I can’t protect you from this.” The admission costs him, but he seems to decide it’s worth it when you look up at him. 

The tub isn’t really big enough for both of you, but he makes it work, long sprawling limbs propped up to make room for you against his chest. You lie on your side, both to make more room and to press your ear to his chest and listen to his strong, tender heart. 

He holds you there, hand gentle on your head and the other around your shoulder until neither of you can pretend the water is comfortable still.  More importantly, his cock’s been pressing against you for a little while now, and you’re unable to ignore it anymore.

You roll over on your stomach, legs bent a little funny to fit, but it’s the right angle to press a kiss to the fat mushroom head that you love so much. 

“Sweetheart, you don’t need—”

But you just give him a look, because he knows better, he knows you’d never do anything you don’t want to. And he knows how often you crave it, how your throat aches for it.

He raises his hands in surrender. “I sure as hell ain’t gonna stop ya.” 

With the convoluted seating arrangement, you’re able to swallow down his length, working your throat open in the way you’ve grown to know well. It’s a lot at once, but the way he groans is worth the effort. 

You choke and gag a little, but neither of you are really bothered by it. Quite the opposite. And you’re grateful for the way the thoughts you don’t want to face are knocked from your brain each time he ruts deeper. 

Too soon, though, he’s pulling you off, spit thick with precum stringing between him and your lips as you whine.

“C’mon, let’s get out. I gotta have more of you.”

You don’t dry off quite as much as you’d like, but you’re probably going to need to change the sheets anyway. He can’t be bothered to let you towel off properly, picking you up and setting you on the bed before crawling over your body.

He kisses you, ferocious but hesitant, and you trail your hands up his arms, basking in the way he encompasses you for the second time today. His soft, powerful body leaves no wiggle room, practically pinning you down with his bulk. 

Except he’s holding himself up, tense. And the gentleness of his tongue and distinct lack of nipping teeth in his kiss is grating. 

You turn your head to break apart. “Stop acting like I’m gonna fall apart.” 

“I—”

“Oh, don’t even. It’s like you think I’m going to break if you touch me.”

“I didn’t want to make it feel like…”

“I know,” you say, softer. “But I want to feel you, Joel. I don’t want to feel the ghost of it… him. Please.” 

“You wanna feel me, sweetheart? Want me to be a little rough with ya?” 

“Unless you’re too tired. S’it past your bedtime, old man?” 

He doesn’t fall for the taunt, but he pretends to, and you’re deeply grateful as he snarls and bites at your breast before licking and sucking at your nipple, taking it between his teeth and shaking a little. 

“Oh, fuck,” you moan, hand tangling into his hair. He wears it a little shaggier these days, and you find you like it long. A lot. 

“Think you can take it just like this?” he says around your other nipple. The hand that isn’t holding him up has reached down to his cock, rubbing it against your clit until you squirm, and then dragging it down your slit. “You’re fuckin’ soaked. I think you can take it.”

He doesn’t wait any longer than the first little nod of your head before he flicks his hips, parting you, forcing your body to make room for him. It takes a second thrust to push all the way in, and you cry out as he stuffs you full. 

It hurts so good. It’s just the edge you need to feel awake again. The world is no less fuzzy but the haze is pleasurable and electric instead of the numb fog that refused to dissipate. 

“That’s my girl,” he says. 

It floods you with warmth. You think maybe the sappiness is leaking through, that he can see how stupidly in love you feel. 

Or, you know, it’s actually leaking, since you’re apparently fucking crying. You can’t really begrudge yourself for it. It’s been a hell of a day. 

“There you go,” he murmurs, the gentleness of his voice playing second to the harsh slap of his hips and the tight pinch of his fingers on your breasts. “Let it out, sweetheart. Let me help you.” 

His pace, somehow, intensifies, the brutal snap of his cock blunt against the softest parts of you. He pushes your legs to your chest so he can shove his way in deeper, and smacks a harsh hand against your ass from his new vantage point. 

He grips your hip with one hand and lets up on your tits, only to show no mercy to your clit. He skips over the gentle circles and soft strokes, instead pinching and tugging. He wrenches two orgasms from you before he eases off. 

“Hold your pussy open for me,” he grunts.

You look at him with wide eyes. How can he still be finding ways to shock you with depravity? The two of you have to have fucked every which way, and yet. You slide a hand down but he shakes his head.

“Both of ‘em, baby. Nice and wide.” 

Your cheeks are burning as he lifts up onto his knees, pushing your legs apart to watch as you spread your lips wide. For a moment, he’s mesmerized by the push and pull of his cock splitting you apart and the way it comes out a little slicker each time. 

“Look at that,” he says, a smug smirk spreading. “Fuckin’ creamin’ all over me, sweetheart. Now hold still.”

Before you really process the order, still dying from how hot his filthy words are, he slaps your clit. You jerk and let go, crying out more in surprise than pain.

“Put your fuckin’ hands back,” he says, and you obey. 

Your whole body is on fire, maybe. He brings his hand down sharply again and again, making you hold yourself spread wide for him to use as he pleases. 

It doesn’t really surprise either of you when you come. He finally knocks your hands away from your cunt and leans back down over you, hips stammering sloppily. 

“Can I—” he chokes out, and you’re nodding so hard it shakes your brain around. He digs his fingers into your hips. “C’mon, sweetheart, one more. Gimmie one more while I fill you up.”

He goes to reach for your clit, but it doesn’t matter. As soon as he starts twitching and pulsing inside you, you come, eyes rolling back and fingernails digging into his biceps. 

When you’ve both settled, there’s something bright in his eyes, something wild and dangerous. He sinks his teeth into your collarbone and doesn’t pull out. His softening cock isn’t much smaller than it is erect, and he stays buried deep in you, eyes trailing over your face. 

“What?” you say softly.

“I thought… thought I fuckin’ lost you today.” His voice is gruff but tight.

“You didn’t, Joel. M’right here.”

He kisses you, and it’s not gentle exactly, not like earlier, but it’s tender and demanding. His hands grip you and roam, not pursuing pleasure but just to have his fill of you, to feel your body warm and alive beneath him. 

When he breaks away from your swollen lips, he presses a kiss to your forehead. “You did good. I don’t like it, but you did good. I’m not gonna ask you not to go out again, but—”

“I’m gonna ask Tommy if I can have a break,” you say, pursing your lips. “I’m not a coward, but I don’t know if I can do that again.” You’re burning again, but this time with shame.

“No one expects you to. It doesn’t mean you’re a coward. You’re tough, sweetheart. But y’ain’t a killer.”

“I am, though,” you whisper. 

“Stop. Yes, you killed that man today. But you had to. It was him or you. You’re a survivor. But I’m going to make damn sure you don’t have to be anymore, alright? We’re safe here, now.”

You let out a ragged sigh and try to relax back into the pillow. “Okay,” you agree. You can tell he needs it. How scared he was. 

At least for now, you’ll let him protect you from this.

*title from "Death For My Birthday" by Say Anything

[rory-multifandom-mess]

This might be an odd request, but if you’re interested could you do Jhad angst with prompts 2 and 21? I get it’s a pretty niche ship, but I’ve seen your other work and I’m interested on your take of the pairing.

Brother I shit you not I was JUST talking about this ship right before you sent this ask I am not even kidding. The timing on this was amazing. Here’s the screenshots of my exact reaction

ANYWAY I’d gladly do this pairing!! I think it would be really cute and I may or may not be thinking about writing a slow burn for it eheheheh

2. “Please don’t leave me” and 21. “I’m better when I’m with you”

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

.

.

.

Alone. A word that kept repeating in J’s head.

She was alone again, just like before, just like she always was. Just like before the manor, and after the massacre. She couldn’t win. She just couldn’t win.

Tessa was her friend, yet she was ripped away from her by that damn thing. V was her friend, yet she ruined that by siding with it.

Why couldn’t V just understand? It was the only way to survive. There was no escape, even in death… Though apparently she was wrong. Because they won. Solver was gone, and she was alone again.

J sighed as she gripped the blow torch harder, repairing the ship she had unceremoniously blown up.

She grit her teeth together, memories of their battle flashing before her, of Cyn using Tessa’s skin as a suit.

Suddenly, the blowtorch snapped in half from the pressure, the metal dented.

“Damnit!” J exclaimed, angrily throwing it into the snow beneath her. She jumped off the ship and kicked the broken torch further away, fists clenched by her side.

“Yikes-“ A voice said nearby, by the exit of the corpse spire.

J immediately swiveled around, one of her hands switching out for a rocket launcher as she aimed in its direction.

The worker drone flinched and fumbled with whatever it was he was holding before putting his hands up, eyebrows raised.

“Woah, J, relax!” He said.

“Oh.” J huffed, lowering her arm.

It was Thad, the one worker drone she managed to befriend. Well, more like he befriended her, despite her previous attempt to kill him. Granted, it was at least a few months after she had attacked that bunker.

She’d first met him in the woods, just outside of the abandoned city where “Tessa” was scouting out. She’d put J on watch duty.

At first, J didn’t bother to interact with him. But then she kept seeing him, and he’d only look even more sad and cold each time. Eventually, it turned into pity. She’d visit him while Boss was scoping the planet.

She would never admit it, but she slowly grew acquainted with this strange Worker Drone. Maybe it’s because it reminded her of the manor, when life was simpler. Maybe it’s because he reminded her so much of Tessa, goofy and dorky and funny and caring all the same. It was a breath of fresh air.

That was, until boss pulled her away from him too, because she finally had a lead.

J wouldn’t see him again for a while, at least not until everything came to a head and it was finally time for Solver to finish what it had started on the planet. They hadn’t gotten to talk at all, of course, everything was so intense, but she had noticed that he was hesitant to attack her before the planet had suddenly broken into pieces.

“What do you want? Here to mock me?” She asked with a snarl.

“Uh… no,” Thad said, scratching the back of his head. “I wanted to check up on you, actually.”

Her gaze softened as Thad walked further in.

“Y’know, that whole big battle seemed really intense. Thought you could use some company, since…” He trailed off.

J crossed her arms, putting her weight on one of her legs. “Because everyone hates me now?”

Sweat ran down his visor. He blinked and nodded slightly.

“I wanted to give you this.” He held out the item he had been holding to her.

It was a plush of a pink rabbit, its ears, arms, and legs floppy. It had button eyes and a white belly, yet it looked dirty with oil and debris. J took it from his hands and turned it slightly, looking at it.

Her expression softened more.

She loved plushies, even now after all this time since the manor days. She had missed just being able to hold one close and play with it. She gently squeezed its torso.

“…Thank you, Thad.” She said, glancing away and furrowing her brows, “But I don’t… I don’t need plushies.”

Thad raised an eyebrow. “Then why did you hesitate?”

J stopped for a moment, then moved the plush to her other hand, her claws extruding from the other as she pointed them at Thad.

“Don’t forget I can kill you right now!” She threatened, baring her teeth.

Thad put his hands up again, but only chuckled. “C’mon, J. You know you don’t have to hide anything anymore, right? You don’t have to pretend to be something you’re not. It’s gone. It can’t hurt you anymore.”

J froze. How did Thad know any of that? He was just a worker drone. There was no way he could’ve just said that on a whim.

He was right. She knew that. But— how?-

“I, uh… I asked V, N, and Uzi to give me a run down on everything,” Thad admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t fully understand everything, but from what I got, it… sounded pretty rough. For all of you.”

J felt her legs start to shake. First, anger, but then confusion and relief, all hit at once. Someone knew, someone, for the most part, understood, wanted to understand, wanted to understand her. Her expression twisted, trying to keep the emotions at bay, but the softness of his voice, the tone, the look he was giving.

It all made her so weak, in such a good way.

J lowered her arms and hung her head, arms shaking, her fists clenched around the bunny plush.

“And yet, after all of what they told you, you still want to talk to me?” She asked incredulously, her voice shaking slightly.

“Of course I do. You were there for me when I was stuck in the woods, even if you were mostly mocking me.” He chuckled at the memory, then added, “I’m repaying the favor.”

J glanced away from him, hugging her arms.

“Thanks, I guess.”

Thad smiled up at her, then looked past her at the ship.

“What’re you working on?” He asked.

She followed his gaze, then groaned.

“The ship. I was repairing it after I blew it up- You know, as an… apology to V. And N and Uzi, I guess,” She explained, “But I just broke the only welder I had.”

“Oh!” Thad perked up. “Want me to go grab you one?”

J looked at him again, confused. “Why?”

Thad shrugged. “Why not? I don’t want you to be lonely out here forever, J.”

Her core shook.

“Be right back, kay?” He said, turning on his heel and sprinting back out of the spire.

J watched after him until he disappeared behind the corpse walls. She looked down at the snowy footprints he made in his wake, tracing her eyes over each ridge of the shoe tracks.

She turned back to the ship, her mind wandering as she hugged her arms.

Now that she thought about it more, Thad really did remind her so much of Tessa in many more ways that she thought. They were both so bright and bubbly all the time, yet they bruised so easily. They were fragile, one and the same yet two separate people. Two separate things.

She was athletic, just like him. He was kind, just like her. He smiled with his teeth, just like she did when she laughed. She would glow when she was happy, and so would he.

He made stupid jokes just like she would, and would sometimes mess with her just to get a reaction. J gripped her arms tighter and closed her eyes.

The day of the Gala. Tessa’s left arm was hurt. It was bruised, yet untreated. J wanted to help, but she couldn’t.

“I’m ‘right, J.” Tessa would tell her, smiling nervously and rubbing the bruise with her hand.

She could tell she wasn’t alright. It hurt still, even moreso emotionally, she figured. But J never got to express how much she cared, because in the end all she was to Tessa was a pet. Something to be admired and laugh at, something that wasn’t supposed to have or understand the same complex feelings that a human possessed.

J knew she was more than that.

Then, before she and Cyn had reached the cabin fever labs. She found Thad in the woods again, hunched over and sitting in the snow, holding his left leg tightly. When she walked over, he looked up at her and smiled.

“Hey! What’s up?” He’d say, cheerfully, attempting to mask the pain he was in, albeit terribly.

“What happened to your leg?” She would ask, sounding stern and uncaring, her arms crossed across her chest, portraying faux feelings of apathy toward him.

“Oh— It’s nothin. I’m alright, J.” He’d promised, smiling up at her nervously.

Her heart swelled. He even talked like her sometimes.

J opened her eyes again and looked up at the glittering stars above her, a complacent expression playing on her face.

It was a surprisingly clear night out that night, the stars clear and twinkling softly, looking back down at her.

Thad was everything Tessa was and more, wasn’t he? He cared about J. He wanted her to have friends, to learn how to live with them so she wouldn’t have to live alone forever, regretting the decisions she made and the pain she caused.

He held his hand out for her, much like Tessa did, but this time, as a friend. Not as an owner, guiding a lost dog to her home. Thad had picked her up despite her flaws and tendencies, to try and guide her down a path of love and joy.

Not to mention, he was as handsome as his personality. J would never admit it herself, but he looked nice. Nicer than most male worker drones she had come across and ultimately slaughtered. For a moment, she wondered why he, of all drones, had hair, despite most males not having any, from what she could tell. So full of mystery as well, wasn’t he?

Just then, J froze, her head snapping back down as she stared into the distance, her eyelights hollow and blush forming beneath them.

“…Oh no…” She said slowly, the realization kicking in. “No no no!” She exclaimed, hiding her hands in her face.

She had fallen for him. And hard. Either it was because he was so much like Tessa, or because he was just himself, it didn’t matter. She liked him; no, she loved him, just as she had Tessa.

But— how could he ever love her back? She tried to kill him— She tried to kill everyone. She sided with the thing that was trying to eat the planet and kill everyone else with it. N, V, and Uzi undoubtedly hate her, and worst of all— …She was a failure. All of this time trying to be the best, and she couldn’t even do one thing right.

She failed Tessa. She failed to be the best maid, she failed to keep her safe. She failed Cyn, and the company. She was sent to do a job, yet she couldn’t even complete it.

She was pathetic.

The sound of snow crunching underfoot broke her from her thoughts, a gentle tap on her shoulder.

She flinched and turned her head.

It was Thad, looking at her with concern. “Are you okay?”

Don’t look at me like that.

“Yeah. I’m- I’m perfect!” J said, straightening her posture and turning to him, her tail swaying close to the ground. “Just fine.”

Thad tilted his head, then shrugged. He held out the welder to her.

“Here. Just don’t break it this time,” He joked.

She rolled her eyes at him. “Yeah yeah”

J’s wings appeared from her back again and flared out as the anti-gravity jets roared to life, sending her up so she could gracefully land on the top of the landing pod again, carefully welding the metal pieces together. She watched Thad out of the corner of her eye.

He put his hands into his pockets and watched, leaning back and forth on his feet. Despite his body language, he didn’t look bored. He seemed more intrigued than anything, looking over the ship in its whole, or at least as whole as it was at the moment.

J glanced at him.

“Why are you still here? Shouldn’t you go back to the bunker now?” She asked, putting on an annoyed facade.

“It’s the middle of the night, man,” Thad explained, “No one knows I’m here. And I don’t have to get to school for another two hours.”

J huffed. “Well, you better not distract me,” She said.

Please talk to me.

Thad put his hands up and nodded. “You got it, J.”

No, not like that. Stop acting like her.

J drew her eyes away from him and back at the metal she was welding, trying to focus. But her thoughts always went back to him. She couldn’t get him out of her head. Just the thought of hugging him was enough to make her mind spiral, and the idea of holding him made her feel like melting.

She was hyper aware of all movement in the area - a side effect that came from being a disassembly drone - so every small subtle move he made was enough to gain a glance from her. When he shifted his weight, or moved his hands, or took a few steps forward, she’d notice and look at him.

Suddenly, his words broke through the icy air.

“Hey, J.”

J glanced up at him, then back at her welding job.

“What?”

A smile slowly grew on Thad’s face, getting an idea.

“What’s this thing for anyway?” He asked, knocking on a metal panel, “Trying to build some kind of forest creature?”

J paused, looking at him in confusion. “You, of all people, should know what a space ship like this is for.”

Thad shrugged. “I mean, if you look at it from an angle, it kinda looks like a messed up spider.”

J simply rolled her eyes and returned to welding the metal panels. She moved to another support and lifted another metal panel, holding it against the metal already attached to the ship.

Thad seemed to stare at her for a moment, then glanced away.

It was times like these where J wished solver granted them the power of mind reading. She wanted to know what was going on inside that little brain of his. Two out of her six eyes squinted at him, the remaining four focused on the welding.

The only thing that filled the air was the crackle of the welder and the howling of the wind for a moment, until Thad interrupted.

“Hey, JJ!” He called.

“What, Thad?” She asked, the eyes on her display deadpanning.

“I bet your humor is as hard to catch as a frisbee in the wind!” He said with full confidence, a wide dorky grin on his face, his hands on his hips.

Stop doing that. Stop being like her. What is wrong with you?

J stifled a smile and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well maybe you aren’t trying hard enough.”

“Ooh, playing hard to get! I like it!” He teased, pointing at her with finger-guns and winking, “Challenge accepted.”

J shook her head. What was he doing? What challenge? What was the point of this? What was he going to gain out of this?

J’s mind raced so much, she nearly welded her hand to the ship.

Now he was doing the one thing she told him not to do. Distract her. Granted, him merely being there was enough to distract her at first, so maybe he wasn’t at fault.

“Ooh! I got a good one,” He said, a mischievous look in his eyes as he rubbed his hands together.

“What’s white and has wheels?” He asked, anticipation in his voice.

J paused for a moment, thinking. She tilted her head slightly. In all the jokes that Tessa had told her, this was one she was unfamiliar with. Her mind went to the first most logical answer she could think of.

“A bike?” She said, hesitating.

“The snow! I lied about the wheels!” Thad basically shouted, throwing his arms into the air with a large grin across his face. She noticed that some of his teeth were strangely sharp.

“That doesn’t even make any sense,” She said, rolling her eyes and returning to her welding.

“Sure it does!” Thad said with a snicker, “You gotta stop thinking so literally about everything, J.”

She stopped, if only for a moment. She remembered when Tessa had told her that, after making a dumb joke like that, with the same gesture and the same, proud grin.

Her grip tightened on the welding tool.

Thad paced around, thinking of what to try next. She glanced at him.

Seriously, what was he doing? He kept saying random jokes, despite the fact she told him not to distract her. It’s not like she was going to do anything to stop him, she liked the jokes, it just—

WOAH. No! She did not like the jokes! She didn’t like jokes! Jokes were stupid and wasted time— There wasn’t any point to them, they made no sense—

Suddenly, she heard a thud and flinched, breaking her from her thoughts once again. Her head snapped to the sound, only to see Thad stumble back from one of the ship’s legs and fall into the snow, holding his foot with a pained expression.

J couldn’t help but snicker at his misfortune, confused but delighted.

He opened an eye and looked up at her, surprised to hear her snickering. She turned her head away quickly and covered her mouth, stifling her laughter.

She lowered her head and shook it, trying to keep herself calm. Behind her, she heard Thad call her name. She looked up and turned her head to him, curious.

Right as she turned her head to him, he began sprinting up a mound of snow, only to purposefully slip and tumble down the mound, landing on his stomach. He looked up at her expectantly.

J simply stared at Thad, her eyelights half-lidded. She shook her head and averted her attention back to her welding. She was almost done with the panel.

Honestly, watching him get thrown around was kind of funny, especially since he was throwing himself around. All that, just to get her to-

The realization hit her like a bowling ball.

Those silly jokes, the stupid looks, the dumb actions that would end in him getting hurt— they were all for her. To get her to laugh and ‘loosen up a little,’ as Tessa would put it.

Dear God, he’s just like her. Why is he so much like her? What is wrong with him?!

“Oh!” Thad suddenly exclaimed, causing J to stop welding. It was alright, though. She had just finished a panel.

She groaned, trying her hardest to keep her front up, and hopped off the ship, picking up another panel.

“What did one corporate say to the other?” Thad asked, excited to tell the joke, eagerness in his voice.

J raised an eyebrow as she shook the panel off, dusting snow from it. She was intrigued this time. Thad didn’t seem the type to know anything about corporations.

“What?” She asked.

“Nothing, because they’re bad at diplomacy!” He announced proudly, almost way too excited to see her reaction.

J stifled her laughter, quickly raising the new panel over her face so he wouldn’t see the look on her face.

She was smiling because of his dumb joke. It was funny, of course it was funny, and it made sense- and she was sure Thad picked up on her attempt to cover her laugh.

She tried to play it off, lunging back onto the pod with the panel in hand. In the corner of her eyes, she saw Thad’s goofy grin, and knew that trying to hide it had already failed.

A silence fell between the two of them as Thad began to pace, presumably thinking of more jokes, scratching his chin. Whenever he’d think of one, he’d stop and blurt it out. Of course, most of his jokes needed her to respond, but J didn’t mind that.

With each joke, J would giggle just a little bit more than before, even snorting quietly once. She couldn’t help it.

The way he delivered each joke with enthusiasm and the tone of a comedian, his stupid, adorable little face, full of excitement and pure joy, his face brightening whenever he’d hear her giggles.

She had to admit, his charm was irresistible.

She slowly began to forget her worries, forgetting how much Thad and Tessa had in common.

After a prolonged silence, Thad stopped in his pacing again.

“Oh! What do you do if you get the bird flu?” He asked, that same silly grin playing on his face.

J leaned back and looked at him with a smile. “What?”

“You get— …Uh…” Thad trailed off, glancing at the snow.

“Wait, I— I forgot the punchline,” He chuckled softly as he spoke, furrowing his brows as he tried to remember.

J snickered. “Take your time.” She said smugly, turning back to her welding.

Silence fell between the two again as he wracked his brain, trying to remember. J almost forgot he had even started to set up a punchline.

Suddenly, Thad’s head jolted back up as he shouted.

“Tweetment!” He exclaimed, his voice so loud it echoed through the barren outdoors.

J finally couldn’t hold in her giggles anymore, a hearty laugh erupting from her throat as she leaned back from the spot she was welding. Her legs slipped, sending her careening off of the pod and into the snow, still laughing and smiling, snorting every once in a while.

Thad grinned at her, admiring her smile and the way she laughed. He loved every snort, every giggle, every time she would roll on the ground, clutching her sides as she couldn’t stop from laughing.

He had succeeded in getting her to let loose, at least for now.

He chuckled, approaching her from the side and leaning forward slightly to hover over her face, placing his hands on his knees.

“It’s nice to see you smile like this, Jaybird,” He said softly, his expression kind and full of adoration.

J’s heart exploded in her chest, butterflies in her stomach as her eyelights hollowed at what he had just said.

Tessa’s voice echoed in her head.

“It’s nice t’see ya smile like this, Jaybird!”

That same smile. That same nickname. That same damned expression and tone of joy and pride. Those damned green eyes.

J quickly sat up and shoved his face away, turning away from him and curling up in a ball, her hands on her head.

Thad yelped and stumbled back slightly, trying not to fall.

Damn it all! Why do you have to be like this, you stupid toaster! Why? …Why me? Is this my punishment? Is this what I get?

Her mind raced, a swirl of emotions, anger and sorrow and melancholy, her core pounding in her ears.

“J?” Thad asked, concerned, rubbing his face.

She didn’t respond, her arms beginning to tremble.

She hated him. No, she hated herself. How could she let this happen? How could she allow herself to fall so heavily for this little drone? He was so much like Tessa, yet so different at the same time. She craved to hear his voice and feel his touch all the same as she did with Tessa, yet somehow stronger.

Thad’s worry only grew as he stepped forward, placing a hand on her shoulder. “C’mon, Jaybird, talk to me. What’s up?” He asked again.

That stupid nickname!

He was so much like her. But what if he was too much like her? What if she had fallen for someone with the same quirks and personality and phrases as her first crush, just for them to be ripped away again? Just for her heart to be taken and stomped on and spit on all over again? What if he didn’t like her back? What if he was just there because he thought she was pitiful?

“…You’re so much like her,” J finally muttered, not lifting her head, her voice shaking. Despite her doubts, despite everything— she decided to tell Thad what was going on. Maybe not about how badly she wanted to kiss him, though. Not yet.

“…What?” Thad responded, sitting next to her in the snow.

“Tessa. Cyn was wearing her skin, you know.”

Thad’s eyebrows raised. “…Oh.”

J chuckled sadly, hugging her legs. “I’m such an idiot, Thad.”

She paused for a moment, waiting for Thad to react, though he didn’t.

“I sided with that thing because I thought there was no point in fighting. I knew what it could do. V and I both did.” She sniffled. “It toyed with us. It used us to slaughter billions, all three of us.”

As she began to explain, Thad sat beside her and rubbed comforting circles on her back, listening closely.

“It used us to kill Tess’s family. It used us to kill her. It wore her skin like a badge… I still remember her screams.”

Finally, J’s head lifted. She looked out at the snow, her eyelights hollow, digital tears wavering in the corners of them.

“…I tried to fight back, Thad. Before all of this— I wanted to stop it. But I never won. It would always kill me and then clone me again. There was no escape, even in death.” J paused again, then huffed. “Guess I was wrong.”

it became silent between the two. The air around them turned sour, dampened by J’s experiences.

She sniffled and sobbed, internally berating herself for being so vulnerable in front of a stupid adorable worker drone. She was pathetic.

“…Geez,” Thad finally muttered, “I can’t imagine how I’d feel if I was in your situation.”

J didn’t say anything.

“I… I don’t think you did anything wrong, J.”

She turned her head to him.

“Sure, you made some mistakes,” Thad said, shrugging, “but you were just scared. You did what you thought was right, even if it wasn’t the best. Everyone makes mistakes.”

J stared at him. “How can you not be mad at me?”

Thad thought for a moment, glancing at the stars. Then, he looked back at her. “Because everyone has their own story. You were forced to kill someone you were super close to. You gave up, because you couldn’t fight back. You only wanted to survive.”

He paused, then smiled. “In the end, that’s all any of us want, right? That’s why the Worker Drones fled under the ice when you guys showed up.”

J looked into his lime green eyes. Her heart swelled. He was genuine. He didn’t hate her. He actually understood her. He was finally someone who cared enough to see her side of the story, to listen to her grief and fear and empathize.

Something Tessa failed to do.

Tears welled up in her eyes again as she dropped her head back into her knees, hugging her legs.

Thad frowned, his brows furrowing in concern. He gently leaned on her, awkwardly slinging his arm around her shoulders and patting her arm.

“It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay, J,” He reassured, speaking slowly and softly.

Stop doing that.

She hated this. She hated being vulnerable like this, sobbing pathetically into her knees while a Worker Drone leaned on her, comforting her. She hated that it was working. She hated that she needed comfort. She had said it before, she would say it again. She didn’t need anybody.

…But deep down, she knew that wasn’t true. Without someone to boss her around, what was she worth? If she couldn’t do a job, what was the point? That was the real reason she had started to put that stupid pod back together.

Most of all, J hated how much she crumbled around Thad. She hated how much he reminded her of Tessa, and how she fell for him just like she did her. Just because they cared. Just because they were trying to save her from a terrible path. She hated how pathetic she was.

She was suddenly broken from her thoughts by the sound of an alarm. She hadn’t even realized she stopped crying. How long were they sitting there for?

Thad jolted upright, slapping his face.

“Crap! I stayed out too long! I’m sorry, J, but I gotta bolt!” He said in a panic, quickly scrambling to his feet.

J perked up as well, but quickly turned, her knees hitting the snow as she reached up and grabbed his wrist.

“Wait!” She called.

He stopped and looked back at her, surprised.

She looked back up at him. Blush spread across her visor as her jaw hung open, eyelights hollow.

Wait. What am I doing?! She thought, panic rushing through her wiring.

“…Uh… P…Please… don’t leave me.” She asked quietly, glancing away, “I… I, uh… I feel better when I’m around you, Thad.”

She groaned and pulled her hand away, covering her face.

“God, I’m so pathetic, aren’t I…?” She asked no one in particular.

Thad didn’t seem to move for a second. Then, he dropped down onto his knees and gently grabbed her hands, pulling them off her face with a soft smile.

“No no, it’s okay! What’s one missed day of school, right?” He shrugged, “It’s Friday anyway. I’ll stay. I promise.”

J looked at him in the eyes, her processor running at two miles an hour. She felt so conflicted— she wanted him to stay, but her pride— like it wasn’t already damaged enough— but it’s a Worker Drone! I don’t need pity from a worker drone—

“…Thank you.” She muttered, cracking a small smile.

Thad smiled back.

“No probbles.”

J snickered.

“Such a dumb abbreviation.”

She didn’t care. She could sit like this for the rest of forever.

.

.

.

HOOLLLYYY SHIIIT. LONGEST ONE OF THESE EVER I APOLOGIZE FOR ALL OF YOUR DASHBOARDS. ANYWAY. I'm so sorry this took fucking ages to complete, my personal life has been so so busy.

I HOPE YOU ENJOYED ANYWAY!! This was so so much fun to write, I love exploring J's character. AUGH. Don't worry Thad eventually helps her get over Tessa :D

Also so sorry to all the people who are waiting on their requests , especially to those who have been waiting since August. Life has been busy and I've been unmotivated. I'm hoping to get back to it whenever I can though!!!!

~~~~~~~

Prompt Post! Lizzy x Doll; "Stay with me forever"/"Because I love you!" N x V; "I thought you didn't want me"/"Why haven't you kissed me yet?" V x Thad; "I'm in love with you" V x Thad "I missed you so much"/"I can't stay away from you" N x Thad; "Can I kiss you?" N x Thad; "I want you. Only you." V x Thad; "I thought you didn't want me." Sam x Uzi; "The way I feel with you"/"I can't stay away from you." Uzi x Thad; "Please don't leave me"/"I'll always love you" N x Thad; "Please marry me"/"Why haven't you kissed me yet?" N x Uzi; "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen"/"I'm better when I'm with you" J x Thad; "Please don't leave me"/"I'm better when I'm with you." <- You are here!

[goodoldfashionedengineer]

Gotham is sentient. Gotham knows what is going on in. Gotham knows who is fighting for her.

So when the Batman proves himself of trying his very best nearly every night to protect his city, Gotham announces him her knight and shows him a vision. A vision of the future. Of who her next protector will be.

He calls himself the Red Hood. Not the same guy he had already fought, but someone who stands close to him. Who is not afraid to kill.

He is allowed one question.

"What is his name?"

"Jason Todd"

Maybe he can change things.

Not a name that strikes out. Nothing special. But he remembers it.

And then, one night, he meets a boy stealing his tires. He definitely knows how to defend himself, Bruce's bruised ribs are proof of that. But he doesn't have anyone.

So he puts him in Ma Gunn's school for boys. Maybe with some proper guidance he could become Gotham's protector without killing.

But the school turned out to be a crime scheme. Better to remove all variables and train the boy himself.

As the months go by, Jason feels save enough to put his walls down. To not play into the tough guy act anymore. He is positively overwhelmed because this boy is so sweet, so kind and nice and enthusiastic. So Bruce might be doing a good job apparently.

Until. Until the Garzonas case. Bruce has seen it. The man with the red helmet, the guns and the corpses and blood surrounding him. With the same eyes as his son. The knowledge of the future leads him to think that Jason HAS to have pushed Felipe.

Bruce blames himself, thinks he has wasted his time and resources. And it hurts because despite everything he has begun to love this boy. But he is just Batman, he can't change the future.

But then Jason dies. And that hurts more. Because now Jason never even has the chance to grow up to be Red Hood, doesn't have the chance to grow up at all. And he hates himself because sometimes he thinks about if this might be a good thing actually. He died as an innocent child. It's tragic, he deserved better. But maybe this is better than becoming a murderer and it is mercy.

Years later, Red Hood arrives in Gotham.

In front of him stands the man he saw in the future vision all those years ago.

Bruce reflects. If he had just left Jason alone when he first met him. But who knows if it would even have mattered? His biggest regret though is that he ever thought that a child dying might be something good.

After the debacle that was the Joker showdown, Jason multiplies his effort to help Gotham his way times ten. And that's when Gotham awards him with a vision, tells him that he is her paladin and tells him her rules, how he has one question open after seeing who her next protector will be.

Jason doesn't really care for the person in the vision, what happens in the future should stay in the future, because otherwise they were always doomed.

But then it strikes him. An idea. A terrible one but it seems logical. He has to word this carefully. "Has Batman known that I, Jason Todd, would become Red Hood?"

"Yes"

At their next encounter, Jason tells him how much of a savior complex he has. In reality, Jason is deeply hurt. Bruce treated him as someone that deserved to be cherished, to be loved. Treated him as someone valuable. But now he sees that Bruce had only ever seen him as broken, something to fix, someone doomed. Nothing more