#and now chaos brain is just going to be on fire for the rest of today | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hornyjorny · 1 year

Text

𝙞 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙩𝙤 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙢𝙚

river ward x fem! v

warnings- fluff with smut??? mostly gross fluff18+, this is seriously nasty lovey dovey shit, soft sex, v is tired, sad as fuck and injured, v and river are disgustingly in love, johnny cameo bc he's annoying as fuck, gentle dom!river, sub!v, slight angst but mostly fluff, creampie+fingering+oral (f receiving)

wc: 5.1k

It’s been a shitty day.

Your body aches. Aches from the constant misfiring of your brain. Your head feels like it's on fire, each thought a searing ember tearing through your consciousness. You’re bloodied, battered, bruised and exhausted— but shit, at least you’re almost home— and River’s there waiting for you.

Tonight was supposed to be a respite from the chaos, a date night with River that you had been looking forward to for days. But as the hours stretched on and the assignments piled up, it seemed like time had betrayed you. You don’t even remember the last time you’ve taken a break.

Your eyes blur as you step into the elevator— your legs begin to wobble. Your head hurts— and you feel like you can barely fucking stand. Your eyes flutter shut as you step through the doors, immediately slouching against the wall to soothe your aching muscles before your eyes flutter shut.

Your condition was worsening.

Johnny's presence in your mind is no longer just an annoyance—it's agony. He's there, unable to do anything but watch himself wreak havoc upon your brain.

All you ever wanted was to make it big.

Friends you’d laughed and fought alongside with are now fucking gone, swallowed by the unforgiving streets of Night City. Your job as a mercenary isn’t much better- it ensures that danger’s your constant companion, a perilous dance where survival was the one and only goal at the end of the day. And now, you found yourself entangled in Arasaka's web, tethered to the engram of the long-gone Johnny Silverhand—a construct that was slowly eroding your very existence from within.

But amidst that darkness, there was River Ward.

River's presence at your side was the one solid, the one steady anchor amidst the turmoil of the world. His arrival in your life was a bittersweet revelation, a reminder that even in the darkest moments, there’d always be that little glimmer of light. He was a constant amidst the chaos, a steadfast presence that anchored you in a sea of uncertainty. His kindness, his unwavering support, had chipped away at the walls you've built around yourself.

With River, you had found something you couldn't, and wouldn't, let go of. But the weight of your own impending demise pressed heavily on your chest, a reminder that time was slipping through your fingers like sand. Everything you’d ever known was slipping away, slowly but surely.

Your thoughts are pushed aside as the metal elevator doors open with a ‘ding!’

“Time to snap out of it, sweetheart. Cop’s waiting for ya.”

You hadn’t even noticed Johnny until now. Your eyes flutter open— and for just a moment, you’re grateful for your digital companion’s presence. You step through the looming metal doors, your mind buzzing, your tired legs beginning to tremble as you attempt to navigate yourself to your apartment. You’re fucking determined to make it home to River, even as your muscles scream and ache in protest.

Finally, you reach your apartment. Your heart pounds in your chest as you unlock the pneumatic door with a shaky swipe of your thumb.

“V?”

Sheer relief floods over your senses at his voice alone. Before you know it, you’re met with the warmth of River's presence in front of you— worried gaze bearing into yours, before his eyes slide down to examine the rest of your bloody, weak body.

“Hey," he said softly, his voice a gentle caress that swept over your tired senses. The soft white glow of his mechanical gaze captured every nuance of your exhaustion. But beyond that, he saw the pain you carried, the knowledge of your own impending demise that weighed heavily on your shoulders.

A shaky smile forms on your lips. The sight of him, his unwavering presence, was a balm to your aching soul. Fuck, you were just glad to be able to come home to him. But then your weakened trembling legs finally gave way beneath you, the exhaustion hitting you like a tidal wave. As you began to sink, River's strong arms were there to catch you, his touch steady and reassuring.

“You know..” He holds you up with a tenderness that spoke volumes, his hands gentle as they brushed against your weary frame. His eyes met yours, concern and love intermingled in their depths. "..I would’ve picked you up, V.”

You let out a shaky breath, your facade cracking as the weight of the day and the pain you were in threatened to overwhelm you, tears burning at the corners of your tired eyes.

“You don’t have to deal with this all alone.”

That was the catalyst for you.

River wasn't the type of person you were used to. This time, you had found someone who really fucking cared. The love you felt for him was real—a force that pushed you forward even when everything else seemed to be falling apart and crumbling around you.

"I know," you admitted, your voice a soft admission of vulnerability. "But I just... I really wanted to see you."

His embrace tightened, and you felt as if he could shield you from the world with his arms alone. Tears finally spill from your burning eyes, falling down your bloody cheeks as you let out a choked sob. You didn’t want to have to lean on him. Didn’t want him to see you like this. All you wanted, all you’ve been looking forward to all week, was a night alone with River.

“Oh, V..” He sighs, reaching up to your face with his ganic’ hand to wipe away the tears that dampened your cheeks, metal hand holding your waist in place. His touch was so soothing and warm that chased away the pain, if only for a moment. “What am I gonna do with you?”

You took a shaky breath, emotions slowly ebbing as you meet his gaze. “I don’t know, River..”

Your voice was a whisper, fragile and raw, as you admitted what you needed most. What you craved. You wanted him— needed him.

“But I need you, I know that.”

As if sensing your need, River's huge arms envelop you, pulling you into a hug that's both comforting and electrifying. His heartbeat is a steady rhythm against your ear, and you cling to him as if he's your lifeline in a sea of uncertainty.

A little weakened whimper escapes your throat as he wraps his big arms around you again. “I just… I need you to love me.”

His response was immediate, his fingers intertwining with your hair as he held you close. "I do love you, V. More than you know. I don't need you to be perfect, V," he murmurs against your hair, his breath a warm whisper that ignites a fire within your bones. "I just need you."

Your lips press against his, and in his arms, you finally feel ready to let go, surrendering to the vulnerability you’ve avoided for so long. The weight of the world, of the engram's presence in her mind, of the looming threat of your very own mortality, becomes a burden you two share together. River's love is a lifeline, grounding you in the midst of your shitshow of an internal storm.

“Need you to show how much you love me,” you whisper.

In that moment, vulnerability meets strength, and River's eyes hold a depth of understanding that surpasses words. He smiles at you so sweetly, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead that makes your heart swell. “Course, V. That’s all you need to say..” He whispers.

“But first, we gotta clean you up.”

★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★

River’s attempting to help you undress in the most gentle way possible as to not disturb your scratches and bruises. His deft fingers work to shrug off your strapped jeans, and you’re able to shrug off your jacket and peel off your top with no problem. And for a second, he can’t help but to stare at you bloodied, broken skin, and his heart just fuckin’ breaks. Of course, it’s your job to do dangerous shit, you put your life on the line all the time, but it still fucked him up whenever you came home like this. It wouldn’t be the first time you have, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

He moves on to cleaning up your cuts as carefully as possible, doing his absolute best as to not cause additional discomfort.

The familiar burn of desire burned through you as his warm hands traced over your bare skin, taking great consideration in mending your wounds, even occasionally pressing his lips to your damp skin now and again. But you push it aside for now— you just want to enjoy his presence.

He helps your trembling body into the shower, and the warm water cascades over your bodies, soothing your sore muscles and washing away the remnants of the night's chaos. The soothing scent of lavender washes over you as his gentle hands cascade over your skin away from the wounds. Your cuts sting against the hot water, and your legs ache a little from having to stand, but you push the pain aside— you’re focused on River, and River only.

The quiet intimacy of the moment speaks volumes, the unspoken understanding that exists between you two a lifeline you never expected to find.

His big hands trace over your skin, and every little touch is gentle, reassuring as he washes away the blood and grime, calloused fingertips brushing against your lower stomach and setting your mind aflame with burning desire. His touch is soothing, tender— and it sends little shockwaves of heated desire through your core.

You lean into his chest, a little whimper escaping your lips as his metal fingertips trail down your sides finding comfort in his embrace despite the pain that courses through your body. It's the one fucking moment you’ve been waiting for all week—and you cherish it with your entire heart.

Both of River’s hands slide down to your waist. He leans down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead before letting out a soft murmur against your wet skin.

“Still need me to show you how much I love you, or do you wanna settle down?”

You’ve wanted him, needed him, for so long now, you just can’t hold back any longer. You need him— and you need him now. “No,” you rasp. “Want you.”

His hands slide torturously slow up past your waist, torso, and up to your chest. With a little hum, his big hands move up to cup your breasts before sliding his rough fingers against your nipples before stopping abruptly. “Y’sure?”

You nod enthusiastically, a raspy and desperate “please” escaping from your tired lips.

“I’ll be gentle tonight. Promise,” River mumbles in your ear.

At this point, you need him. In River’s arms, the world seems to still— and you can only focus on him— the way he lets out soft groans whenever you accidentally grind against him from his consistent teasing, the way he towers over your much shorter frame, literally holding you up with his strong arms alone…

“Well shit, at least you can die happy now.”

You swear you need to get this motherfucker out of your head as soon as possible. You’re too tired to fight Johnny right now. You don’t even open your eyes at this point— River’s making you feel too good enough for you to care.

His hands move down your chest, tracing away every little cut and scrape as his hands glide against your lower body, carefully observing the way you whimper and shudder underneath his careful touch. Metal fingers dig into your ass as his other hand trails between your plush thighs, spreading them apart as his finger carefully slides between your soaked folds.

You don’t know why every single one of his touches send electric shocks to your core. A high-pitched whine escapes your lips, and you don’t even notice the way your legs shake violently underneath you— you just feel too good.

You do, however, notice when he pulls away— left arm wrapping around your waist to give your weak legs some rest as his other hand reaches over to shut the shower off. A little whimper escapes your tired lips, and his metal fingers tap against your cheek. “Let’s get you comfortable first, ‘kay? Don’t want you to fall.”

When you two step out of the shower, your body feels tired yet renewed, the pain momentarily eased by the care he's shown. River wraps your trembling body in a warm towel, his embrace a promise that transcends the challenges you two face together. You allow him to scoop you up into his big arms, and it’s almost laughable how vulnerable you really feel. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t cherish it.

River's arms remained steadfast around you as he lifted you gently, cradling you like a fragile treasure. Your head rested against his chest, your body bone-weary and battered, but in his arms, you found a sanctuary. He carried you to the bed, each step a reassurance that he was here, that you weren't alone in this struggle.

Gently, he lowered you onto the bed, onto the soft pillows below, his touch tender as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. The dim light cast soft shadows across the room, the neon glow from the city outside seeping through the windows. The world beyond may have been chaotic, but here, in this moment, it was just you and River. Not even Johnny dared to fuck with you right now.

A soft hum escapes his lips, leaning down to cup your cheeks with both of his hands. His steel fingertips dance across your cheek as your lips crash into his, before he pulls away from you. His hands trail down the sides of your body, carefully making sure to avoid any cuts or bruises, oh-so-gently.

He smiles when a shiver wrecks throughout your body, before he sinks down to your damp thighs, shut tightly as he looms over you.

“Open up for me?” He taps his mechanical hand against you, and with a shaky breath, you open your legs— exposing yourself to the cool night air.

“Pretty girl..” River whispers, spreading your soaked folds apart with a smug grin, before licking a firm stripe up to your clit. He presses his tongue up against it, and laughs when his lil merc gets flustered at the vulgar sight. He looks up at you again— the soft glow of his metal eye bearing into yours, and fuck, he’s so cute, smiling like a dumbass as he devours you whole.

His gaze leaves yours as his gaze trails over your tired body, admiring every little scar, every little bruise, and every little freckle. He can’t help it— he just fucking loves every little bit of you.

River loves the way you tremble underneath the soft touch of his cold metal hands— cherishes the way you look up at him with your cheeks flushed red.. hair messy and your makeup all smudged, hands fighting for purchase against the sheets as your chest heaves, and you let out tiny whimpers..

River loves how he’s the one you seek solace from— how you allow him to help you relax after a long, shitty day, allowing him to spread your pretty thighs for him.

Internally, River is so grateful for your presence— so fucking grateful that you’ve stayed by his side, aiding him and his family. But beyond that, he loves you for you. Loves you for that stupid goofy side of yours— he genuinely enjoys your presence.

River loves his lil’ mischievous, dangerous mercenary. He loves the person underneath that rough n’ tough exterior you hold yourself to.

He doesn’t even know where he’d fucking be without you. He doesn’t know what he’d do with himself if he never met you. Never would’ve had a chance at saving his nephew— wouldn’t have a chance to experience those sweet summer nights laying in the back of his truck, miles away from the City just to admire the stars… never would’ve had the chance to spend countless nights just enjoying one another’s presence— and loving one another like it was your last fuckin’ day on earth.

Except the last part rings far too true.

You’re his person— how can he deny it?

He sees your strength, the physical and mental scars from long ago, the pain, and the fire that burns within you like akin to the likes of nobody else. It fucking hurts him, so desperately so, to see you struggle like this. Fucking hurts to see the cursed cards life has given you.

So tonight, he’s determined to show you just how much he loves you.

He’s brought back to reality by your cute sniffles as he continued to toy with your aching cunt.

“F—Fuck, River…” An errant moan escapes your lips, back arching as your hands scramble for purchase on his big shoulders as his tongue fucks you dumb.

He looked so proud, so smug as his eyes fluttered half-shut, a dumb grin plastered across his face. He uses his metal hand to pin your thigh further apart— your leg beginning to shake adorably as he continues to lap at your drenched cunt.

He doesn’t miss a single spot—kissing up and down your plush thighs, then back to your dripping folds. Each time you would whine, he’d just make out with your throbbing clit before it turns to unfair sucking and slurping.

His nose brushes against your folds and it makes sweet little whimpers and cries of his name fall from your pretty lips.

When his tongue and jaw begin to ache, he gazes up at you with the entire bottom half of his face completely soaked. He rests his chin on your thighs for just a moment— a smug little grin plastered across face before he presses a single thick digit between your folds, before he looks up at you again.

“You sure you can handle this tonight, V?”

You gush a little at his words, and you nod back, the burning desire in your chest ready to burst at any fucking second. “Don’t wanna stop,” you whine.

River smiles again, his large finger slipping into you again. The sight alone of his finger pumping against your tight walls, the sight of him flicking his tongue against your desperate aching clit, was far too much for you to handle at once. Soft little shivers escape your lips as your body trembles, this time not out of hurt, but out of the sheer overwhelming pleasure River provides you.

He insets a second finger, stretching out your tiny hole. He’s too much— and you love it. His tongue flicked against your throbbing clit before he closed his lips around the bud, all while his thick, long, rough fingers pump in and out of you.

The way your tight hole clenches around his thick fingers nearly sends him over the fucking edge. He’s painfully hard at this point, but by God, is he ever so determined to help his little merc cum after a hard day.

“Rivveeeeerrrr,” you hiccup, your hands coming down to attempt to grab and claw at his big wrists, but River just looks up with a smug grin on his face, his cock beginning to throb in his sweats again. “m’ close..” You whisper into the night air. But River just stares up at you to watch the way you unfold for him as your cunt trembles below his tongue.

“So soon, baby?”

You love it, but by fuck, it’s just too much for you. You’re literally ready to burst any-fucking second now. At this point, you’re so, so out of it. Purely just fucked dumb by River’s tongue and fingers alone— and you’d have it no other way. Your cunt’s starting to tremble and shake, and you can’t control the wetness dripping down your plush thighs. Your hips squirm and buck up against his face, desperately trying to ride out your high, and he only groans against your wetness in response. “L-Love youuuuuu….” You whine weakly. River responds back with a groan against you.

The burning knot inside of you finally unravels when he latches his lips onto your clit. Your eyes roll into the back of your skull, and the high-pitched whines and begs for more escaping your lips are damn-near unrecognizable. Your hands claw desperately at his big beefy shoulders, tears rolling down your flustered cheeks as you finally let go of your orgasm— and you gush into his mouth and soak the sheets below with cute whimpers and whines of “thank you’s” and “m’ sorry’s” as he spreads your shuddering legs further apart beneath you— still lapping at your soaked hole.

“Mmm… that’s my girl.”

His voice is raspy and low before you whine. River growls against you as you pant and shake beneath him as his tongue swipes against you to clean up your mess. You look down at yourself, at River— and fuck, you’re both soaked.

…And so are the sheets below.

You’re a shaking, whiny, wet mess when he pulls away, a string of your slick connecting to his lips as he places a sloppy kiss to your wet folds. Fuck. But you didn’t want him to stop. Sure, you’re sore as hell, but by God, you just wanted, you fucking needed more.

“Riveeerr…” you hiccup again.

His big hands drop your thighs onto the soft mattress below, and both of them come up to rest against your flushed cheeks, soft eyes bearing into yours, filled with a soft, genuine concern as you let out a desperate whimper.

“Need you to fuck me. Please.”

A little dumb smile forms on his face.

“I’ve gotcha.”

He positions himself between your soaked thighs, lining his fat tip against your puffy and swollen folds, metal hand sliding down to guide his throbbing cock into your tight soaked hole.

His cockhead nudges your clit accidentally, and you moan before staring deeply and intensely at each other for just a brief moment— eyes filled with nothing but pure adoration for one another.

River pushes the rest of himself inside, and he almost knocks the fucking wind out of you as your hole attempts to take the stretch. After nearly two weeks, you forgot how fucking big he was, and you can barely form a coherent thought as he drags his hips so deliciously against yours as he softly reassures you.

“Fuck, V— always takin me so well,” River sighed softly while balls deep inside, internally noting your heavy breathing and shaky legs as you struggled to take him. It’s been a little while.

A squeal falls from your parted lips as he splits you in two so softly, hands moving to wrap around your ankles as he slowly thrusts his hips into yours. His eyes are focused on the way your tight cunt takes him soo nicely. Your little whimpers and sobs for more cause him to bite into his lip— you’re so fucking cute like this, and he’s so fucking lucky to have you. He loves to fuck his little mercenay nice and thorough, just wanting to treat you good after a tough day at work.

He almost loses his composure when little begs of “harder, please!” escape your lips. Truthfully, he’d love nothing more than to pound you senseless into the mattress, but shit, he doesn’t wanna hurt you tonight. Your body was already sore enough. Even he knew that.

“Can’t, V. Don’t wanna hurt you,” River’s voice rasps against your ear in response to your begs.

A little disappointed whimper falls from your lips, and you wrap your weak arms around the back of his neck.

“I know, I know..” River bows forward, almost mounting you entirely, and this slight movement pushes his cock further in. You whine, wiggling your hips against his slow thrusts to chase the fleeting pleasure that stemmed from his movement. Internally, you’re so so grateful for him. He looks so fucking cute, you swear it— your heart flutters at the sight of him, attempting to move as gently as possible but absolutely struggling to do so, the occasional whimper escaping his lips.. fuck, it kills you.

You’re so fucking grateful for the way he makes you feel. The way he distracts you from your pain with soft licks and gentle thrusts is just entirely unmatched, and so is the way he loves you oh-so-gently. The sheer amount of pleasure he’s providing you with is insane, and your eyes can’t help but to flutter shut as shockwave of euphoria shoot through your entire body every time he slowly bottoms out within you. You love River Ward, and you couldn’t have it any other way.

River’s thrusts refuse to relent, even as your tight cunt squeezes around him. He huffs, feeling fully endeared. You look utterly fucked dumb— your hair’s all messy and splayed out on the pillows below you, your eyes are shut tight, nothing but little whimpers escaping your lips. River just wants to make sure you’re okay before he starts to move again.

“Hey,” he whispers down at you as he pats your cheek gently. “Anyone home, V?”

“Uh huh,” you mumble, fucked-out eyes slowly zoning back in on your boyfriend.

River smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “There's my girl.”

Then, he straightens back up again, his hands returning to their purchase on your ankles. You keen to the ceiling when he drags his cock out slowly, and you unconsciously squeeze your thighs around him before he gently separates your legs again.

River’s eyes are confused and glazed over as he pushes himself into you again. He allows you to latch onto him— he swears you’re so fucking cute when you whimper into his neck, sharp nails clawing at his back.. It’s just fucking addicting. He’s too focused on the way your cunt takes him in so well— your cries and tears of pure bliss causing him to bite his lip back in a groan.

River’s buried deep inside when you begin to clench around him, and he’s shoved deep inside of you when you feel your second orgasm approaching, and you let out little cries of “I’m’ close again!” and he’s staring down at you as your hips attempt to crash against his, your eyes rolling to the back of your skull— tears streaming down your cheeks. You could barely breathe. Your breaths are shaky and weak against the cool apartment air, and you’re just so so fucking needy— you can only focus on him.

You lean up as best as you can to hide your face in the crook of his neck and he lowky moans— his hands moving to guide your hips.

“C’mon, baby. Let it out for me.”

Your lips fall ajar at his command, feeling how his cock massaged your walls oh-so tenderly before your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you gushed again. You relish the whimper that escapes his lips as you cum again, but he refused torelent, the sound of your cunt squelching filling the room as he continues to fuck himself into you. The pressure inside of you finally snaps— and you let a loud high-pitched cry escape your lips as your back arches against the mattress. His rough hands move down to dig into waist before your little bucks begin to slow—gushing still all over him dumbly.

His thrusts finally begin to falter, his eyes fluttering, the soft mechanical one flickering a little bit as he bites into his bottom lip to keep himself from whimpering. Fuck, you’re just so good— he can’t help the needy noises that escape his throat. He swallows back a whimper— and a low “m’ gonna cum” falls from his lips.

“Please,” you whimper weakly against him— cunt clenching again as he continues to fuck you. “Need you, Riv…”

Your words were the catalyst for him. With one more harsh thrust, he pushes himself into you, allowing himself to deep inside. River’s large body trembles as he cums, euphoria washing over him as both eyes flicker shut. You’re both fucking exhausted, and you two stay still— chasing the remnants of your long awaited euphoria.

The world around you seems like it’s stilled— it’s been replaced by a sense of calm that settled over you like a soft embrace. River's steady breathing beside you was a soothing rhythm, a lullaby that lulled you into a peaceful state of mind.

“Thank you..” you weakly mumble as he pulls out, his seed spilling from your weak hole, slipping down your thighs.

He flops onto his side as you flop back against the pillows, pulling your trembling and sore into his big arms with ease as your eyes flutter shut and your chest heaves. He presses a soft kiss to your forehead— his hands reaching up to sweep your hair away from your dampened skin.

“Let yourself get some rest.." he whispered, his voice a calming melody that enveloped you. "You’re safe with me tonight.”

Fuck.

His words cause tears to burn at the corners of your eyes, a testament to the weight that you had been carrying. Your walls had crumbled, the armor you had worn for so long had fallen away, and in this vulnerability, you felt a strange mix of relief and fear. River had always been there, a constant amidst the chaos, and now, as he held you in his arms, you allowed yourself to lean on him.

“I love you, V,” His metal fingertips brush against your cheek, wiping away remnants of stray tears. “You don’t need to be afraid to lean on me sometimes.”

A tremor ran through your body, a mixture of exhaustion and the emotions that had been pent up for far too long. You turned into his touch, your head finding the crook of his neck as you nuzzled against him. His scent, a comforting blend of familiarity and safety, enveloped you, and you allowed yourself to fully let go. “I know.”

“I love you too, Riv.”

And as his arms held you close, you allowed yourself to embrace the solace he offered, to find comfort in his embrace, and to let go of the burdens that had held you captive for so long. You allow yourself to drift off to sleep, nested in his embrace, allowing the world to dissipate around you. In the silence of the room, the distant hum of the city's chaos seemed to fade away. It was just you and River, bound by something deeper than the turmoil that surrounded you.

#this fic is 100% purely self indulgent btw #river ward x reader #cyberpunk smut #river ward #cyberpunk 2077 fic #joce writes #river ward romance #v x river ward #river ward x v

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estrellami-1 · 1 year

Text

If I Should Stay

Part 1 | . . . | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16

Steve gets home and enters into chaos.

The older teens are nowhere to be found—Steve hopes they’re still in the shed—but the boys are arguing, pointing first at sheets on the table, then each other.

“No, you dumbass-”

“Oh, I’m the dumbass? I’m the one who forgot oxygen?”

Steve sighs. “Always the damn babysitter,” he mumbles to himself, fighting a smile. “Alright, cut it out!” He says, loud enough to be heard over the arguing. Immediately, everyone turns to him. He crosses his arms and nods at them. “What’s going on?”

Immediately they’re all talking over each other, doing their best to give Steve a headache. He sighs and raises a hand, and slowly they all peter off. “One at a time. Lucas?”

Lucas sighs. “We’re still trying to figure out the best way to weaponize fire down there.”

“And you’re disagreeing on something?”

“Yeah, we all think it would be best to do it different ways.”

Steve nods. “Write down a list of all the pros and cons you can think of. Pass the lists around in case you’ve forgotten something. When they’ve all been passed around, compare them together. But please, if it’s at all possible for you, do it quietly. If for no other reason than El’s still resting.”

“Oh,” Mike says quietly, and they all get to work, scribbling out their lists.

Steve sighs and scans the rest of the room, smiling when he sees Eddie leaning on the doorway. “Hey. Wanna help me bring stuff in?”

“Sure,” Eddie shrugs, and follows him out. It’s silent for a few moments before he speaks. “Y’know, a part of me was hesitant to believe everything until just about three minutes ago.”

Steve chuckles. “It does sound crazy,” he agrees. “What changed your mind?”

“You,” Eddie says simply, like it doesn’t send Steve’s heart jackrabbiting in his chest. “The way you are with the kids.”

Steve chuckles. “Y’know that’s the very reason we started to get along, before?” He glances at Eddie as he shuts the trunk. “We saw how we were with them. We were both a little jealous of each other, mainly cause of Dustin. I swear, he was always going on about Eddie this, Eddie that, greatest Dungeon Master ever but don’t tell Will, and… I started to feel like I was being replaced.” He smirks. “Course, then you told me how he practically worshiped me, and I realized Dustin’s just being a shithead.”

Eddie snorts. “From what I’ve seen of them, that does seem pretty accurate.”

“I know this probably doesn’t mean much to you, but I’m glad you’re here.” He smiles at Eddie and walks inside, giving Eddie a second alone outside.

He almost runs into Robin as he turns the corner, steadying himself, the bag, and her. She looks up at his face, wide-eyed, then slowly morphs the look into a judgy one.

“What?”

“Quit breaking his brain, Dingus, let him actually like you as a person first.”

“How the hell could you tell that from my face?”

She gives him another supremely judgy look. “Have you forgotten I’ve known you for years? Steve,” she sighs, taking the bag from him. He lets her. “Don’t forget this is four years ago for them. At this point, does he even know who Chrissy is?”

“Okay,” Steve admits, “you may have a point. But we had a breakthrough just now! We were talking and he said he believes me because of how I am with the boys!”

Robin sighs again. “And did you respond with something that happens in the future?”

Steve splutters. “How do you do that?”

“I’ve known you for years, Stevie-boy, don’t forget.” She ruffles his hair as she passes. “Leave the future out of it,” she advises. “Live in the now.”

“Kinda hard to do, considering we’re here to change the future,” he says, just to be contrary. She gives him a look like she knows what he’s doing.

“Talk to him like you’re getting to know him for the first time, Steve. Because that’s where he is. Everything about the Upside Down, and even the kids… that’s all secondary. You got along because your personalities match. Give them a chance to.” She smirks at him. “And maybe show off a little bit of that Harrington charm I know is in there somewhere.”

He shakes his head, grinning. “You’ll see one day, Robs, I’ve got game.”

She grins, ruffling his hair one last time before dancing out of reach as he squawks at her. “I’ll believe it when I see it, Dingus.” She leaves, bringing the bag into the other room, and he sighs and follows her, wondering—not for the first time—how he ended up with her as a best friend.

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mcntsee · 1 year

Text

cold

summary: Y/N faces hypothermia after a dangerous mission. Kaz helps her warm up by the fire, their bond growing stronger.

warnings: The story contains scenes of peril, violence, and life-threatening situations. Kaz is not fully ok with y/n’s touch, but he fights trough it. Ooc Kaz.

notes: Posting this again because it won’t show up in the #

On a moonlit night, the crew moved stealthily towards their next heist, anticipation electrifying the air. The target: the elusive Heart of Nebula, a gem said to hold secrets from the stars themselves, and worth even more, now resting within the hold of a formidable merchant ship. Kaz Brekker's mind hummed with strategies as he and his crew prepared to infiltrate the vessel, a symphony of darkness and cunning.

The assault began with a fierce volley of blows and flashing knives, the Crows expertly weaving through the chaos of the guards. Amidst the clash of metal and cries of alarm, Y/N's prowess shone bright as she fought with a grace that belied her strength. But in the midst of the turmoil, the situation took a turn.

One of the guards managed to corner Y/N, his arm snaking around her neck while a cold barrel pressed against her temple. The edge of the ship loomed dangerously close, its abyssal depths waiting hungrily. Kaz's icy eyes snapped toward the scene, his cane slicing through the guard before him with lethal precision. Without hesitation, he moved toward the guard who held Y/N captive.

The guard's voice rang out, its venomous tone laced with desperation. "Make them leave, Brekker, or the girl takes a plunge."

Kaz's gaze was as unforgiving as the sea's depths as he assessed the situation. A subtle nod towards his crew was met with hesitation, a collective tension palpable in the air. Yet, the Crows trusted their leader's decision and reluctantly retreated, fading into the shadows like wraiths.

With the other Crows gone, Kaz approached the edge of the ship, his voice a chilling breeze. "They're gone. Let her go now."

The guard's laughter was mirthless, his grip on Y/N relenting just enough for her to catch her breath. "You're quite the strategist, Brekker. But this time, you've lost." Kaz's eyes darkened, "You're the one holding the losing hand."

The guard's response was a cold, harsh warning. "One step closer, and I'll blow her brains out, Brekker."

In the deadly hush that followed, Y/N's eyes flickered to Kaz's, a subtle nod passing between them like a secret shared only between souls deeply connected. In the space of a heartbeat, Y/N's hidden blade flashed into her hand, finding purchase in the guard's leg. The gun wavered, and in that instant, Y/N twisted her body, pushing the gun skyward. The guard's grip slipped, and Y/N tumbled over the edge, disappearing into the inky depths below.

Kaz's gloved hand tightened on his cane as he stared at the fallen guard, fury simmering beneath his calm façade. With a swift, efficient motion, he rendered the guard unconscious, the cold weight of his cane delivering justice.

Breathless seconds ticked by, tension thick in the salty air. Kaz's sharp gaze scanned the dark waters, searching for any sign of Y/N. Relief flooded him as her head broke the surface, her voice piercing through the night. "I'm fine!" A sigh of relief escaped Kaz's lips. Y/N's determination was palpable as she called out, her voice carrying above the water's gentle lapping. "I'll swim to shore. Go ahead."

Kaz watched as she began to swim, her strokes strong and determined. With a final glance at the ship, he turned and walked away, his steps resolute and measured.

As Kaz reached the shore, he cast his gaze over the moonlit waters, waiting anxiously for Y/N’s return. His heart was a relentless drumbeat, matching the rhythm of the waves. The moment her form emerged from the darkness, shivering and weakened, he closed the distance between them. Urgency propelled his actions.

“Get rid of the clothes,” he instructed firmly, his voice laced with concern. “They’re wet and will make you colder.”

Y/N’s nod was slow, her trembling fingers fumbling with the soaked fabric as she undressed. Kaz turned his head, a gesture both respectful and protective. In a deliberate and almost rehearsed motion, he removed his coat and held it out to her. She accepted it with a shaky “Thanks.” her voice barely above a whisper.

As Kaz’s sharp eyes examined her, a surge of worry pulsed through him. The sight of her pale, chilled skin and lips tinged with blue sent an unexpected pang through his chest, a haunting echo of memories long buried. But he shoved those ghosts aside, focusing on the task at hand. Y/N needed him now.

“Y/N,” he heard her voice, fragile and wavering like a whispered plea. “We have to get you somewhere warm.”

Nodding at her, he guided her towards the Slat, their steps slow and deliberate. But soon, it became apparent that her strength was waning, her movements faltering as her eyes fought to stay open. Kaz’s instincts kicked in, and he brought them to a nearby safe house. “Stay awake, Y/N,” he urged, his voice a lifeline.

With the gentlest touch, he grasped her sleeve, guiding her with utmost care. Inside the safe house, the dim glow of the fireplace greeted them. Kaz moved with practiced efficiency, gathering wood and coaxing flames to life. “Take the coat off,” he instructed softly. “I’ll get you blankets.”

Y/N’s trembling grew more pronounced. Her weakened state made even the simple act of unbuttoning her coat a struggle, her shivering fingers fumbling with each button. Kaz watched for a moment, concern etched on his face, before taking a step forward.

“May I?” he asked, his voice low and filled with a rare tenderness, pointing towards the buttons. Y/N’s eyes fluttered open, her gaze meeting his as she nodded slightly. A barely audible “Please” slipped from her lips as he delicately unbuttoned her coat. His movements were careful, his touch a lifeline, as he worked the coat off her shoulders.

He noticed Y/N’s weakened posture, her struggle to remain upright, and her eyes that threatened to close for longer with each blink. A gentle tap to her cheek accompanied his soft words, urging her to stay awake. Once the coat was removed, he set it aside, then settled Y/N close to the warmth of the fireplace.

Debates waged within his mind as he assessed the situation. Should he fetch a blanket or offer his own warmth to stave off the cold? Y/N’s sudden cessation of shivering tilted the balance, a sign that he couldn’t ignore. He quickly discarded his clothes, his urgency matched only by his fear. Ghosts of his past slowly attacking his mind. But that fear was replaced with a resolute determination as he reminded himself that he had to help her. For fuck’s sake. She’s dying, do something!

“Y/N,” he called softly, his voice a lifeline in the quiet room. He moved swiftly to her side, his heart pounding with a mix of trepidation and purpose. He hesitated for a moment, the depth of his feelings surfacing before he banished them, replacing them with a driving need to save her.

“Y/N, look at me,” he whispered urgently, his hands cupping her face gently. The storm in his eyes met the battle in hers, a silent affirmation that they were in this together. “Stay awake, Y/N.”

With quick, precise movements, he guided her closer, his arms enfolding her delicate form. He drew her legs over his lap, holding her securely, a barrier against the cold that threatened to steal her away. His heart raced as he whispered her name, a litany of small pleas and encouragements, willing her to hold on.

His hands moved over her body, a desperate attempt to generate warmth. His touch was gentle yet purposeful, rubbing and caressing in a rhythm meant to bring life back to her numbing limbs. A sigh of relief escaped him as her body began to respond, her shivers returning.

“That’s good, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice a mixture of relief and reassurance. “That’s good.”

Y/N’s voice trembled, her weariness evident as she spoke of her desire to rest, if only for a moment. Kaz’s response was a gentle yet unwavering plea. “Hold on a little longer, Y/N. You’re doing good.”

As the warmth of the fire seeped into the room, color began to return to Y/N’s face, a welcome transformation that Kaz couldn’t help but watch with a mixture of relief and gratitude. Her lips, once tinged with blue, regained their natural hue, easing the knot of worry in his chest. He assessed her carefully, the weight of his concern slowly lifting as she regained strength.

Gradually, he eased her down, his touch gentle as he ensured she was comfortable before he rose to his feet. “I’m going to get you some blankets, Y/N,” he announced, his voice soft. Y/N met his gaze and thanked him, her gratitude a quiet melody in the stillness of the room.

Kaz put his pants back on before he climbed the stairs, his steps measured, his mind focused on the task at hand. In the closet, he found a collection of blankets, each one a comforting refuge against the cold. When he returned to the room, he laid one blanket on the ground for Y/N to sit on, then carefully wrapped a second one around her, his movements deliberate yet tender.

Settling back down beside her, Kaz draped the third blanket around himself, creating a barrier of warmth between them. The room was filled with a palpable sense of quiet, an unspoken understanding that permeated the space. Moments stretched on, the fire’s crackle and pop providing a gentle rhythm to their thoughts.

Y/N, who looked remarkably better now, broke the silence with words that carried a depth of meaning. “Thank you, Kaz.” Her voice was soft yet sincere.

Kaz’s response was equally quiet, his tone carrying a hint of vulnerability. “No problem.”

Y/N glanced away briefly before turning her gaze back to him, her eyes holding a mixture of gratitude and something more. “I’m sorry you had to do that,” she said, her words holding a weight that was both apologetic and appreciative. “I know it must’ve been hard.”

Kaz’s mind churned, reflecting on the moments they had shared, the emotions that had surged through him. He hesitated, grappling with his own thoughts before the words emerged, honest and unfiltered. “For you, I would do it again,” he admitted, his voice a gentle affirmation of his feelings.

In response, Y/N’s smile was soft, her eyes reflecting a warmth that mirrored the fire’s glow. “I would do it for you too, Kaz. Anything.” Her words held an earnestness that touched him, a willingness to stand by him no matter the challenge.

#fanfiction #kaz brekker x reader #six of crows #six of crows x reader #fluff #kaz brekker #oneshot

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justwinginglife · 12 days

Text

A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words, Pt 1.5: Soshiro's POV

Posting more smut before bed so I can manifest dreaming about him. Tagging @zhileyn31 because this was their fic and tagging @amaturesposts because this was their request.

Hoshina was never not thorough.

Every square inch of the Third Division’s base found itself under his watch at some point or another. He was a soldier, but it was almost like he never left the battlefield, the way he cautiously made his rounds, scouring every nook and cranny, like he’d uncover a threat at any moment.

It was more than pure duty at that point; his honor was on the line. He was given a prestigious position that he was yet to feel he deserved and if chaos ensued, it would not be under his watch.

But then, he found chaos in a different form on his most recent patrol.

He’d been passing by the women’s dorms, when he suddenly heard his name murmured. Peaked with curiosity, he backtracked to the room he’d supposedly heard it from. When he didn’t hear anything, he thought he might be delusional, his brain clouded with exhaustion.

But then he heard it again, a little louder this time. And his ears tinged red when he heard the tone in which it was said. Euphoria was dripping from every syllable of his name, and he’d never heard his name sound so sweet than it did when it was moaned from your lips.

He knew it was you.

He always knew when it was you.

He knew what songs got stuck in your head the most, he knew you played with your hair absentmindedly, he knew your socks never matched, he knew you drank your coffee with so much creamer that it was really just milk at that point. He knew every little thing about you.

What he didn’t know was why you were saying his name. You’d never appeared interested in him in the slightest, even despite his attempts to persuade you otherwise, and now you were calling for him in your sleep.

The rest of his patrol could wait. If the base fell to ruin in his absence, he could live with that. He just needed to hear more of you. You already drove him to madness every time you brushed by him, your skin warm on his, and every time you called to him, your voice light and cheerful. But now you were calling for him in a way he’d never heard before, in a way he never knew he needed, and it sent shivers down his spine, sent fire scorching through his groin.

You moaned his name again and he bit his lip.

Then he peered down both ends of the hallway. It was 2 am. Everyone was asleep. No one would know if he just…

His hand slid beneath his underwear, grasping at the erection that was quickly enlarging in his pants. Every whimper and every whine that graced his ears earned him a stroke of his cock. He timed his pleasure to yours. And he teased himself the way he imagined you would, thumbing across his swollen tip, smearing his length with precum. When he’d finally weakened to the point of sliding down the wall, with his legs spread wide across the floor, as he pumped his dick in and out of his hand, he knew he couldn’t last much longer. A few strokes later and the light slick of his precum turned into thick, hot ropes of cum that thoroughly drenched the inside of his trousers. For a moment, he thought he might just stay there forever, might take up permanent residence outside your door, just gushing with arousal, craning to hear your every sound. But his duty finally got the better of him and he continued with his rounds, despite the pooling in his pants.

After that night, he came by your door, again and again, ending his rounds with the sweetest form of satisfaction each and every night. Some nights you weren’t dreaming of anything salacious, other nights your lust took such strong hold over the both of you that he felt he might just drown in his own cum. But every night, he got off to you. You could be sleep-talking about going for a walk with him and he’d come to the idea of you taking him by the hand, with the wind flapping against your dress as you walked, and him catching the sight of your lingerie poking out beneath your innocent attire. You could be talking about going to dinner with him and he would be fantasizing about shoving the plates to the side and taking you on top of the table. Anything that came out of your mouth made him aroused, just because it was your mouth. He dreamed about your mouth so much. Dreamed about the sounds he’d coax from it. Dreamed about mapping out every inch with his tongue. Dreamed about it choking down his cock.

Sometimes he came twice. He couldn’t help himself. If you were still talking, still murmuring out your desires, still moaning his name, he couldn’t simply leave. He always waited until you sunk so deep into sleep that words could no longer reach you.

He wasn’t content to be resigned to his hand when he knew you were dripping wet for him just a couple feet away, but he wasn’t about to rip you from your dreams for his own selfish desires. Even if they were dreams about him, he had no way of knowing if these dreams meant anything, if he was allowed ownership of your orgasms.

So tonight, he finished himself off again and was about ready to trudge back to his room when he heard you jolt awake, his name bursting from your lips.

He stilled.

All these nights he’d stayed by your door and you’d never once awakened. You must’ve had one hell of a dream tonight. He wondered what devil he had to sell his soul to for just a glimpse of your paradise. He wondered if he should just leave you be. If he should slink back into the darkness, pretend he was never here in the first place.

But then he heard your disappointment.

He heard the groan you made when you realized he wasn’t there.

He heard you readjust yourself on the bed, the springs creaking as you spread yourself wide.

He heard the lingering desire in your voice as you called his name again.

And he couldn’t help but imagine you, as he hardened yet again.

Just on the other side of this door, you were probably lying in a pool of your own slick, desperately touching yourself to the thought of him, to the dream of him. And somehow the sound of his name on your lips, knowing you were fully awake now, knowing you’d consciously chosen him, knowing you’d murmured his name with intent, with longing, sounded infinitely more enticing than it had when you were asleep. So he had one hand on his cock and the other around your doorknob before he even had time to breathe.

If you faulted him for interrupting, you had only your siren’s call to blame.

After all, he was only a man, and you were only the girl of his dreams.

And tonight, he wanted to be the man of yours.

#soshiro hoshina #kaiju no. 8 #anime #hoshina #oneshot #soshiro hoshina x reader #hoshina x reader #hoshina soshiro x reader #anime fanfic #smut

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alasse-earfalas · 1 year

Text

Some ideas I have about some of the Links and their brains.

This will not include all of the boys, as most of them (Time, Wind, Twilight, Four, and Hyrule) I see as being in the same basic camp when it comes to smarts and stuff, so there's nothing really for me to address there. I'm just going to point out some interesting quirks I've noticed / hc with the other four.

Warriors

It's easy to jump to the conclusion that Wars is the stupidest Link, since his game has no puzzles. I disagree. While yes, he is laughably terrible with puzzles, he is a strategic and tactical genius with a powerhouse, rapid-fire brain that can parse out an entire battle's worth of information in an instant and come to a decision in a flash. Traditional puzzles may not be his thing, sure, but that is not where his genius lies. His brain thrives on cutting through chaos with decisive action, and that is where he shines.

Sky

Has ADHD (inattentive type). Like, really, really bad inattention. Constantly spaces out and forgets things. There's a reason Fi pops up like, every half-second to remind him what he's supposed to be doing. Hylia knew what she was dealing with and planned accordingly. He is the most space-cadety of space-cadets. He'll be going along like a normal person with a normal train of thought and then he'll see a leaf floating by and completely forget what he's doing because the leaf is pretty and isn't it interesting how it moves with the wind like that and I wonder where it's going hey wait get back here—

But. Sky's mental superpower is that he is the fastest dang learner in the entire Chain. Not just with weapons or items or music like the rest of 'em, but everything. Wild's unable to cook but has all the ingredients for something he's made before? Sky watched how he did it once while helping him dice the veggies, so he'll just throw that meal together real quick. Wild let him flip through the "Ingredients" section of the compendium once, and now Sky can identify all the edible plants it listed by sight. He learned how to carve by watching Jakamar repair a couple of wooden structures one day. Sky may be a space cadet, but he's also the most potently absorbent practical-knowledge and information sponge you ever did meet.

Wild

Also has ADHD (combined type). There are literal "ooo shiny" mechanics in the freaking game. Koroks? ooo shiny. Shrine quests? ooo shiny. Every single item that Wild can pick up in the game literally sparkles. Everything about the Sheikah Slate is designed to account for this: scope pins, map stamps, inventory organization, Hyrule Compendium, Sheikah Sensor, photo album, a journal which he uses to take fastidious detailed notes of all the crap he needs to remember because he knows he'll forget all of it otherwise. He struggles to sit still for extended periods unless he is asleep or gazing into a pretty fire.

Wild is also the creative genius out of the bunch. He has the most robust understanding of fundamental physics out of the entire Chain. His visual thinking and creative problem-solving skills are off the charts. The rest of the Chain may be able to navigate with maps and compasses, but Wild can navigate foreign terrain using nothing but the environment itself. Present him with a problem and he'll think of fifty different ways to address it and all of them will usually work. He is an all-around genius problem solver and astoundingly creative thinker.

Legend

Mind like a freaking. Steel. Trap. Nothing slips past his awareness or gets forgotten. Ever. Journals are pointless because his brain is an information vault. Oh, and any puzzle he's handed better say goodby to its loved ones and make sure its will is in order because this lad will solve it before it has a chance to defend itself.

Let me just, give you an example. Just one. You see this here?

How long do you think you could remember this random character vomit without writing it down? A few minutes, maybe? Maybe a couple hours, or a day or two if you took the time to memorize it?

Try an entire journey to another country after hearing it only once.

Oh, but that's not even the most impressive part! You see, Legend didn't just hang onto one of these memorization nightmares for an entire extended trip to another land, oh no—he remembered several of them. Perfectly. As if that wasn't enough, y'all remember the item swap quests? Yeah, without notes of any kind, this Link remembered who needed what in every single one of those convoluted trading chains. All while he was busy saving the world.

The downside is that Legend's thinking is not very flexible. He operates best when there is a single correct solution to a given problem. He much prefers having concrete information to work with, rather than a vague scenario with a shrug and a, "idk, figure something out". Being dropped into a massive open world with no information other than, "alright here ya go, here's some basic abilities and a light dusting of backstory, now get out there and save the Princess!" would be an overwhelming, anxiety-riddled nightmare for this dude.

#linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu warriors #lu sky #lu wild #lu legend #sorry that ended so abruptly #I didn't really know what else to say #so there you go #those are my thoughts

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topazy · 4 months

Text

Tomorrow's promise

Pairing: Daryl Dixon × OC, Rick Grimes × sister OC

Warnings: Swearing

Chapter: 3.09

While ducking behind a crate of wood, you use the scope on your rifle. You keep watch for any signs of an attack while waiting on your brothers, Daryl and Hershel, returning to the prison. Somehow Andrea had managed to arrange a sit-down between the governor and Rick, something you were highly against.

“Any sign of my brother yet?”

Hearing Merle’s voice, you roll your eyes and say, “No, not yet.”

“Hmm.” He leans against the fence, making himself an easy target. “Listen, girly, what happened before—kidnapping you and all—it was strictly business.”

“What’s done is done.”

“You’re a lot more snapper than Rick; anybody ever tell you that? I bet Shane did. Yeah, I remember that judgmental deputy well. I never would have pictured you two together. Oh well, at least we are all one big happy family now, right?”

You glance up at him, and it annoys you how amused he is. You got the impression that Merle thrived on chaos and was just trying to get under your skin. “You know, if my brother hadn’t gone back looking for you in Atlanta, I would never have found him again. I guess I’m lucky T-dog dropped the keys.”

“You really are something else.” Merle snorts out a laugh. “I noticed you’re the only one who didn’t protest about me staying. I guess that means all is forgiven.”

“No, I still think you’re an asshole, but Daryl wouldn’t leave you behind.” You go back to looking through the scope for any movements, “but for this to work, we all need to be singing from the same hymn sheet.”

“I’m on whatever side my baby brother is, and fortunately for you, it’s Rick’s side. You didn’t seem surprised when we swooped in and saved your brother's ass from walkers.”

“I knew Daryl would come back because he’s one of us.”

“Yeah, I see that.”

A few beats of silence pass before you speak again. Merle had already gotten into a few altercations with Glenn. “You do anything that hurts.“

“Yeah, yeah,” he says sarcastically. “If I hurt your brother, son, or precious little friends, you’ll point that rifle right at me.”

“You do anything to hurt Daryl, and I’ll pull the trigger.”

“Well, ain’t I glad to know my brother has a guard dog?”

“Shh!” Seeing a vehicle approaching, you point your gun in its direction, ready to fire if it’s an enemy, but thankfully, it’s your people returning. “They’re back.”

—

Something was going on between Rick, Daryl, and Hershel; they were keeping a secret from the rest of you. Your issue wasn’t with being kept out of the loop per se, but you didn’t like the atmosphere it was causing. Both Daryl and Rick were avoiding you, and Hershel constantly looks like he’s about to start crying.

Rick told you the governor was gearing up for war, but you knew he was holding back.

“You want to go for a nap?” You kiss Jace’s cheek multiple times before placing him in the travel cot. Michonne, Carl, and Rick got on their last run. “Sleep tight, baby.”

Having a cot meant you got to sleep better during the night; instead of worrying, he’d somehow crawl out of the cell. They had also brought back a few toys and clothes for him and Judith to share. Knowing he had something other kids had before the world went to shit made you feel better, more hopeful that one day he would have a better chance.

You go to the cellblock where all the supplies are kept and start separating ammunition into different piles. Glenn has come up with the idea of hiding a few boxes of bullets outside, so if anyone got pinned down, they wouldn’t run low. You lift your head and smile when Daryl walks into the room and says, “Hey.”

“Hi.”

It gnaws on you that Daryl avoids making eye contact with him. “Did you do it?”

He looks almost alarmed by the question, “W-what?”

“Michonne’s idea? Putting down barbed wire will slow down any vehicle. I’ve got a few ideas I want to pick her brain about later.”

Daryl gulps it down nervously.

“Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah… no.” He finally lifts his head to look up at you, and he seems to be torn. “I… fuck, I’m not supposed to talk about it.”

“Is this about the governor?"

Sighing, he sits down beside you and holds his head with his hand. “The governor offered to make a deal with Rick; we hand over Michonne, and he’ll leave us alone.”

“But my brother wouldn’t do that,” you say, looking over Daryl’s shoulder at the doorway at the same time Rick walks in. “Tell him you wouldn’t do that.”

“Lily.”

Your stomach drops upon seeing the look on your brother's face; he had actually considered it. “Tell him, Rick, tell me you wouldn’t do that. You wouldn’t hand a woman over to that man!”

“Keep your voice down.”

“There is no difference between Merle snatching me and Glenn off the street and handing us over to the governor than there is you doing it. Is this what the three of you have been whispering about? Trying to figure out the best way to do it without the rest of us noticing? That man terrorized me and Glenn.”

You glare at your brother as he comes and sits down on the opposite side of you. “I’m not going to do it... I did consider it. But we can't, and I can’t. It’s not who we are.”

You shake your head in disgust. Rick knew exactly what the governor had done to you, and whatever he had planned for Michonne would be a thousand times worse. Tears of anger begin to form.

“Don’t, don’t do that,” Rick sighs. “I’m going to tell Michonne the truth. About the deal, about... how I thought about it.”

“How could you even think about it?” The difference between people like us and people like them is that we protect our own.”

“That’s exactly what I was trying to do. If I had to choose between saving a person I barely know and my family, I’d always choose my family.”

“Siblings, huh? I can’t live with them; I can’t live without them. But at the end of the day, you’d do anything for them.”

Daryl shakes his head when his brother sits at the table with a smug look on his face. “Shut up, Merle,” you say. “I’m going to check on Judith.”

—

Looking around the prison yard, panic starts to set in. You notice your brother and run to him. “Rick, Rick!”

Seeing you panicked, he runs over and meets you halfway. “What’s going on?”

“Somethings wrong; I can’t find Michonne or Daryl.”

“I know,” he says, looking down at the ground. “Merle went through with it; he took Michonne, and Daryl’s gone after him to bring her back.”

“He’s gone out there alone.”

He nods.

You rub at your face and say, “Damn it. If the governor finds them, he will kill all three of them.”

“Daryl is a survivor. He and Michonne will be coming back through those gates in no time.”

Tears start to build up. “You really think so?”

“Absolutely, both of them have better chances of surviving out there than either of us.” Rick was right; they would be fine. “I just want to say, before... I wasn’t thinking clearly. I would never have turned her over. I was just grasping at any chance I could to try and save the lives of my people, but you’re right, Michonne is one of us now.”

“I shouldn’t be so quick to judge when it’s not me in the position to make that choice. Hell, I’ve done a lot of questionable things.”

Rick hugs you tightly, and you squeal a little when you feel the pressure against the flesh that had been grazed by the bullet. “From now on, there is only one secret we keep: that night on the farm, and that’s it.”

“Agreed.”

When you start to walk back towards the prison, a hint of a smirk appears on Rick’s face. He puts his arm around your shoulder and says, “I need to ask you something, and I need a completely honest answer.”

“Okay?”

“For a while there, I was hearing things and seeing things that weren’t there. So I need you to tell me, did I really see you kissing Daryl with a dead possum at your feet, or did I imagine that?”

“Let’s go find the others.”

—

Your brother stands in front of the remaining members of your group in the courtyard while you sit around a picnic table. He looks stressed, scared of how the others will react. Admittedly, you were horrified when Daryl told you, but you don’t believe him; Rick or Hershel would have actually gone through with it.

“When I met with the governor, he offered me a deal. He said he would leave us alone if I gave him Michonne.” Rick’s jaw wobbles slightly as he talks; he was struggling to hold it together. “And I was going to do that... to keep us safe. I changed my mind. But now Merle took Michonne to fulfill the deal, and Daryl went to stop him, but I don’t know if it’s too late. I was wrong not to tell you. And I’m sorry. What I said last year—that first night after the farm—it can’t be like that. It can’t. What we do, what we’re willing to do, who we are—it’s not my call. It can’t be. I couldn’t sacrifice one of us for the greater good because we are the greater good. We’re the reason we’re still here—not me, all of us. How we live, how we die—it ain’t up to me. I ain’t your governor. We chose to go. We chose to stay. We stick together.”

Nobody knows what to say.

“We vote. We can stay or fight, or we pack up stuff and leave.”

“I’m proud of you, Rick.”

#the walking dead #daryl dixon x female oc #daryl dixon x original character #daryl dixon/you #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x oc #tomorrow’s promise #tomorrow’s promise 3.09 #daryl dixon fanfic #twd fanfiction #the walking dead fanfic #daryl dixon fic #Daryl Dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixion x reader

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autumnmobile12 · 6 months

Text

Hisashi Midoriya Does Not Exist

I’m officially calling it.

We’ve seen no photos or flashbacks of the man.

Inko is the only character to mention him and only does so once during a flashback from when Izuku was a toddler. Deku does not talk about his father, so either he doesn't remember him all that well or...seriously, not even a happy birthday, Happy New Year, congrats on getting into UA, etc call?

He hasn’t had any input about this hero career his son is taking on even though it's proven to be increasingly more dangerous as the situation unfolds.

He has not visited once during one of Deku’s many hospital stays, including the one where he was comatose and people weren’t sure if he was coming out of it or not.

Izuku straight up went missing for a time and Hisashi didn't return to be there for his wife, who was definitely freaking out over their missing son.

And now with Japan in total chaos, he did not returned home to be there for his family pre-Final War nor was there ever a point where he attempted to get them out of Japan for their own safety. This seems like it would have been a good time to mention a panicked father phone call. Japan closed its borders to contain said chaos. Was that not a concern for expatriates who have family back home?

So either he is the worst dad/husband in the series, a series that already has a pretty high bar as far as worst dads go, or he doesn't exist. I think Horikoshi forgot he said he was going to reveal him, and is it even worth revealing him at this point? We're coming up on the end of this ride unless there's a whole other lengthy post-finale arc we're getting in which we see the full step-by-step recovery process of society and what to do about the remaining LoV members, provided they even survive this. (Bit anti-climatic, but there's still a lot to wrap up, I guess.)

I understand if the guy just wasn't all that necessary to the story, but why not just have him be a character who passed away before the plot began? Widowed Inko and be done with it.

...

Still, if he doesn't exist, who's Deku's dad? Inko didn't do this herself.

Or maybe she did and all hail the real Freckled Jesus.

Sorry Marco. (<--That meme is so old, I'd half-forgotten about it.)

Anyway, the only information we really have on 'Hisashi Midoriya' is that he has a fire-type Quirk and he's allegedly working overseas.

So on to the insane theory that occasionally haunts my brain. It doesn't just live rent free here, it is a registered ghost that hangs out.

Due to the fire-based Quirk (yes, I know Hisashi is listed as having a 'fire-breathing' Quirk, but then we're just splitting hairs,) I personally think Horikoshi is lining up a shot that will nuke the Shouto/Deku ship by revealing Endeavor was Deku’s father all along for no other reason than to troll both the fandom and his own characters.

...

I also kinda just picture the rest of the Todoroki family, including satanic charcoal Dabi, with this reaction:

So much for that redemption arc.

The only thing I don't like about this is knowingly sleeping with a married man is not a good look for Inko's character.

Okay, that's not the only thing I don't like about it. I would be disturbed if this was the plot twist. Please don't.

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masterjedilenawrites · 8 months

Text

@dragonrider9905!!! I have sat on this prompt for way too long 😩 I almost let it go but I already had a few hundred words written out, so I went ahead and added a few hundred more to finish it. It's a lot shorter than it could have been but oh well... maybe it's something I add to later? Anyway, hope it was worth the wait! 😬

Tech x reader | 1.1k words

Content: references to reader being a little dumb/having bad ideas, descriptions of traps and peril, mostly comedic with some heart

Fact: Your family was missing, and the only hope you had of finding them was by teaming up with a group of tenacious clones called the Bad Batch. You were restless in your search for them, doing all you could to keep up with the Batchers as they chased after clues.

Fact: You were not the brightest star in the sky. At least when it came to mission plans. You'd led them on wild goose chases, miscalculated various risks, and almost burnt down the ship one time. To say it was fitting you be banned from any strategy meetings was simply a given after a certain point.

Fact: Tech liked you anyway.

He wasn't sure why, given the obvious differences in the ways your minds worked. He was methodical, technical, and realistic; you were hasty, abstract, and idealistic. He was content to work on plans until they were perfect, while you were quick to take action, even when you weren't sure what those actions were. He was intellectual, you were imaginative.

And yet, despite all these differences, all the ways you two just never saw eye-to-eye, he found himself drawn to you anyway. He got close whenever he could, picked your brain on whatever he could think of, just to see what your answer would be. He looked forward to seeing you each day and couldn't help but prioritize your well-being just a little higher than any others'.

The rest of the Batch didn't quite hold the same fondness. They were polite enough, and you did have some good times laughing around campfires. But they had drawn a hard and fast line around letting you call any shots on missions. Tech was fittingly put in charge of holding you back. He could listen to your dumb and silly ideas all day, but he would also know to never let those ideas turn into actual plans.

For a while, the arrangement worked. Tech kept you from interfering without making you feel bad. And the rest of the Batch was able to continue making progress toward finding your family.

But then one day, they got themselves in a mess so bad, not even their own bold strategies could fix it. They were on a rescue mission. A kidnapped senator held hostage in a mansion on an outer rim planet owned by Separatist sympathizers. Supposedly the senator had been the last person to see your family. You and Tech stayed behind in the Marauder, watching the heat signatures of the rest of the Batch make their way through the labyrinth of rooms in the mansion, coaching them around corners and keeping them one step ahead of any enemies.

They had made it to the senator easily enough, but then a whole slew of alarms and booby traps went off, a completely unaccounted for defense system. Every counter measure known to the galaxy seemed to be deployed. The holopad lit up in Tech's lap, while the comms link in your hand vibrated with panicked voices. Chaos.

Tech tried his best to get them out safely, but every new exit route he picked had a threat worse than the last. They were trapped.

"I'm trying Hunter, I'm trying!" he snapped as his fingers swiped back and forth on the holopad, desperately trying to find even the smallest chance of escape.

"I have an idea," you offered, but even if you had been allowed to have ideas, your words were lost amongst the chorus of yells and shouts through the comms.

"The hallway you came from is full of soldiers now, both stairwells are booby trapped with grenades, the back hall to the servant's quarters is on fire..." Tech was explaining as he did one more thorough sweep of the options.

What about the air vents? asked Hunter.

"They're being filled with venomous bees as we speak."

Jump out the windows? Echo asked.

"You're hundreds of feet up. No way to scale down. There's anti-air turrets that'll shoot down the Marauder as soon as I get it off the ground. And I'm pretty sure the glass is shatter proof anyway."

"I have an idea," you tried again, louder this time, but Tech waved a hand at you to be quiet.

The room's filling with water now! came a moan from Wrecker.

Hurry up Tech, Crosshair hissed. We're running out of time.

"I know!"

You'd never seen Tech lose his cool like this before. This really was a bad situation. It didn't even matter about the information the senator may have about your family. They could all die if you didn't act quickly. And seeing as Tech wasn't interested in hearing you out, you decided to waste no time arguing and just jump right into your own plan. You were fairly confident it would work. Maybe 60%. Which was better than your usual calculation of 50/50, and certainly more than anyone else was coming up with at the moment.

You jumped out of your seat and rushed toward the ramp. This got Tech's attention. He looked between your empty seat and the mayhem emitting from the technology in his lap a few times before finally running after you.

"What are you doing?" he asked just as you jumped onto the muddy ground of the forest you were camped in.

"I'm going to knock on the front door and ask them to stop hurting our friends," you explained, never breaking your determined stride. Thankfully you were parked close to the tree line, and then it was only a short walk across the lawn to the mansion.

Tech blinked. "What?"

You were already several paces away so he shook himself and ran to catch you.

"What?" he asked again as he spun you around by the arm. "That's your plan? Just asking them to stop?"

"I'll ask nicely," you shrugged. "They're not droids, they're people. So who knows, they might just listen."

"But that's not... You can't just... Wait..." Tech sputtered as you turned heel and began walking again.

"Or maybe they'll want to negotiate," you called over your shoulder. "It'd be better if you were there for that part."

You did pause, turning slightly to give him a questioning look, waiting to see if he'd follow.

Tech was dumbfounded. Asking the enemy to simply stop didn't follow any line of logic or reason. He looked down at the holopad he still had clutched in his hand, knowing it wouldn't show him any more hope than it had before. Five heat signatures - one for each of his friends and one for the senator - were huddled in the middle of a room that was trying every which way to kill them. And there was nothing he could do about it.

Nothing, except to listen to you.

"This is by far the stupidest plan you've ever had," he said, meeting your earnest gaze. He took in a deep breath, already picturing the lecture he'd get from Hunter for daring to entertain your idea. But what choice did he have? He cared too much to let them perish. And, if he was being really honest, he cared too much about you to really believe you were as dumb as they all said.

So with that, he turned off the holopad and squared his shoulders, ready to follow your lead, logic be damned.

"Of course I'll help."

Every Character Tag: @dangerousstrawberrypie, @justanothersadperson93, @arctrooper69, @sleepycreativewriter, @techie-bear, @theroguesully, @cw80831

Bad Batch Tag: @kaijusplotch, @rebel-finn, @lucyysthings, @marvel-starwars-nerd, @nekotaetae, @severalseashellsbytheseashore, @lackofhonor, @flowered-bicycles, @foodmoneyandcats, @nahoney22, @dangraccoon

✨Join A Tag List Here!✨

🍾 One Shots Master List | 🌙 Master List of Master Lists

#star wars #the bad batch #the clone wars #tech #tech x reader #bad ideas #hunter #wrecker #echo #crosshair

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theemporium · 2 years

Note

Number 42 for the random number!

42. “stay quiet”

The decision to go camping was impulsively brought up by Pansy at dinner one night, and now they were also suffering the consequences.

Ever since Draco Malfoy finally got off his ass and made a move on Hermione Granger, the witch had become integrated into your little group and you truly couldn’t be happier. You had always gotten along with the witch, despite what the house and class statuses of you two may say.

It was during one of the many dinners you shared together where Hermione had shared a few stories about her family annual muggle camping trips across the country. And it was less than five minutes later when Pansy insisted they give it a shot—a weekend without magic and only muggle tools to survive—because it surely couldn’t be that hard.

Spoiler alert: it was pretty fucking difficult.

There was a variety of hardships the group had grown to discover, starting somewhere from the lack of toilets to the fact it was fucking freezing at night, and they were barely able to start a fire. However, Theo’s biggest issue was the fact they had no silencing charms.

Not a single one.

“Theo,” you whispered, the birds chirping outside telling you it was pretty early for all things considered. You knew your watch was somewhere near the bottom of the tent, but you didn’t have the heart to leave your warm sleeping bag just yet. Especially not with your boyfriend pressed against your back, warm hands gliding along your stomach.

“Morning, love,” he grumbled, his voice low and rough as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck. His leg slid between yours, entangling and trapping your body further against his.

You sighed happily in his arms, content enough to stay exactly where you were before dealing whatever chaos the rest of the day would lead into. Your boyfriend, however, had other plans.

It was subtle at first, the way his pinky stroked along your stomach. It was something you didn’t even bat an eye at until his hand slid down a little, until his pinky was skimming the waistband of your leggings and the bulge pressing into your ass was more noticeable to your sleepy brain.

“Theo,” you murmured in a warning voice, knowing very well what he wanted. “We can’t.”

“Yes, we can,” he replied simply, pressing a kiss to the spot just below your ear. Smiling a little when he heard you let out a small sigh. “You know you want to.”

“We can’t,” you repeated as his fingers passed the barrier of the waistband. “We don’t even have silencing charms.”

“We are far away enough,” he assured you.

“The others are literally less than two meters away.”

“They probably aren’t even awake.”

You opened your mouth, ready to list off other reasons just why this was a bad idea but Theo’s hand cupped your clothed cunt before you could even say a word. A choked gasp left your lips, hips instinctively grinding against his palm and the boy grinned victoriously against your neck.

“That’s it, baby,” he hummed as his fingers slid along the material, already feeling how wet you were when he had barely touched you. “Stay quiet like a good girl and I’ll let you come.”

You bit your lip. “Theo—”

“Shhh, love,” he cooed as his palm brushed against your clit, your face nuzzled against your pillow to muffle the whine you let out. “I wanna fuck my pretty girl, but I can’t do that if you get us caught, huh?”

“Okay,” you breathed out, all resolve leaving your body the second you felt him push his hips against your ass and his hard cock pressing against your back. “Fuck me, Theo. Please.”

“That’s the plan, love. Now keep that pretty mouth shut.”

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heyyesimtrash-whatofit · 12 days

Note

Alright J I hate to ask but,

I just love the fact Marty is getting NO sleep with those Docs around

Sorry that I want to see more, but really there SO GOOD!!

(p.s maybe Marty could be ‘resting’ and something that the Doc’s did woke him up, something funny maybe, idk)

DO NOT APOLOGIZE!!!! HAVE YOU SEEN MY TAGS?? I LIVE FOR THE ENTHUSIASM!!

Also what a lovely idea! Oh Marty~!

Good luck fighting him on this one, Marty. He’s a dad now. He’s used to putting stubborn kids to bed. Not pictured (because I’m lazy and didn’t wanna pose that many ppl-) is 1931 Doc and 1955 Doc standing around a shattered beaker, multiple piles of flaming…something (paper, gel, idk), and a still lit Bunsen burner. You can kinda guess what happened from there-

Transcriptions and more silly under the cut :)

*honk shooo Marty Sleeping Position.jpg*

CRASH!

Marty: What blew up? Who’s on fire?

Doc (present 1986): Everything is fine, Marty, now go lay back down- 😅

Marty: But you’re literally-

Doc: I know.

Marty: And-

Doc: Back to bed.

This will be the vicious cycle that will repeat at least twice more before Marty gets a decent amount of sleep (which is thanks to Einstein finding the chaos and laying with the poor kid like the amazing dog he is) And yes, 1986 present Doc is the best at getting the stubborn teen to sleep because of his acquired dad skills, but that doesn’t mean the other Emmetts aren’t just as capable. 1955 Doc has had to get Marty to sleep multiple times during his week there, 2015 Doc is no different, and 1931 Emmett literally let Marty sleep in during the game because he seemed really tired so what makes you think he won’t find a way to help his friend sleep?? Marty is going to rest whether he likes it or not. This is not a question, but a fact.

I’ve been playing with other characters in my mind as well, because it won’t just be Marty forever. I think Jennifer gets dragged in when they remember Marty’s parents, and she’s called in to come grab him. Speaking of George and Lorraine, either they don’t find out at all or, if they’ve figured out time travel, they do and it’s chaotic. (If you wanna see how I think them finding out would go, there’s a link to my fic on @squoosh-the-floof-writes It’s called The Truth About Time Travel do read it) Then ofc there’s Clara and the boys. Clara stumbles in first, which is nothing short of entertaining as she somehow manages to effortlessly contain the chaos (“I know how your brain works, Emmett. This is just that times four”) The boys don’t bump into all of them at first, but rather I think they meet 1931 Doc first which is just all sorts of funny. Anyway more to come from this

KEEP ASKING QUESTIONS AND GIVING YOUR THOUGHTS I LIVE FOR IT

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obsidiancreates · 4 months

Text

Just Another Day In The Dimwood

"How the hell did we end up back here?!" Booker whispers furiously to Grumley.

"I dunno," Grumley whispers back, almost whimpering. "We just ran and here we are!"

"Whatever Bitsy's going for in that hutch better be worth this." Booker takes a deep breath. "Okay, just this one last time. One last distraction in this godforsaken clearing and then we're never coming back here again!"

"Never?"

"Never, Grumley. Not even for all the gold in the Dimwood."

"Wow. Alright, one more distraction." Grumley looks down at the powder Peggy had given him before she, Hazel, and Bitsy had sprinted off into the woods. "I won't die, right?"

"I sure hope not, but it's Peggy, so I can't really confirm or deny that as a possibility."

"Well... here goes." Grumley shoves the powder in his mouth and takes a swig of the bottle Peggy had also given him. He coughs a little as thick foam begins to spill out from his jowl-covered mouth.

"Holy shit, it worked- I mean HELP! HEEEELP, OH GODS, THERE'S A-A RABID DOG! AHHHHHHHH!" Booker dashes into the main clearing, gathering as much attention as possible away from the party that had moments ago been readied to investigate why Smoke could be seen coming from that horrid hutch the heretic once lived in.

Grumley chases after Booker, growling and snarling as scarily as he can! He chases him all around the clearly, but the two keep a tight pattern around the path out of town towards Bitsy's old house. Mice and rabbits and cats and dogs alike all scream, chaos spreading as cries of "RABIES!" fill the air!

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

"Oh, Bitsy! You didn't tell us you had cookies left in your house!" Hazel yanks the jar out of the old slightly-singed cupboard and begins wolfing them down without a second thought.

"To be fair we thought it'd burned down because she left the woodstove lit when we ran away before," Peggy says, looking through Bitsy's bookshelf which contains no books, but lots of jars of herbs.

"We did?" Bitsy herself is digging through the ashes inside said stove.

"You said you left it on, yeah."

"Wow. Well how didn't it burn down? Did you save my Hutch, Creator?"

"I must have." Peggy kicks over a bucket clearly left by the firefighting brigade that obviously came and stopped the fire so it wouldn't burn the entire clearing down. "What're we lookin' for again?"

"Is it that mysterious chest you told us about that first night?" Hazel asks as she finishes the jar of cookies. "Ooooh, scones!"

"No, not that." Bitsy moves on to look under the bed. "I'm lookin' for my best chewin' stick!"

"We're here for a stick?" Peggy pauses, then shrugs. "Just don't tell Booker, he might have an aneurysm."

"What's an Anne-your-eseem?"

"It's like your brain poppin' in your skull."

"Wow... I get that all the time!"

"I think that's just bubbles in your ears, Bitsy. I get it too when I-I climb really high and come back down."

"But I don't climb!"

"You do run real fast though, sort of the same thing. ... Somehow."

"I learn so much with you all."

"Well we're a very knowledgeable and well-learned bunch. What's this jar full of?"

"Poppy seeds. If you work with 'em the right way they make you all sleepy and relaxed and not in pain anymore."

"Oh, is that what this liquid next to them is?"

"Yeah!"

"Hazel just drank half the jar."

"Oh. ... It'll be fine, I think. As long as we don't gotta run real soon."

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

Booker and Grumely sprint away from the angry crowd. As soon as just one resident recognized them, the rest followed. Groups of angry, grieving families now chase them with pitchforks, scythes, and anything else sharp available in the clearing.

"GUYYYYS!!! WE GOTTA GET OUTTA HERE!!!" Booker screams as they run towards the hutch.

"IT'S VERY URGENT!!!"

"WE HAVE TO GET MOVING AT A VERY QUICK AND CONSISTENT PACE!!!"

"FOR A REALLY, REALLY LONG TIME!!!"

Peggy looks out the window. "Yeah Booker that's not- HOLY SHIT- Bitsy you gotta wake Hazel up!"

"WHAT?!" Booker ducks as a rock flies by his head. "SHE'S ASLEEP?!"

"Well I'll just give her this white powder that makes me feel real fast!"

"Great idea."

Booker groans and looks to Grumley. "We're so fucked."

#legends of avantris #uprooted #fanfic #my attempts at fanfic

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mikhailwrites · 11 months

Text

The fire in your eyes / Ghost x Soap

Kinktober #19 - Uniforms

Military Parades. Everyone hates them. Instead of doing something useful and productive, you need to dress up and march in front of staring crowds. Nobody cares if it’s so hot the road is melting or so cold your eyes are freezing over. However, there might be a silver lining to this one: Johnny fucking MacTavish proudly displaying his Scottish heritage.

I'm writing this at 3AM, terribly sorry if it's even less coherent and has even more mistakes than usual. Btw did you know SAS has its own tartan? Well, now you do.

The door to the rec room opens, Ghost immediately checks them. And has to look away and back again. As if to make sure he’s truly seeing... that. Johnny. In a kilt. Not just the kilt, in fact, the whole getup.

Gaz whistles, eyeing the other Sergeant. “Looking sharp, mate! Got a date? Some pretty bird to impress?”

“Damn right, I do,” Johnny smirks as he momentarily looks at Simon. Oh, he likes to play with fire. But he does look sharp, Gaz is right about that. “But we gotta address the elephant in the room. Ghost in a uniform? What did you bribe him with? And the chest candy, too? Had to be expensive.”

“That would be classified, Sergeant,” Price appears out of nowhere, rivalling Ghost’s namesake. “I hope you boys are ready to make a good impression today.”

“Yes, sir!” they answer him in unison. They don’t have to like parades, but they all understand why they must be at their best.

It all goes smoothly; they’ve rehearsed it, after all, for countless hours. Even the weather takes pity on them and graces the parade with an overcast and reasonable temperature. They march, they do the show, people are applauding, a few are shouting some profanities as if a good portion of the parade doesn’t have a near-death experience. As if they didn’t hear the whistle of a bullet flying way too close to their head.

Ghost keeps his mind carefully clear. He performs as is expected of him, enjoys the fleeting moments he gets to see Johnny and tries not to count passing minutes. Then there’s a hymn, another march, and, yes, finally, they’re free. He needs a drink, as do the rest of One-Four-One. Drink, and then he gets out of the uniform. Every time he catches a glimpse of himself, he startles a bit until his brain catches up. God, he hates this.

As Simon nears the pub they had earlier agreed to meet, there is an unusual amount of noise and ruckus coming from inside—the sound of breaking glass and splintering wood, shouts and thuds. Ghost tags Price standing a little out of the way, leaning against the wall and smoking one of his usual cigars.

“Someone already managed to start a fight?” Simon asks as he comes closer, mildly impressed.

“Uh-huh,” Price nods. “We did.”

Ghost blinks a few times. Alright, he didn’t see that coming. “What happened?”

“Someone insulted Soap’s kilt and, if I got it right, even went as far as to say something about his mother. And you don’t just insult SAS soldier’s mum, do you?” Price asks a wholly rhetorical question. Ghost only nods, but then he looks around the deserted street.

“So, why aren’t you inside?”

“Plausible deniability. If I go there, I’ll have to clean up the mess and employ some disciplinary measures. You know the drill.”

“Want me to sort it out, sir?”

“Please do.”

That’s the only permission Ghost needs. He takes off the jacket, handing it to Price. He might not like it, but he sure as hell doesn’t want to get his measurements taken again for a new one.

It’s an absolute chaos inside. Luckily, Ghost thrives in chaos. He sweeps the pub from left to right, taking a quick and rough account of the situation. Gaz is to his right; two men are holding him up as the third takes a swing at him. It’s not a bad punch, Gaz’s head jerks to the side, blood from the split lip dripping on his uniform. As the assailant prepares for another swing, Ghost intervenes. This is his teammate right here, the man who’s saved Ghost’s life on numerous occasions.

Ghost moves quickly, sliding behind the man’s back and grabbing him by the collar, slamming him into the overturned table. The two blokes holding Gaz up look at Ghost, then at each other. There’s a hint of recognition. They let Gaz go immediately and try to charge Ghost, both of them at the same time. Not a bad thinking.

Ghost dodges one fist aimed at his stomach and trips the man. The other one lands a hit on Ghost’s kidneys. It hurts, but he’s used to pain. However, before Ghost can react, Gaz is there, kneeing the bloke in the stomach before sucker-punching him. Okay, that’s one-half of the job done.

“Where’s Soap?” Ghost barks out loud enough to be heard over the racket.

Gaz looks around. Numerous fights are going on, as is expected. There’s tension and rivalry between the military branches and the units. This sort of gathering is a powder keg. “I don’t…,” Gaz starts, trying to find their other Sergeant. “Oh….”

Ghost follows Gaz’s gaze, and… yeah. Oh.

Soap is lying on the ground, one guy’s neck held between his thighs while simultaneously doing a proper fist-assisted dentistry on another bloke who’s struggling to crawl away. Johnny looks like a rabid dog.

“You gonna need help with him?” Gaz asks, not making even a single move.

“Nah, get out of here, Price is waiting outside,” Ghost shakes his head, loosening his tie, unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt and tucking the sleeves up.

First, he frees the half-choked bloke before he kicks him further from Johnny. Then he grabs Soap and forces him to his knees, thus letting go of the second guy in the process. Ghost quickly glances at their uniform. Royal Marines. Of course. Ghost almost wants to kick them some more.

Instead, he does the reasonable thing worthy of an officer. He takes Soap and, much to the Sergeant’s protests drags him away. Soap is loud, cursing Ghost in that incomprehensible language of his, but even he isn’t so out of it as to hit Ghost, who also happens to be his commanding officer as well as a partner of sorts.

Ghost pretends not to notice and appreciate the searing heat in Soap’s blue eyes. Johnny doesn’t lose his shit nearly as often as many would think, yet when it does happen, it’s an absolute masterclass of carnage. And Ghost loves it. However, he can’t be thinking with his prick right now. They need to get out before someone with actual power shows up.

The ride back to Hereford is a short and quiet one. They stop at a petrol station and get some ice. Gaz is nursing his split lip and bruised jaw, Soap is pressing a handful of ice on the back of his head, where he claims someone hit him with a chair. He’s bleeding from the shallow cut on his forehead, and his left eye is beginning to swell. He got a thorough beating, but Ghost can’t help but think that he didn’t really save Soap. If anything, he saved those two poor bastards Soap was beating up. The Sergeant would probably eat them alive if someone didn’t stop him.

They get out of the car, Ghost immediately grabbing Soap and dragging him away. Price sighs, and Gaz chuckles.

Ghost is leading them to the barracks, to his room. The door closes, lock clicks in place. Johnny is dirty, bruised and bloody; his uniform is ripped in several places, too. He’s a damn mess, but Ghost has always had some seriously crossed wires. He’s been hard in his trousers for a while, and there’s no way he’s waiting a minute more to do something about it.

“Uh… Listen, LT, I’m sor…,” Soap doesn’t get to finish his apology before Ghost is on him, damn near devouring his mouth while his hand clutches at Soap’s thigh over the thick layers of tartan. Johnny lets out a slightly exasperated laugh as he backs up and falls onto the bed. Ghost follows, never allowing more than an inch of space between them. The new position allows him to reach under the kilt finally. He kneads at Soap’s bare thigh, remembering that he nearly choked a man with it. Fuck!

Ghost quickly undoes his belt and shucks his trousers down under his arse. “Lube,” he growls at Soap because the Sergeant is closer to the nightstand. Johnny does as he’s told, fishing out the bottle and handing it over with the same practised move as if he would hand Ghost a magazine.

“Prep?” Ghost asks, clipped and right down to the business.

“Fuck it, want you in me thirty minutes ago,” Johnny smirks. The fire in his eyes is back now. He didn’t get to rip the Marines apart, but now he might get that anger channelled in a different way.

“Wanted to be in you the moment I saw you in the morning,” Ghost retorts.

“You tell me the sweetest things, Simon. Hurry up!” Soap smiles, licking his lips as he watches Ghost fumble with the lube.

It burns a bit at first, then it hurts a bit more, but Soap is no virgin. Ghost is holding back a great deal, trying to go reasonably slow. Soap groans, but instead of pulling away or making any attempt to stop Ghost, he nudges him closer, whining as he forces himself to take more. Ghost is mesmerised, completely lost in him.

Johnny writhes under him, unable to stay still. Ghost’s prick halfway in is both too much and not enough, and it’s frustrating. Finally, he makes up his mind, hooks his legs behind Ghost’s back and demonstrates just how much strength there really is in his legs.

Ghost gasps and moans, Soap whines, arching his back off the bed, struggling to take a breath for a few seconds. “Christ, Johnny,” Simon wheezes, struggling to control himself and the situation. Scratch that; he doesn’t control the situation at all. Soap does, especially once he adjusts and simply uses Ghost to take what he needs.

Simon doesn’t mind. He would be willing to give this man anything he could desire. Anything at all. Simon would cut out his own cold, cold heart and gift it to him. He would burn down the world. For now, it seems that his cock will suffice.

Soap, for the lack of better words, fucks himself on it, and the kilt, rumpled and tucked up, leaves exactly nothing to the imagination. Johnny shivers as the glistening glans of his hardon rubs against the wool, but Ghost does nothing to help him.

If he did, it would’ve been over way too quickly. Instead, he leverages Soap’s hips, changing the angle significantly. Soap yelps before hissing an ecstatic “Yes!” Soon enough, more words follow. Please and harder are especially frequent, and Ghost does give it to him.

Snapping his hips forward at a punishing pace, he gets a lovely gasp each time he bottoms out. Johnny is clawing at the sheets with one hand and at Ghost’s forearm with the other. Come morning, he will probably look like a wild cat mauled him.

It’s a sweet kind of pain. Johnny will feel him for a few days; it’s only fair Ghost will, too. Simon feels the tension build up inside him; his thrusts are slower but firmer, forcing a breath out of Soap, who looks like half of his mind is wandering elsewhere. Eyes hooded, mouth hanging open, face slack in that special way only a good shag can do.

“’M close,” Ghost warns. Or maybe it’s a promise, what with the way Johnny’s legs hold him tighter, trying to force him deeper. Simon blindly searches around until he finds the lube, pouring a little into his palm before he grips Johnny’s neglected prick. It’s hot and hard, velvety, with prominent veins that make Ghost’s mouth water as he remembers how it feels in his mouth, on the tip of his tongue. How Johnny tastes, how his hand in Simon’s hair feels. Simon cries out, a broken sound of utter relief, as he pumps into Soap with each pulse that wrecks his body, coming inside him for what feels like an eternity but is mere seconds.

His hand slacks, but Soap covers it, tightens the grip and continues to fuck into Simon’s fist with quick, erratic thrusts. He’s close, his breathing ragged, his brow furrowed with desperation and concentration. Simon moans as Soap rides his oversensitive cock.

Even in his post-orgasmic state, Ghost feels the faint rush of excitement as he watches Soap coming undone and, a few seconds later, actually coming, soiling his uniform, jacket, kilt, shirt, all of it. Ghost lets them both breathe for a few seconds before Johnny lets go of his hand; Simon, in turn, let’s go of Johnny’s cock, and brings his hand to his mouth. Johnny makes a small, helpless noise as he watches Ghost lick the cum off his fingers and palm.

Simon collapses on the bed next to Johnny, exhaustion catching up to him quickly.

“You’re beautiful,” Simon whispers, unable to stop himself.

Soap stares at him for a moment before he snorts. “Aye, damn right I am, what with the black eye, all bloodied and bruised.

“You’re prettiest when you’re bloodied and bruised. And angry, I like you angry,” Ghost continues, his filter completely fried. Johnny would probably tease him about it later, but for now, he can say whatever he wants.

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