#he would make it just the way you like and watch you blink sluggishly while sipping it and listen to you humming in soft delight | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

iwaasfairy · 1 year

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┌─ “ ! „ MOLASSES

tw. incest, noncon to dubcon, size kink, belly bulge, a lot of praise, breeding, creampie, corruption, lotta emotions and tears, ? yandere, soft service dom! vash wordcount. 5k

a/n. if you don't watch this show please please give it a try it's grEAT ♡♡♡ I don’t know anything other than the first 8 episodes of Trigun, so there will be spoilers or references from those, but nothing else! So if you’re also watching the show for the first time you are safe. I’ve just gone off of the backstory we know so far and personal interpretation, so some things might turn out to be a little out of character in the future. ♡♡♡ hope you liKKEE it i loVEEE love these charas already im gonna cry

vash the stampede x fem!reader

The dust that tickles your neck makes breathing heavy, sluggishly treading through layers upon layers of sand. The blanket of dust also catches the light of the sun, casting everything in a stunning brilliance while drowning out the horizon. It stings, and your feet burn with every step- you wipe a sloppy hand across your forehead, but remain just as sticky, hot and gross. All things that- in the long run- don’t matter. Or won’t matter once you’re done here.

The sand shifts under your feet, and makes the climb even slower.

Only a few more steps. You take a deep breath, and watch the scene unfolded before with a heavy feeling that makes your empty stomach churn. At the bottom of the wave of sand, the big metal cruiser stands shimmering violently under the midday sun— smoking, abandoned if the footprints are anything to go by, and recognizable. You trip your way down the mountain of sand with heavy legs, sinking down every few steps as you look around.

The faint shape of a town remains at the edge of your vision. It’s far, but not impossibly so. You wouldn’t like to do it by foot, though, can’t imagine anyone would. The vehicle, while glowing with heat, is valuable enough not to leave even its wreckage behind. And the person you’ve been trailing is no fool. If you had any energy left, that would set off more alarm bells then it does. But you still unholster your gun, the metal heavy in your hands as you raise it towards the door nearest to you. It would be safe to assume they’ve gone, and their numbers aren’t great enough to leave people lingering.

Your breathing is tight as you wipe your hands on your clothing again, one by one, and make it the last bit down in a jog. The town doesn’t look particularly rich or well-populated, but any town out in the middle of nowhere like this one, has one thing of value.

The door of the vehicle clinks mechanically as it slides open, and the engine of the vehicle blows a long, whistling noise— and your aim is perfect as you freeze up. It reveals a set of stairs into the upper deck, but you simply glare, and after a few seconds, put on a slight frown. “You can come out now.”

Your voice is steadier than you imagined it would be.

There was a time where you longed fondly for the reunion, you suppose, nights by the campfire, in other people’s company. It was impossible not to, foreign as you were to the world. Wondering where and how you belonged, if you were missed, or needed. But it’s been years… too many years, and things have changed.

And yet, his voice sounds exactly how you remember it when it comes from within the metal cage- just out of your view. “That’s awfully distant.”

“Come out or I’ll riddle this hack of shit full of bullets and leave you stranded out here,” you say now, peering through the scope along the heavy barrel, and cocking it once. “Now, Nai!”

There’s a soft chuckle, and then feet that gracefully slide down the stairs into view, each step slow and steady and confident. You expect nothing less. The white cape obstructs most of him from your view, so you don’t dare blink— until at last, he jumps down onto the shifty sand, both hands raised. “That’s Nai niichan to you, isn’t it?” It’s unbearable. The low tones of his voice are just present enough not to allow you to slip into thought, but you find yourself tearing up regardless. He’s still sickeningly perfect, light hair sweeped away from his forehead, brows soft and straight, and a smile to pierce straight through your heart.

Whatever type of restraint you convinced yourself you could have if you saw him again, seems to evaporate with the sun flares that burn above. Instantly. And though you had time to prepare yourself, the last few hours of catching up to him aren’t enough for the onslaught of emotions that crash over you as you aim that barrel straight at his face. “Cut the shit. You don’t get to talk your way out of this, not this time.” Your voice cracks, and you bite your lip. “I wasn’t expecting to pick up on your tracker this far out…” Or at all. But maybe it shouldn’t surprise you that the eldest expected you to give up on him. Given he gave up on you, too. “Where’s the rest of them?”

“Not here.” At your glare, his mouth corners twitch, and he lulls his head to the side. “I’m alone, baby sister, I promise. I sent them into town to handle business. You understand.”

The quip gets under your skin, and you’re sure he knows, but you narrow your eyes, and tighten the finger on the trigger as Nai waits. For what, you’re not entirely sure. There’s so much to say, too much for a single person’s lifetime, but you know your eldest brother. He’s strong, and shifty just as much as the sand he plays around in; and he’s most likely just entertaining you. You know that. “I should just kill you right here and now,” you end up mumbling. Sand scratches the metal of the cruiser, and the ticks of the dust hitting the surface grow louder.

“I don’t even get a chance to explain myself?” The joyful melody of his voice is everything but normal, and you want to scream, and kick and cry until it stops being so damn grating, but you can’t. You hate him. You hate him, don’t you? “How cruel.”

You snap. Voice full volume and angry, you don’t even feel the way it stings between breaths as you bark out what needs saying. “This isn’t a game, Nai! It’s been five years, and that’s all you have to say for yourself?! Explain what?!” Your vicious anger makes your entire face feel hot, burning with an entirely different purpose. “Explain how you took him away from me?! Why? What did niichan ever do, except give you chance after chance to make things right?!” All those years of your grief that built up into a ball of resentment can’t be stopped with a simple confrontation. You knew that going in. But it suddenly all comes out like a dam that’s been shattered, and floods everything else.

“And I’m to blame?”

“You killed him!” you burst, glaring so hard your eyes might make him drop dead on the spot. “He was all I had left! But you just can’t let things go! And you took him- y-you took him from me, and I’m here to make you pay.” The dry chuckle isn’t unexpected, but it still hurts. And you find yourself fighting back the very real urge to make him hurt just the same- simply taking a deep breath instead.

“Careful. Your favoritism is showing.” The white jacket rustles unnervingly in the wind, as the howling picks up in volume. It seems to thump in the same rapid rhythm your heartbeat is, and Nai raises a brow. “You’re no idiot, so I’ll assume you came with a plan. But little sister or not, even you have to realize that if I want you dead, it won’t be much of a challenge to make that happen. You’d do better trying to get along with me and show some forgiveness.”

The cold, calculated way he throws it out between you two is almost laughable. Like it’s even a choice. Like you were ever given any other choice than revenge, when he left you out here to die. Stranded, alone, with the only family you have left… “I’ll never forgive you,” your lips move, kissing the words— and wonder if you mean them. You don’t think you do, not really. But you want to either way, be it out of spite, or some sense of justice. No one could say he didn’t have it coming. “Never.” You bite back a sniffle, to caress the trigger tighter even—

a name.

your name.

called out like a gentle caress, or a brush along your cheek.

Your teary eyes focus on the movement at the top of the stairs quicker than you can process that the voice isn’t Nai. He wasn’t alone, and he lied- he always does, the child in you chants- but the voice… is familiar. Too much so. It sets every hair on your body up on end despite the heat, as a few steps sound on the metal stairs. Boots, a red coat, and you stumble back. The gun lowering automatically, dropping to the floor as heat floods your face. Heat in the form of tears, rolling thick down your cheeks. Nai barely moves, but you’re shaking as your other brother kicks up some sand and smiles, kind and wide and wholly him.

“Hey, little sister.”

Absolute disbelief floods you as you watch Vash, your Vash, stand side by side to his twin— and for a moment, you wonder if the heat got to you after all. But he moves, and though Nai moves to keep him from approaching, before you know it you can feel warm hands on your face; stroking your teary eyes and keeping you from totally collapsing. “Vash? Vash- niichan-” Your voice fails you as his blue eyes close and his matching nose bumps yours pressing his forehead to yours; and everything fails to make sense. “But I- I thought- you were dead, you were dead- I kn-” You pull back to look at Nai, then Vash, then Nai again.

The two people you had spent the last five years mourning— your kin, your blood; without grievances, alongside each other. “I looked for you.” Your own voice takes you aback with the thought. Because it’s true. You looked. Everywhere. Every sign, every possible option, you had dug for years on end to find nothing- “I checked … everything, if you reached out to me anywhere, I would have heard- I-”

You shouldn’t feel ice cold to the touch, eyes stinging as the wind picks up- but you dare glance up at your brother again- and he’s still quiet. Regretful. Sorry. The familiarity you find in those baby blues suddenly feels miles and miles away, and you take a staggered step back. It’s funny, really. “You knew.” You were always the temperamental one of the three, and you always felt more strongly than Nai did, you knew that for sure. But you used to kid yourself in saying Vash understood; as kids tend to do.

Realization hits you square in the face. “You knew I was tracking you, and you made me think-” The words die in your throat. “You left me out here. You left me to die out here. Y- to join him?!” Your head hurts, and spins, and you suddenly feel like you’re sinking into the floor with the full weight of that. Though either of them haven’t spoken yet, the silence is proof enough. It makes you sick, it burns on the way down, and you almost feel your stomach climb up into your throat.

“I had no choice, every second I didn’t- you were in danger,” Vash starts, reaching for you again, and you smack his hand away as hard as you possibly can.

“I thought you were dead! And not only did I not know, you didn’t even try. Both of you just left me-” By now, you’re barely breathing; the short, gasped hiccups aren’t enough to bring oxygen back into your system— you reach for your disposed gun to whip it back up at your brother’s face— as your frown digs so deep into your tear-ridden expression it aches. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill both of you.”

Nai only stares as your barrel goes to press against his twin’s forehead, but Vash— you suppose you were always three sides of the trifecta. If you had the temperament, and Nai nii the logic, Vash would be the emphatic one out of you all. Because even with your heavy duty gun right between his brows, his sad smile as he reaches for your cheek doesn’t fail; and he leans into you. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” Your shaky breath isn’t enough, and you pull up your runny nose as you look back at Nai.

His beautiful face, and the quiet, tender look that passes— before the icy cold returns. “We don’t have time for this, Vash.” A mechanical click is so loud and heavy and piercing, a split second before you feel something hit the back of your head hard, and the world goes dark.

The room is quiet, apart from the slight ruffle of the sheets with his breathing, and yours against him. Ship Three rumbles at night, like a large beast settling down- it always keeps you up longer than you want it to. Keeps you from dreaming, too. But even in the darkness, there’s other soft noises you recognize like they’ve been coded into your brain, like the way he yawns and drapes an arm around you. These were the good days. Childishly unworried and awfully clingy. His voice is soft when he hums, and digs his chin a little deeper into the top of your head. “Not gonna sleep?”

“‘m trying,” you nod back, and nuzzle your face into his collarbones a little more. Your lashes brush the rough fabric of his shirt each time you blink, and shuffle, before eventually the hand creeps up to lovingly pet along your hairline. Vash’s eyes are half lidded when you dare to cast a glance upwards, but even the slightest bit of light gives them a warm, impossible shimmer. It’s home, and you find yourself clinging onto him a little tighter. The only sense of comfort you can allow yourself when the rest of the ship still feels so hostile, and you two- foreign.

“What are you thinking about?” he whispers, and even in your childlike innocence, it takes you aback a little. There’s only a few things you can think of that keep you up at night, right? Worries you and him share, should both be concerned about. You never bring it up, though. Because he doesn’t either, and what big brother says, goes. But you are not nearly as unaware as a child of your age should be. And you worry about tomorrow. If Luida and Brad decide to kick you two out at one point, if…

No, when Nai niichan returns from his shallow grave. And you know he will. It’s only a matter of time.

“Can’t I come with you tomorrow?” His embrace is just tight enough to make you believe the promise you make every time you go to bed. “Everyone else but never each other,” you parrot, dutifully searching for his other hand to link your fingers with, “right?”

Vash stares for a moment longer, before a smile comes up onto his lips. It doesn’t reach his eyes. “That’s right.” We can lose everyone else. You’ve always believed your big brother. Trusted him implicitly, and without second thought, always. But for the first time in years, your throat closes up a little as your fingers tighten into fists of his shirt, and your desperate grip on him seems to be failing you. There’s no choice. There’s nothing else left to save.

Your head doesn’t hurt as much as you realistically know it should, when you come to. You groan, and your eyes slowly flick open to the sight of steam, and an intense heat that envelops you head to toe. The warmth of water all around your sore muscles is, by all accounts, a royal treat. Even the upper echelon has a hard time getting enough water to run a bath— and it splashes all around as you right yourself in the bath and try to come to. The first thing you notice is the shape of someone hovering near the doorway, and you wrap your arms around your upper body with a sneer.

Nai’s light hair is longer than it used to be. Of course, you don’t remember that much of the lean, skittish boy he used to be way back when, but you had pictures of the years you were too young to remember any more vividly. And when Vash died- when he left you- you barely got a glimpse of Nai before he vanished back into thin air.

The water is hot enough to make everything feel languid and soft and you have to fight yourself a little to raise an arm out of the water to go and grab for a towel. One that Nai snatches out of your reach, tossing it instead over the sink with a little lift of his brow. “Don’t be a brat. You probably haven’t had a bath in years, don’t act like you don’t enjoy it.”

You have no smart quip back to that, because you do of course, and instead let out a long breath. “Did you undress me?” Your eyes slide just quickly along his form-fitting white suit before tightening your arm around yourself. Along with your legs crossing, your spine straightens as he keeps his eyes on you too intently.

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before when we were kids.”

Your dry chuckle fills the room only just. “It’s not the same as when we were kids, niisan. Not even close.” If he actually considers that fact, he sure doesn’t show it on his face, and the silence grows even tighter and more tense as you wait. After a few uncomfortable seconds, Nai turns his back on you to open the door.

“Vash, she’s awake.” If anything, that’s worse. You’d much rather spend another uncomfortable eternity stewing in your disdain for the eldest, than have to face Vash right now. But Nai doesn’t care, of course— and the slight shuffle outside of the large bathroom makes you want to sink into the water and resist the urge to come up for air. The two switch spots, and then the door is closed, and you’re trapped here again.

He calls your name so gently you almost think you imagine it, but it still tickles all the way up your spine with longing. And anger, and regret, all balled into a mess that is at risk of spilling over again at any moment. “How are you feeling?” His voice breaks the bubble. And you look to him despite everything, because you’re nothing if not trained to rely on him. It’s all you’ve ever known, and being betrayed doesn’t make that habit any easier to swallow. “Are you still hurting?” His cheeks are flushed over as he crouches down, and shuffles a little closer to the edge of the bathtub.

“Stop patronizing me, Vash. I don’t want your help.” You might say that, but you and him both know better. He says it out of genuine worry. The only problem is, you don’t want his fucking worry. You want him to plead for your forgiveness and explain and give you reasons to forget that you’re upset. You want his crocodile tears to wash away the fact that you’re hurting— and as long as you don’t get any of that, how can you forgive? His fingers reach out to grip along the back of your head and feel, and though you feel a very slight soreness, it’s mainly the casual way he touches you that sets you off. “Get your hands off of me.”

And then you’re crying, pulling up your nose against the wetness spilling out of your stupid, childish expression- and Vash, as he always does, goes even more familial and comforting. “Oh, my little girl, shhh- it’s okay. I’m so sorry, I am, c’mere.” He tosses his sweater aside to stand and move you out of the deepest part of the bath and makes room for himself, kicks off his socks, and slides in behind you. Uncaring about the fact that he’s in a shirt and boxers, he comes into the hot water and pulls you right back into him, and you don’t have the willpower to do anything but let him. “Big brother’s got you, shhh, shhh. I’m right here.”

You hate that it is comforting. You hate that you like the closeness.

And in the way you turn to press your face to his cheek, or how his arms fit around your curled up position in his lap, there’s a soft press between your brows that he fills with gentle kisses, where he runs his mechanical hand along the length of your thigh over and over again. And when you look up at him, Vash’s baby blues glint over, and he dips his head to be even closer to you. Close enough to feel his breathing on your face, and- have his lips pressing against your mouth. He lingers, knocks his forehead with yours, before the warmth returns and stays, and this time it heats your body up from the inside out.

“Niichan,” your voice breaks the silence, and he wraps his arms even tighter around you. Uncaring of the fact that you’re, his smallest sibling, is naked in his lap. Or well— you don’t dare think of any other option for his prodding and touching, happy to just live and let live for now. You’ve never been entirely ordinary in this world, after all, and… by virtue of proximity, it’s so easy to fall back into the role of the all adoring little sister. The press of his hips under yours is distracting when he shuffles, but eventually starts kissing down your neck.

“I never meant to leave you, I promise. Nai came to find me- and he forced me to join- I wanted to look for you, I swear, I went back- but Nai thought you wouldn’t … forgive him- and that you’d only be in more danger.” It goes in one ear and out the other. All you know is that your skin is so cold wherever his hands leave their traces, and that you don’t want him to stop touching you. You want him to say it. “Please forgive me. Please. I am so sorry.” His eyes are always so pretty when they’re aimed your way.

The bed sheets are cold when you land on top of them, Vash climbing over your body and running his lips down your neck and chest all the way down your belly. There’s something so high and out-of-this-world about the way he touches you, and clings to you, and you want to drown in it more than anything. But there’s just the one problem— He tosses the towels aside, and squeezes the soft plush of your thighs as he kisses you and his tongue opens your mouth again. “S- Love me,” he breathes into the kiss, before growling when your leg hooks around his thighs to pull him closer, “say you love me.”

The one problem that rears it’s ugly head as you watch your brother grab at your waist and scan your naked body before him like you’re just anyone- like- Your breathing hitches, and you shake your head. “No, no no no, wait, niichan.” You barely got a second to come to terms with the fact that you’re near him again, and barely one more to have him descending on you- that you didn’t stop for a second to think. This is your brother, and as much as your body might lie and say that it’s not so bad, you know better. He knows better. “Vash nii, no, we can’t. We can’t.” Your breathy moans of his name aren’t enough, and dragging a hand through his hair and tugging for good measure isn’t either.

He’s already panting and flushed above you, and tastes your mouth again as he spreads your thighs. “Oh, come on, imouto, please. Just lay back, lay back for me.” You try to push at his shoulder, but he only presses back harder, and stares at the point between your two bodies. Where his hard cock is dripping pre and the tip flushed red between his muscular thighs. It makes your tongue squirm in your mouth, as the cold glass of his hand comes to grip your jaw and he kisses and moans and does all of it without thinking. “Please, little sister, it’s been so long. I’ve missed you so much.”

His body lowers to yours, having his hard cock now brushing the top of your dripping pussy, heartbeat jackhammering against your ribcage like crazy. What is wrong with you? You know this can’t happen, know that the right thing to do is to shove him off and go to bed, but your body is so hot. He’s hot too, and so much different from what you knew him as— it fucks with your brain. Like a willfully forgiving haze that suffocates any sane thought. “Couldn’t get off without you, for five whole years,” he breathes, and kisses you, running his tongue along your ear and down your neck, “couldn’t do anything. I only wanted my little sister. Always- always wanted you.”

His other hand comes to trace random shapes on your tits, just barely brushing your nipples until they’re peaked and you have a cold shiver roll down your spine. “Don’t you want to be one with your big brother? Hm?” You do. Your arms instinctively reach up to wrap yourself around his back and feel his heartbeat against yours, larger shape basically crushing you into the bed. But it’s okay, and the way he rolls his hips against your waist, cockhead kissing the sloppy, needy entrance of your cunt- feels so fucking good. You can’t. Your head is shaking ‘no’ even though he pants your name and lines up to slide the swollen, ruddy tip between your bottom lips.

“We can’t, we can’t, niichan. It’s not right.”

“Shhh,” he squeezes your face before kissing you again, then flicking your nipples between expert fingers until your pussy is basically sucking him in itself, and your trembling legs slot over his calves. “I’d never want to leave my baby sister behind, how could you even think that.” The breathy admission is paired with a sloppy kiss above your heart, before he sucks the soft of your tit into his mouth and laves his tongue over your peaked bud. Then his hips roll again, and with a soft hiss, his heavy, hot cock slides into you. You should fight. You should run out of here. Should’ve never tried to find Nai to begin with.

But you moan as his heat fills your walls and he bucks slowly into you with unadulterated adoration, and tug at his blond head of hair for support. “Niichan, Vash niichan, no, no, y- can’t be inside me. Get out~” The out sounds more like a moaned ‘aw’, as his cock slides inside inch by inch and stretches you.

It aches. Every touch is more heated than the last one, and your nails automatically dig into the skin of his back as he bottoms out and tries to settle in your heat, tight little pussy barely big enough to fit all of him. Your eyes flick up to his face, and he laughs a little absentmindedly when you tear up. “Oh, fuck, you’re so tight. M- fucking my baby sister’s pussy- holy shit. I’m gonna move, m’kay?” It hurts and stretches you inside in a way that shouldn’t feel good, but it does, it does, you want to cry. He kisses sloppily onto your mouth and cheek, before groaning, “m’gonna -fuck.” The lewd sound of your cunny squelching as he pulls back and grabs himself at the base, pushing back in with a long moan— it’s so much.

But you’re entranced, totally sky-high with the way he looks above you, and over you. “Ah, ah, ah, nii~chan, I can’t, I-” you struggle to stay still under so much pleasure, hips jerking and your entire body pulling taught like a bow. “Vash nii~” Ever devoted, he blushes and groans your name and whispers to you, sliding in and out of you and pushing your thighs open further. With each pump, you’re a little further gone. With each pump, he seems to fill more of you, making your pussy drip all over the fancy, soft sheets. Your hands reach back to fist into the satin when he lays a final kiss onto your mouth, and rights himself to drape one of your legs over his shoulder, using his body weight to fuck harder and deeper— every pap, pap, pap sliding the bed back and forth in the dark.

And you choke on it, on your tears and spit and all the words that don’t make it out of your mouth; it keeps your head in a blissful cloud. One that has you slicking all over his cock as he fucks in and out, with rapid, rhythmic abandon. He’s so pretty. He’s so fucking pretty, is all you can think as he hoists your hips up with a hum and grinds his cock slower and deeper against your plush walls. “Oh, f-look at that. I can see myself through your belly, baby. Fu—ck.” It’s true. When you look down, he’s pressing on a little pouch that looks more raised than it should, and the push makes your pussy clench even harder around him.

“Niichan, n-niichan- that feels weird. S-stop.” He doesn’t, and the high blush on his cheeks and ears goes even more flushed when his eyes meet yours and he goes to wipe the tracks on your cheeks away.

“S’okay. I’m gonna take care of you, I swear ‘t. Ack, you’re so pretty, so fucking good.” His hand goes to change grip on your lifted thigh, while the other rubs sloppy circles at the top of your needy pussy until you can’t take it anymore. Your legs lock around him, and you grab at him arm in order to slow him down, but he simply shakes you off and spits onto your pussy for good measure. “You can cum, it’s okay. Big brother’s cock feels good in here, right? In that tight, little pussy. Go ahead and cum, cum for me. I know you want to,” the words barely come in, only the way your feet tremble and your muscles go even tighter.

You’re clenching so hard around him he has to fight to keep up the solid rhythm of his thrusts, and moaning, and throwing your head back as your nails drag down his arm. “I- I’m cl- oh god, I wanna cum with you, niichan—” you cry out with a tiny voice, getting shut up by your own hand slapping over your mouth at the terrible admission. But it lingers in the air as his fingers speed up more, rubbing that puffy nub until your vision goes black and white and the tightly wound coil in your belly snaps. “Vash nii~chan- I love you, I lo-love you. Please,” your voice dies, letting Vash fuck you through your orgasm as your toes curl and thighs shake and he jackhammers his cock inside you.

He heaves you off the bed into his arms before you’re even done to have your arms around his neck, and matching hysterical heartbeats thumping against each other, as he kisses at your temple. “I know, I know, I know, baby. Niichan’s gonna give you what you want, hm? And then you’ll say thank you, and I’ll fuck you again.” The kiss is sloppy when it finds your mouth, tongue taking more than you can give in your current situation. “Oh, I’m gonna fuck you again, hang on- shit, c-cumming. Love yo-mouto, love you, m’filling you up.”

As he moves your body up and down on his thick, slicked up cock like a doll, you can’t control the slick that runs down your thighs or the ruined expression— just that you cling onto him as the last twitches of your soft walls wrap around him like it’ll keep him right beside you.

With a last few punishing thrusts, all the hot cum from your big brother’s fat balls fills up your insides, pumping you full to the brim with heat. But you barely get a second to come down before he lets you back into the bed, and turns you over so you’re onto your knees, and his cold fingers push inside to plug you up a little more. “Gonna breed this little baby sister pussy, hah. That’s okay with you, right? I promise I’ll make it feel good, imouto.”

#vash x reader #trigun x reader #vash the stampede #vash smut #trigun smut #trigun stampede smut #tw.incest #tw.dubcon #tw.praise #tw.size kink #tw.belly bulge #tw.breeding #🍯honey.pot #💫ch.vash

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bakugoushotwife · 10 months

Note

hi! how are you? soo i was innocently skimming around and saw you are accepting requests so….hear me out. Kakashi and hi s/o tiredly having some sleepy fluff smut with him towering over with lots of love

a/n: such a good fucking request i love u and wanna kiss /p ! i hope you like this nonnie :)

cw: fingering (fem receiving), penetrative sex, showering together but no shower sex, pet names, creampie. MINORS DNI. MATURE 18 +

wc: 3k

Care // Kakashi x fem!reader

You blink slowly up at the ceiling, eyelids still heavy with sleep. The sound of the door creaking open and a weighty bag hitting the ground was enough to wake you, a former shinobi and forever light sleeper. It was still dark out, so you knew it had to be really late or really early, but nonetheless you were happy he was home. You lean over and click the lamp on, smiling when you’re greeted with the sight of your husband’s face.

“Sorry love, did I wake you?” Kakashi asks apologetically, giving you a tired smile after he slides his facemask down around his neck.

You hum and nod. “I’m glad though, you know I would want to welcome you home anyway.” You yawn, turning to lay on your side as you watch him remove his soiled mission clothes, always taking the extra time to put them in the dirty clothes hamper. He was definitely worn from this one, you could tell. He had purple bags under his eyes and his movements were sluggish. He sighed deeply, still toting his sleepy grin.

“Give me ten minutes and you can welcome me all you want. Need to shower.” He sighs, clearly operating on auto-pilot. He’s grabbing fresh clothes to sleep in, and you frown at his exhaustion. You peel back the covers and sit up, raking your hands over your face in an effort to wake up a little. Your legs dangle over the bed, and you scoot your way off.

“I’ll come with you, I think you could use some assistance.” You chuckle softly, the room was still dim, only the bed basking in the glow of your lamplight. He watched you get to your feet, smiling softly at your love for him. He still wonders what he did to deserve someone like you keeping his home bright and full of happiness, warming his bed and missing him every time he left. He’s grateful to be home, safely back in your presence and undeniable gentleness. He hums in acknowledgement of your joining him, digging around for some clothes for you too.

You go ahead of him, sluggishly turning on the hot water. The sound of the water rushing against the tub made your eyes momentarily close, too relaxing and sleep-inducing to fight back. Yet you manage, shaking your head and consciously opening your eyes wider. Kakashi comes into the bathroom seconds later, setting your clothes on the counter. He grabs a towel and you finally pull the knob to make the faucet water spray out from the shower head. He has that same sleepy look on his face, eyelids drooping three-fourths of the way over his mismatched eyes, the corners of his lips just upturned into a lazy smile. As tired as he is, his eyes do sparkle when he looks at you, helping you out of the garments you wore to bed.

The sight of your barren body stirs a little life into him, having missed the sight for nearly two weeks on his latest trip away. He takes his last layer off, sliding into the shower and looking at you expectantly. The hot water makes him sigh, eyes fluttering closed while the warmth spreads through his muscles. He stretches his neck out to either side, nearly moaning at how good it feels. He feels you slide in front of him, his hands blindly finding your waist. The water rolls down his face, turning his gray hair a few shades darker and slicking it to his forehead. He smiles warmly at you, leaning forward out of the direct stream. His hands and arms slide more up your back, pressing you to his wet frame. He’s trying to warm you up too, gently rotating your bodies so you could get your fair share of the water. You stay facing him, watching the water droplets form on his scarred chest and toned abdomen. No matter how tired you were, you would never pass up the opportunity to admire him. Your eyes trail lower, feeling almost embarrassed when you look at his soft length hanging between his legs, instead you glance over his muscular thighs and the dark hair covering them. He chuckles under your gaze, not sharing the embarrassment after years of being married. He wasn’t shy about staring at you either, that would never embarrass him. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from your frame even as he leaned over to grab his shampoo, knowing exactly where it stood on the side of the tub. He smirks. Even though it was lazy, it still makes your stomach flutter like always. You roll your eyes and reach your arm out for the shampoo. He arches his brow at you in confusion, you have your own. You make a grabby hand for it when he doesn’t move.

“Let me.” You huff, grabbing the bottle from his hands. He sighed, bending his knees slightly so you could reach his head, admiring your dedication to him. His loving eyes took in all the features of his favorite face, and you feel your body warm under his affectionate stare. You squeeze some shampoo out and lather it in your hands, getting up on your tip-toes to apply the soap to his hair. Your fingers scrape and scratch all the right spots on his scalp, making his eyes close yet again. He knows that no one could ever love him as perfectly as you do, only you would drag yourself to shower with him in the earliest hours of the morning. Only you would insist on washing his hair for him, bordering on cranky if he denied your wish.

“I love you and I missed you s’much.” He mumbles in his half-asleep state. You gently pull his body towards the water, grinning softly at him.

“I love you too. Worst two weeks of my life.” You chuckle, watching him stand motionlessly under the shower head, letting the bubbles and foam slip down his body and down the drain. You grab your own shampoo and give yourself the same treatment, your husband knowingly sliding out of your way to let you rinse.

“Am I allowed to condition myself or shall I wait?” He asks teasingly, taking his time to watch your careful fingers work the shampoo out of your own hair. He hums happily at your scrunched up nose, no doubt annoyed by his taunts.

“Go ahead, sassy.” You huff, cracking an eye open to peek at his amused grin. You smile too, just relieved to have him home again. It wasn’t that you doubted his skills as a shinobi, and an especially revered one at that, it’s just…no one plans to die on missions, you know that. He isn’t immortal, and you feared the day where Leaf officials knocked on your door instead of Kakashi’s sleepy stride into the bedroom after weeks away. Every time he came home felt like another safe breath you got to take, even when you huff at him in the shower because of his reluctance to let you take care of him.

He chuckles again, somehow cheerful and exhausted sounding. He watches you condition your hair with slow and tired movements, once again appreciating the tender way you care for him. He decided to return the favor, lathering your soap in a cloth and humming for your permission. You nod, a slight smirk playing on your lips. These were times you cherished. The night felt so surreal, like you two were the only people on Earth. Maybe it was a lack of sleep delirium, maybe it was just the obsessive way you two loved, or some combination of the two. He steps forward and takes your palm in his, gently scrubbing your skin. His thumb strokes the back of your hand and he starts humming some tune.

His voice is warm and calming, his face much more relaxed but still as weary as before. His eyes glimmer with his adoration for you, his other hand coming to rest on your hip. You analyze his features, wondering if anything of note had happened on this excursion. Your thoughts don’t linger there long, your husband was too attractive to ignore. You hum as his gentle touches move to your other arm and then your chest, eyeing him daringly. Kakashi’s humming changes from his old tune to a curious question. He washes your breasts slowly, struggling to conceal the faint blush on his exposed cheeks.

You just grin, humming your approval. Kakashi can tell from the way you sway your body and arch your brow at him that you want him, and he’s never been able to say no to his wife. Feeling your soft skin under his hands, weighty and full, makes the blood rush to his dick. You giggle quietly, watching his already impressive manhood stand at attention for you.

“I’m thinking we need to wrap this up…wouldn’t want the water getting cold on us, now would we, love?” He hums, handing you the cloth in favor of retrieving his own to cleanse himself, all in an effort to hurry.

“I agree, dear husband..” You grin, finishing what he started, scrubbing the rest of your body with a fervor. Your body tingles with excitement, not having him to satiate your cravings for the past couple of weeks is torture as always. Your fingers could only do so much when you had Kakashi-sized holes to fill.

He’s quick with his body washing too, his tiredness taking the backseat to his love for his partner. He knows he won’t be able to go too wild tonight, though he knows you won’t mind. He just needed to demonstrate his love for you too. Just like you were never too tired to care for him, he would never be too tired to take care of you.

You raced to rinse off, drying off and handing the towel to your lover once finished. He smirks when you skip off to the bed without the clothes he so carefully curated for you in his half-asleep state. He decides to do the same, just draping the towel around his waist. It didn’t do much to conceal his erection, but Kakashi was modest. By the time he gets to the bed, you are already tucked under the covers, eagerly squirming as you wait for him on the furthest edge of the bed. You bite your lip, savoring his god-like body. The towel did nothing but drive you crazy; he still had some water beading down his skin, deep v lines around his hips and a dark patch of hair making you wish he hadn’t bothered covering up.

“Now love, I am still tired.” He chuckles, throwing the blankets off and relishing your sleepy giggles as he eyes your naked frame. His eyes crinkle up when he smiles, the biggest one of the night. This is why he married you, as wiped out as he is, as grueling as that mission was on him, here he was chuckling and smiling with you seconds before you make love. “So don’t be so shy and cute now.”

You hum and scoot toward him, his body coming down around you to cage in your own. He holds his weight on his forearms on either side of your head, features soft as he looks at you with all the love in the world. You admired how he always did this, not a day went by that you didn’t know how much he loves you. He practically worships the ground you walk on. His lower body is nestled in between your legs, hip bones touching. He hums, just happy to be so close, to feel your warm breasts pressed against him and your contented heartbeat just thump thump thump-ing away in such a soothing rhythm it could be its own song.

You match his hum, happy the lamp was on so you could see his eyes sparkle with tenderness and desire. His cheeks were just a little rosy and his pale lips were already parted in preparation for a kiss. You lean up to oblige, angling your head just right. Both of you sigh, his weight relaxing on you just a little more. He always kisses you like he’ll never get the chance to again, his mouth heavily pressed to yours. His lips were soft, pulling back just enough to separate before crashing into you again over and over, creating a string of short and needy kisses. He shifts his weight mostly to his left side, though it’s not uncomfortable for him to lay on you. In fact, you’re thankful for the pressure against your burning middle. You’re not shy from rocking your hips up into him, giving your nerves a little relief. His right hand moves down your body, squeezing your breast and gently playing with the nipple. His fingers were slender and long, rolling your pebbled bud in between them. He can’t resist the urge he gets to tear his mouth away from yours in favor of scooting his body down to access the hardened nipple. His newly freed hand slides down your searing skin to relieve those rocking hips of yours, your mewling was incessant. You gasp at the feeling of his tongue swirling about your sensitive areola, fingers sliding around your lips to gather your arousal.

Kakashi draws circles around your clit, his own hips rutting into the sheets beneath him. He can’t help but gently nibble on the hard nipple in his mouth, looking up at you tentatively to watch you writhe in pleasure. His fingers know just how to work you, helplessly wet for him after just the simple touch. The butterflies in your stomach were getting more intense, and you bucked into his hand to signify this need. He chuckles, swapping to your neglected nipple. He was satisfied with the way your other bud shines with his spit, red from his attention. Just to appease you because he is nothing if not a giving lover, he slips two of those long fingers inside your tight hole, eyelids fluttering shut when you clench down around his digits. You make such a pretty noise, the whisper of his name combined with a gorgeous moan, he can’t help but release your chest so he could drink up all your lewd singing. His mouth covers yours needily, his fingers curling inside and making languid strokes at your spot. Your lips vibrate against his, unable to stop moaning and whimpering. It’s a miracle he can go on missions at all, knowing he has to swear off of this for an undetermined amount of time. Though he can’t deny the motivation to get back home as quickly as possible so he can bury his fingers in your silky cunt, swallowing up all your noises while you fuck yourself on him.

He knows you’re seconds from your release, so he pulls his fingers out and rubs your clit with his soaked digits. Your body feels like it’s on fire, eyes screwed shut as your stomach lurches, the familiar sensation making your legs tremble. His pace on your sensitive bundle slows, his kisses becoming softer as he applies them to your jaw and neck, positioning himself back over you. His aching cock weeped for you, the tip spreading your lips easily. You’re so used to the weight of him sinking into you, but you moan at the stretch every time. He holds your hips for a moment, strokes gentle and slow just so you could get used to the feeling and he could relish your warm walls suffocating him. It was so hard not to come instantly, even as experienced as the two of you were together. The feeling never got old, nor got any easier to resist. He falls forward a little, bracing himself on the headboard.

“Beautiful girl, you always take it so good..” He muses, sleepy face looking down at you as his pacing gradually increases. You can feel his every ridge and vein, his cock made just for your insides. It makes your eyes roll closed and your mouth fall open, sure you could fall asleep just like this. The only thing keeping you awake is the sound of your own breathy moans and Kakashi’s grunts, plus the subtle noise of his balls slapping up against the globe of your ass.

“Thank you lover, always give it so good.” You mumble back, purposefully choking down on him. He moans, just as you wanted. You smile in satisfaction, forcing your eyes open to enjoy the view of him pushing his shaggy hair back and moving your leg to wrap around his hip. It deepens his connection to you, letting him slam up against the spot that leaves you breathless. He can feel the resistance against him, groaning determinedly. He had to have you come before him, so he ups the ante with his sweet words being whispered into the early morning air.

“I love you so much, darling.” He rasps, chest heaving. “I always miss you so horribly on these trips, I work extra hard to get back to you.” He says, his voice light with emotion. His affections combined with his caring assault on your womb makes you come undone again, signified by your broken moan and walls spasming around him. He’s truly grateful, only moments away from his own high. He loved the way you look, mouth open and eyebrows knit in pleasure. Your pretty cheeks get rosier with every thrust after your orgasm, your hands needily reaching out for him. “You’re gonna make me come in you, lover.” He whimpered slightly, waiting for your reply, though he’s been coming in you since your wedding night.

You nod dumbly, a happy grin displayed on your face. Your hands can only reach his toned stomach, fingers resting in the divots of his abs. You can feel his stomach tighten, his pretty gasp preceding the rush of warmth filling you to the brim.

The room is just heavy pants and heaving chests, and both of you wonder if the other has fallen asleep like this. Kakashi leans down and presses his lips to your forehead, holding your face in his hands.

“I’ll get you cleaned up, you know I’ll always take care of you.” He hums, kissing the tip of your nose and then finally, a sweet kiss to your lips.

#kakashi x reader #naruto x reader #kakashi hatake #kakashi smut #kyleewritesnaruto #kyleewritesnsfw

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filthyjoetini · 5 months

Text

Stumblin' In

a/n: Hello loves! I'm back! And this time I've pre written 3/4 of a story...who is she?! I don't know her. Soooo...this little story will have four parts and is (very) loosely based on something that happened in Venice when I saw Joe...(still not over it tbh...heh). Thank you to my warrior editor and influence for this story @barfightzanddiscolightz. <3

warnings: none

wordcount: 1.9k (she's short)

part 2 - part 3 - part 4

You blinked rapidly, trying to adjust your eyes to the brightness that suddenly overtook the previously dimly lit screening room of the cinema you were sitting in. Your brain just wasn't made for such quick changes, especially while it was still processing what had just happened on screen. The film you had chosen to watch was one of those arthouse indie productions that attracts all kinds of people from all walks of life.

Slowly you pushed yourself out of the plush seat and stretched your arms over your head. Your ever-weary limbs and joints popped, and you feared that one of the at least 50 other people in the room had heard it.

Taking your time, you picked up your trusty leather jacket, which had once belonged to your father, and pulled it on. You shoved your hands into its pockets to retrieve your mobile phone. As you checked your unread messages, your eyes moved from the screen to your Dr. Martens-clad feet. You had undone the laces, wanting to be as comfortable as possible. Shrugging, you began to walk down the aisle, the laces whipping your jeans-covered calves, shins, and other seats along the way. You told yourself you would tie them once you had reached the atrium.

With your face almost buried in the screen of your phone, you stepped to the top of the stairs and began your descent. Not even three steps down, you stumbled over your now tangled shoelaces and instantly lost your footing. With a small yelp, you practically flew down the stairs, right into the back of someone's legs. The abrupt stop sent your phone flying down the hallway and past the curtain, as your head snapped back, slamming into the steps. The impact made your breath catch in your lungs and you let out a small whimper.

"Oh my God! Are you alright?"

With blurred vision and eyes refusing to cooperate, you tried to make out who was speaking to you. You knew it was a man from the voice, but his features were a mystery in the blur. Your eyes not working the way you wanted them to made you let out a frustrated sigh. You began slowly blinking your eyes, hoping for a clearer perspective, before giving up and closing them completely.

"Hey! No! Open your eyes!"

You sluggishly opened them again, your vision still as blurred as before. Lifting your arm, you tried to touch the man hovering above you. The movement sent a jolting pain through your arm, up your neck, and into the back of your head.

"Ouch.", you hissed.

"'Yeah, ouch.”, replied the still blurry man. "Please focus on me, can you do that for me?"

"Yep.", you lied. You couldn't focus on shit, because in addition to your blurred vision, your head was throbbing like you'd been hit by a freight train.

"Okay. Cool. You hit your head pretty hard. Can you move your legs?"

You made slow, jerky movements with your legs, wiggling your toes in your boots, not realising he couldn't see them.

"Okay. They work. Good! That means, no spinal injury.”, the man said, obviously relieved. "I'm going to move you now, is that alright?"

You nodded and immediately regretted it. Your head hurt like hell. How could a carpeted step hurt so much?

Warm hands slowly pushed under your arms and knees and then suddenly, but slowly, strong arms lifted you up and close to an even warmer body. As gentle as he was, the movement of your body was still very uncomfortable and made you whimper again.

"I know. I'm sorry.”, the man who was now walking spoke softly. As you both passed through the curtain into the even brighter hallway, you turned your head towards the man's chest to avoid the glaring overhead lights. You pressed your face into the fabric of his top and inhaled deeply. He smelled damn good.

"...is there a room I can take her to? She hit her head on the stairs when she fell. Also, could you call the A&E, I think she has a concussion."

"Sure, follow me please.”, a new feminine voice said and then there was a static crackle. "Henry, can you please call A&E, we have an injured woman with a suspected concussion."

"Copy. A&E is being called.”, came back Henry's very staticky voice over what you assumed was a walkie-talkie.

A few moments later you heard a door open and were carried very carefully into a small, office-like room.

"You can put her on the sofa. The paramedics will be here any minute."

Gently you were lowered onto the sofa. Gone were the strong arms and the warmth, and you began to shiver. Your eyes slowly began to focus, and you could finally see, though still blurred, the man who had been helping you. He was tall and handsome. His dark blonde hair was curly, and his face had a very patchy five o'clock shadow. But the most striking thing about his face was his huge, baby cow eyes, which were currently wearing a worried expression. Your gaze moved slowly down his body. He was wearing brown trousers with black loafers and a beige cable-knit jumper, topped off with a very expensive looking black trench coat. Visually, he was the exact opposite of you. You had opted for your usual all-black autumn outfit.

With a small but noticeable smile, you closed your eyes for a second and another shiver ran through your body. Unexpectedly, you were suddenly covered by a blanket. Slowly you opened your eyes to see that it wasn't a blanket, but the man's trench coat.

"Thank you...", you whispered. You were surprised at how weak your voice sounded, but the drowsiness that was slowly creeping up on you made it difficult to speak. Your eyes closed again.

"You're welcome...hey! No! Don't fall asleep!"

"But I'm so sleepy."

"I know, but you can't."

The man's voice was very close now, and as you felt hands cupping your face, your eyes shot open again. You looked up at him with wide eyes, he was kneeling beside the sofa and his own eyes held yours in an equally steady gaze.

“You literally can’t fall asleep because you took quite the tumble there, Humpty Dumpty and I’m 99 percent sure you incurred a concussion.”, he explained with a grin. "Besides, you keep moving your head when you should be holding it still. If I have to hold your face to keep you awake and mostly still, I will gladly continue holding it."

You didn't respond to him. You just kept staring at him and he had the audacity to just stare back at you with his big, wet, brown puppy dog eyes.

A few moments later there was a knock on the door and two paramedics with a stretcher made their way inside.

"Hello there! You must be our patient.”, one of the paramedics said as he made his way over to you. He then looked down at Mr. Baby-Cow-Puppy-Eyes and spoke again. "Sir, may I ask you to move so we can examine her?"

"Uh... sure.”, he replied, taking his hands off your face, slowly rising to his feet. You groaned weakly as his fingers lightly brushed your jaw and he let out a soft snort before turning to the medic. "I was just trying to keep her awake. She fell down the stairs and hit her head on one of the bottom steps."

"Thank you.”, the second paramedic said, moving in to examine your head and neck. Your rescuer stepped back and moved to the corner of the room with his arms crossed over his chest to wait. He was still in your line of sight, so you looked at him occasionally to make sure he was still there, and every time you did, he smiled sweetly at you.

"Ooookay.", the second paramedic said as soon as she concluded her examination. "You have a mild to moderate concussion and swelling on the back of your head. We need to take you to the hospital for a 24-hour observation."

You frowned at her, and she smiled sympathetically. "Do you want your boyfriend to come with us?"

"Who?" you asked, a confused expression on your face.

"Him.”, she said, pointing to the corner where your knight in a cable-knit jumper was standing.

"I'm not her boyfriend. I'm the one she collided with.”, he chuckled and shook his head.

"Alright, I'll take that as a no.”, the paramedic grinned at him and then down at you. "Are you ready to be hoisted onto the stretcher?"

"Um...", you started, then suddenly panicked as you softly patted your jacket and jeans pockets. Your mobile phone - you didn't have it on you. "Wait! My phone! It must have slipped out of my hand or pockets when I went all humanoid egg earlier..."

Your reference to the handsome man's earlier statement made him burst out into laughter.

"She hasn't lost her sense of humour. Good.”, the first paramedic said with a chuckle, and began to lift you up by your feet, while the other paramedic assisted him by simultaneously lifting you up by your torso. The coat that still covered you was about to slip off your body if you hadn't grabbed it as if it were your lifeline. In a way it was your lifeline, for you were still cold, and the weight of the fabric did an excellent job of keeping you warm.

"I'll go look for it. Just give me a second.”, expensive trench coat guy announced, and quickly slipped out of the room.

Not even five minutes later he returned, waving your mobile phone in the air.

"Here you go.”, he smiled, handing you the phone but not letting go of it. "Please keep me informed about your condition." Just as he started to remove his hand from your phone, he added: "And you can keep my coat for now, but I want it back at some point."

"OK. I will, and you'll get it back... at some point.”, you promised, as the two paramedics wheeled you out of the small room. Halfway down the hallway you suddenly realised that you didn't have his contact details. How were you going to let him know how you were?

"Wait! Stop!", you shouted, making yourself jump more than the two people you were addressing. "Can you please turn around?"

"All right, but just for a second. We really need to get you to the hospital.”, the male paramedic explained impatiently, and they both turned the stretcher around and were about to push you back when you saw him standing in the hallway, leaning against the wall.

"I don't have your number!", you called, waving your mobile.

"Check your contacts.”, he urged with a wink, before pushing himself away from the wall and walking the other way. "Keep me updated!"

"I will!"

The two paramedics turned the stretcher around again and began to push it hastily towards the cinema's delivery entrance where the ambulance was parked. All the while, you unlocked your phone to see if he had really left you his number. He had to have. How else would he get his coat back?

Quickly, you opened your contacts app and there it was: a new entry.

Next to the emoji with the bandage on its head was his name:

Joe.

Grinning to yourself, you locked your phone and put it to your chest as the ambulance sped off to the hospital...

Taglist:

@ohmeg @daleyeahson @lma1986 @palomahasenteredthechat @mandyjo8719 @aysheashea @eddiebaemunson @littledemon-lilith @freakymunson @sidthedollface2 @i-wont-run-this-time @plk-18 @miserybeans @kylakins88 @deadspellz @thehillzhaveeyez @kayleeelena97 @foreverjosephquinn @punctualhowell @icallhimjoey @ghostinthebackofyourhead @siriuslysmoking @cancankiki @definitionwanderlust @eriancrow @1paire2vans @theonewiththecrackedmind @captainonaboat @josephquinnsfreckles @emilyslutface @alessxaa

crossed out = couldn't tag

#joe quinn #joseph quinn #joe quinn fanfiction #joe quinn fanfic #joe quinn x y/n #joe quinn x reader #joe quinn x you #joseph quinn x y/n #joseph quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn fanfic #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn x you #rpf #rpf fanfiction #rpf fic #Stumblin' In

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rosiesramblings · 4 months

Text

Wound Up

Fandom: Stranger Things

WC: 1.3k

A/N: Hello! Long time no fic! I am here at literally the last possible second with a Squealing Santa fic for @girltickles who requested Stranger Things with Steddie or Steve and Robin - I couldn't pick so I kind of did both. Happy holidays! I hope you enjoy! @squealing-santa

Steve had been wound up tighter than one of Eddie’s guitar strings all day. Eddie had brushed it off as nerves at first - he and Steve hadn’t been dating that long, after all, and they had made plans to spend the whole day together. Eddie himself was a little anxious-excited. But the fourth time Steve shivered whenever Eddie got close, it was obvious to Eddie that something was up. So he waited, and he watched.

Steve’s hand seemed to be rubbing at the back of his neck every few minutes. He jumped when Eddie said his name, and blushed when Eddie raised an eyebrow at Steve’s antics. If Eddie didn’t know any better, he would say a toddler had inhabited Steve’s consciousness with how squirmy the guy was.

Finally, in the middle of the third Star Wars movie, when Eddie placed a hand on Steve’s knee only for Steve to leap up from the couch like he’d been shocked, Eddie decided enough was enough.

“Ok, Stevie, what the hell is going on with you today?” Eddie asked.

Steve blushed a deep red. “Nothing - I’m fine.”

Eddie didn’t dignify that with a response. He raised an eyebrow.

All at once, Steve seemed to deflate. He heaved a sigh. “Is it ok if Robin comes over?”

Eddie furrowed his brow even as he nodded. “Yeah, of course. Is this some kind of Russian interrogation trauma-bond thing?”

If possible, Steve blushed even deeper. “No, no it’s nothing like that. It’s just - it’ll be easier to explain once she gets here.”

With that, Steve slunk into the kitchen, and Eddie heard Steve dial the phone and speak in low tones before hanging up a few moments later.

Still avoiding eye contact, Steve made his way back into the living room to where Eddie was seated. “She said she was going to bike over,” he muttered.

“Well, let’s hope her balance on two wheels is better than her balance on two feet,” Eddie mused with a smile.

Steve snorted. “It isn’t. It definitely isn’t.”

Eddie played the movie, and the two watched quietly while they waited for Robin to arrive.

Arrive she did, about twenty minutes later, letting herself in with a loud, “Steve, do you have any bandaids I can borrow? Wait, who am I talking to, of course you have bandaids.”

Steve shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why do you need bandaids?”

“I may or may not have gotten into a brief altercation with Petunia.”

Eddie looked at Steve. “Who’s Petunia?”

“Her bike,” Steve said as Robin walked into the living room.

A quick scan of her person assured Eddie that nothing was broken, just a scraped elbow that was sluggishly bleeding onto Steve’s parents’ hardwood floors.

Robin stopped in the middle of the room, squinting at Steve with a critical eye. Steve noticeably held himself still under her gaze, but couldn’t hold back a shiver that was nearly imperceptible. Robin saw it, though, and her eyes practically lit up with mischief.

“Steven Elizabeth Harrington, did you really have me bike all the way here for this? When there is a metalhead right there who I’m sure would be more than happy to provide what you need?”

Steve hid his face in his hands. “That’s so not my name. And I - I couldn’t just ask him!”

Taking advantage of Steve’s closed eyes, Robin stalked forward and threw herself atop Steve’s lap. “Well, I hope you know that since I biked all the way here, I’m not stopping until I’m satisfied.”

Eddie balked at that - he knew Robin was gay, Steve knew Robin was gay, and yet - no, there’s no way. Eddie knew he was missing a piece of the puzzle. He just couldn’t figure out what.

At Robin’s words, however, Steve let out a high-pitched whine. Eddie blinked. He’d never heard Steve make such a noise.

“Don’t give me that,” Robin teased. “If you wanted someone nice, you should have asked Eddie.”

“Um, asked Eddie what?” Eddie piped up.

The look Robin gave him was pure delight. “Asked Eddie to tickle him,” she said, and immediately dug her long fingers deep into Steve’s underarms.

Steve gave a shout of laughter before melting back into the couch, a tension that he had been carrying all day dropping from his shoulders. His arms pressed to his sides, but from the volume of his laughter, Eddie would guess that they provided minimal protection.

Robin cooed at her platonic soulmate. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? Just wanted to giggle for a little while?”

Steve threw his head back, “Ihihihihi - Ihihihihi don’t gihihihihiggle.”

Eddie snorted.

Robin gave a smirk. “Oh yeah? What happens if I get riiiiiiight here?” She drew her hands away from Steve’s underarms and attacked his tummy instead. Instantly, bubbly giggles filled the room as Robin scribbled over his ticklish spots, pausing momentarily to ruck Steve’s shirt up around his ribs. His giggles rose in pitch when Robin spidered over bare skin.

“Oh my god,” Eddie smiled to himself, but Robin heard him.

She beamed. “I know right! Isn’t this the best stress reliever?” She let one hand snake around to pinch at Steve’s side, resulting in a snort. “Honestly, Steve, I don’t know why you didn’t ask Eddie.”

“Ihihihihihi juhuhust couldn’t!” Steve cried out, twisting his torso in vain to get away from Robin’s evil fingers.

“Sure you could! I’ll help. Repeat after me: Eddie Munson, light of my life, moon to my stars, will you please tickle me until I forget my own name?”

Steve wailed at that, apples of his cheeks redoubling their blush. Eddie melted at the sight.

Just as suddenly as she started, Robin stopped her assault. Steve panted for breath between giggles as he blinked up at her in confusion.

“I’m waiting, Steve,” Robin sing-songed. She gently rested one hand on Steve’s hip and the other on his opposite thigh. “I’m not going to tickle you anymore until you ask Eddie to help.”

Steve’s mouth dropped open, betrayal written in the scrunch of his forehead. “Robbie,” he whined, throwing a hand up over his eyes.

“Yes?” she asked.

“Don’t make me say it.”

“But you’re so cute when you ask to be wrecked.”

“Oh my god.”

“C’mon, Stevie,” Eddie cajoled, delighted to join in the teasing. “You’ve fought monsters before. One sentence. How hard can it be?”

Steve squirmed beneath Robin’s hands, but she held firm, not a squeeze or scribble in sight.

Steve pouted. Then he sighed. Then he asked, “Eddie… would you please… would you please t-tickle me?”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Robin dug in with a vengeance, and Eddie leapt up to join her. Steve screamed with laughter as four hands descended on his body instead of two, electricity zinging through him as his friend and boyfriend grinned.

“SHIHIHIHIHIHIT! IHIHIT’S SOHOHOHOHO BAHAHAHAHAHAD,” Steve cackled, his arms coming down to unsuccessfully push at his attackers.

“Aw, but you asked for this, sweetheart,” Eddie teased, spidering his guitarist’s fingers over Steve’s rib cage. As Robin continued her devastating assault on his thighs.

“PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE,” Steve choked out, tears streaming down his face. Before long, his laughter went silent, and Robin and Eddie took that as their cue to back off. Robin swung herself down into the seat next to Steve’s and Eddie pulled Steve’s head into his lap, carding through his hair as Steve came back down to earth.

Steve’s giggles slowly petered out, and Eddie smiled down at his adorable boyfriend, who had turned to hide his face in Eddie’s tummy. That was fine with Eddie. Steve could stay there as long as he wanted.

It was Robin who spoke next. “Ok, now that that’s over, can I please have a bandaid now? I think I bled all over your couch.”

Steve just laughed.

#tickle fic #tickling #tfb community #squealing santa 2k23 #stranger things tickle fic #stranger things

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citronverveine · 9 months

Text

“When you sleep, you snore.”

— #9 from this prompt list

“S’Lang.”

“What is it?”

“I have… a secret. To tell you.”

Hua Cheng chuckled, tucking back some strands of hair behind his boyfriend's ear. “Are you sure it’s a secret you want to tell me while you’re drunk?”

This seemed to make Xie Lian reconsider, at least for a second, before he nodded vigorously. “Yes.”

“Alright then, I’m listening,” Hua Cheng said, shuffling his chair closer to add to the air of mystery around them.

Most of the people at the party ignored them — or rather, they knew they themselves would be ignored if they attempted to join or interrupt them — so they were sitting together on the side, waiting for the excess of alcohol Xie Lian had ingested to wear off.

“It’s not really important,” Xie Lian continued, “But I never told you. Because, it’s not really important.”

“Mhm,” Hua Cheng replied, genuinely curious to know what Xie Lian was talking about at this point.

“Sometimes it happens out of nowhere. But it doesn’t bother me.” Xie Lian leaned forward and covered Hua Cheng’s hand tightly with his, looking into his eyes. “It really doesn’t bother me.”

Hua Cheng grinned, amused. “What doesn’t bother you, gege?”

“When you sleep—”

Just as Hua Cheng blinked, several things happened in the following order:

Something broke somewhere at the other end of the room, the sound resonating crispily even above the music, a shrill scream followed, coming from who he guessed was Shi Qingxuan, the music stopped abruptly, and everyone including Xie Lian looked toward the source of the commotion.

His own gaze remained peacefully on Xie Lian, but the latter seemed to have completely forgotten their previous conversation.

“What happened?” he asked sluggishly.

Only then did Hua Cheng turn around to check what had actually happened, but he didn’t need to look for long to find out, as Shi Qingxuan screamed a second time.

“My brother is going to KILL ME!”

The party was hosted by Shi Qingxuan in one of their family’s properties, big and secluded enough to invite a ton of people and party all night.

However, it turned out that something very important or expensive — Hua Cheng hadn’t cared enough to ask what exactly — had been broke and the party was cut short when Shi Qingxuan panicked and tried to find ways to fix it before their brother found out and forbade them from hosting another party ever again, which, to them, would probably be a fate worse than death.

While Xie Lian had seemed concerned and willing to help, he was in no state to actually be able to help and Hua Cheng had brought him back home to rest.

“Here,” Hua Cheng said as he put a fresh glass of water in Xie Lian’s hands. “Drink this.”

Xie Lian did so obediently, already sitting in bed. “Thank you,” he said quietly when he was finished. He rubbed his face. “I shouldn’t have drunk so much.”

Hua Cheng smiled. “It’s alright, you can let loose from time to time. It’s not like it’s a habit.”

Humming pensively, Xie Lian laid back against the pillows and watched Hua Cheng get ready for bed too.

“But there’s one thing I have to ask,” Hua Cheng resumed as he slipped into bed.

Xie Lian turned his head to look at him. “What is it?”

“You were about to tell me a secret earlier, right before Shi Qingxuan screamed. Can I still know what it was?”

Xie Lian looked confused for a moment before he seemed to remember and facepalmed with a groan. “That… was…” He sighed, taking away his hand from his face. “I don’t know why I wanted to tell you at that moment. It really isn’t a big deal, and it’s not really a secret. I just haven’t told you.”

Hua Cheng tilted his head. “Then tell me?”

Xie Lian looked like he wanted to laugh. “When you sleep… you snore.” A pause. “That’s it, that’s what I wanted to say earlier.”

Hua Cheng stared at him in disbelief before laughing heartily and Xie Lian did the same, before their laughter both died down.

“Is that true?” Hua Cheng asked. “I snore? My bad, sorry for disturbing you, your Highness.”

“Pfft. I really don’t mind. I really don’t know why I said it like it was a big deal. Actually…” he bit his lips. “It’s kind of cute.”

“… Cute?”

“Yes, you’re kind of cute when you snore.”

“How so?” Hua Cheng grinned, shuffling closer to Xie Lian.

“I don’t know… It’s like… Seeing you relaxed, I guess.” They gazed at each other. “I like when you’re asleep.”

Hua Cheng raised his eyebrows.

“I mean! No, I like it more when you’re awake!” He relaxed when Hua Cheng laughed. “It’s just that you’re always so… in control, it’s nice when you’re asleep and I can see your soft side a bit more.”

Hua Cheng hummed and hugged him close. They stayed quiet for a moment before Hua Cheng spoke up again. “Actually, I have a secret to tell you too.” Xie Lian shifted to look at him. “Ah?… What is it?”

Hua Cheng smiled. “You snore when you sleep too.”

— end

crossposted on twitter

archived and edited on ao3

#my writing #tgcf #hualian #mxtx #mxtx tgcf #heaven official's blessing #heaven officials blessing #xie lian #hua cheng #tgcf xie lian #tgcf hua cheng #tgcf hualian #hualian fic #hualian fanfic #tgcf fic #tgcf fanfic #tian guan ci fu

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betbeton · 2 years

Text

𓆱 Ring Ring ♡

Various HQ Men Sending Horny Videos

Warnings - Various 'Vanilla' Kinks

18+ Minors DNI

·GN Reader·

·A/N - my hyper fixations are showing·

TR Version

・❥・ Masterlist

⪧ Tendou Satori

Loud and unashamed

He'll moan into his phone like it's your actual ear

He'll send them to you when you're in public,

so beware opening things from him it could be a cute video of your pet sleeping or his dick. No in-between.

The second you clicked on the message and his loud moans flooded out of your earbuds you panicked. Smacking your phone against your chest as you whipped your head around from side to side making sure no one had witnessed, despite being in the privacy of your office. Taking a deep breath you weighed your options as the lewd noises mixing with his moans grew in volume in your ears. With a little shake you tried to dispel the nerves of opening such a message in public, carefully tugging your phone away from your chest with both eyes squeezed shut. Cracking one eye part of the way open you were met with the sight of Tendou's large hand gliding up and down his slick length as he whined in your ears. Your heart might have been beating a mile a minute, but as you gazed at his hand working over his pretty cock you couldn't help but stuff your hand down your trousers. Your own hand rubbing at your sex as you gasped softly, barely being able to hear own hushed groans over the moans and pleas assaulting your sense of hearing. It's safe to say Tendou was the most smug gremlin to ever exist when you sent back a video of your breathy groans and gasps as you came while sitting alone in your office.

⪧ Kita Shinsuke

You would mostly have to be the one to initiate any type of sexting or video sending

He loves it, but he's just too respectful to send something when he isn't 100% sure you won't be embarrassed in public

He had expressed his disappointment when your work called you in on the one afternoon you both had off together, but he had urged you to go in despite his feelings after all you two could always spend time together another day. You had begrudgingly walked to work that afternoon, the stinkiest expression on your face much to the amusement of your co-workers. Having settled decently into your shift despite not wanting to come in, though your simmering sour mood perked up considerably when you checked your phone only to see a message from your partner. Expecting some cute video of your cat or maybe him baking you choked on your own spit when his pretty cock filled your screen. Practically sprinting into the employee restroom locking the door shut as you pressed your back to it for an extra layer of safety. Tugging your phone out from your pocket once again you tucked a hand into your shorts greedily groping at your sex as you watched his hand move. Soft gasps trickling into your ears from the low volume of your phone, as you watched his hips harshly slam upwards into his tight fist as he came with a whine of your name.

⪧ Miya Atsumu

This rat man will send you your sex tape while he's away

Along with some smug little message like 'miss me baby? 🤗'

He would also video call you immediately no matter the location or time of day if you sent a video getting off in return

It was two in the morning when you groggily groped around your bedside table for your phone. Your hand holding it a little too aggressively as your eyes squinted at the bright light assaulting your tired face, rolling onto your side as you re-read your partner's contact name before pressing on the message. Almost immediately you were verbally assaulted with your own moans and his breathy grunts as you sluggishly blinked while watching the video. For some reason Atsumu thought it was appropriate to send it to you at such an ungodly hour while he was away for a game that you couldn't attend due to work. As you lazily lounged under your blankets while watching his cock bully it's way into your hole, you couldn't deny even in your sleepy mildly irritated brain watching your pretty man fuck you was scratching an itch you hadn't realized needed it. So with a long groan inducing stretch of your body you wiggled to the middle of your mattress, kicked off your blankets with a small grunt of annoyance before writhing as you wriggled out of your sleep clothes. Rolling onto your side again you lifted a leg into the air and snapped a picture of your arousal, cringing as the flash went off capturing your disheveled face in the background of the photo. With a sigh you sent it to Atsumu before turning your phone on silent, purposely to ignore his call that would undoubtedly arrive the moment he saw your picture.

#haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu drabble #haikyuu headcanons #tendou satori x y/n #kita shinsuke x y/n #miya atsumu x y/n #tendou satori #kita shinsuke #miya atsumu

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pianocat939 · 2 years

Note

I loved how you played clotted cream in your last story and gotta see more yandere clotted cream!

May I request a yandere!clotted cream x cleaner reader? Like they are used to cleaning up after the council after meetings and basically cleaning around the main building and the meeting room and places like that? Just a sucker for high class x low class ships sometimes!

I always foam at the mouth every time I read upper class x lower class. It’s just a perfect dynamic for dark/horror genres.

All my requests are taking forever to answer…makes me kinda angry at myself for some reason

Tw: Financial issues, mentions of loan sharks, mentions of illegal immigration, MC gets taken away from family due to debt issues, strawberry jam (blood), power difference (kinda subtle), this version of Clotted Cream is very different from the last time I wrote him, Clotted Cream looks at personal information

Dirtied hands

In the early morning, the sky still a pale dark blue, a cleaner clutches a rag with a bucket in the other hand. Their hands efficiently erase the dust that clings onto the table, making the table shine in glory: a needed aspect in the meeting room of the Elders and Consul.

Y/n Cookie, a regular cleaner that lives within the Creme Republic. Someone who always had a normal life, and wishes to continue living that way until their demise. A job that doesn’t bring attention to them, only to the things they clean is perfect for someone like them.

Yet cleaning can be quite demanding sometimes.

Everyday they have to clean so many rooms, and not just a quick sweep either. Since it is the building that the leaders of the Creme Republic meet and reside in, they have to make sure it’s satisfactory for the higher class. Which is tiring for the body and mind.

There are some benefits though; a surprisingly good pay, being distant from those around, and being able to touch the glamourous architecture makes up for most of it. Well, enough to be tolerated would maybe be a more suiting word.

Y/n Cookie sets down the rag and bucket, proceeding to hold a broom for the next act. They sweep all the dirt and hair into a pile, creating an ugly sight for the eyes. Grabbing the dust pan as they let the broom fall, they sweep up the grotesque mount of grime.

What beauty the role of being a cleaner has...

Just then, someone opens the door, tall stature sauntering in. “Pardon me cleaner, I think I have forgotten my pocket watch have you seen it anywhere?” He asks, a charismatic smile forming on his attractive face.

Y/n Cookie blankly blinks for a moment before shuffling through their bag settled on the floor. After a few seconds, they fish out a brass-colored pocket watch, the intials “CCC” inscribed in lovely cursive on the back. They hold it out to him, eyes still blank with any emotion.

“Why thank you! How kind hearted you are—most steal such quality of watch!” He cheers, recieiving the item with one of his needles. He lightly laughs in a light-hearted manner, but his eyes show no light in them. “Know that I, Clotted Cream Cookie, is indebted to your service.” He turns around, walking off while his cape flutters behind him.

As he leaves, Y/n Cookie shuts the door, frowning as they do so. “Of course, because I’m a cleaner he thinks I’m going to steal his watch. I am not a beggar thank you very much.” Mumbling venom, they go back to their cleaning.

——————————————————

The evening stars dance in the navy blanket of the sky, twinkling brightly as the moon rises amongst them. Most cookies are now in their homes, letting the night roll through. Yet upon the streets of the Republic, is a cookie who still hasn’t arrived home since the early morning. Their body aching from the nonstop cleaning. Thankfully, another cookie will be cleaning tomorrow so they won’t have to go for the next few days; barely enough time to rest and relax all the stress away.

They finally arrive at their house, sluggishly taking out the key and unlocking the door. They turn on the lights, the darkness instantly washing away as the brightness pierces the vicinity of the room. Settling down their items on a plush sofa, they seat themselves on the furniture lazily, releasing the tension that was trapped inside their body all day.

“Berries? Are you awake?” They call out, tilting their head to see if the other inhabitant of the house is nearby. A meek bark replies, a small blueberry cake hound sauntering over to its owner—Y/n Cookie. It hops onto their lap, nuzzling against their lower abodmen. “Sorry I was gone for so long, I hope the neighbor’s pets kept you company.” Y/n Cookie slowly strokes the hound’s head in a loving matter.

It barks once more, making small circles on their legs before settling down. “At least I have the next few days off; maybe we can go to the nearby park for a while.” They lean their head back, eyes staring up at the ceiling in contemplation. “Just a little more time Berries...Then we can go back to the Hollyberry kingdom.” The hound’s ears perk momentarily before flopping to its sides.

-----------

‘Xxxxxx Xxxxxxx

Xxxxxx Xxxxxxx

Y/n Cookie’

Clotted Cream holds the list of employees in his hands, eyes narrowing at the sight of one cookie’s name. “File number 678…” He mutters to himself, opening the file cabinet adjacent to him. His needles sift through the files, stopping when they reach their target at the number ‘678’.

When he opens the file, he skims through the text, trying to figure who exactly Y/n Cookie is. The profile is mostly the normal things; age, occupation, name, and so on. Yet at the very last line, it states, ‘Citizen of the Hollyberry Kingdom’. How odd. Those of Hollyberrian descent are always registered as citizens of the Republic. So why would this plain little cleaner be a citizen of the Hollyberry Kingdom?

He turns the page to see another paper of data and personal background. ‘Immigration papers approved, has a debt of XXX before able to return. Parents are both Hollyberrian. Taken away due to financial issues.’ His eyes widen the further he reads the text; realizing that Y/n Cookie was taken away and is now living in the Creme Republic in illegal circumstances.

“My, my...Looks like I’m going to have to confront this plain little cleaner soon enough.”

--------

A few days after the pocket watch incident, Y/n Cookie is once again cleaning. Today, they are assigned to clean Clotted Cream Cookie’s office. It’s quite messy, as if someone had been desperately trying to research something. Files and papers are scattered about the desk, a notepad has writing scratched all along the pages; clearly indicating the distress the person must have been in.

They sigh, realizing they’ll have to sort the papers and do the regular cleaning. “I should get paid more for cleaning this room.” Quickly getting to work, they start to sort through the papers, putting them into their individuals piles and files. Most of the papers are information about the immigration and regulations of the borders. Seemingly normal things for the Consul to research about.

At the bottom of all the clutter, lay a file labeled ‘678 Y/n Cookie’. Curious, the cleaner reaches to open the bundle, only for a loud slam of the door interuppting them from doing so.

“Cleaner~ How are you? Doing well I hope?” Clotted Cream questions, walking towards them with his hands behind his back. Y/n Cookie doesn’t speak, only nodding before returning back to their cleaning. “Apologies for this mess. I was checking some immigrant rules since there have been some illegal crosses from the Hollyberry Kingdom lately.” He walks over to the desk, shuffling through the piles and putting them back into the cabinets.

Meanwhile, Y/n Cookie stares at the ground, unmoving like a statue. He possibly couldn’t have found out, right? And even if he did, he would most likely send them back to the Hollyberry Kingdom. They slowly relax and continue on cleaning, trying to distract themselves from the smile plastered on his face.

His eyes creepily observe their movement, taking note of their obvious discomfort. Finding it adorable that the ever-so-silent cookie is terrified because of a simple mention of illegal crossing. He wants see more—more expressions.

Watch out little cleaner, the Consul has come for you…

——————————————————

“I see…We’ll miss having your presence around!” The manager of employees speaks, giving a small smile to the Hollyberrian.

Finally, Y/n Cookie has managed to save enough money to pay off all the debt and go back to their home in the Hollyberry kingdom. They’ve been gone for a few years now: only being able to communicate with their loved ones through letters. But that doesn’t matter anymore. They can finally leave this Republic and drink all the juice they want when back at the motherland.

“I will be off now, I hope you have a wonderful day.” They quietly leave the room, trying hard to contain a smile.

When they step out into the courtyard, a large grin couldn’t help but appear. After all their hard work and suffering they can finally live a life of liberty! They softly squeal, “Haha! I’m going back! I’m really going back!” Their body wiggles in excitement.

As they cheer in what seems like the empty courtyard, a certain green-eyed male watches them with ecstasy. First uncomfortableness, next happiness; what else could be unlocked within them? Oh how he wants to see them all!

Yet there’s problem that has risen now. The audacity of thinking they’re going to get back safely—ugh how it blackens his heart! He can’t let them go after witnessing their true beauty and emotions! He needs to keep them here in the Republic!

Not to worry, he wasn’t elected Consul for nothing. All he has to do is turn a few keys, pay some money, and jyajan~ they’re right in his arms. (Jyajan is another form of ta-dah btw)

Little cleaner, he’s getting closer…

——————————————————

In the Hollyberry kingdom, far away from the Republic, resides a town just outside the capital city’s walls. In the vicinity of this town, berry bushes line up all around the paths, and barrels upon barrels litter the residents’ homes.

One family in particular has juice barrels in the cellar that stack up so high, it reaches the ceiling. This household is known all around the Kingdom for their famous juice. Their wealth grows year by year as more cookies buy their products. After all, rarely could someone resist the temptation of the dark red liquid.

Despite their current status, it was only until recently have they reached such goals. Before, they were an average juice making company; average taste, average price. It was enough to go by, but it certainly could have gotten better. Unfortunately, it seems as though fate had other plans for them.

One year, a horrible disease killed most of the bushes, causing a great decline in exports. With most of their harvest being cut, they had to buy from others. Which ended up with them making a deal with loan sharks.

As punishment for not being able to pay it off in time, a young member of the household got taken away. Leaving the family terrified of what might happen next. So, they decided to improve their business with lots of research.

After a few months of testing and surveying, they made a breakthrough in juice production. Not only did it taste absolutely delicious, but the amount of berries needed to make the juice is a lot lower than the previous product.

Soon enough the money started to pile in, enabling them to successfully pay off all the debt; however, the one that was taken away still resides in the Republic. As much as they wanted to help, the Republic was very picky on their immigration and visitors: stopping them from helping the lost Y/n Cookie. The most they could do was send letters and hope they come back to the motherland.

When they heard news of them coming back they were greatly overjoyed. No more worries! Just staying at the plantation, enjoying each other's company.

Too bad little cleaner attracted their demise.

——————————————————

The Consul is viewed as society's pride and joy; and yet here he is hiring someone to initiate crime. “As soon as they fall asleep I want you to drug them and bring them back to the Republic.”

“Along the edge of the land or…?”

“Leave them along the port, I’ll retrieve them myself.”

“Ok. And you’ve already paid my debts?”

“Of course. No Consul could dirty their record.” His charming smile? More like meet-your-end smile.

——————————————————

Clotted Cream Cookie sits at the side of his bed, monitoring the cookie before him. He hesitantly caresses their hair, tenderly feeling the strands. His arrogant character replaced by a softer presence. The room is silent, only the soft hisses and clicks of movement accompany his troubled mind.

“Dearest, wake up. It’s time for you to awaken~” He pleas, shaking their body a little. The cookie grunts in discomfort, slowly opening their eyes. Clotted Cream smiles, leaning in closer to the point their faces almost touch. “Good morning.”

“Huh…? Oh, yeah…Good morning.” They look around, recording their surroundings. “This isn’t my bed…And why are you here?” Slowly descending into confusion, they start to take a grip on the situation. “Why do I feel so sick?”

The soft morning light burns their eyes, making them squint in discomfort. The bedroom definitely isn’t theirs, and shouldn’t Clotted Cream be back at the Republic?

Wait…

Why is he here?!

Panicking finally pumping into their veins, they stammer, “Wha- I should be- I should be back at Hollyberry kingdom! Why are you here?! You shouldn’t be here! You belong in the Republic!” As they frantically look at his face, he puts a finger to their lips.

“You’re panicking. It’s going to ruin your health; calm down. You’re fine, I promise you.” He leans back, taking off his finger while doing so. Y/n Cookie watches in shock before snapping back to their usual demeanor. Well, as best as they can after all, they are drugged.

“Consul. Where am I?” Their words slightly slur, indicating the side effects of the drug. Clotted Cream doesn’t answer, now a frown on his face.

They slide out from the bed and stand on the solid ground. “Answer me. Where am-”

“I wouldn’t suggest asking anymore, dearest. You illegally crossed into the nation, now you must pay the price. Your punishment is to be forever bounded and monitored by me.”

He jerks towards them, eyes blown-wide from insanity. “Little cleaner, you may not smile or frown, but I know; deep inside your heart you weep tears of loneliness…Something I want to see exposed for me.” Y/n Cookie looks at his hands, only to realize that there’s jam on it.

Not even a Consul grand as he can stop from wrath of impurity.

——————————————————

THE. ENDING. TOOK. AN. EXTRA. 3. DAYS. Listen, I put lots of effort into this. It’s definitely my longest one I’ve written so far. Yes, it’s messy and I’ll probably edit it sometime this week.

But you have to applause for the time I spent into making this. (Tbh it’s kinda on me because I just really love the social class difference trope)

I’m trying to improve my fics but it’s so hard to organize I swear.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed.

- Celina

#cookie run #yandere cookie run #yandere #yandere x reader #cookie run kingdom #clotted cream cookie #Yandere clotted cream cookie

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animaniacswritingrequests · 2 years

Note

I just need a Brinky confession + first kiss if you felt like writing that 🤲🤲💕💕 I live for the mouse fluff and your fics are amazing!!

Pinky wasn't sure exactly where he was running, or how long he'd been running. He could only tell by his gasping for air and his quick pace slowing down to him sluggishly dragging his legs that it had been for a while. He bent over, hands on his knees and exhaling and inhaling harshly. His knees wobbled beneath him, legs feeling like jello.

The mouse winced as his legs gave out rather abruptly, his back hitting against a tree. He looked around, seeing nothing else but other trees, ones so tall that when Pinky looked up he could only see peaks of the night sky and its stars through the leaves.

"Poit.." Pinky hugged his knees to his chest, his fur singed with burn marks and his whole body sore as a result of yet another failed plan for world domination that figuratively and literally blew up in their faces. Usually, Pinky would have said they'd try again tomorrow, expressing his perseverance and reassuring Brain along the way.

However, something about this failure had seemed different. Maybe it was the years of failed attempt after failed attempt finally getting to him, maybe Brain had come to the conclusion that he'd never succeed in what he thought was his life's purpose. Whatever it was, the shorter mouse had taken his anger out on Pinky, yelling at and blaming him.

So when Brain had turned his back, Pinky in tears had run off. He didn't look where he was going, not that he could with hot tears stinging and blurring his vision. All he knew was that he had to get out of there, it would be better for the both of them.

"Brain'll be better without me." Pinky muttered, his voice muffled under the wind that blew through the trees. His ears were pinned back, fingers digging into the skin and fur on his arms, mouth curling into a frown. "And I'll be better without him too! Zort!" He hit the ground beneath him with a fist, the grass crumpling and leaves crunching. His quick flash of anger dissipated almost as quickly as it came, a welling of tears returning to his eyes.

A huge part of him hoped that Brain was looking for him, worried for his well-being. He'd scold him for running off, hiding his relief of having found him. But Pinky knew that it'd be best for Brain to leave him behind, he didn't have a place in Brain's plans.

The mouse stood up, brushing his fur and taking a deep breath, preparing to start his journey for a new life and to put his past behind him. Instead, he froze in place when a distant, all too familiar voice shouting for his name was heard. Pinky blinked, panic setting inside him as the voice and footsteps grew closer. He wanted to run, but his feet felt glued to the ground beneath them.

After what felt like the longest minute of his life, Pinky had finally regained his ability to move. He tried to make a run for it, but his attempt at escape was stopped instantly when a hand pulled on his wrist, keeping him in place even when his legs were running in place.

"Pinky, stop that!" Brain's voice was now right behind him, and Pinky jumped at his sudden closeness, ceasing in his tracks. He didn't say a word, his ears yet again pinning back. He didn't need to turn to tell Brain was upset with him. After a beat of silence, Pinky could hear him sighing, murmuring something under his breath with a shake of his head.

"Pinky, what foolish thought gave you the ridiculous idea to run off into the middle of nowhere??" Brain questioned him, the grip around his wrist loosening. His tone had taken a softer approach, having noticed how unusually quiet Pinky had been, and how he refused to look at him. Still Pinky didn't answer him, instead taking his arm back from Brain and stepping away, arms folded against his chest.

Now he was even more puzzled, his own ears starting to pin back in response to Pinky's odd behavior. He watched silently as Pinky walked back over to the tree he'd been sitting against earlier. He sat down with a thump, face buried into his knees. "Come on.." Brain tried, moving closer to the other. He even put a small smile on his lips. "We must get back to the lab to prepare for tomorrow night." He said, hoping Pinky would reply with his usual question asking what it was they were doing tomorrow night, but Brain's smile faded when he noticed the faint sound of sobbing coming from his partner.

Brain could feel his heart drop down to his stomach, eyes staring at the ground. Comforting someone was never something he was great at, he could admit that. He thought back to their earlier failure, perhaps he was a bit too harsh when yelling at Pinky earlier. He must have been if it caused him to run off like that. Brain cleared his throat, taking a seat next to the other, who scooted a few inches from him but didn't leave.

"Pinky I.. apologize for my earlier outburst. After going over it in my head again, it does come across as... Well, let's just say I understand why you ran off. But, let's put this whole event behind us?"

Pinky lifted his head, resting his head on his arms folded across his knees. His nose sniffled, and tears rolled down his cheeks. It hurt Brain to see. He grew more worried when Pinky shook his head, the corners of his mouth curling downwards, his lips quivering. "No, Brain. Poit. I'm the one who's sorry... you were right. I.. I only.. RUIN THINGS!!" His voice suddenly raised, soft sobbing turning into a loud wailing, shoulders shaking as he cried into his hands. Brain tried to reach for him, but his fingers recoiled back. "What.. are you going on about?" He asked instead, talking hardly above a whisper. Pinky sniffled, wiping his tears onto the back of his arm.

"I-I mean.. ohh, Brain.. I just.. I only get in the way. Troz.. I figured that if I ran away, you'd be able to finally have your world. You won't have to worry about me getting in the way anymore…"

Brain opened his mouth to say something, but no words came. He played over and over again in his head what Pinky had said, and he felt something settle into his chest. He wasn't sure why at first, but what Pinky had said didn't make sense to him. Carefully he cupped a hand against Pinky's cheek, feeling the wetness of his tears against his palm. He turned his head gently, making him look at Brain. "I'm afraid what you've said is nonsense, Pinky."

Pinky tilted his head, his crying stopping just from pure confusion. "Makes sense to me, Brain..." He mumbled.

Brain shook his head. "Pinky, it's not possible for me to have my world... if you're planning on running away."

Pinky took a moment to process that, realization hitting him like a smack to the face that turned his cheeks red in a dark blush. He stared at Brain, who had not only his cheeks turned red but his ears also. "Naarf.. Brain, do you mean...?"

"Yes, Pinky." He sighed, managing to once again look the other in the eyes, feeling a sense of relief when his ears had started to perk back up. "It wouldn't be worth gaining this world, if I lost mine in the process."

Pinky had started to tear up again, but they were far from being one of sadness. He laughed, his heart felt like it was glowing just as bright as his cheeks. "Aww, Brain!! I didn't know you felt that way."

As Pinky continued to giggle, Brain continued to look at him. Even after that gut spilling confession, there seemed to be something missing, a few words that he had struggled his whole life to speak to him. Brain faked a cough, and after a few seconds his partner had turned his attention on him once again. "Poit! Ooh, I'm sorry, Brain. Something else on your mind?"

"Yes, actually there is, Pinky. I just want to say that..I mean, I think it's about time that I tell you... What I'm trying to say..." His voice faded into nothingness, grumbling in annoyance. After all he's said, still those three words continued to stay stuck in his throat, and he choked back on them. "I... think it's best if I just show you."

"Is it a surprise, Brain?? Poit! Should I cover my eyes??" Pinky's earlier upset nature appeared to have disappeared like it was never there at all, only evident by the puffiness of his eyes. Brain swallowed, heart hammering nervously in his chest. He nodded, face burning. Pinky clapped excitedly, before clasping his hands together and using them to cover his eyes.

Brain gazed upon Pinky's smiling lips, fidgeting in his spot. He had no idea what made him think that this would be any easier. How would Pinky even react? Would he be weirded out by it, would he laugh it off?? Brain knew he was putting their long time friendship at risk, but if he didn't do it now he'd never find the courage or the right time again. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed both sides of Pinky's arms. "Pinky... I want to apologize in advance for this."

"Huh...?" Was all that left the other's mouth before something soft and warm pressed against them. He gasped into what he realized was Brain's mouth, feeling the fur on his body stand up all on its own. The kiss was messy, in the best possible way. Pinky could feel Brain's hands traveling from up his arms to his face, removing his hands from over his eyes while keeping them closed.

Brain lowered their hands together to the ground, intertwining their fingers together. Pinky deepened the kiss, feeling Brain's head angling back in response to let him. Pinky forced himself to pull away as much as neither of them wanted to, he couldn't let himself take the moment too far. They looked at each other, waiting for one of them to break the tense silence that lingered.

"Hey, Brain?" Pinky spoke at last, scooting closer. Brain swallowed, looking up at his partner, unsure what to expect.

"Yes, Pinky?"

"I love you too." He whispered, and Brain's eyes widened. Now it was his turn to cry, tears of relief streamed down his cheeks. Pinky hugged him close then, his own tears returning. They were a bundled mess of laughs and sobs, clinging onto each other tightly.

"Thank you for understanding, Pinky." Brain mumbled with a smile once they'd calmed themselves, letting himself stay wrapped in his arms.

"No... thank you, for telling me in your own special way, Brain. Troz!"

#the possibilities for first kiss scenarios with these 2.. ENDLESSS #im pretty happy with how this turned out and i hope u enjoy it too!!!#angst #fluff #pinky and the brain #patb #pinky x brain #patb pinky #patb brain #animaniacs #writing #animaniacs fanfiction #pinky and the brain fanfiction #also THANK YOU FOR UR REQUEST ur art is super cute !!!#brinky

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redtoondevils · 1 month

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In ending A, where you kill Trevor. Michael will start to have those dreams about him. That he sees Trevor in his sleep. And that it is foreshadowed, when Trevor said, "I am your fucking nightmare!" In the Mission called 'Bury the hatchet.'

He even stated, at some point when they were handing out, and they were talking about their friendship. That even in the afterlife, Trevor will come back and haunt Michael every day.

And it becomes true, when Trevor appears in Michaels Nightmares. Trevor haunts his dreams. That I can Imagine, what his dreams would look like.

Michael is sitting in his chair, watching TV. Till he heard, a loud banging on the door. He get's up to investigate, not without preparing himself. He creeps up on the door, then opens it, only to find no one in sight.

He gets confused, and closes the door. Thinking nothing of it. Then he goes back into watching Television. He spends the whole day, watching some programs then decide to get ready for a nap. He turns off the TV.

Then starts to walk back up stairs, walking past the sounds of Jimmy playing his video games, then walked to his master bed room. He walks in, and finds that his room is empty.

There's no Amanda, she must be still out shopping in town. Michael, makes his way to the closet room to change in his Pj's. Which is just some while short's and no shirt.

Then Michael walks back over to his side, of his bead, then made himself comfortable. He lay's back, resting his heads under his arms, and feels himself get droopy. Then while, he was about to zone out, he hears a knock at his Bedroom door.

Michael calls out, "Amanda? Are you back, Honey?" He assumed. No reply. Michael sighed, and moves himself off his bed sluggishly. "Amanda?" He say's again walking up to the door. Then, with out notice. The door busted open, which almost got Michael's heart to explode, as he jumped back in surprise.

And he didn't recognize who it was, first thing, but he was horrified. The person, came in, with an angry expression, Michiel begins to recognize this person quickly, he backs up. The person, had hairy legs, is holding a shot gun, in his hands, with thinned black hair, ontop of his head.

Had that strange odor on him, and is wearing a wavy pink blossomed dress. Michael slammed back into the wall, stuttering "T-Trevor?" Trevor gave him the scariest look, then screamed out, "WHY DID YOU BETRAY ME, YOU F-CKER!?"

Michael screamed out. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-" The dream, then fizzled out, then he felt a person calling out his name, and shaking him awake, while he flailed about, kicking his leg's and shouting. 'Michael...' "AAAAH! AAAAH!" He shouts, 'Michael.

Michael, wake up!' His vision comes around, and he's still a little freaked out he swings his arm, in a direction of where he felt the person, and he kind of hit's them. But they held on as tightly as they can, 'Michael!' A female voice called out, "Michael, it's only in your head sweety!" The females face, came in view.

Grabbing a hold of his arm, but she was also in pain. Michael blinked his eyes, then shook his head then immediately felt very bad. "Amanda!" Michael cried, positioning himself correctly, then put's his hand on her shoulder. While she messages her face, from the impact. "Baby! I'm..I'm so sorry!"

He started to apologize. Amanda, sit's up on her lap, looking at Michael, smiling. "Oh no! It's okay, you were just having a bad dream! It's not your fault!" She assures him, but Michael looks down feeling sad, for hurting his wife.

"But, I hurt you!" He say's, still in shock. Then he felt her hand touch his face, then he looks back up at her, again. "I'm okay, Michael! You didn't hurt me too hard! I understand it, it's fine!" Then she strokes his face, while he eye's her. "You are a strong woman, Amanda."

He tells her, Then he hugs her. And she held, her arms around him, then say's "I'm glad that, you are okay. Too Michael." "Yeah." He agrees softly.

She pet's him softly, and could feel that he's still trembling from that nightmare, "Just relax darling. It's alright. Take deep breaths." She instructed, him. Then he lifts, up his head, then breathed in his nose slowly. "Then count to five.", he holds his breath.

For five seconds. "And let it out." He breaths out. Then she said, "Now, come on. Let's get ready for breakfast. We'll wake the kids up, and get them to join us." She suggested, giving him a smile, before turning away, Michael smiled too.

Then he did the same, he turned around sitting on the edge, of the bed. Then put's his bare feet down to the floor, then stand up. Stretching up his back, feeling the air pockets in his spine, and shoulder blades pop. When he stretched, "Aah." He groaned, then let's his arms fall down to his sides, then looked over watching Amanda walk out the door.

Feeling adored, by looking at her long black messy hair. When she was petting it down, with her hands. "That's my woman..." He whispered, pleasantly with a blush. Then, he went around to the cupboard, to go in, and change out of his Pj's. And into his classic, fancy dress up suit. Ready to start the day.

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whumpinaheartbeat · 1 year

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Stick In The Mud (Febuwhump 2023 Day 12)

This fic contains fainting, confusion, severe storms causing mud slides and fears of death, please read with discretion.

"And now you're ignoring me." Alan said with a roll of his eyes. "This isn't exactly my kind of fun either, just so you know, so you don’t have to be such a stick in the mud.”

Gordon did not deign Alan with a response. He just kept trudging along, boots sinking deeper into the mud, and Alan had to rush to keep up with him.

While the rain had at last stopped, they were still drenched and Alan swore he could feel the cold seeping through his bones. Only his legs felt like they were burning, having to work extra hard just to get through the sludge.

"You know what we should do?" Alan said, if only to break the silence. "Next time John wants one last sweep of a whole area, we should just make him do it."

Gordon kept walking.

"Not that I actually mind, you know I love saving people and it's important work, but still. Can't more landslides happen like, I don't know, on a beach or something? But I guess sand sucks too."

Gordon kept walking.

"Hello Gordon, it's me, your brother. The one that's dying of bord-ah!"

Alan jolted forward, his boot stuck in the mud as the rest of him continued on. He pinwheeled his arms, giving off another very manly screech, barely keeping himself upright.

Gordon did not laugh. He didn't even chuckle. He kept walking on even though there was no way Gordon had not seen that and there was absolutely no way it wouldn't have made him drop any pretence of anger towards Alan.

Struggling to get his boot from the mud without help, Alan caught up with him but Gordon just kept walking.

"Gordon." Alan said. "You're kinda freaking me out here. I thought Scott was meant to be the silent moody one."

Still nothing. Alan forced his heart to settle. Maybe Gordon was just tired. Hell, maybe he had put ear buds in when Alan hadn't been paying attention.

"Can you hear me?"

Gordon's eyes at last flicked to Alan.

"You can! You know, you don't need to be so rude."

"I'm going to faint."

"What?"

"I'm going to faint." Gordon said.

And with that, Gordon’s eyes rolled back.

Alan swore, launching himself toward Gordon. Alan twisted, making sure that he fell first, keeping Gordon's head from hitting the ground. His heart racing, Alan set aside his own sore body to focus on Gordon.

He was breathing, thank god, but his eyes were closed and his body was still. Gordon was never still. Alan couldn't put Gordon in the recovery position, the mud would risk obstructing his airway anyway, but he kept his brother safe in his arms and activated his radio.

"Alpha-4 to Base, Alpha-4 to Base."

Static.

Alan forced himself to be patient, watching the rise and fall of his brothers chest. Still breathing. There should have been a response by now. Maybe no one was listening to the radio. But over fifty personnel including his other brothers should be on the frequency, surely someone at Base should hear him. Surely someone would care that there was an emergency, surely someone would care that Gordon was unconscious.

Gordon was breathing. He was still breathing but at any moment he could stop and then he’ll die and it will all be Alan’s fault so why the hell was no one responding?

"This is Base, go ahead Alpha-4." A woman's voice echoed.

Hope surged in Alan's chest.

"I have a man down, I repeat man down. Twenty four year old male, unconscious but breathing normally. No sign of injury, over."

"Copy Alpha-4," The woman said. "Sending med-evac to your-"

"Alan!" Scott's voice cut in. "What the hell happened?"

Despite being mostly calm until now, hearing Scott's voice made Alan's eyes sting and his chest tighten. This wasn’t just some other patient, this was Gordon. Gordon was in his arms and he was unconscious and the world felt like it was falling down around him.

"We were walking,” Alan said. “And I was trying to talk to him but he was ignoring me but then I - Gordon!"

Gordon blinked sluggishly, staring up at Alan. He tried to sit up and Alan let him, keeping him steady with a hand on his elbow, but when Gordon tried to stand Alan kept him on the ground.

“Slow,” Alan said. “You shouldn’t stand just yet.”

Gordon looked at Alan straight in the eye and stood anyway. Immediately he was on the ground again, Alan barely keeping his head safe for the second time.

“Told you.” Alan said, trying to settle his racing heart.

If Gordon could hear him, he ignored him, glazed eyes not quite looking at Alan but passed him as he tried standing up yet again.

"Alan?" Scott barked. "Alan, what's happening?"

Alan refused to answer the radio, too busy trying to keep Gordon from making himself pass out for the third time.

"Gordon," Alan said. "I need you to-"

"I'm all good." Gordon slurred, waving a hand.

Alan rushed to grip onto Gordon’s arm as his older brother launched upwards, Alan barely keeping him in the mud. Gordon tugged back his arm, glaring at Alan with half open eyes.

"I'm fine." Gordon snapped.

"Don't make me claim New York." Alan said.

Even in his stupor Gordon understood. He twisted towards Alan, slowly, giving Alan a chance to take it back. Alan didn’t. If Gordon was going to be such a pain in the ass then Alan was going to take all the precautions he needed to keep his brother safe.

"You wouldn’t." Gordon breathed.

"Try me." Alan said.

Alan met Gordon's eyes, dropping his expression into the best Serious face he could. It took more effort than he liked to admit to not laugh staring at his brother like this, especially since they were both absolutely covered in mud, but the memory of Gordon dropping right in front of him kept him well aware of the stakes.

They did not know why Gordon had collapsed, or at least Alan didn't. Until he was cleared by medical, Alan was not going to let him stand up let alone go anywhere even if he had to invoke the New York Protocol.

Gordon of all people, even disoriented, should know the severity of the New York Protocol just as Alan, even worried, knew it.

"Alan." Scott's voice echoed through the radio. "If you don't fucking talk right now and tell me what's wrong with Gordon I'm going to kill you both."

Gordon rolled his eyes, reaching to grab Alan's radio. Alan knocked the hand away.

"He's okay." Alan reported.

"What's his vitals?" Scott demanded. "John can't see anything because of the storm."

"He's conscious and talking," Alan said. "Pupils seem a little off but he's a lot more aware of what's going on."

"He," Gordon said. "Is right here."

"He," Alan replied. "Passed out so he has to put up with Brother mode unless you want New York."

Gordon glared at him but made no further comment as Alan and Scott confirmed their position. The med-evac was already coming of course, Virgil had torn away from Base with Thunderbird 2 the moment he had heard the man down according to Scott, but it was good to fill the silence with something.

It shouldn't be much longer before Virgil arrives but Alan still startled when a big rain drop fell on his head. If Gordon was already weak, another storm would just make everything worse. Now that they had been sitting in the mud for a while, the burning heat in Alan's legs had faded but the cold quickly replaced it.

Holding back a shiver, Alan glanced around to see if Thunderbird 2 was near. They should have been able to hear it by now but as thunder rumbled, Alan simply could not see or hear the rescue vehicle.

The next voice that came over the radio wasn't Scott's or Virgil's or even John’s but the woman from earlier.

"Base to Alpha-4, Base to Alpha-4."

"Alpha-4 receiving, over."

"Seek immediate shelter, I repeat, seek immediate shelter. The storm has shifted. Seek immediate shelter. Over."

So much for waiting for a med-evac.

"Acknowledged Base." Alan clicked off the radio. "You heard her, we gotta move."

Gordon did not so much as twitch.

Of course now that he had to stand up Gordon would refuse. Typical annoying brother doing typical annoying brother things. Except none of this was typical. Gordon was never that still, nor that quiet, and even as Alan shifted his grip from Gordon’s elbow to his hand, Gordon did not meet his eye.

"Gordon." Alan said. “We need to go.”

“Go.” Gordon echoed, blinking slowly.

Gordon’s hand was limp in Alan’s.

Alan jolted as another rain drop hit him, and another, and all of a sudden it wasn’t just drops but outright rain. Lightning arced across the sky but Gordon was still just sitting there, staring at nothing, as if he hadn’t even noticed it.

Alan fumbled for his radio.

“Scott.”

“Talk to me Alan.”

“Scott, he’s not moving.”

“The hell you mean?”

The rain hit harder, the mud around them growing ever more dangerous. Thunder boomed just as Alan tried to speak so he waited, his heart pounding against his chest.

“He’s just staring.”

“Is he breathing?” Scott asked.

“Scott he’s not moving.”

“Alan. I need you to focus. Is he breathing?”

It had become darker but Alan could still see Gordon’s chest move in time with his lungs.

“Yes.” Alan said.

“That’s good.” Scott said. “Is there any shelter where you are?”

It was strange to realise the same man that had yelled at him just a few minutes ago was now speaking so calmly. Alan had heard that voice before, the voice Scott used on civilians that were panicking, but normally it wasn’t directed at him.

Oh.

That’s why Scott was speaking like that; Alan’s entire body was shaking and his chest was aching and he hadn’t even noticed. How fast had he been talking, how much did he repeat himself? Scott knew what a panicked Alan was like even if it was usually Virgil who noticed first so he was already playing damage control.

Gordon was still staring and Alan’s hands were still shaking. What a pair they made, covered in mud and unable to stand.

“Alan, can you hear me?”

Really, Alan should be better than this. He had seen the most terrible of things, just today he had helped in the recovery of an entire family from the landslide, he should be able to deal with one small storm and a confused Gordon.

“Is there shelter?” Scott asked again.

Alan looked around. He couldn’t see anything but mud and rain and Gordon.

“No.”

“Virgil is nearly there,” Scott said. “Watch the hills, there might be more slides.”

Gordon blinked slowly. He tilted his head, looking up at Gordon with hooded eyes.

“Slide.” Gordon mumbled.

Gordon’s hand twitched in Alan’s and his whole body shifted, trying to stand.

“Slide…” He said again.

“Gordie, we need to wait for Virg, okay?” Alan said, his voice shaking even to himself. “How are you feeling?”

Gordon blinked, processing the question. Lightning lit up the sky and Gordon jumped alongside Alan so Alan took that as progress.

“Alan?” Gordon said. “It’s raining.”

“Yeah, bro, it’s raining.”

“You’re shaking… We should go inside.”

Alan wasn’t sure if it was just rain getting in his eyes but they were stinging. His entire back was hurting now as well as his ribs but no matter how hard he tried to calm himself down he couldn’t. Alan felt stupid sitting here panicking when it had been Gordon who passed out but he. Just. Could. Not. Stop.

A rush of mud came at them and Alan clutched onto Gordon, wanting to, no needing to, protect him. The mud didn’t even reach them but it had still done damage. Alan couldn’t breathe at all now. Gordon could have died and it was Alan’s fault that they had taken so long with the final sweep of the area and now they were stuck here and Alan couldn’t breathe and Gordon looked so confused and they were going to die here.

Thunder rumbled and Alan sobbed.

More lightning flashed but it stayed longer this time almost like it hadn’t been lightning at all. No, Alan knew that brightness. He had helped Virgil replace that bulb not two weeks ago.

Thunderbird 2 came closer to them, jerking to the side with a gust of wind.

More mud spilled around them and Alan felt himself sinking lower. Gordon had wrapped his arms around Alan but Alan was supposed to be the one protecting Gordon. Thunderbird 2’s propulsion system set off another mud slide and Alan’s entire body shook.

Alan couldn’t see anything anymore. The sky had grown too dark and the lights of Thunderbird 2 had faded away. Virgil must have not seen them. Alan should light a flare or wave or something. Something other than sit there shaking.

“Alan! Gordon!” A voice called.

That couldn’t be Virgil. Virgil had not seen them. He had continued on. They were going to be lost here forever in the mud and the rain and the cold and something was wrong with Gordon but there was nothing Alan could do to fix it.

Gordon pulled away from him, no, Gordon was being pulled away from him by the mud but Alan clutched onto him with a sob.

“I need you to let him go Allie.” A voice said.

No, Alan couldn’t let him go. Gordon was his brother, he was not going to let anything take him away.

“Alan,” The voice said. “It’s going to be okay but I need you to let him go.”

Alan knew that voice. He had grown up hearing it, he had grown up loving it. Virgil had always sounded so cool no matter what he said and Alan had always wanted to grow up as fast as he could so that he could sound so macho.

Wait a moment…

“Virgil?” Alan croaked.

“It’s me Bud,” Virgil said and Alan felt a hand cup his cheek. “Do you think you can let me help Gordon? I promise you, I’m not going to leave you. I just need to get him to 2 but then I’ll be right back.”

“I can walk.” Alan said but even as he said it he knew it wasn’t true. “Virg… I don’t feel right…”

“It’s just shock, Allie.” Virgil said. “You’re going to be just fine.”

Alan hummed. Virgil would never lie to him yet the world still went black and Alan was left alone.

—————————————————————————————————————

Alan was on his back.

He was warm, too warm. But that didn’t make any sense. Just a moment ago he was soaked with mud and rain and yet now he was dry and there was something soft laid over him.

“Alan, can you hear me?”

Alan knew that voice too. It was different from Virgil’s but Alan loved it all the same. His eyes cracked open but just as quickly he closed them again, the ceiling above him much too bright.

“If you can hear me, squeeze my hands.”

“Really?” Alan mumbled.

“Yes, really,” The voice chuckled. “Though I guess I already have my answer.”

When he tried to open his eyes again he found a shadow blocking the bright lights, a halo shining through red hair.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Alan said.

John’s brow quirked.

“I mean,” Alan said quickly. “Someone needs to be on Thunderbird 5 and-“

“Relax, Alan, EOS is handling communications at the moment. You and Gordon needed me more.”

Alan snapped up, too fast for John to stop him and his head spun.

“Easy there,” John said, a hand on Alan’s shoulder. “Gordon’s fine, he’s back with it now.”

“He passed out.”

“I know,” John said. “You both had hypothermia it’s just that Gordon went into shock before you did. We’re lucky you managed to call it in so quickly, it could have been a lot worse.”

“I need to see him.”

“You need to rest.”

“John, I need to see him.”

“You can see him when you’re out of the woods first. Don’t make me call New York on you.”

Alan stiffened.

“You wouldn’t.”

John laughed and the sound was like a melody. He eased Alan back down until he was on his back again, readjusting Alan’s blanket.

“I don’t even need to claim New York because you know how important it is to look after your own health first.”

“Bullshit.” Scott’s voice broke in.

Alan was sitting upright again in an instant, blinking back blurs as he took in the silhouette of Scott. Scott was pushing a hospital wheelchair and on that chair was Gordon. Gordon looked exhausted and there was an tube snaking up his arm connected to a IV pole on the chair but he was alive and he was breathing and he was okay and Alan was crying.

“I’m sorry.” Alan sobbed.

He knew that he was acting like a lost child but he simply could not stop the tears from flowing.

Scott brought Gordon all the way up to Alan’s bed and Gordon reached up, grabbing Alan’s hand and squeezing it tightly.

“We’re okay.” Gordon said. “Everything’s okay.”

With Gordon holding his hand, John kept a hand on Alan’s shoulder while Scott leaned on the side of the bed, a hand resting on his leg.

“Virgil?” Alan suddenly said, his chest seizing.

Virgil had gone into the storm to rescue them. He could have developed hypothermia too or even go into shock or maybe he had been pulled away or sucked under by the mud slides.

What if Virgil was dead, having sacrificed himself for Alan and Gordon? Alan didn’t think he would ever be able to forgive himself.

“Right here, Allie.” A voice rumbled.

Virgil came around the other side of Alan’s bed and Alan found himself just sobbing harder seeing his brother safe. Virgil ran a hand through Alan’s hair and he melted into the touch.

“Rest,” Scott said. “We can talk in the morning.”

Alan didn’t want to sleep. He wanted to stay here forever, surrounded by his brothers, his friends. He didn’t want to sleep yet now that he felt warm his eyes were beginning to droop. He was safe here. He was loved here.

He let himself let go without needing the threat of the New York Protocol.

#my writing #fanfiction #ao3 link #whump #whump fic #febuwhump2023 #febuwhumpday12 #hypothermia #shock #passing out #death mention #thunderbirds are go #Gordon Tracy Whump #Alan Tracy Whump #mudslide

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complete-in-ix · 1 year

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E̴͏r͢r̴͜o̵r

Rated: T Warning(s): Major Character Death

Description: Wonshik becomes a cyborg to bring back his dead lover Taekwoon, focusing only on him even as their friends succumb to the same illness that took Taekwoon's life. He has become a cold machine, focusing on only Taekwoon and feeling only for Taekwoon. It's all for him, it always was.

(Read on Ao3)

Wonshik’s circuits whir to life in the brightly lit laboratory, his eyes blinking on as his body warms up. He sluggishly gets up and lifts his head, his eyes landing on the skeletal robot body in front of him.

Taekwoon is still as beautiful as the day Wonshik first laid eyes on him, even though his blue glass robotic eyes no longer carry the light that once illuminated his life and his cold metal face remains blank and expressionless, even more than it was when he was alive. Before, Wonshik was still able to tell what was on Taekwoon’s mind by reading the subtle signals of his face: A twitch of his jaw here, a slight eye-roll there. Now there was no expression to read, just a lifeless, mechanical husk.

It's been three months since the incident. Wonshik had returned home to find Taekwoon lying motionless and deathly cold on their shared bed, claimed by the sickness that had swept the nation. Since then, Wonshik had fully dedicated himself to bringing his lover back to life. His transformation from flesh to metal had been excruciating, having his organs and limbs slowly replaced with cold steel and wires until his body became a cold, almost completely unfeeling machine. The only thing he focused on after was bringing Taekwoon back. It was all for him. Even as Hakyeon, Jaehwan, Sanghyuk, and finally Hongbin had been taken by the sickness, Wonshik only set up empty frames for them. He would fix the others later. The only one who currently mattered was Taekwoon. He never became tired, only stopping to fix one of his own limbs or let himself recharge. Nothing else mattered. It was for Taekwoon. Just Taekwoon. Only for Taekwoon.

It would be another six months until Wonshik completed his work. Taekwoon’s eyes blinked to life, a soft hum emitting from his circuits as his systems booted up. But something was wrong.

“Hyung.” Wonshik murmurs, gently bringing a hand up to caress Taekwoon’s face. Taekwoon only follows Wonshik’s movements with his eyes, meeting his gaze with a blank expression. “Taekwoon-ah. Do you remember anything?” Wonshik continues, tucking Taekwoon’s unruly bangs out of his face. Taekwoon responds with silence, a shadow of confusion flicking through his eyes for a second. Before Wonshik can say anything, an ‘Error’ message appears on the computer that Taekwoon is connected to. Wonshik goes to check, his eyes not leaving Taekwoon, who doesn’t leave the platform and just watches Wonshik.

“I need memories.” Wonshik murmurs to himself, realizing his mistake. Taekwoon remains unresponsive because there are no memories for his AI to go off of. Wonshik curses himself for making such a foolish mistake. He had been able to function just fine because he had made his transition while he was alive, and he could remember everything just fine. But there is no way to retrieve memories from a dead man, and even if there were, Taekwoon had been dead for far too long to attempt anything like that. There was another option, although it should only be a last resort as it would surely mean the authorities would come crashing through the door. That option would be for Wonshik to implant his own memories of Taekwoon into him and leave the AI to sort out the rest. Wonshik grapples with the idea for a moment as he holds Taekwoon’s body in his arms, a body that is now alive but not alive. All he wants is to have his Taekwoon back, and for that, he’d do anything.

He makes up his mind as he releases Taekwoon and walks over the computer, which still has his memories implanted in it from before he became robotic. He pulls up the tab and types in the command to insert the memories, guiding Taekwoon to sit down in front of the device that would give him the memories needed to be truly alive again. The machine beeps to signal that it is ready for the memory implant. Wonshik pulls the machine over Taekwoon’s head and presses the button, waiting with bated breath that he doesn't need as the images flash in front of Taekwoon’s eyes.

Wonshik cautiously lifts up the machine when it beeps again, nervous energy making his hands shake slightly as he puts it down. His electronic heart leaps in his chest when Taekwoon looks up to meet his gaze. His eyes are now filled with the light that Wonshik loves so much, and his heart soars in relief when Taekwoon all but leaps out of the chair to hug him.

“Taekwoon… You're back…” Wonshik murmurs, forgetting about honorifics in his ecstatic relief. He holds Taekwoon tight as if he might lose him again. He fears he might, as the authorities are connected to his computer and can tell when he's used his own memories more than once. He gazes at the door, all sorts of horrible scenarios paying out in his mind.

“Wonshik. Relax.” Taekwoon’s soft voice cuts through Wonshik’s thoughts, bringing his attention back to reality. “Even after we've come back from the dead, I can still tell if something’s on your mind.” Wonshik smiles at those words. Taekwoon had always been able to read him so easily.

“You’re right. You’re back, and that’s all that matters.” Wonshik replies, pulling back from the hug to hold Taekwoon’s face and pull him into a tender kiss. Taekwoon’s lips move against his own in a way that he sorely missed, reigniting feelings that Wonshik thought had been long buried. He breaks the kiss after a long moment, resting his head against Taekwoon’s. “I missed you.” He whispers, gazing into Taekwoon’s enchanting ice blue eyes. Taekwoon holds his gaze with a soft smile until his eyes flick over to the four empty frames hanging against the far wall.

“Where are the others?” Taekwoon asks, pulling back from Wonshik’s embrace to investigate the frames.

“They’re gone… After you died, they all went soon after…” Wonshik says, his gaze dropping to hide his grief. “I promised I would bring them all back too, but I had to get you back first.” He continues, watching Taekwoon’s face change from grief to cautious hope. “I promised I would make it so we’d all be able to see each other again.” Taekwoon smiles at this and gladly accepts Wonshik’s embrace, burying his face in Wonshik’s collar. There is no need for words, as their embrace tells all the words that they need to express.

“I’m home.” “I missed you.” “I’m sorry it took so long.” “I love you.”

Before either of them can do anything else, there is a harsh knocking on the door followed by five agents in black bursting through. Wonshik pulls Taekwoon tight to his chest to protect him, but four of the agents forcefully pull them apart, two restraining each of them while the fifth pulls out a three-inch-long needle connected to a small monitor.

Wonshik watches as the agent drives the needle into the back of Taekwoon’s neck with enough force to disable his movements and cause his entire system to trip for a split second, shown in the rapid flashing of his eyes.

“Stop! Let go of him!” Wonshik shouts, struggling against the agents holding him. He doesn’t dare do anything while the needle is still buried in Taekwoon’s neck lest the agent twist it the wrong way and break anything, but the sight of Taekwoon being held motionless while the monitor scans through his systems is a sight that Wonshik can hardly bear. The agent pulls out the needle after a minute that feels like an eternity, staring at the monitor that blares an angry tone throughout the laboratory. The noise alone is enough to let Wonshik know that his efforts have been for naught, as the agent signals for the two holding Taekwoon to take him away with a disapproving glare sent in Wonshik’s direction.

The agent’s rough handling jolts Taekwoon back to reality, and he looks back at Wonshik in desperation as he is being dragged away, still too weak to fight back. Something snaps inside Wonshik at the sight, and he throws the agents holding him aside with enough force to knock over his desk and one of the empty frames hanging from the wall behind him. He sprints at the remaining agents, tearing them away from Taekwoon and throwing the lead agent into the far wall. He grabs Taekwoon’s wrist and takes off further into the laboratory, hastily punching in a code in a hidden panel in the wall.

“Wonshik, what-” Taekwoon starts, but is cut off by Wonshik.

“I had to bring you back. I used my own memories.” Wonshik admits, refusing to meet Taekwoon’s gaze as he pulls him into the secret passage that opens up next to them. “Come on!”

“Wonshik, that’s-”

“Illegal, I know. It doesn’t matter, it was for you.” Wonshik says, closing the door behind them and guiding Taekwoon to another large machine with six gigantic wires resembling power cords attached to it. “I made a promise. I intend to keep it.”

“You didn’t have to do all that for me… Surely you could have found someone else, right?” Taekwoon asks, his voice barely above a whisper as he sinks to the ground against the machine.

“No, I never could. I only love you.” Wonshik murmurs, rushing to Taekwoon’s side. He caresses Taekwoon’s cheek, guiding him to look up at him. “I did this because I wanted to be with you again. Screw the consequences.” He says, leaning in to kiss Taekwoon when he doesn’t get a response.

“But you’ve been found out. What are we going to do now?” Taekwoon asks, glancing at the door as if the agents would come bursting in any second.

“I promised we would all be able to see each other again, right? I can still keep that promise.” Wonshik replies, picking up one of the wires from the ground and driving the prongs into his neck. The electricity surges through him and causes him to bite back a cry of pain. Taekwoon’s face falls when he realizes the implications of Wonshik’s actions.

“You can’t possibly mean…” He whispers in shock, although he already knows the answer.

“This is our only way now… You still want to see them all again, right?” Wonshik asks, his voice strained as the machine begins to delete the intricate coding and memories from Wonshik’s body.

“I do. You’ll be there too after this.” Taekwoon murmurs after what seems like an eternity, picking up another wire and hesitating for a split second before jamming the prongs into his neck.

“Once it beeps and we pull out the wires, we’ll be able to see them again,” Wonshik says, embracing Taekwoon the best he can with the wires hindering his movement.

“We’ll be free,” Taekwoon adds, pulling Wonshik in for one last kiss before the machine beeps. Wonshik hums in agreement, slowly pulling his arms away from Taekwoon and gripping the wire attached to his neck. Taekwoon does the same, gazing into Wonshik’s eyes with more emotion than words can express.

“I love you.” Those are the last words Wonshik hears from Taekwoon before he tears out the wire, his expression strikingly peaceful as the light dies from his eyes and he collapses to his knees.

“I love you too.” Wonshik chokes out, ripping out his wire not a second later and collapsing beside Taekwoon.

The agents burst in five minutes later, only to find the two lovers facing each other, kneeling lifeless and still reaching towards each other even in death.

#Error #VIXX #wontaek #error mv #annual #wrote this back in my Animo days damn #that would make this work around... six? seven years old?#i had fun writing it but i sure hope i've improved since then

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lennjamin-o7 · 11 months

Text

To Be Truly Free

Chapter 13

Previous | Next

King Dante paled, mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“I-I don’t- I haven’t-” The King stuttered, before being roughly dropped to the ground in a heap, fancy robes askew. He sputtered, not taking his wide eyes off of an enraged Emperor Philza.

Technoblade shivered as he watched, his groggy state made focusing on anything difficult. He barely noticed as Tommy shifted him into a slightly less uncomfortable position. But there was one thing he could perceive, wholly and completely. The Emperor’s unmasked fury was terrifying, even when not directed at him. The pale expression on King Dante’s face tinged with green as the King of Scywar cowered.

“Is lying the only thing you know how to do? Lie to me? Lie to your Kingdom?” Emperor Philza sneered. “Lie to yourself?”

“I don't know what you are talking about-”

“I gave you a chance to be truthful, to earn some small amount of my mercy,” The Emperor continued. “You didn’t take it.”

“I’m not-!”

“I could always thrall the truth from you,” The Emperor’s smile was sharp. “But that would be more kind than you deserve. There are better ways.”

“You-”

“Though, I will admit. I’m not too torn up about your choice. Wilbur, if you would-”

Wilbur’s shoes clicked against the floor as he sauntered closer to the Emperor. The nobles he passed quivered where they stood, watching the man with unadulterated fear.

“Only three of the nobles gathered here will know anything,” Wilbur nodded to a group of the Empire’s soldiers. The nobles in the room screamed and squished closer together as the soldiers closed in, blades unsheathed as they marched closer. “I already told the captain which ones. The rest of those involved are probably hiding somewhere else in the city. I know of a few potential places.”

“They won’t get far,” Emperor Philza glared down at the King for a moment longer before turning to Wilbur. His cold glare softened a tad as he looked at his son. “Have the soldiers round them all up. Hopefully, that bastard won’t have had a chance to flee the city, yet, and we will find someone who knows where he went before he can make it back to-”

“No! I will not let you do this!” A voice cried out, wavering only slightly. A very familiar voice. Then, the sound of a sword being drawn, iron clanging against metal. Technoblade frowned and followed the sound, head lolling against Tommy. He blinked sluggishly and saw Hallowlance standing.

All alone while slightly hesitant Empire soldiers surrounded him in a wide circle, shining sword pointed at Emperor Philza. The Emperor looked down his nose at the weapon, eyebrow raised.

“Really?” The Emperor was unimpressed.

“Your plans end here, Emperor ,” The Blessed swayed slightly, blinking rapidly. “The Blood God chose me to defeat you. I have devoted myself to this cause. Even-even when it seems lost, the faithful shall find strength.”

The Emperor sighed deeply, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“You didn’t listen to anything that was said for the past thirty minutes,” The Emperor shook his head.

“To be fair, it’s all rather confusing and…well, blood loss,” Wilbur drawled as he took a step closer to the Emperor, once more wiping his mouth for dramatic effect. Emperor Philza snorted.

“I’ve no need to believe a word that comes out of your blasphemous mouth.”

The Emperor groaned before rolling his eyes.

“Sure, mate. Whatever. Put down the sword. You can’t win this. It’s over. Just be thankful you aren’t dead and move on. We'll take you to the other-”

“You are-you completely underestimate the power of the Blood God. His plan shall be enacted. I am his chosen. I can fulfill his word.”

“I didn't underestimate shit. The Blood God is the Blood God. But you are a brat that has been brainwashed by a mad man and a greedy bastard. A victim of a god’s bid for freedom and revenge. Drop the sword and don’t throw away your life so needlessly,” The Emperor took a step off the dais, looking in the direction of Technoblade and Tommy. Completely content to ignore Hallowlance’s threat. Soldiers shifted closer to the Blessed one. Hallowlance’s gaze hardened.

“Brainwashed? No,” It was then that Technoblade noticed what was in Hallowlance’s other hand. Ancient metal that was only slightly scarred by time, the recognizable shape of King Dante’s crown. “The Blood God is with me.”

Technoblade noticed something…off about the crown. Something different. While before, it had seemed like a barely contained maelstrom…

“-He chose me-”

...now, it seemed like the power surrounding it hung like a spider’s web, gossamer and beautiful. Deceiving and dangerous…

“-Even if the King is unworthy.-

…waiting with the patience of a predator to trap its prey in its fangs. A hungry anticipation, a greedy tendril.

“Even if the High Priest is unworthy-”

Hallowlance raised the crown high over his own head.

“-I know that I am worthy. I am blessed. I am chosen .”

Emperor Philza laughed derisively, shaking his head.

“The magical bonds on the crown are broken, mate. It’s not gonna-”

“Hallowlance, stop!” Technoblade’s voice cracked harshly, barely louder than a whisper. He tried to lift his head, but he couldn’t manage the effort as Tommy held him tighter, not letting him move an inch. He didn’t know what was going to happen, he just knew-

Hallowlance sat the crown upon his brow.

-that it was going to be bad.

Like a clap of thunder against his senses, something heavy settled in the air. Technoblade stared at Hallowlance with horror as the heaviness in the atmosphere seemed to build, inch by inch, ratcheting thicker and thicker. Emperor Philza stopped, turning slowly to look at Hallowlance in surprise.

Hallowlance was stone still, not even seeming to breathe, and as Technoblade watched a grin gradually grew across Hallowlance’s face. Stretching wider and wider. Too wide. Unnaturally wide as pale eyes seemed to glow red with a manic glee. Almost mechanically, Hallowlance slowly turned to look up at the Emperor. The Emperor tilted his head, a shrewd calculating expression on his face.

Hallowlance chuckled, before hysterical uproarious laughter shattered the silence. But the laughter sounded wrong. It sounded like a hundred voices, like a thousand voices, cackling in discordant glee. Shrieking peels of mirth too high for human vocal cords, impossibly deep laughter that could rattle even the mountains. A euphoric symphony.

“Yes!” Hallowlance said, his voice barely heard through the cacophony of other voices. “I was chosen! I alone am worthy! I was destined for glory! I was fated to destroy those who stand against the Blood God.”

The tension in the room grew heavier and heavier, like a physical weight pressing down. Crushing and relentless.

“I will rid the world of blasphemers, and those who try to corrupt his name-”

Hallowlances eye flicked away from the Emperor, staring directly at Technoblade.

“I was cho-” Hallowlance cut himself off, his cheek twitching as his grin drooped slightly. Technoblade met his eye, watching as indecipherable emotions flitted too quickly to comprehend.

“-to destroy…to defy-”

A single tear drop fell from Hallowlance’s eye as his expression dropped. No longer joyous, but slowly morphing in childlike confusion. Another tear ran down his cheek.

“No, but it was-”

The red of Hallowlance’s iris seemed to spread, the whites becoming bloodshot, his pupil slowly being overcome with crimson.

“No-no, I was suppose-”

The next tear was thick and red, bleeding into the moisture already fallen, crossing his cheek in watery fractals.

“I-I, no, I’m-”

Drops of red poured from Hallowlance’s nose. The Blessed stumbled back a step, before stepping forward, rocking back and forth with confusion. Soldiers looked between each other, uncertain, as the Emperor raised his hand and they lower their swords.

“No-no! I’m sorry, I-”

Hallowlance dropped the sword and put both hands to his head, palms resting on the sides of a crown. Technoblade watched as the miasma around the crown caused Hallowlance's hands to blister. Welts appeared along Hallowlance’s forehead as well.

“No, I wasn’t- I didn’t-”

Hallowlance fell to his knees, unseeing eyes latched on Technoblade as rivulets of blood dripped from under the crown and onto his face, his neck, pooling onto the floor.

“I-Technoblade-I need-”

The stench of burning flesh filled the room as smoke rose from around the crown, from Hallolance's fingers. Blood streaming from past his lips and on to the ground.

“I’m sorry! Technoblade, help me, please, I didn’t-” A choking sound cut off as ashen streaks appeared along the veins of Hallowlance’s face.

“I-I-” A gurgling noise in Hallowlance’s throat cut off the Blessed, expression revealing abject misery as he collapsed forward with gore pouring from his lips. Twitching and gasping raggedly, bloody fingers painting stripes on the floor as they grasped for purchase.

Hallowlance rasped a choking sob, chest heaving desperately.

Before a final breath wheezed from his lungs.

The pressure lifted instantly.

Technoblade stared at Hallowlance’s body in horror, his thoughts stuck on the pleading expression affixed to Hallowlance’s face in death.

“I was eating that,” Wilbur’s voice cut through Technoblade’s thoughts, drawing his attention away from the corpse. “I thought you were going to destroy the magic on that, Dad.”

“I did,” Emperor Philza tilted his head, expression unreadable. With determination, he walked over to the corpse. Kneeling down, he tugged the crown from Hallowlance’s head. Technoblade’s stomach churned at the sight. A blackened skull was visible through the charred skin, red hair and bits of flesh sticking to the crown.

Emperor Philza stood, crown held carefully between his hands. He turned it one way, then the other, a frown on his face. He slowly rubbed a finger across the metal.

“I think-” he cut himself off with a yelp, dropping the metal as if burned. The crown hit the floor with a clang, rolling away from the Emperor. Technoblade watched as the crown rolled to a stop a few feet away from him.

Grab it!

Crown! Crown! Crown!

Ooooh, so fashionable.

Uhhhh, didn’t it just-

That’s a very dangerous hat.

Shiny! Shiny for us! Wear it!

Thin tendrils of power seemed to blow in a nonexistent breeze as they reached toward Technoblade. Technoblade held his breath as they slowly inched closer, unable to move his exhausted body away.

Even if he wanted to.

But some part of his mind didn’t want to escape.

The clamor of voices all wanted him to grab it, except for a rare quiet few. His body tensed with the need to reach out and grab it, a finger twitching in response to his thoughts. The voices shouted, a rhythmic wave of sound that seemed to coincide with Technoblade’s own heartbeat, ebbing and flowing like a tide beating against a shoreline and eroding away his self control. A consuming tempest of avarice and yearning and want-

A brown coat was thrown over the crown, blocking it from his view.

Technoblade took a deep, wheezing breath. Black spots danced across his vision.

“-ember that time you told me not to touch magic objects with my bare hands?” Wilbur’s voice cut through his thoughts.

“Shut. I don’t want to hear that from you.”

“Really? Dadza, I can’t believe you were a hypocrite this whole time! You really-?”

“Dad, Wilbur, will the two of you stop being bitches and get over here! Where the fuck is the medic?” Tommy’s voice was right beside Technoblade’s ear. Which was good. He wouldn’t have heard him otherwise because suddenly there was a lot of screaming. The room seemed to be consumed with shouts and pleas, followed by the swish of steel. “Technoblade is, like, shivering! That can’t be fucking good, right?.”

There was suddenly a hand on Technoblade’s forehead and-oh, his eyes were closed. When did that happen? He tried to blink his eyes open to see, with no success. His limbs were weighed down, his thoughts feeling like cotton.

“I think he’s just exhausted, but…Wilbur, quickly go and-”

“No need, they’re here.”

Technoblade wasn’t sure what the last thing he noticed before he passed out. The cold hand on his forehead, or the sudden silence as the final scream cut off.

He was so tired.

—

He was staring at the ceiling.

Technoblade had been staring at the ceiling for a while now. Though he wasn’t quite sure how long. One minute he had been unconscious, not a thought nor dream to disturb him, tucked into a rest that he felt he so richly deserved. The next, he realized he was staring at the ceiling.

It took even longer for him to realize that he was laying down on something soft and comfortable. And then he realized that he had a blanket on top of him. It wasn’t very heavy, just a layer between him and the open air. He rubbed his thumb against it, realizing it wasn’t the softest blanket either. But he didn’t look away from the ceiling, brow furrowing in confusion as something about the ceiling was bothering him. He stared longer, thoughts having trouble organizing themselves. More than they usually would. Then it clicked.

Ah. It was dark. It must be nighttime.

But…Technoblade had thought it was still day.

Technoblade turned his head on the pillow, noticing a lit lamp burning low, barely a flicker in the dark. A figure sat slumped in a chair pushed against the wall, head propped on his hand. His mouth hung open and Technoblade heard a soft snore. The person looked familiar. Who was that again? It was on the tip of his tongue.

It’s Tommy! Aww, look at him…

Sleepy Boi

That doesn’t look comfortable. His neck’s all bent.

He’s a vampire, do they get cricks in their neck?

Hopefully not. Philza already has two pains in his neck-

Technoblade froze at the voices. Right, because that was a thing he dealt with now. Voices in his head. But then he caught up to their words.

That was Tommy.

Tommy was a vampire.

Tommy was Prince Theseus .

…he and Wil had used him.

And kept him alive for…some reason.

Technoblade swallowed hard, ignoring how his heart ached in his chest. Slightly more lucid than before, he turned his head to look around the room. It was pretty bare, nothing that could be useful. At least, nothing that his hazy mind could define as useful. But one thing did stand out.

A window.

Looking back at Tommy, Technoblade carefully levered himself to sit up, being as quiet as possible. The only sound was the quiet swish of fabric as it brushed against the bed. Technoblade worried that even that would be too loud and wake the vampire. It’s not like he had access to a ton of concrete evidence about vampires. Only hearsay and rumors and what the books he found described. But increased hearing seemed likely. It had been mentioned in all three.

Luckily, either it wasn’t that good or Tommy was a deep sleeper. The boy didn’t so much as twitch.

Technoblade took a slow shaky breath, relieved that he had attained the incredible achievement of sitting up. He reached out to push the blanket off-

Or rather, he tried to push the blanket off.

Technoblade blinked down at his right arm. It was bound in some kind of sling, different than any he had ever seen. It trapped his arm, holding it tight against his body and not letting him move it an inch. It reminded him more of a straitjacket than a sling. He reached up to pull at it with his left hand and paused again, seeing a neat splint on his wrist. He flexed his hand experimentally. Right, he had been injured. But as he moved his wrist, he didn’t really feel injured. Distantly, he might feel a twinge in his wrist. But he was sure it was broken. It should hurt more than that. Frowning, he slowly pulled off the blanket with just his left hand, baffled by the clean clothes he wore. It took a moment for him to realize that they weren’t white. They weren’t even red, as he last remembered being covered in blood. They were clean and made of black material. Gently, he pinched the fabric between his fingers, marvelling at the softness. Such a strange texture.

Wait, he was supposed to be doing something…

He looked up at Tommy, seeing if the vampire had woken. Still the boy slumbered.

Cautiously, Technoblade shifted his legs over the side of the bed, but he immediately had to pause. His head swam, and uncomfortable churning in his stomach as the room seemed to tilt. He blinked in bewilderment as he waited for the room to stop spinning.

Oh! He had been drugged.

He glanced down at his bound arm. He had been shot. He should really be feeling that, shouldn’t he? And his wrist. And his leg had been injured, too, hadn’t it? It was kind of amusing. He had been hurt plenty of times, but he had never been given pain medicine. Not like this.

It was novel.

It was weird.

He had a weird taste in his mouth.

He should probably be thankful he couldn’t feel it. But as he put one foot on the ground, he couldn’t help but find the swaying of the room annoying. He had things to do. Places to be.

What was he doing again?

He glanced at Tommy again.

Right. He was leaving.

As quietly as he could, he stumbled to the window. Looking out, he saw that it was indeed nighttime, the stars twinkling far above, no longer blocked by clouds. And, low and behold, he was on the first floor. That was fantastic. He wasn’t sure if he could scale a wall one handed and drugged. That wasn’t something the Church would have ever found useful for him to know. As carefully as he could, he twisted the latch on the window, before slowly pushing in outward. He glanced behind him.

Tommy hadn’t moved an inch. Technoblade was almost fascinated. The kid was never still. He doubted the kid knew how to be still. And yet there he was, unmoving under the flickering lamp light, as still as a corpse.

Kill Theseus .

Technoblade stumbled at the thought. He placed his hand against his forehead, frowning deeply. That wasn’t his thought. That was someone else's. Who told him that again?

He didn't want to do that. Even if-even if he was only a tool to Tommy. He swallowed hard as he looked away from Tommy.

Wait, the window was open. He was escaping now. Ducking down, Technoblade placed one foot outside the window and into the grass outside.

Ah, he had found another stumbling block to his escape. He didn’t have shoes. Oh well. He didn’t need shoes.

Technoblade didn’t bother to close the window as he walked away.

Some part of him had expected the ground to be cold. But while the blades of grass were covered in a thin layer of dew, it wasn’t uncomfortable. Technoblade walked, scanning the area. It only took a few moments to realize where he was.

The Palace. Right, that’s where he had been before. It makes sense that he wouldn’t have been taken too far. As much sense as anything could make when his thoughts felt like cotton. Technoblade abandoned the grass for a marble path, keeping an eye ahead of him as he followed a wall.

He had been walking for a few minutes before he saw the swinging of a lantern in the distance. And lanterns probably meant people. And if there is one thing Technoblade loved to avoid, it was social interaction. Though he had another reason to avoid people, didn’t he? Technoblade looked around for somewhere to hide. He didn’t see one, but he did see a break in the wall, another path that led toward the west. Ducking down this new direction, he could feel a plan forming in his head. It was slow, but soon he had a rough idea.

First: Get out of the palace.

Easier said than done. Technoblade was still far from clear-headed and he didn’t have a great idea of the layout of the palace. And while he could probably follow the stars to get some idea of his location, he really needed more specifics. The voices shouted unhelpful advice, most of which was completely contradictory.

Left! Left!

No, right!

You should climb the wall

No! Go back! We need more 4/4!

Sleep in a bush, it will be funny.

“Is that all you care about, strange voices in my head?” Technoblade whispered as he peaked around a wall, slurring only slightly. He sighed in relief as he saw the retreating backs of Empire soldiers. “If my life is funny or not?”

No!

Of course not!

Yes.

We also like blood!

Yes! Blood for the Blood God!

No! I want soft, we already had Blood!

Where's the COMFORT?

Technoblade winced as the voices argued.

“You know what would be really funny? Me getting outside the palace! Even with all the soldiers patrolling.” Technoblade hurried across a junction, listening hard to see if he could hear any pursuit. But the only thing he could really pay attention to was the indecisive grumbling in his head.

That doesn’t sound funny.

I want to see more family dynamic.

I don’t. I want to see the Sleeping Empire be made a fool of.

I wanna punch Tommy. For science.

You’re a newbie, you just don’t get it.

“Come on, it would be a good joke. Vampiric Overlords conquer the country only to have one sneaky injured boy escape? Imagine their faces,” The voices didn’t seem convinced. Technoblade ducked behind a bush as he grasped at straws. “We can have a little chat as we escape? Just between us? No outside distractions or-?”

Technoblade cut himself off with a wince. The voices roiling with excitement?

Q&A??

Techno actually reading chat?

A Miracle!

Q&A!!!!!

Guys, it's going so fast I can’t keep up.

Fave color?

Opinions on cheese?

“Is that a yes, then?” Technoblade gritted his teeth. The voices were indecipherable, but he recognized the affirmative. “Cool, then you guys are going to have to help me out. Literally. Help me get out of the palace. You were able to direct me before-?”

We can!

Where are the stream snipers?

Go look! Go look

Who is where? Who is where?

Soldiers coming, stay hidden.

Quiet, shhhhhh.

Technoblade held his breath, ducking lower into the bush. Four soldiers walked by, chatting between each other. Their heavy boots thudded against the path, armor clinking as they passed. Technoblade watched them pass him by, crouched in the bush as the soldier got further and further away.

“Good job, apparent evidence of my own insanity,” Technoblade drawled, slowly standing. “Where to next?”

Left!

Go left!

We aren’t insanity, that’s not our job.

Around the corner and left.

“Okay,” Technoblade quickly walked over to the left, peering around the corner. It was completely empty. “So, let's say I believe that you aren’t insanity, then what are you?”

Chat!

We’re chat!

A gift!

Chat!

“Chat?” Technoblade hurries down the path, as much as possible. His head swimming with thoughts, his vision swimming from the drug. “What does that mean?”

A gift!

A curse!

A gift!

For you to know! To see!

We’re dead.

“Hang on,” Technoblade leaned against the wall as Chat’s answers were interrupted by a warning. Soldiers passed, holding a squirming terrified servant. Technoblade waited a moment longer before whispering back. “So, a gift for me to know things I shouldn’t? And you’re ghosts?”

Not ghosts!

Flowers for the graves not mourned.

Yes! Gift of knowledge

Those denied justice seek the shade of the Lord of Blood.

“Bruh, don’t quote church doctrine at me when I’m already dizzy. I don’t want to vomit on top everything,” Technoblade huffed. Chat snickered and their mirth almost made Technoblade smile. “So, a gift usually has a gifter. So who gifted me insanity plus, now including approximate omniscience?”

Not insanity!!!

Rude.

Could insanity do this? E!

Typo oops

Technoblade sucked air through his teeth, leaning heavily against a wall. His head throbbed with the influx for repeated phrases.

Stop spamming!

Mod!

Mod! Scatter!

Technoblade shook his head as the sudden onslaught lessened, letting him think. He pushed against the wall, looking in front of him.

The remains from the explosion hadn’t been cleared, but smoke no longer billowed up from the rubble. Large pieces of stone laid haphazardly, broken and brittle and baring sharp points. But Technoblade was confused to see that no soldiers patrolled here.

“Why are the soldiers not here?” He muttered to himself, but Chat answered anyway.

Bribed.

They got bribed?

Dadza will be crafting so many belts.

They want to gamble with their bribe, apparently.

They should really know better.

They won’t even get to use it.

Good for us, very bad for them.

“Bribed? To leave their post? Who? Why?” Technoblade whispered, carefully picking his way across the rubble. He was very aware of his bare feet, not wanting a shard of stone to stab him. He started to climb over the ruined wall.

Secret.

Can’t tell you yet, secret.

Hidden for now.

That’s what the point of the mask is. Secrets.

Ask again later.

Technoblade grumbled, opening his mouth to say exactly what he thought about such a secret when he slipped, sliding down the other side of the boulder pile. When he finally tumbled to a stop, he curled into himself. The pain meds that they gave him were good, but they had faded a bit. And his arm did not like that fall. Technoblade pushed himself upright, waiting for his head to stop spinning. He blinked rapidly.

You need to move. Soldiers will be back soon

Time Limit!

Let’s speed run this escape.

E E E

Hurry!

Technoblade groaned, leaning heavily against the pieces of marble around him as he swayed on his feet. He squinted out into the dark, noting where he was and-

He was out of the palace.

He knew exactly where he was in the city.

Technoblade hobbled toward a nearby alley, the voices in his head cheering him on.

—

Chat continued to be as unpredictable as they were helpful. Twice they had stopped him from walking into a small encampment of soldiers. But they had also twice given him bad directions so that he could pet a dog and a horse.

He had, of course, pet both. He wasn’t a monster.

But he had reached his goal. Step two in his plan.

Get out of the city.

His stomach twisted uncomfortably as he looked at the sewer grate along the city wall. Bad memories surfaced of his first failed escape. Of when he had been caught and the consequences that followed.

Barely, just barely, he could see some stars beginning to wink out. Dawn would soon be here. And while he had heard that vampires could see just fine at night, maybe even better than in the day, Technoblade knew that the Empire’s soldiers could not. So it would be better to make his escape while the sun was still gone.

But he was hesitating. This had gone so wrong the first time.

Taking a deep breath, Technoblade steeled himself. Chat whispered encouragement in his ear. Honestly, he still thought he had probably gone insane, but the words settled his anxiety as he walked up to the grate.

He pushed against the metal, sure that it would be locked tight. Instead, it gave under his fingertips, easily swinging back. Technoblade stared at it in confusion for a moment, but maybe it shouldn’t be all that shocking? People knew about the exit. It made sense that other people would have used it to escape the Empire’s occupation. Shrugging it off, he ducked inside, letting the metal creak closed behind him as he began wading in the disgusting water.

He tried not to pay attention to the smell, or the unpleasant squishing under his feet. Which was hard with Chat making jokes about it, so Technoblade tried to distract them.

“Do you want to hear a story?” Technoblade whispered, covering his mouth with this splint hand to try and block out the stench. Chat went into a frenzy, excitement leaking into Technoblade’s own thoughts. “Okay, cool. How about the tale of Orpheus and Euridice?”

A resounding yes. So Technoblade began to whisper the tale.

He talked about the young lovers, so happy together, only to be struck by the ultimate tragedy on their wedding day. Of how Orpheus used his voice to convince the messenger god to tell him how to sneak into the underworld. How by using guile and wit, the man had made his way through the traps and pitfalls of the land of the dead. How he found his lover, Euridice, and wished to take her home. Only to be thwarted by the King of the Dead.

What? But Death is a Lady?

Queen of Death

Mumza

Not King!

“That’s just how the story goes, Chat. I didn’t write it. Sometimes people get things wrong. But in this story, it was a King of the Dead, not a Queen,” Technoblade explained. He looked ahead, heart leaping at finally seeing an end to the stinky tunnel. “But the King didn’t want to let Euridice go. Not without a trial.”

“So he told Orpheus that they both could leave, but Euridice had to walk behind him. And if he looked back to make sure that she was still there, she would be taken back to the underworld and he could do nothing about it,” The end of the tunnel got closer and closer. “He agreed, and they began their march out of the underworld. But Orpheus began to doubt. He couldn’t hear his lover’s breathing, as she had no breath in death. He could not hear his lover’s footfalls, as she had no body to make a sound. He could not hear his lover’s voice, as she did not speak a word. And the doubt grew and grew. But he didn’t turn around.”

Another grate was in front of Technoblade as he approached the end of the tunnel. He looked it over, finding the spot that would allow for it to open.

“He made it all the way out of the underworld, out of the ground far below. He stepped into the sunshine, victorious,” Technoblade pushed outside the grate, glancing to his left and right before stepping outside the wall. The grate creaked closed behind him. “In his excitement, he turned around to see his lover, Euridice. Words of love on the tip of his tongue.”

“But Euridice was still inside the tunnel,” Technoblade’s words were softer than a whisper. “And when he turned, she looked at him with shock and with grief and with love as the door slammed shut, locking her forever in the realm of the dead.”

“And there was nothing he could do.”

Chat wailed. A good story, but the tragedy ached. They began to argue about how the story should or shouldn’t end, about what Orpheus should have done instead. A debate of sorts on if the Lady of Death would do something different. Technoblade walked towards the forest, listening to them with amusement. He started to turn, to look at the wall behind him once more. Chat shrieked at him.

Don’t turn around!

You literally just described why turning around is bad!

Cringe!

No turning around

Technoblade huffed a laugh, leaning heavily against a tree.

“Fine. I won’t turn around,” He said, walking further into the forest. “It was just a story, Chat, but if you are so insistent…”

And Technoblade didn’t turn around, much to Chat's enjoyment. And he didn’t see the masked man dressed in green, staring out from the tunnel he had just exited.

Instead, Technoblade marveled at the forest. At the trees, with their newly grown leaves. At the brightly colored daffodils and daisies that grew in patches along the ground. At the fallen rotten wood that created hidden nooks for mushrooms and moss. He walked, tension falling from his shoulders for the first time in a very long time.

But his leg was starting to hurt.

It wasn’t just his leg. He had definitely over used his broken wrist, a constant ache from the appendage distracting him. But what really began to bother him was his shoulder, as it was certainly the most wounded. He couldn’t tell if it was bleeding or not, the strange sort of sling keeping it perfectly contained. But he would wager that it was bleeding. It constantly radiated pain, up his neck and down his back. A pulsing suffering that matched the beat of his heart.

But as much as it hurt, he was relieved. His thoughts were nearly back to normal. The pain meds were wearing off.

Which was great, but it meant that he was now very aware of his situation. And the speed of his escape, or rather, the slowness of his escape rankled him. With the growing pain in his leg, he couldn’t exactly run. Jogging was out of the picture, as well. So if he couldn’t go for speed, he would have to be smart.

He knew that there was a creek about a half mile from the castle wall. And with all the rain, it was sure to be bloated. It was an easy way to hide his trail from those tracking him. And then-

-then he would head North.

Steve was likely still in the city, still hiding. That’s fine. He would head North, somehow find out where the farm that Steve spoke of was located. Get there before Steve even showed up, and talk about how the old man was late. It would be great. Steve would probably laugh himself sick, and Technoblade will taunt him about it forever. Hold it over the old man's head forever.

Chat seemed to like this idea.

A loud caw sounded above Technoblade’s head, and he looked up.

Three crows sat on a tree branch, looking down at him with their heads tilted in sync. Technoblade paused to stare at them.

Crows!

Crowza!

Uh-oh…

Crowfather! Dadza!

“What are you talking about?” Technoblade was quickly distracted as one of the crows fluttered down, carefully landing on his uninjured shoulder. It cawed loudly in his ear, rubbing its beak in his hair. Technoblade noticed something odd about the bird. Wrapped around its chest was a white bandage. “Bruh, you shouldn’t be flying around if you’re injured. You can’t heal like that.”

The bird tilted into his vision, giving him an incredibly deadpan look, before pecking at the strap that held the arm sling in place.

“Touche,” Technoblade nodded. “But I’ve got my reasons. You, however, are a bird. You should go back with your flock and-”

Technoblade looked up at the branch and frowned. The other two birds were gone. Technoblade looked back at the crow on his shoulder, the bird shifting from foot to foot.

He knows!

The murder is going to tell!

Birdie tattle-tells!

“Who-who knows?” Technoblade asked, looking at the bird as it seemed to stare into his soul. “What are you talking about?”

The crows!

The crows are his!

Crowfather! Birdman!

The Only Man.

Father figure of the year.

Technoblade glanced around the trees. There weren’t any more birds beside the crow on his shoulder. Technoblade paused and listened.

When had the forest gone so quiet?

Technoblade took a step, and then another. Unease started to build in his stomach.

“A name would be more helpful. I don’t know these nicknames,” Technoblade said as he walked slightly faster, ignoring the pain in his leg and the irritated squawk of the crow on his shoulder.

Bruh, do we have to spell it out for you?

It’s him!

Dadza! Crowfather!

They belong to him.

Should we even say it at all?

“Chat, you’re being really unhelpful right now,” Technoblade’s voice was strained. He could hear the rush of water in front of him and he walked toward it. As he got closer to the sound, he frowned at seeing nothing. It was only a few steps more that he realized that water was lower, the ground he stood on was around fifteen feet above it. He looked down at the creek as it flowed below. The shore of the other side was flat, not like the strange mini-cliff he stood on.

He could jump, but he had no clue how deep the water was. Or how sharp the stones beneath the current were. He could cut his foot open and then suffer from the infection. He could break his leg on top of having a broken arm.

He could try to climb down, but he only had one slightly busted hand to work with.

It would be better to walk along the creek and try to find a lower part to wade across-

The crow cawed loudly in his ear before it launched itself into the air. Technoblade watched it for a second, before Chat started screaming in a mixture of warning and joy. Technoblade touched a finger to his temple.

“What are you doing?” Technoblade froze as a voice spoke behind him. He swallowed hard before very slowly turning around. His heart plummeted at the sight.

Emperor Philza stood there, a crow perched on each shoulder. Technoblade’s mouth opened in surprise. But what was more shocking was that words came out.

“Oh, you know. Just out for a walk,” Technoblade drawled with false ease. He took a cautious step back, feeling the edge of the mini-cliff with his feet. “It was just such a clear night, I decided to take a little bit of a tour. Get some fresh air. Maybe site-see a bit.”

“Right, of course,” The Emperor looked amused. Which was probably better than mad, right? “Well, you’ve had your fresh air. How about you head back, now, yeah? You’ve had enough adventure for one night.”

Silence hung between them for a moment. Was this awkward?

“Nah, I’m good,” Technoblade glanced around, seeing if there was anything he could use to defend himself.

More silence. Yes, this was definitely awkward.

“...Technoblade, you’ve got two options,” Technoblade snapped his gaze back at the Emperor. The Emperor still didn’t look mad, but he did look serious. “You can walk back of your own volition, or I can make you. Your choice, but either way you are going back. End of discussion.”

Technoblade pursed his lips, staring at the Emperor, before glancing over his own shoulder behind him, a desperate plan forming.

Yeah, this was probably not the best idea.

“You know, I don’t really like those options,” He said. When he looked back, the Emperor had tensed, eyes narrowed.

“Don’t-”

Technoblade twisted and jumped into the creek.

Previous | Next

#Lenn Writes #To Be Truly Free #Chapter 13

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waltenfiled · 2 years

Text

WIP WEDNESDAY ( because it's not wip tuesday yet and I'm getting impatient ) ; a fic for a half-assed made au that i wanted to write completely, maybe even publish it on ao3, but i got really really tired with it very quickly . so here it is. my very first clownzy fic, albeit unfinished, dedicated to felt! @branzypierce

—— THE DELIGHT IN FEAR | 1,205 words

he reminds himself ‘You have to follow orders.‘ as he watched the menace’s back from his spot in the open trail. ‘It'll be fine.’ he thinks desperately, because it felt impossibly intrusive, the act of watching over an enemy in order to gain an upper hand, yet sure Branzy gets it but ...

There was an almost odd melachony to Clown’ while he strolled into the forest, the trees bending towards him like a plead to his attention, as he skipped deeper into the forest in an almost wistful manner. The richness of the night wafted along his voice to be heard from far more greater distances, and from what the wind carried; Clown was enjoying himself a tiny little tune.

It was almost like he was unaware that he was there. That it was just an average night. And Really, It made Branzy feel odd; angry, annoyed, sad, disrespected——no, none of those felt right. Maybe confused, baited, anxious.

He just couldn't place what that strange ache in his sternum was, maybe he secretly got arrowed and he was just oblivious to it.

That had happened before, Branzy recalls, so he doubles over to look down at his chest and sees that there was nothing there.

Or maybe it was his conciousness screaming at him to look away, run away, hide behind the trees. So much so that he was physically hurting, so much so that his heart drummed against his ribs and that blood started rushing to his face, so much so that he was frozen out in the open, watching dear ol’ clownpierce wandering about with no shame.

That last part made him burn.

‘You're making yourself an easy target,’ he thinks to himself as his heart thrumed deeper. ‘hide Branzy, you stupid fool!’ and really it would have been an almost welcome sensation—he liked the feeling, whatever it was—only if it weren't so overwhelming to exist within. ‘damnit!’

He felt his pulse beat in his ears, Maybe it was the shame, and he tried to soothingly caress the little bundle of nerves as he continued to focus on the way his body suddenly started to thrum in the rhythm of his heart. Whatever thing he was in right now, he needed out of it and fast.

‘oh man,’ he panics at the sudden and new sensations. ‘come on Branzy snap out of it!’

And He didn't know when, but his eyes had closed shut. Squeazing painfully as he screamed in his head to do something, run away, whatever he needed to not die from the basically-killer-clown of the server. He didn't have his eyes on the other now, he was dead fish.

‘Come on, ldi–’. Silence. Branzy sucks in a breath.

A twig snaps. “Woah, you alright hit murdering, heart-eating sensation Branzycraft?” a voice echoes to him teasingly, and his brain stalls for a moment to connect the voice to their person—his person, him being the person he was trying to avoid being caught by—Clownpierce, his brain connects, after slow seconds spent blinking nervously up at him.

“Oh.” he plainly said, his tongue feeling heavy through the haze of whatever trip he was surfing in. The world was a colourful mess, blurred and unashamed, aswwll as filled with overwhelming panic and unbearable heat that spaced his body completely in quick flashes; never in his life, has Branzy felt such emense and sudden fear. It was chilling.

A monotone and even hum echoes through him again, taking away the silence. “Just ‘Oh’?” Clown observes—tiredly, Branzy thinks to himself, ‘No shit’—as he took a step forward, wherever direction he was.

Branzy ignores the retort with a scoff, knuckling at his left eye sluggishly. “Can I– just not be here for a minute. Leave me alone, yadayada, I just don't wanna epic fight right now, I want to hit the hay, not ..” he fumbles, taking weak steps back from where he stood hunched. “not, kick the bucket.”

Branzy finds himself confused. He wasn't tired before.

“Yeah no one really wants that,” Clown replied instantaneously, tone deceptively mild, as leaves crunched and swept along the path.

He could only hope that Clown was kicking against the leaves, because the alternative of him walking directly at him was an entirely unpleasant ending. “but you kinda deserve it since you've been following me around, like some creep or something.” Clown jokes at the end, a deadbeat remnant of a laugh coursing through the air and at him.

Branzy realizes that his heart was still beating. “Yeah– uh, nope.” he mutters dumbly and he punches himself mentally; did he have a death wish?

Clowns’ voice pitched in question. “Nope?” he retorts, an obvious lilt of confusion present.

Branzy only nodded, his eyes still firmly squeezed shut. “I don't believe– that, that you.” he responds intellectually. “because.”

There was an empty, awkward, silence after that. Only the beating of his heart and his heavy breathing—he should really open his eyes, but Branzy surprisingly finds himself not wanting to—echoing through the forest. The silence was eerie, and set alarm bells off in his head but he couldn't get himself to care. He was going to die.

“Because?” Clown asks expectantly, obviously wanting a continuation of the what-was-supposed-to-be sentence.

Branzy stays quiet, and his breath hitched at the following. “You weren't making sense before and you're definitely not making sense now.” from his heart, to his very core, Branzy knew that.

He just wasn't the best at unplanned interactions, especially when his body was making him feel odd. “Answer me.” Clown demands, Branzy lets the silence take over for his voice; he finds that he couldn't speak, he sighs to himself, he couldn't see either.

It's not everyday that he finds himself in every disadvantage point at once. “Yoohoo, anyone there?” Clown pushes, and he gulped thickly as he heard footsteps near. “Dude you're freaking me out, honestly.” and nearer. “I barely did anything!”

His eyes snap open to see himself staring directly at Clown, face almost pressed against each other and Branzy bit his tongue in surprise. “Oh there he is.” Clown notes, like a scientist making an interesting observation. And Branzy was sure, in a moment, that if he spun around wildly, or something equally astounding and outlandish in the moment, Clown would simply nod and write in an observation book.

Really, he might as well have been in the moment already, from how intense he was being stared at. “Why were you following me.” Clown asks his first question again, but it wasn't a question this time, it was more like an underlying threat that promised something in return if he didn't answer.

Branzy averted his eyes, scowering his mind for possibilities if he were to lie, and possibilities if he were to tell the truth. He finds that he's in an interesting position; each posibility ends up in him dying, at least that's what his mind says.

Clown sighs at him, and even though he couldn't see his face, he was sure that he was getting impatient. “I'll ask again, Why were you following me?” he presses further.

Branzy finds himself answering this time, mouth moving without his knowledge. "I was following you by orders."

"Who's orders."

#clownzy #fanfic giga bites #canibalism #<- just a very brief mention of heart-eater branzy #near panic attack #i'm so sorry this was supposed to be romantic #but the TWO people that wrote it are aro #and it went waay out of hand #in noahs' words; 'rather get overwhelmed than be romantic with someone' <- thanks king

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thejojosanctuary · 2 years

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Can I request Kars, Dio, and Diego taking care of a small sick s/o it's up to you however serious you want the sickness to be

——

Kars

You hate being sick. Not only is it an inconvenience, but it’s also a pain when the people around you don’t have to worry about getting sick at all, and thus almost don’t understand how serious it can be when illness starts creeping in. You’d thought it would have been easy enough to handle at first - just a stomach bug or the beginnings of a cold - but the stuffy feeling in your sinuses and the feeling like your brain’s clocked out to leave your body to figure this out for itself is frustrating. You’re stubborn enough to still believe that you can weather this one out like any other time you’ve gotten sick, hoping that it’ll wash over without anyone else noticing that you’re getting sick.

Yeah, that didn’t happen.

Kars isn’t stupid. He knows humans are fragile and susceptible to the elements; he finds it amusing that so much of the planet that they inhabit is built to so easily overwhelm the poor little creature, it’s almost enough to make him pity them. Of course his knowledge includes illness - he’s seen glimpses of what sickness and plague can reduce the populace to, though his mindset to the whole thing is simply to not get sick (easier said than done from the man who will never know what it means to get the sniffles.) He is genuinely perturbed seeing the signs begin blossoming up in you.

Of course he notices something wrong with his favorite little human; the groggy demeanor, the slow responses, not even the usual teasing about making you a snack garners much of a response; you’re heads so foggy focused on fighting off whatever this is you’re dealing with to think up of anything witty, instead only offering the pillarman a long, slow silence before you blink and sluggishly mutter “oh”.

Doesn’t like it one bit, because sure he may enjoy seeing his human helpless (as you’ve seen plenty of times with the way he likes to play with you and make you feel weak), but this isn’t fun at all. In fact Kars actually really hates how sluggish and despondent that this is making you - so you’re ‘sick’?, then he’ll simply have to fix it for you. He has seen what humans have done over the years, and while most of them are outdated, some things like the wet cloth, plenty of drink and good food stand the test of time. Won’t feed him himself of course, unless you ask him enough times to the point that Kars actually relents and treats you; otherwise he’s getting Wamuu or Santana to do it in his stead. Actually, Wamuu and Santana do a lot of things to help during your recovery; of course it’s at their master’s directions, but the sentiment is appreciated that Kars would insist so heavily on them maintaining close watch on your condition in case it has any sign of getting worse.

At one point contemplates just using the mask on you to get this farce over with quicker - you’re going to have to use it eventually so that he doesn’t have to lose you to time. You can practically see the cogs turning in his head as he toys with the mask in his hands and have to be firm in the ‘not now’ - you’ll live with a few more years of humanity if only to avoid how much of a pain in the ass it’d be to deal with not going into the sun.

Gives a surprisingly good pep talk once you’re actually on the way to recovery. You’re coherent enough to hear the little praises that he gives to you about how well his little human did fighting off that pesky sickness - of course his S/O would be able to overcome any bout of illness or trouble that this world could throw at you. All the while he’s combing a hand through your hair, nails dragging lightly through your scalp as Kars moves sweat slicked strands away from your face. It’s actually a rather sweet gesture, and it’s hard not to feel comforted by the deep croon of his voice telling you to rest and finish off this little battle of sickness soon.

Dio

Sick? That’s a word he hasn’t heard in a long time in terms of actual illness (being told that he’s sick and evil on the other hand is another story). Dio’s own age of humanity was so many years ago, and he’s had no reason to bother with even thinking about sickness - it’s other humans’ problem, nothing he has to concern himself with. Until he’s rudely woken from his slumber to you retching your guts out in the bathroom down the hall, the noise grating on his nerves enough to actually get him up and looking in to see what the hell’s going on.

He cracks open the door to find you cradling the edge of the toilet, face drained of any healthy color and exhaustion heavy on your expression as your head snaps to glare at whoever’s come to disturb you, only to pause when you notice the imposing figure of the 6ft vampire in your doorway. A little part of him wants to laugh seeing his fiery little S/O looking so pathetically sick, but that thought flees as soon as he takes in just how sick you look. There’s bags under your eyes from hours spent tossing and turning trying to sleep; the sickly color to your skin; the heavy breathing as you fight to take a breath that doesn’t sound like you’re about to hack out your lungs.

Wow. You look like a mess.

That comment gains the vampire another glare, your mouth opening to fire back a retort only to freeze and twist back over to the toilet to throw up yet again. In a weird way it makes him remember the times when he fell sick in his human years - he didn’t have anyone helping him before the Joestars, and any sickness he had was suffered through alone. The parallel here is striking, namely because you’re not alone in the sense that you’re not alone - with Terence making sure that your hair and clothes stay out of the puke crossfire, and Mariah crouched to your level, rubbing your back in what you can only hope is a comforting gesture.

Since you’re his S/O, Dio simply cannot have you being sick, so he’s keen on you getting over it as soon as possible. He doesn’t go about it in the most delicate way though.

Instead, he’s gonna use this as a ploy to try and convince you to become a vampire

Vampires don’t need to worry about getting sick - doesn’t that sound wonderful? You’ll never have to concern yourself about pesky stomach bugs or fatigue or any of those stupid human setbacks again - surely you can see how enticing that is~ Gets frustrated when you’re stubborn about fighting him on this, insisting that you can ride it out and that you’ll be fine after a few days. The determination not to take the easy route is admirable, but it’s ridiculously frustrating when it means he’s going to have to deal with you being all snuffly and sick for however long you’re sick.

Makes one of his servants get you things to make you better faster - you’ll have to intervene to tell them what you actually need though; Dio’s been a vampire since the 1800’s, so he’s never had to bother with keeping up to date on medications and you have to stop him from forcing Vanilla Ice to go into a pharmacy and buying everything, instead sending him off with a hastily scrawled together list one the kind of things you’re going to need to weather out this bout of illness. Even then you still end up with a lot of things you didn’t ask for - namely expensive things that Dio’s tacked onto that shopping list (like does he even think that you’re going to need a personalized hot water bottle???).

One bright side is that you being sick doesn’t affect him in the slightest, so you can be rest assured that he’s not going to up and leave you alone. If anything, you’ll want him to leave you alone sometimes, because he won’t shut up or stop bugging you when you’re trying to catch any modicum of sleep. Without fail you’re getting questions asking if you’re feeling better every few hours, all the while taking advantage of any heat you generate to lounge all over you, insisting that he just wouldn’t be a good master if he let his darling little human suffer through this alllll alone.(which is only half true - the other half is leeching off of your body heat)

Diego

Okay, being the only human(ish) here on the list, Diego’s probably the closest to understanding what you’re going through. A lot of his methods are more revolved around the prevention of getting sick rather than dealing with a full on sickness, because he can’t afford to get sick while he’s out on the road. Because of this however, Diego’s gotten damn good at recognizing the first signs of you getting sick, probably long before you’ve even realized that you’re starting to feel under the weather yourself.

All it takes is one careless sniffle, one you don’t think twice about as you absentmindedly wipe your nose and focus on riding. You’re surprised when Diego drops his pace to fall in line with you, sidling up close enough that he’s able to reach out to you, tugging off a glove and pressing the back of his hand to your forehead. You give him a confused look, quirking a brow as you ask him what’s wrong. He’s quiet for a long moment, giving you a surprisingly intense stare before he leans back and moves on ahead again, urging Silver Bullet to return back to the pace they were at before with a comment of “You’re getting a fever - stop and get some medicine at the next town.” without even sparing a glance back in your direction.

Even taking his advice however doesn’t seem to stave off whatever sickness has decided to latch onto you. By the time the next morning rolls around it’s hit you full force and god do you feel shitty when you wake up with your sinuses blocked and sore. You don’t miss the ‘I told you so’ luck that the rider gives you when you fumble with your horses saddle, determined to keep going even if you do feel like your legs are about to give in on you. You’re at the point of cursing your fingers for suddenly being so shaky and cold when you feel a hand tugging the back of your collar, pulling you swiftly away from your horse and pushing you in the direction of the lodge door. You don’t expect him to take it so seriously - he’s so set on keeping moving that you were worried that he’d have left you behind if you were too sick to ride (as he’d made a point of informing you as such at the beginning of your journey.). Even when he turns back around to return to Silver Bullet you can’t help but panic thinking that he’s going to leave, but you practically sag with relief when he hoists his pack from Silver Bullet’s saddle and turns back to you, telling you to get inside.

For what it’s worth, he’s the only one that might actually take proper care of you rather than just existing around you while you try to take care of it yourself. He doesn’t trust bundling you into someone else’s care, not believing that they’ll do a good job in taking care of you in his absence, so of course it’s going to fall to him if he doesn’t think they’re capable. He’s firm on you staying in bed - he’s not about to let you wander around and risk getting even sicker. Even if he’s knowledge is with preventing sickness it doesn’t mean that he doesn’t come prepared just in case sickness couldn’t be avoided. You’re surprised to find that he’s a rather decent cook at making good food out of essentially nothing, and almost have to do a double take when he comes back with a bowl of soup and a small plate of medicine. Diego promptly shoves the medicine into your hands, gruffly ordering you to stop wasting time and take them while he rests the bowl onto the side for you to eat once you’re finished (if you ask nice enough he might just feed it to you too).

Don’t bother making any comments about how tender he’s being though - they’ll be met with half serious jokes about how if you take too long getting better he’ll still leave you here. That in turn is met with a playful threat to sneeze on him, and Diego damn near clears to the other side of the room with a swift “Don’t you dare even try it.” before settling firmly on the other side of the room for the rest of the night. While you’re sleeping he keeps an eye on you, demeanour turning somewhat somber as he watches you toss and turn clearly affected by the sickness you’re trying to purge from your system. It’s bringing back a lot of unpleasant memories, so rest assured the sooner you’re feeling okay the better - not only does he want to get out here fast, he also hates the thought of seeing you in pain for too long.

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camsthisky · 3 years

Note

"you’re not alone . you’re stuck with me forever . sorry . ” + Jason and Dick (and anyone other family member)?

“Everyone okay?” Dick croaks as the dust and rubble settles around them. He’s lying on his back, kept still by something pinning his legs down. He doesn’t dare assess himself quite yet. “Hood? Batgirl?”

“Okay,” Cass says, and Dick watches as she stumbles over to him, looking dusty, but relatively alright. She kneels next to him with a frown. She meets his eyes—well, relatively since they’re both wearing masks—and asks, “Okay?”

Dick grimaces. “Not really.” Louder, he calls, “Red Hood?!”

“Here, here,” Jason says, coughing into his fist. He’s missing his helmet and there’s a gash sluggishly bleeding from his right cheek, smearing a trail of blood down his face. He’s also limping, but only slightly.

“Can you move?” Cass asks Dick as Jason pulls out his flashlight.

Dick winces at the sudden light, his mask having already automatically switched to night vision. He huffs. “Jay. Off.”

“Names.”

Dick scowls. “The light.”

“Deal with it,” Jason snaps. “My night vision isn’t working.”

Dick turns off his own night vision feature, if only to not be blinded by the damn flashlight if it passes over his eyes again.

That’s when Jason’s flashlight lands on where Dick is pinned.

“Crap,” Jason breathes.

“Can you move them?” Cass asks, sounding a touch more impatient, and Dick realizes that Cass has already asked once. “Your legs.”

“No,” says Dick, just barely trying. He’s tired, but he knows that time is up. He can’t get away with ignoring his own situation any longer. Probably shouldn’t have even waited this long. His legs are tingling from lack of blood flow, mixing with a sharp pain shooting through them both. Still he’s lucky, because—“I can still feel them, though.”

“We’ll lift,” Jason says to Cass, who nods. Dick closes his eyes and braces himself for the inevitable pain of rubble being lifted off his crushed legs.

“Hhh.”

The sounds he makes is nothing more than an agonized hissed through his teeth, and Dick can’t help the cold sweat that sweeps across his body in a slow wave as his siblings manage to move the slab of—wall, maybe? who knows, really—from where it’s crushing his poor legs.

Something taps against his shinbone and then his kneecap.

“Stop, stop, I feel it,” Dick gasps, bringing his legs up in a protective curl as pain throbs through most of his lower body. His left hip hurts like hell, and his every muscle, bone, and tendon feels like they’ve been squeezed and then flattened like a pancake. He rolls over onto his side so he can bring his knees up to his chest, to wait out the lingering intensity of the pain.

“Breathe,” Cass says.

Dick breathes.

He closes his eyes and blocks out everything and, again, just breathes. His siblings let him.

When he has a better grasp on his agony, Dick finally relaxes. The world filters back in. Cass is running fingers through Dick’s dusty hair (something she one hundred percent learned from Bruce, because only a select few know how much the motion tends to calm him down).

On the other hand, Dick blinks his eyes open to find Jason agitatedly pacing.

“The hell?” Jason murmurs, his flashlight whipping back and forth with his movements as he surveys their surroundings. “Did we get completely sealed in?”

Dick wishes desperately he would stop. Even without night vision, Jason’s impromptu strobe light effect is causing Dick’s head to ache. Instead of saying this, he hums contemplatively. “Wonder if there’s a signal this far down.”

Jason huffs, not slowing in the least. He’s searching for something, and dear god does Dick want him to find it already. “You’re the one with the comms in your ear. You try it.”

They’re in the sewers, is the thing. And while Bruce and Babs have designed the comms system to work incredibly well, even in the sewers, the signal still needs to be able to make it to the system in order to be functional.

With the three of them sealed in this place, seemingly with no way out, pretty deep in the sewer system where they had been disabling bombs throughout the city, Dick isn’t optimistic about their chances of getting a signal.

(They’d just been a few seconds too late for that last bomb, which unfortunately led them to their current circumstances.)

While Jason grumbles, Cass activates her emergency signal and the comms. She calls out, “Batman? Oracle?”

Jason shuts up for the five seconds before Cass looks between both Dick and Jason and shakes her head.

Dick lets out a slow exhale through his nose. He hadn’t really held out much hope for that anyways.

Jason groans. “Holy batcannoli, I can’t believe we’re stuck down here. And where’s my hecking helmet?!”

Cass helpfully points to the rubble sealing them in. Jason kicks a rock with a yell. Dick sighs.

“Well, at least you’re not alone down here,” Dick says as optimistically as he can—although, given the circumstances, it does fall a little flat.

Jason snorts. “Right. Sure, Batgirl is an asset, but you’re a sack of bruised bones right now. That’s not helpful in the slightest, Dickface.”

Dick’s eyelashes flutter of their own accord. He hums. “Too bad. Looks like you’re stuck with me. Sorry.”

“Dick,” Cass says, her fingers tracing lightly over his face. “Stay awake.”

“I am awake.”

“You’re starting to—” Cass pauses. Dick can’t see the look on her face, because somehow, his eyes have fully closed without his permission, and he can’t seem to find the strength to open them again. “—to slur.”

The sounds of Jason’s pacing stop. Silence rings loud in their sealed section of the sewers. Then, “Did he hit his head?”

“Not sure,” Cass answers.

“Dick,” Jason says, sounding quite a bit closer, like he’s maybe crouching down next to Cass or something—but Dick hadn’t heard him move, and Jason’s boots are too clunky to not make sound against the concrete. “Dick, did you hit your head?”

Dick’s eyebrows furrow, but he doesn’t open his eyes. He doesn’t remember hitting his head. The only thing he clearly remembers about the blast is heavy pieces of rubble crushing his legs. “Maybe?”

“Great,” Jason says. He’s pulling out his I’m-rolling-my-eyes-at-your-ridiculous-incompetency voice. “So my bruised bones of a big brother probably also has a concussion. Just great.”

“It’s not his fault he’s injured,” Cass tells Jason. “He was disarming the bomb.”

Which means Dick took the brunt of the blast when it was remotely activated.

Dick really means to tack onto Cass’s statement, maybe tease Jason a little and try to reassure both his younger siblings that not everything is hopeless, because he’s the best big brother ever, of course.

Only, he can’t find the strength to open his mouth and talk. Instead, the voices around him become watery, distorted, and Dick’s head flares in pain.

When unconsciousness comes to take him, he doesn’t resist.

—

“—manage to even find us in the first place?” is the first thing Dick hears as he swims back to consciousness. Jason almost sounds relieved.

“The seismic device didn’t just affect the sewers,” someone replies. It takes a lot of effort for Dick to recognize it as Tim. “A couple buildings partially collapsed, and since we knew the three of you were down here, it was a good starting point to look when none of you would answer the comms.”

“Huh,” is all Jason says.

“Nightwing,” Bruce says, startling Dick from the dazed lull he’d been in as he listened to his brothers talking. He opens his eyes, blinking up bewilderingly at what he can see of Bruce’s face behind the cowl.

“B?” Dick murmurs. He doesn’t move, yet, from where’s curled on his side, but he feels an abortive twitch of his fingers at the reassuring sight of Batman. “‘S goin’ on?”

“What do you remember?”

Right. Bruce did not give easy answers. Life is a series of puzzles, Dick Grayson, fueled by none other than Bruce Wayne himself.

Dick frowns and casts his mind back. “The wall blew up,” he decides. “I got hurt?”

He’s only half sure about that last one, but considering his position on the ground, the throbbing in his head and hip, and Bruce’s concerned dad frown that’s taking over his Batman grimace, Dick thinks that he’s probably on the right track.

“Concussion,” Cass says, startling Dick when she pops her head over Bruce’s shoulder. “Also, ‘a sack of bruised bones.’”

That—sounds familiar. He thinks he remembers Jason saying something like that.

Bruce’s frown gets deeper. “Straighten your legs.”

“Please,” Dick tacks on for Bruce when he lacks the manners to be nice, basically on instinct at this point, even as he—slowly, and with a great deal of agony—does what Bruce tells him to do.

They go through a couple more tests, until finally Bruce, unhappy, deems, “We need to move you.”

Dick blinks when Bruce turns away to murmur something to one of the others. A conversation washes over him, and Dick can’t help but let himself tune it out. The noise settles as vague humming—indistinct and comforting.

“—two, three,” Bruce says as Dick’s entire vision goes white.

He only manages to come back to himself in increments.

There are arms holding him tight. Familiar murmurs in his ear. The comforting sound of Batman’s heavy cape brushing against concrete.

“—there, Chum,” Bruce is saying, and if Dick had the capability, he would have teased Bruce for pulling out both the concerned dad frown and the concerned dad voice in one night.

As it is, the only thing that comes out of his mouth when he opens it are harsh pants for air. Every step jostles him, and agony is his constant companion throughout the entire journey to the surface.

Somehow, Dick is still conscious when he’s laid down in the backseat of the batmobile. He’s grateful he’s not moving anymore, and carefully doesn’t think of the upcoming ride back to the Cave.

He only really starts to relax when Bruce settles the cape over him. Wrapped up inside it, Dick almost feels like he’s ten years old again. Batman’s has always felt like warmth and protection and home. This time is no different.

“Batgirl and Robin, keep Nightwing as still as possible. Red Hood, in the front. Start updating Oracle.”

“Why do they—”

“You’re too bulky, Hood. Me and Batgirl are smaller than you. It’s still going to be a tight fit, but it’s the most comfortable for everyone this way.”

“Whatever.”

“Enough. Car. Now.”

There’s lots of careful but hurried scrambling. Dick thinks he passes out a few times on the way back. He doesn’t remember much, either. Just bits and snatches here and there—His siblings talking to him, Bruce giving orders, Jason being snappy and unwittingly dragging Tim into an argument.

And then—he wakes up. A lot more clear-headed than he’d felt the last time he’d been conscious (though, that wasn’t saying much).

To Dick’s surprise, he’s on his side again, dressed in sweats with a pillow between his legs. He opens his eyes to the Wayne Manor living room, and—yes, he’s on the couch. The curtains are drawn, but it’s clearly sometime past sunrise.

Bruce is sitting cross-legged in front of him, reading a book.

“Bruce?” Dick calls, his voice still somewhat slurred. “Why’m I on the couch?”

“You started crying when I said you had to stay in the infirmary,” Bruce tells him, grabbing a bookmark and setting his book off to the side.

Dick frowns. He doesn’t remember that. Still, he manages to say, “You’re such a pushover.”

“How do you feel?”

Dick blinks a dozen times in a row, trying to assess his body and keep up with the change in subject. “Kinda woozy. My hip hurts a lot.”

“Hn.”

“Think I need to brush up on my Bat speak,” Dick murmurs. “Dunno what that one meant.”

Bruce hums again. “You’re incredibly lucky. We’ll need to be careful for the next few weeks.”

“What’s the diagnosis, doc?”

“Crush injuries to your legs and left hip. Not overly severe, and we managed to stabilize you once we realized you were in shock.”

Dick thinks about that for a second. “Concussion? I’m pretty sure I remember something about a concussion.”

“It’s mild,” Bruce tells him. “It was the shock that was the real problem.”

“Oh.” Dick sighs into the pillow under his head. “I’m tired.”

Bruce gives him a soft smile, just slight enough that if Dick hadn’t been so familiar with Bruce’s microexpressions, he would have thought he’d been mistaken. Fingers lightly card through his hair, and Dick’s eyes start closing of their own accord.

“Then sleep,” Bruce says.

Dick sleeps.

#dick grayson #jason todd #cassandra cain #bruce wayne #batclan #dc #camryn writes #brambleberrycottage #thank you for the prompt and your wonderful support!!!!

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