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tinydefector · 19 days

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Till all are one

The fic I did for the poll I did a few days ago because I wanted to make some angst for optimus.

I will do another poll in the future, and my poll fics are mainly going to be my own ideas for characters outside of the request.

Word count: 3k

Warning: fluffy, angst, death of reader

Optimus Prime x Human

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Soft eyes watch Optimus from a distance as he sits outside helm tilted towards the stars, blue optics glowing in the darkness of night, the deep whirl and clicking of his mechanic can be heard.

Optimus' optical sensors slowly dimmed offline as weighted thoughts drifted through his mind. The stars above shone as they had on that distant world so long ago, yet their familiar patterns could not dull the ache in his spark.

Their steps crunch the dirt and grass as they walk to join him, not wanting to alarm him they call out. "Can't sleep?" His audials detected soft footfalls nearby, Turning. He was unsurprised to find his small human friend joined him under the night sky. The human ask while moving to sit on the bolder beside Optimus, and they shoot him a soft smile. "What's on your mind, Optimus?" The familiar face drew the faintest smile across his own face as he rumbled softly, "Rest eludes me, it seems."

Gazing once more to the glittering heavens, he vented slowly. "Cybertron. My home. So much has changed since last I walked her metallic plains and gazed upon the gleaming Towers of Iacon. I never thought such little time on earth would make me miss home so much. I miss my mentor. " Memories flickered of mentors, friends, comrades, all lost to vorns of conflict.

"Codexa," he said quietly, almost to himself. "My teacher, my guide. I find myself wondering if I honour her teachings as I should or have strayed too far down my own path." His optics glowed faintly as ages-old lessons warred with the grim demands of war. Some burdens, it seemed, even starlight could not lift, nor ease his aching spark.

Their eyes linger on him for a moment. "Your mentor? I don't think I've ever heard you talk about a mentor, I thought you bots were just kinda built ready to fight, " they state while watching him. They watch the way his optics flicker to different stars. He looks tired, almost sad.

Optimus glanced down at his companion, realizing he'd never spoken to them of his earlier life. "It is true most Cybertronians are functionally programmed from the moment of sparking," he rumbled quietly. "But for those who aspired to roles beyond the norm, mentorship was invaluable."

Memories of those long-ago days surfaced once more as he spoke. "Codexa was an archivist, one who chronicled our world's history and shared knowledge with all who sought it. When I expressed interest in governance and diplomacy, she took me as her protégé and taught me much of what it means to lead. She taught me so much"

A smile ghosted his faceplates as small details came back to him. "She had a way with words. She believed the surest path to peace was understanding other perspectives. Some days, i wonder if that's the reason she became one with Cybertron. " His tone grew distant.

"Without her guidance, i wouldn't be who I am today, I fear many mistakes were made during the war, made by my own hands . All I can do now is try to follow the wisdom she instilled." His optics rose once more to the stars, as if searching for answers among their eternal patterns.

"What was she like?, she sounds rather sweet if your her protege."

Optimus vented softly at the memory of her. "Codexa possessed a kind and patient spark. Nothing gave her greater joy than helping others, whether through sharing knowledge or lending an audio in times of need."

A faint smile warmed his stoic features. "She was taller than most Archivists, with plating the shining silver-blue of circuitry filaments. And her optics... like pools of molten mercury, taking in all yet revealing little of her own depths. She had a way of listening with her entire being."

"She was taller than you?" They ask with a tilted head.

"She was much taller than me. I only reached the top of her chassis." he chuckles softly. His gaze grew distant as scenes from long ago played across his memory files. "Codexa saw value in all. It grieved her to see our world so divide."

Slowly, Optimus turned to them. Venting softly, "I miss her a lot. But taking her teachings to spark helps, but i miss her voice. However dark it may sometimes seem, she always knew how to solve things."

They move slowly, hoping from the rock to his knee plating, pulling themself up as they stand there, hands moving to press softly against his faceplate. "You can't change the past Optimus, learn from it, don't repeat it. Humans sadly haven't learnt that, we are on the verge of another war between ourselves too. So all I can say is, once the war for your planet is over, help others learn from the mistakes you made. You can't grow without mistakes" they state while smiling at him softly. It makes Optimus spark clench, they reminded him to much of so many their wisdom of Codexa, love for what they did reminded him of senator Shockwave and their spirit and drive reminded him of Megatron from before the war.

Optimus' optics glowed warmly as small hands offered what comfort they could against the ache of loss and regret. He lifted a great servo, cradling their slight form with utmost care.

"You speak wisdom far beyond your years, little one. My kind would do well to heed such counsel one day." His rumbling voice held an edge of solemn promise. "When at last this long war ends, i would be honoured to show you Cybertron as you have earth." He states softly, Gazing down at their upturned face, Optimus saw reflections of dear ones lost but never forgotten Codexa's compassion, Shockwave's vision of unity, Megatron's original desire to lift all from oppression. And he took comfort, knowing such virtues lived on through those who carried them in spark, no matter the shell.

"Thank you," he said softly. The two lay together on the dry grass as they looked up at the stars together. "You see that cluster of stars, that's the southern Cross, and that one there is Leo major, and Leo minor," they state while slowly pointing out different consolations. Optimus listened intently as small fingers traced constellations across the sweeping tapestry above. Though his database contained information on Earth's night skies, somehow, the guided tour felt different, more intimate.

"Fascinating," he rumbled softly. "The patterns you organics can discern amongst them is similar to our own." Slowly, his arm rose, a single digit extended to gently point. "And that collection there - if I am not mistaken, you call it Orion. Its placement near your winter skies is fitting." His voice, though deep, held a gentle warmth matched in the faint bluish glow emanating from his massive frame. Looking down at his small companion, he vented softly.

"Yea, that Orion belt didn't think you would know that one," they giggle as they lay their head against his chassis. Listening to the soft lure of his spark, a soft rumble of laughter emanated from Optimus' chest as he looked down at their silly delight. "Indeed, that particular constellation carries significance beyond mere astronomical fact," he said, tone warming with fond memory.

"When first I underwent the Ceremony of Namegiving as an initiate in the Halls of Iacon, Codexa guided my attention there, to the mighty hunter eternally aiming bow across the galaxy." One massive finger drew graceful lines to connect the three bright stars.

His optics dimmed briefly in solemn remembrance of his dear mentor and the young innocence of those long-ago days. But gazing once more to the stars, he continued gently, "So in a sense I know the great hunter well, Orion was my namesake and guide, my first gift from Codexa.” Their eyes widen, and their mouth opens slightly in shock before they utter lightly. "She named you, Orion?" They ask ever so softly while looking up into his optics.

Optimus gazed down at the small form nestled against his chestplates, surprise and gentle understanding in his optics. "Indeed, Orion Pax was the name given me by Codexa on the orn of my emergence, as is Cybertronian tradition," he replied in a quiet rumble.

His massive digits moved to tenderly cradle their slighter form, radiating comfort. "It has been many stellar cycles since I walked under that designation. But some part of that young archivist's spark remains within this frame, however changed by war and duty."

"Hunter of peace, how fitting," they hum softly, listening to the gentle pulse of his spark.

"Indeed," he rumbled softly. "Codexa saw potential where others did not." Optics gazing skyward once more, he traced with one finger the outline of that eternal hunter taking aim. "Perhaps in naming me Orion, she sensed her teachings would carry through the stellar cycles - that I would become not only a warrior, but a guardian of peace, a seeker of understanding among all peoples."

Venting softly, his field radiated quietly. "It is a legacy I strive to honour through each choice and action. However, the tides of war may seem to turn."

"Orion, I believe in you, I know its not much from a human, but I know some day you'll get to see Cybertron in her glory once again, maybe not the same but you'll get to go home one day I can feel it in my bones" they hum softly.

Optimus' optics glowed with gratitude at the simple yet earnest words of support from his dear friend. "Your faith means more to this old warrior than you can know," he rumbled softly.

Massive fingers traced gentle patterns against their back as his field radiated warmth. "Through vorns of conflict, it has often been the courage and compassion of smaller souls." he leans down and presses a soft kiss to their forehead. Gazing once more to the starry sky stretching peacefully and eternal above, he vented quietly. "Some stellar cycles, the dream of Cybertron healed, seem remote as those distant lights. But you give me hope."

Slowly, a hint of smile tipped his stoic faceplates. "And perhaps, when that orn comes to pass swiftly, you and yours shall witness its splendour of my own planet”

their prediction was true. He had made it back to Cybertron. New Cybertron. Yet it left him feeling hollow. That memory plays over in his mind often. Their smile, eyes filled with so much hope, hope for a world they never got to see. So close yet so far away. He holds their cold body as he walks the long trails to the heart of Cybertron. To where Codexa and the shines of others he had lost.

Each silent footfall fell heavy as the aged mechanism whined as they carried Optimus through the gleaming, unfamiliar canyons of New Cybertron. Though his optics beheld grandeur rebuilt from eons of ruin, within only emptiness echoed.

He reached the sanctuary composed of monument and memorial. Gently, with infinite care and sorrow, Optimus laid his precious burden at the base beside so many others given in sacrifice. Small fingers, long since stilled.

He knelt beside the slight form, optics dimming as memory files surged forth - of shared worlds beneath starlight, and dreams of a peace finally wrested from madness and conflict. His digits gently trace their face.

"Orion, you have come to visit me"

Codexa's voice echoes glitchy but her form doesn't move from its spot.

Orion started gently at the familiar voice resonating through the crystalline sanctuary. Turning, he beheld Codexa's shimmering form slowly coalescing from the connecting filaments, her energy signature merging into a luminous projection.

"Codexa," he replied softly, optics glowing with warmth and ache of remembered joys mingled with the vorns past. Slowly, he knelt before her luminous presence, great head bowed in respect and sorrowful remembrance.

"It has been long indeed since last we spoke," he continued gently. Lifting his gaze once more, hints of bittersweet smile ghosted his stoic faceplates. "I come only to pay respects to you and those whose lights have rejoined the Allspark, leaving this someone dear to me."

"Who do you lay with me?"

She asked softly over the figure being laid before her, the human who had passed before getting to see Cybertron in her glory.

"A dear friend who saw me through darkness you could not imagine, they mean more to me than i can put into words," rumbled Optimus gently. "One whose brief spark brought light to this weary warrior when all seemed lost, i wish they got to see Cybertron, but now this is the best i can offer them."

With infinite care and sorrow, he reached to cradle the small still form in massive servos, gazing upon stilled features. Turning optics of fading glow upward once more, he continued softly, "This one gave hope in hours where none seemed possible, helped this old soldier recall why your lessons must never fade, you would have enjoyed talking with them."

Venting softly, memory files surged of innocence resting secure in his palm so long ago. " their heart was young, within a beat of courage to out shine stars. Now decay has claimed what war and time could not. But their light, as yours, have been a gift to me"

Optimus bowed his head. His mentor's tall frame was barely more than flickering lines of code now, held intact solely by the crystal lattice connecting aged components. But through the still-functioning optics' dim glow, he sensed her familiar soothing energy fields reach out to envelop his own in quiet solace.

"I will guard them as I have many before"

Beside Codexa's resting place, the severed halves of Senator Shockwave plating also lay shrouded by millennia, their vibrancy lost to the eons but memory intact within Optimus' archives.

Reaching out briefly to caress a crumbling digit in farewell, Optimus turned last to the slight form now cradled into eternal recharge among these guardians of his spark. Small and fragile in death as in life. Venting softly, he spoke words meant for audials long since fallen silent. "Until all are one. Rest now, beloved friends"

His optics glowed with promise as he finished his solemn duty, then rose and turned to walk on, as always, beneath the stars shining endlessly on.

"Thank you, Carrier," he calls softly.

_________

Taglist: @angelxcvxc

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korpuskat · 1 year

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Core Voltage [Ramattra/Reader]

[Ao3 Mirror] Pairing: Ramattra/Reader Rating: Explicit WC: 3,750 Warnings: technically mild somnophilia & mild dubcon, wireplay

“I need your assistance. It is… a delicate issue.” He says. The hesitance in his voice box immediately piques your interest. “I am in the process of some upgrades. The housing for my power unit is failing and needs to be replaced.”

“Upgrading yourself sounds pretty normal, Ramattra.” You shrug. “Why would you need my help?”

“The power unit itself must be disconnected before the housing can be replaced.” He says flatly. You stare at him, not quite understanding yet. His shoulders drop and he rephrases: “I must be offline to replace the housing.”

“Oh.”

Ramattra lifts himself onto the worktable, gestures for you to come closer. All around the room, he’s surrounded by a variety of tools and screens. You won’t need these he had assured you. You hope he’s right.

“All you will have to do is remove my power unit, remove the original housing, place the new housing, return the power unit, and restart me.” He says it like it’s nothing, not even giving you his full attention- his hands are at his rib-like adornments. You don’t even know what he’s doing- until the seals release and the front of his body opens before you. Warm air rushes out freely, usually confined to exiting through the vents on his back.

Inside, his machinery is whirring, fans spinning rapidly, wires of all colors wrapped around his chassis, leading in and out of various computational squares you can’t identify on sight. Almost all components were never produced or designed by human hands.

“Here.” He says, and points to a silver cylinder in the upper part of his chest. It’s surrounded by a black metal box- that may once have had a front lid from the hinge on the top. It doesn’t now, of course- and you inch ever closer to see the remnants of broken, aging solder. You swallow, “Is it already loose enough to come off?”

“It’s only held on by the wires that pass through it.”

You cringe and look again. Sure enough, the rainbow of wires are threaded right through tiny holes at the base of the box, leading into the bottom of the power unit.

“Once I shut myself down- and wait for me to be completely offline- rotate the power unit clockwise, then place it somewhere safe.” Left unspoken is the I cannot boot without it, or the ever worse There are very few R-7000 power units left in the world. “Then remove the wires from the power unit base. All you need to do is re-thread the wires into the new housing and plug them in. I can finish the attachment when I have rebooted.”

“How will you know when to power on? Do I have to reboot you?”

Ramattra nods once, the ribbon cables on his head and dysfunctional housing swaying with the movement. This time he reaches up to his face- and his face plate comes right off. He continues motioning, pointing somewhere under his optics. His exposed optics. You can’t really hear what he’s saying.

They actually look like eyes, even the servos’ casing attached had once been painted red. You can’t help but stare- watching as they spin and twitch, focusing. Or- or the rest of his face, for that matter; the LEDs of his forehead exposed, the glow much more diffused without the face plate’s pinpoint openings- two wires running along the surface of his not-skull like veins.

He stopped talking at some point. There’s something uncomfortable in the room. As much as your fascination has made you stare, something darker is settling in Ramattra’s shoulders.

It’s somehow worse that he doesn’t emote without the faceplate. With it, at least it’s obvious there’s no moving parts exposed that he could emote with-- no eyes to meet your gaze. Now, he should be able to have eyebrows, to squint at you, to scowl.

His voice is slightly clearer. “I apologize, I forgot you had not seen this.” The words are polite, but his tone is curt, short and sharp. He’s offended.

“Sorry,” You say and step closer. “I’m sorry.” You reach out to him and touch something familiar; his knee, then one hand. He lets you, but does not reciprocate when you squeeze. “You’re right, I hadn’t seen this before. It’s…”

“Unnerving? Threatening?” He spits. Is that what he thinks? That without his faceplate you can only see him as a Ravager?

You scowl at him. He should know you better. “If I took off my skin, showed you my organs, and said ‘hey come take this one out’, you’d be pretty unnerved too.” You step closer, fully between his dangling legs now.

“That’s hardly the same thing.” He counters, but the bite is already gone from his voice.

You reach up, almost having to stretch to touch the side of his face. You’re careful, only caressing his jaw, nothing that’s been revealed to you- just in case. “Promise it’s easy?” You hesitate, “That you’ll come back?”

“I promise.”

With nothing else to say, Ramattra leans back on the table, seems to hesitate on his elbows, before sighing and laying down entirely. His eyes don’t close, he doesn’t adjust to get comfortable, his version of falling asleep is nothing so human. The LEDs that adorn his body turn off first, then slowly the fans and soft hums of machinery quiet down until all that’s left is your own breathing.

Still, you give it a moment. Completely offline is what he had said, if there’s any data that hasn’t yet been cleared, you don’t want to know what happens if it doesn’t disperse on its own.

“Ramattra?” You ask quietly.

The silvery shell before you doesn’t answer. It’s as good a cue as any.

It occurs to you immediately that working on him from the side of the table is completely out of the question. It’s much too awkward an angle to reach up and over his sides and then down into… well, into him. So you crawl up onto the table itself and situate yourself across his lap. If you weren’t actively performing omnic heart surgery, you’d let your mind wander on the more enjoyable possibilities of your thighs bracketing his waspish waist.

Instead, you swallow and reach into the cavity of his chest. The power source is easily removed- only a half-turn to the right and something clicks, disconnecting it from the base. You set it carefully, oh so carefully, on the table near his shoulder. Here, it was a little trickier- only because you had to disconnect each wire individually. At least the brackets that held the wires in place a few inches out from the housing box made it easy to know where each wire would be plugged in again. Tediously, you got to work.

Finally, with the multicolored wires standing free, you grasp the housing box itself. It breaks off, leaving a dusting of solder as you take it. “Fuck,” you mutter. The pieces are too fine for you to pick up; you just have to hope it’s not going to hurt him.

You place the new box where the old one was and work in reverse- threading each wire in through the pre-drilled holes and then plugging them into the silver circular base. It’s repetitive, boring work, but you can’t let yourself get distracted; you’re almost done. When they’re all woven through, each and every color lined up distinctly with its correct port, you pick up the cylinder again. It’s a curiosity you’d never really wanted to investigate before- but as it is, the power source reveals nothing to you. You slot it into the place, exhale slowly, and rotate it counter-clockwise until it again clicks and locks.

You swallow thickly. Well, it’s done… one way or the other. You reach up to his face- and oh, it’s still so strange seeing beneath the faceplate. The aperture of his optics is relaxed, entirely open, staring sightlessly up at the ceiling with a flat, black gaze. You touch the structure that would be his cheek and shudder with the intimacy of it. None of this was meant to be touched by human hands, but here you were. Mimicking the motion Ramattra had shown you, you found the input just inside his skull.

Immediately his body begins thrumming with electricity- and you sigh with relief. At least you got that part right. The LEDs along his body light up automatically, smaller lights along his inner cavity glow white, Something inside him begins humming. You sit back into his lap again, watching the small changes of how his platform boots up.

You should get off him- it’ll be a minute before he’s truly conscious. You know this.

Instead, you touch the edge of the opening, along the ridge where the front of his chestplate will join together. The air inside him is already beginning to warm, but his fans have a leisurely pace- cooling fresh air is taken in by his entire front opening, keeping his system well below thresholds. It’s captivating- so much of the process you can’t actually see, contained within CPUs and GPUs and the hundreds of little wires that run through his entire body. But you’re watching him wake up, staring down at him while he’s the most vulnerable you’ve ever seen him.

You dip your thumb around the ridge this time, gently tracing a red-white-green bundle of cables that twist from one little chip down the inside of his chest.

He’d never talked about it. No, you had heard from another omnic. One of his lieutenants, but you’d never tell Ramattra that. Most omnics were not originally built with… well, any means of direct, raw pleasure. Some chose to get that hardware upgrade later, but for the rest there was usually a workaround. It hadn’t particularly appealed to you before.

“We could try that for now,” You had suggested once, before he’d designed his own upgrade. Just an idea, so you could do something for him. Ramattra had scoffed at the idea, made some dismissive comment. You never knew if it was because he was truly uninterested or if he simply didn’t trust you that much yet.

It’s different, somehow, actually staring into the thrumming heart of him. The temptation of finding out which wires are which, of making a little catalog in your mind- each color getting a little flag for how much they make his synth glitch, if they make his optics go snowy, which ones would make him tip his head back and sigh. You shouldn’t, but you rock against the curved plating of his pelvis, sate yourself with a chaste touch along the inside of his casing again.

It’s the whirring of the apertures you hear first. Looking up confirms it: without yet raising his head, his optics have shifted downward, focusing on you. The haze clears from your mind, replaced by shame.

“Really?” He says, exasperated. “You’re insatiable.” Your cheeks burn, immediately you drop your head and begin to scoot off him. His hands are at your hips before you can even lift a leg. Instead he’s pulling you closer, pulling you down against him, igniting more of that quiet friction you were aching for.

Normally, you’d brace your hands on his chest, but as it is your awkward grasp around his ribs gives you too little leverage. Ramattra must realize this too, holding your still-grinding hips in place as he sits up. It doesn’t, however, help that him sitting means you’re still face-to-chest with the same wires that had taunted you into this situation. It takes all your will power to wrap your hands around his neck, instead.

“What is your obsession with this?” He doesn’t let go of your hips, keeping you in place- a quiet sign he expects an actual answer from you.

“I’m not obsessed.” You whine, and, well, it was true. It hadn’t even crossed your mind again since you’d first mentioned it. “I never get to see you like this; you looked so… vulnerable. It’s all foreign and new.”

Ramattra draws back a little, creates a breath of space between your bodies. Between it and his locked grip on your hips, you wilt and prepare to concede your whim. It’s fine, really, so long Ramattra will at least fuck you properly- sooner rather than later. But instead he stares down at you- which is actually somehow worse than his open displeasure. It makes the skin at the base of your neck prickle, your fingers slide cautiously over his broad shoulders.

And at long last- Ramattra sighs. You brace for the lecture, the sour explanation of how dangerous it is (you know), that you have no idea what you’re doing (you know), that he’s never- “Go on then,” He says- and leans back, bracing himself on his hands.

You blink up at his unarmored face- his revealed optics making it all seem so much more personal. Really? With trembling hands you skirt down from his shoulders, over his sides, fingertips catching on each rib, but not delving into the dark gaps between. “You’re sure?”

“I can’t say I haven’t been… tempted.” His voice drops, low and cautious. “It has been… some time since I last indulged that particular whim.”

You can’t help but grin and embrace the flood of warmth that follows his confession. “You’ve done this before?” You ask, aware of the thin ice you’re treading on. In exchange you let one hand dip inside him and slide along the black protective box you just installed. His head drops, optics following your wrist into his own chest. Can he feel this yet- can he feel that at all? you wonder.

“A few times.” Ramattra all but murmurs. You trace your index finger along a thick, black-rubber coated cable that winds down to his hips. A simulated inhale is your reward. “You can be firmer with the bundles.” He advises, then adds, “Lots of insulation.”

The specifics of just how this worked had never actually come up, leaving you with a general idea and an abundance of curiosity. Immediately you follow his recommendation- taking the cables entirely in hand and squeezing. It’s hardly enough to bend the heavy coating- and yet Ramatra’s fingers curl around the sides of the worktable, his head drops back, the ribbon cables of his mane falling off his shoulders. The ends of each clatter together loudly, but not loud enough to cover the half-muted buzzing that slips from Ramattra’s vocoder.

Your hips move against him of their own volition- and that leads to an actual growl from him. This time, your fingertips dance over a webbed array of wires of various colors. Ramattra’s shoulders jerk, an actuator moving on its own momentarily, followed by his ventilation speeding up, fans humming despite the openness of his chest. It’s intoxicating. You single out a bright red cord and gently twist it between your fingers. “Fu-uck.” The aperture of his optics whirs closed and he doesn’t bother trying to keep himself upright, sliding down to be resting on his elbows.

“What is it like?” You ask, but don’t slow your explorations. How could you, when the possibility of his voice box glitching out is so tantalizingly close?

“It’s static.” He says, shuddering as you walk your fingers across a twisted set of blue and white wires. You spot a bright yellow wire that runs straight up into his throat. “White noise in my syst-EMS!” His tone doesn’t actually change to an exclamation- his raw volume blows into a buzzing mess before clicking off and restoring itself. “It’s different th-an just pleasure.”

“So what if I was riding you at the same time?” Devilish, you can’t help yourself but to once again rock down against the outer plating of Ramattra’s lap.

The worktable damn near creaks with how hard Ramattra grabs it, then follows with a deep groan, “Are you trying to crash me?”

You spy a little bundle of wires, bound together as they run along one of the horizontal struts of Ramattra’s back. “Maybe,” your murmur, and find a place where they wind together, then split, some entering deeper into his frame. “Isn’t that the point? Can’t you cum from this?”

You don’t actually give him a chance at all. Which is extremely rewarding when he modulates a scoff, “A roll-ing -ing” His voice box glitches then cuts out entirely. You rub along that junction of wiring, tugging gently one way then the other.

Ramattra goes completely still- and silent as he is you’d almost think you did crash him, if it weren’t for the sudden brightening of his LEDs. It’s… refreshing to see him laid so bare for you. As he partially reloads yet again, you stroke his exposed cheek, swiping a thumb below his optics. After a minute, Ramattra’s synthesized breathing resumes and you prompt him “Rolling?”

“Rolling partial shut down,” He says, almost dreamily. “Different from a human orgasm.”

“Sure.” You’ll let him have it for now, even if the outcomes look identical. “Then is that something I can do for you?”

A long silence ensues- the metaphorical gears in Ramattra’s head must be turning, weighing his options. The longer you’re manipulating his sensitive innermost parts, the higher the chance you hit something bad- and a predictable, replicable, intentionally programmed orgasm from fucking must be wildly safer than whatever random data overload you were wreaking across his systems. And yet, the reward must outweigh the risk because he sighs. “Yes.” He adjusts again, lays himself entirely down and cautiously adjusts his hands to drape over the sides of the table. “Just- keep doing that.”

It’s all the approval you need to grin wildly and dig into him. At the same juncture you pinch the entire bundle of wires and roll them. Immediately Ramattra groans, loud and sustained- his voice box struggles to keep the pitch even. Instead, his back arches towards you- and you’re not even sure if it’s because of how you’re manipulating his wiring. You squeeze tighter, feel the thin rubber insulation flatten under your thumb- and Ramattra’s optics tick upwards, too sharp to be controlled.

His groan lowers into a deep rumbling from his speakers. He’s much too put-together, the only option is to double down. So as you keep thumbing at that bundle of wires, your other hand sinks inside him. For a moment, you just barely touch the same thick, black cable you’d started with- and you can feel the stutter in his ventilation. Then, you give it the exact same treatment. Taking the cable into your hand, you squeeze it, move the pressure across each of your fingers- and with each one Ramattra twitches in a new way- his wrists, neck, knees each giving unbidden jerks as you massage the heavy rubber.

Ramattra’s hands curl into fists, but he doesn’t grab the table. Instead, his head rolls to the side, still making soft noises that may have once been moans before the distortions you’re feeding his systems. It’s still not quite enough- he’s close, if you had to bet. You keep him there- repeating the same motions over and over, just to watch him twitch and writhe. It’s a rare treat and you have every intention of burning the memory into your head before you bring him over the edge.

It’s almost fuzzed out entirely, lost into a crack of his voice: “Do it,”

You almost snicker, of course he can’t entirely give up control, but you can’t say no to him. Your weight comes on to the handful of wires- more on the thick cable than the twisting junction. That alone makes his thighs jerk, his heels scraping on the table. But that’s just a bonus: you lean all the way over him- and first, lay a kiss to the corner of his purple jaw piece, soft and sweet.

And then you move to his throat.

The metal of the actuators there is cold- and tastes of oil as you lick up one length. It’s enough to bring on another staticky moan- all sexual. But when you take another one of his thick black cables- the same ones that run along his neck- into your mouth and tug it away from his head, it’s all over.

A hundred servos all get wrong information at the same time; each joint of his fingers bending a different way- but every single one of them tenses. His head tips back, exposes the same cable to your teeth. And then- it’s like you’d turned off an old radio, his voice dies out with a crackle and then a click. And then silence.

The hum of his electronics, the motors to his fans have all turned off.

You let go of his wiring and sit back. Even the lights on his LEDs have gone dark.

He’s even courteous enough to not let you get anxious about him; before the thought really crosses your mind, he begins to hum once more. It sounds nice- smoother, somehow. The apertures of his optics whir, flexing open and closed as they begin to focus. From this angle, you can just barely make out a red light from within.

Unlike a human, his actuators did not relax as soon as he shut down. Instead, now that he’s conscious again, they each slide down into what must be their default position- simulating relaxation.

You don’t speak, giving him a moment to get his bearings once more. He must appreciate it, because after a few moments, his large hands rest on your hips. They’re just a comforting pressure- and you must know you’ve really made a mess of him because he hasn’t even tried to slide them under your shirt.

“How was that?” You ask anyway.

Ramattra makes a noise- what may have been a scoff. “I have 492 warning messages and 2,304 caution notifications.”

You cringe and stroke your thumbs over the hard ridges of his rib adornments. “Nothing serious?”

The red in his optics seems to flicker- his HUD updating as he navigates the errors. “No, nothing serious.” He says finally- and you can actually relax. He waits a moment, then raises one hand to your low back, dipping into the curve there. “It was… refreshing.”

The praise makes your cheeks flush. “I’m glad.”

His fingers slide along your spine, slowly pulling your shirt up with it. “Now, must I fuck you immediately or may I finish repairing my power unit housing first?”

#ramattra x reader #Ramattra #overwatch #overwatch x reader #Ramattra x you #overwatch x you #reader insert

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shepscapades · 7 months

Note

Hiii I LOVEEEEE your DBC AU so much!!!!! You've given me a concerning level of brainrot =w= I just have question about the new part that just came out: why is Etho going crazy? Is it bc of the trauma? Or is it smth else?

HI thank you!!! <3 It’s been mentioned here and there (I think I talked about it in the Part 1 post), but it’s probably not a bad idea to recap every now and then for any new folks. (I then proceeded to write everything out more detail than I’ve ever talked about it before!) so hopefully this makes things a little more clear! Gbjdghkvjm

Etho, who was still trying to get used to a full range of emotions on top of his first life series, had a REALLY hard time with how Last Life ended— the adrenaline and fear of Death Games’ Survival of the Fittest and being pit against all of his friends is one thing, but something about his relationship with bdubs was so much more important to him, and he essentially blames himself for bdubs’ permanent death in the series. He vividly remembers (has recorded + logged the memories of) himself telling bdubs he wouldn’t give him a life unless he killed one of the other reds— remembers bdubs saying he’ll kill to earn the life, remembers him looking so earnest and determined, vividly remembers the moment the message rang out that Bdubs had gotten his kill, and the message that Grian had killed Bdubs shortly after.

Etho never quite forgave himself for being the self-perceived reason bdubs dies (after all, he should have just given bdubs the life if he really cared and wanted him to survive), and he takes this grief back with him as they return to Hermitcraft Season 8. As someone who’s very new to feelings of guilt and failure, you can imagine how hard he took this— reviewing the memories again and again, trying to understand why he made those decisions, realizing how selfish he is, comparing his “failure to protect bdubs” to when he was first assigned to Bdubs, when he sacrificed himself to keep Bdubs safe.

As the moon situation escalated and hermitcraft got increasingly busy, Etho couldn’t find it in himself to confront bdubs (maybe not seeing himself fit to deserve bdubs’ forgiveness, or fearing Bdubs’ disappointment or anger with him) and his fears and regrets kind of slowly ate away at him until it shut him down. It’s actually a recurring theme for Etho that, because of the damage he sustained from the creeper blast that caused his deviancy, his systems are actually kind of fragile when it comes to pushing them to their extremes. When he feels an extraordinary amount of overwhelming emotion, his thirium pump starts to work in overdrive, and thirium starts leaking from all of the places his shell is cracked— his face, his shoulder, and his arm.

So the idea is that, Etho returns to Season 8 trying to… more or less forget about what happened— except he can’t, he’s obsessed with what happened, and his emotions start to overwhelm him until thirium starts to leak and whatnot. But I think deviants are fairly used to “dismissing” warnings, as sometimes their thirium pump will skip, their temperature will rise, or other system updates may happen when they feel certain emotions, and Etho is so distracted (or. Trying to be distracted) that he doesn’t realize he’s dismissing Thirium Loss notifications until it’s too late. He begins to shut down with Last Life on his mind, and the system errors that follow are all garbled out.

This technically happens before the moon destroys the server, which means etho is offline, or broken, or what have you, when the server gets destroyed, and this is actually what truly glitches him out. When Xisuma and Doc try to reboot him at the beginning of season 9, Etho’s system is caught on a glitch: Etho had shut down thinking about last life, so his programming is trying to eliminate the threat who killed bdubs as an attempt to fix what happened (bdubs dying). Etho’s trying to eliminate grian (who isn’t a threat anymore, because this isn’t last life, last life was ages ago) but he’s not thinking straight and can’t process anything beyond the Desperation+Fear+Guilt. Since Grian’s not in the room, he goes for the next best thing: the person who might be able to tell him where Grian is: the server admin. Doc just gets in the way of Etho trying to get to Xisuma, so Etho “decommissions” Doc in an attempt to remove him from the equation.

So um. Yeah! That should be everything more or less explained… hopefully it also clears up some details you may or may not notice in the comics! Etho starts leaking thirium throughout the destruction comics, Etho goes for Xisuma first… Etho having memory flashbacks of Last Life. If anything is particularly confusing feel free to ask more questions! But it’s kinda nice to be able to write out how I’ve logic’d out all of this happening in my head hehe (i plan on posting the DBHC Etho playlist soon with a brief explanation of each song in Etho’s timeline, so hopefully that will help too!) :]

#ask #dbhc #dbhc ask #coracyshard #dbhc etho #dbhc xisuma #dbhc doc #destruction #dbhc theories

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amypihcs · 21 days

Text

So i'm dead.

@contact-guy's beautiful comic (i loved it, truly, it killed me.) and watching Hellsing with an offline friend of mine killed me THROUGHLY.

And since i fear i'm figuring out how Holmes and Watson's relationship will evolve into @contact-guy's comic serie i'll curse you with the HCs i made with my dear @i-dont-talk-for-days-on-end today talking about my future drawing of Watson with his loves, Holmes and Mary.

You can probably tell i'm emotionally devastated because my writing is more inconsistent than my usual.

So.

For me is very important that Mary gets treated well, since she exists in canon and is a fantastic woman. And i also love to think that she and Holmes are friends, after all they both love Watson.

My take is, Watson and Mary have kind of a façade marriage based on good friendship and comradeship but without love and generally without sex.

This could work in two ways, both of which are incredibly nice one:

Aroace Mary who needs some sort of social respectability coming from a marriage and got lucky enough to find a man as good and kind as Watson who is more than willing to help her to achieve it without endangering her

Lesbian or Bi Mary in a relationship with a girl, probably her ex employer, could be someone else, who still needs the respectability and stability coming from a marriage and is still lucky enough to find our favourite bisaster, Dr John H. Watson, who is also bisexual and in a relationship with a man and would benefit a lot from the cover of a respectable marriage.

The first one is rather easy to treat. Watson and Mary make good friends during Sign of Four, Holmes notices/guesses that Mary is acespec like him (my Headcanon for Holmes is that he is demigay) and when Watson proposes and she accepts they put immediately straight that it won't be a consummated marriage, ever.

The second one develops in the same way, and this makes so much more explainable the many times Mary is mentioned to be away visiting relatives in canon. Mary is with her partner, Watson is with his partner.

Now angst warning!

Sherlock Holmes looks very favorably upon Watson's marriage, he is in fact the one that pushes Watson into it, and for very good reasons.

Let's put sign of four in 1887, alright? Chances are high he was already pursuing Moriarty, or that he generally was realizing more and more the risk of dying on the job, well, Holmes is a smart man. And a clever, practical and caring one as well. he is a man who loves deeply and cares deeply and wants to always have his affairs in order.

Is it too much of a stretch to imagine that he realizes the higher and higher risk of SOMETHING BAD happening? I don't think so. And he knows that Watson could get caught in the crossfire and he wants of course to protect Watson and offer him some saving net.

He pushes Watson into this marriage that will not mean the end of their relationship but the creation of another meaningful relationship for his love, so that SHOULD I DIE he will have someone to help him weather the storm (would watson care, would he? nobody ever did, but WATSON. Watson cares for everyone... would watson care...). The marriage also means that he will go back into practice, and this is an economic safe net, something always good. Their relationship is of course carefully concealed but such a handsome, sociable, perfect man as Watson is staying unmarried and living with a bachelor friend might give rouse to suspects, marriage will give his incredible partner respectability, something Moriarty or anybody won't dare to attack without sure cards in his hands, and Holmes will make sure NOBODY has any such cards.

Holmes is no coward, but he's not stupid either. He knows his job is dangerous and it might lead to really bad things happening, so he is happy when Watson tells him Mary said yes. He is happy on the morning of the wedding, he is the man who ties Watson's tie and then kisses his lips. He tells his husband to go marry, enjoy his honeymoon and start his life with his wife. And then come back to him, to their rooms and their love. And they both will have tears in their eyes. Holmes will not be at the cerimony, nor will Mary's wife. But they will always support their partners.

Holmes OF COURSE will sulk for a bit, until Scandal in Bohemia. He did what was right, but he still feels lonely. And then Watson comes back. And they're together once more, they're in love and they can break the world apart. And then comes 1890. Watson is a bit more settled down, Holmes has his affairs in order, he can set to the work of his life. And then comes 1891.

Holmes is afraid.

They set fire to their rooms. Home is not safe anymore.

Reichenbach comes.

Holmes is not suicidal, he is terrified. And yet he will once more put Watson's happiness in front of his own. He will not put his husband in front of an impossible choice. He drafts a letter in his head. He leaves it under a silver cigarette case.

He can't imagine he will only see his husband three years later.

His plans worked and failed. But they're back together. Holmes will finally talk. There's a broken window in 221b Baker Street, they're both older, more tired. A bit sad at how things turned out. Mary is dead. Holmes couldn't have forseen that. And yet after some days, after a dinner. Watson will pat the empty spot on his left on the couch, he's still sitting in the center. He will hug Holmes close to his chest, they will remember the times all three of them hugged, Watson and his loves, Mary on the right, Holmes on the left. Holmes on the heart's side, Mary on the reason's side. They will cry. And remember. And be glad for what have been and look forward to what will be.

They're older, more sure of themselves. Watson's status as a widower is respectable enough, he murmurs in the dark. He will only be married to one man for the rest of his life. The following morning, Holmes presents Watson with a French gold coin, for his Watch chain. That will be their ring, their memento.

Years will pass, they will retire, they will always be together, because they never lived, so they can never die. Outside the rain pours and the cabs rattle in the streets.

And it is.

Always.

1895.

Okay, sorry for the immense rant, i have tears streaming down my face, my j'accuse is up in the first lines and it's also my thank you for getting the balls to write this rant on holmes, watson and mary.

#victorian husbands #sherlock holmes #john watson #mary morstan #mary watson

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coconutdays · 2 years

Text

Strawberries and Burgers

College AU! Eren Yeager x Reader.

Part 1. Part 2.

Warnings: just fluff I think for now T^T and some suggestive themes!

What the fuck is wrong with me

It's all Eren can think when he sees you doing your homework at the campus cafe and he just can't muster the courage to go up to you. God, you guys had just scheduled your date with each other two days ago, it can't be that hard to approach you right now.

Actually...

it is that hard.

You were typing away on your laptop, your headphones placed snugly on either side of your head, clueless to the world around you. You looked good doing it too.

You looked so fucking good doing it.

You were bare faced, something he wasn't surprised about considering he stalked your instagram that one time three nights ago after Jean's party and found a few photos of you just as make up free. You had really nice collarbones, the tank top and oversized hoodie combo adorning you emphasized it perfectly for him.

How did he score a date with you?

He wasn't in your line of sight since he was in the campus goodies shop across from the cafe, so he didn't need to hide when you took off your headphones and picked up your phone.

That sickeningly sweet smile of yours he couldn't get out of his head spread across your lips just as fast as he felt his phone vibrate. You had already warned him you were going to study and be offline for a bit, but he sure hated your restraint from him.

You had finally responded to him after an hour.

His last text to you had been a confession of how much he liked the way you smelled when he first met you followed by a series of texts on how he tried to defend how creepy it sounded in the most heartfelt way possible (which did not work, but you found the effort adorable.)

y/n: perv!!!!

y/n: not letting this sniffer anywhere near me whatsoever on our date.

He looked up at you for a second and saw you giggling to yourself.

So fucking cute.

Eren: :<

Eren: That's okay, as long as I get to look at you I'll be happy.

Why was he so cute?

The mere words he sent to you now displayed on the screen of your phone made you cover your eyes in pure embarassment. How he managed to make you feel like a lovesick middle schooler again was a mystery to you.

Hopefully he'd stay after your first date together.

Straining against the heat on your cheeks, you responded to his text.

y/n: Okayyyyy maybe one sniff

y/n: just cause that sounded sweet

Eren: sounded sweet huh

Eren: *img*

Eren: I should run out of gum more often. Had the best view when I was choosing between spearmint and watermelon.

He had sent a photo of you just moments ago, silently squealing into your hand.

Your mouth went agape as you chose to respond to him, trying to scour your surroundings to find out what angle he took that picture from.

y/n: AND YOU DIDN'T COME UP TO ME???

y/n: wowwwww. really waiting to see me until our date huh.

Eren: I would if it didn't look like you were actually studying.

Eren: I'll gladly buy you a frapuccino if you want me to come up to you.

y/n: A frap isn't necessary but I wouldddd like your presence.

He left on you on read the second you responded. If he was just as near as the photo made it look then he would-

"Hey."

This wasn't fair at all.

Eren Yeager is hot. You gathered that when you met him and couldn't ever stop believing it. He was tall, pretty, toned, and had an alluring personality.

Eren Yeager is hot and at this moment in time, such words didn't seem to suffice to explain how good he looked right now.

He was wearing those slutty guy shorts.

The ones that showed how sculpted his thighs were.

Yeah.

Those.

You instinctively smiled, "Hey."

He pulled a chair to sit close to you, but not enough to invade your personal space.

He raised a finger up before you could speak again, "By the way this is not our first date. When I'm helping you choose between risotto and gnocci this weekend, your computer is not gonna be third wheeling."

"I know." You took a sip of your frapuccino, " This is just us friends hanging out."

Eren laughed before leaning on the table, " You know I don't wanna be your friend."

You feigned sadness, "You don't wanna be my friend?"

Smirking, he leaned a bit closer to you, "Do you let your friends kiss you?"

"Nope."

"Then I don't wanna be your friend."

"What's that got to do hm?" You crossed your arms over each other.

"I wanna kiss you."

Chills ran down your spine and you had to distract yourself from making a fool of yourself in front of him.

"I wouldn't recommend it right now, my mouth tastes like pure coffee and caramel syrup."

He let out an airy laugh, flicking your forehead softly, "That's fine by me. Just tell me when you want me to."

You bit down the smile coming to your lips and shook your head.

What a fucking flirt.

"The restaurant we're going to has strawberry gelato. If you order it you could smell and taste like strawberries."

"Wouldn't you like that hm." You shook your head

"I'd go crazy for it, but that's just a suggestion." He tried to non chalantly lean away while raising his hands up.

"You're such a loser." You giggled

Eren's cheeks flared up, something you didn't know could happen to him.

If he knew his face was bright red, he didn't care because he started to smile and leaned close to you again.

"I like your giggle."

His face was mere inches away from yours and you couldn't stop yourself from quickly turning yours away to avoid the heat creeping up your neck.

However, just as quickly, he softly grasped your cheek and turned you to look at him.

"Don't pussy out loser."

You forced yourself to keep the eye contact with him, "From what hm."

"From me."

Fuck, he made you smile so much your cheeks hurt.

"You make me nervous. I can pussy out a little bit."

His forest lined irises were on you, just staring back at you.

"Trust me. You make me even more nervous." He confessed, softly swiping his thumb on your cheek

"Then why aren't you showing it?"

He changed the momento of the situation by letting go of you and shrugging his shoulders very cockily, "Gotta impress the girl I like."

"Oh! That reminds me. What's the dress code for our date?" You took your phone out while he scooted closer to you.

Eren thought for a second, "Well I was thinking of wearing a black dress shirt and black dress pant combo."

You opened your phone to your photo gallery, showing him three dresses, "Which one do you think is best suited to the restaurant. I ordered them last week and they're all supposed to get here tomorrow morning."

He leaned close to you over your shoulder to get a good look as you swiped between them and couldn't stop himself from pushing your finger away to stop from scrolling.

"That one."

That one was a red dress. It wasn't too fancy considering the color it was, but it wasn't any dress. To be fair, it reminded of you of the dress Ana wore when Christian proposed to her in the Fifty Shades movie and you got it for that sole reason, you wanted to recreate her look from that scene.

You nodded your head before turning off your phone and setting it back on the table, "Okay I was thinking that one too."

When you looked back up at Eren, his face was completely flushed.

He was beet red, even the tips of his ears.

In sheer shock, you raised a hand up to his forehead, "Are you okay?!"

Eren softly pushed your hand away, "I'm fine. You're just gonna look really pretty in that dress."

He shook his head a little in an effort to stop being flustered.

"That's why you're red????"

"Yeah y/n. I told you. You make me really nervous."

You gave him a motherly smile before getting up, "So cute."

He got up with you, rubbing the back of his neck in embarassment as he pushed his chair back in.

"Well Eren, I have to go drop off my stuff in my dorm before I go out to eat with my friends. "

"Where are you guys eating?"

"At a Mexican restaurant. I've been craving tacos!" You jumped a little in excitement.

"Send me pictures of them then. I like food porn." He gazed down at you, a warm grin adorning his face.

"Okay." You giggled, leaning in to hug him quickly before leaving

"Byeeee Eren."

Later as you were closing the door to your dorm to leave, you received a text.

Eren: Hug me for a little longer next time. You're warm.

taglist:

@barbiekatz @animetrashchild @teawynnie @mxtokko @ranhlovebot

message me to be added to the taglist! or comment down below!

#aot #eren fluff #eren jaeger #eren jeager x reader #eren x fem!reader #eren x reader #shingeki no kyoujin eren #attack on titan eren #attack on titan

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space-mermaid-writing · 10 months

Text

What about a Supreme Family camping trip?

- Okay, so growing up rich Tony has never been camping before. Yes, outraging! Stephen, who grew up on a farm in Nebraska stares at him. Then he takes matters in his own hands

- They take Peter with them, because he is a big city boy whose dad figures died before they had the chance to go on some good ol’ father and son camping trip

- it’s safe to say the boy is EXCITED!

- fast forward to the actual trip. They are in a forest in the middle of nowhere on a Saturday. They made sure to have no other campers nearby who could possible recognize THE Tony Stark™

- "Do you want to pitch the tent or would you rather gather firewood?" Stephen asks his boyfriend. The way he says it, it's clear which is the easier task.

Tony huffs. “I’m an engineer who build the world’s first portable Arc Reactor using a box of scraps. I think I can manage to put up a simple tent.”

Stephen just shrugs and wanders off into the woods while Tony and Peter load everything out of the trunk.

Peter got his own little tent, because when Tony did the (online) shopping for this trip, Peter found this rather cute Spider-Man themed tent he had to get. Tony doesn’t mind. In his mind a camping trip could be rather romantic, sitting together at the campfire watching fireflies… yes, some quality time with his boyfriend would be appreciated. He did some research before buying the best reviewed pro camping equipment for northern America. It can't be that hard to set up, right? Right??

- Cue half an hour later when Stephen returns with enough firewood for the night. (He also put up some anti-bear wards to keep his family safe, but they don’t need to know that)

Stephen returns to what should be a camp but is actually utter chaos. Tony’s tent is a mess of fabric and poles (some of which are bent in ways they shouldn’t bent). The engineer is arguing with his watch (Friday), who keeps telling him that she got weak signal.

“What do you mean weak signal?” Tony asks exasperated. “What’s the point of owning a satellite in space when I still don’t have full signal in a fucking forest?”

- So Tony is forced to read the manual to put up the tent. Like the offline paper version of it.

- Cut to Peter who sits in front of his perfectly made Spider-Man tent. He’s just happy to be here.

- (Tony finally lets Peter help to build the second tent)

- Stephen makes a fire with the help of magic and while in Tony books this is clearly cheating, it’s also hot, so he lets it slide.

- Later they roast marshmallows and make S'mores.

„You put the hot marshmallow between the chocolate sides of the cookies,” Stephen explains, but also warns them, “Don’t eat more than two of them or you will get sick from the sugar.”

Tony and Peter exchange a glance. The challenge is set!

- Tony eats four S’mores, Peter seven. Both agree it’s the best dessert they ever had. Both of them feel sick afterwards. It was worth it!

- In the night someone (Tony) forgets to close the mosquito mesh and they wake up severely bitten

#IronStrange #Supreme Family #Tony Stark #Stephen Strange #Peter Parker #Doctor Strange #spacemermaid writing #camping trip #I was camping with a friend when we had this idea #city boy Tony in the woods is hilarious

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scourgeofgotham · 11 months

Text

The First Daughter and the Second Son

chapter five

Warnings: SMUT 18+

Graphic Sexual Content, Crying, Unresolved Trauma, Dom/Sub, Slapping, Praise! Kink, Begging, DD/LG, Stockholm Syndrome, Tormenting, Video Sex, F! Receiving, Gun!Kink, Breeding, the reader has PTSD

A/N: I was gonna write a cute fluffy shower scene at the end but I saw someone did something similar and I decided against it, I may include it in later.

Also, I edited this to make it seem more consistent with developing stockholm

October 30th, two months after Batgirl's disappearance.

The Knight walked into the safehouse, looking over at her sound asleep. He went over at sat on the bed next to her, he pets her face while she sleeps, and hit the button for his mask to go up. “So precious” he whispered and kissed her lips.

Her eyes fluttered open and she could barely keep them from shutting. “Daddy” she whispered.

Her hands reached up to touch his face, gasping when her fingers touched his skin. He was frozen, wanting to feel her touch. She opened her eyes as wide as she could, seeing a stunning man, with the clearest blue eyes she had ever seen, soft subtle peach lips. “You're so pretty, Daddy.” When he heard her say that he blushed.

Her fingers went over a raised bump, and she gasped. She traced it over and felt a ‘J’

She tried to open her heavy eyelids to look at him, ”Jay?” she whispered.

His eyes widened,

“You’re imagining things sweetheart go back to sleep.” He pressed the button and closed his helmet. Her heart wanted him to be Jason, but she didn't know if it could be true. “I miss you Jay…” she whispered moving her hands away from him.

She closed her eyes moving closer to nuzzle into him. “Stay?” she coos, making him chuckle. He laid next to her and watched her sleep.

She stirred around in her sleep, she would murmur about missing Jason.

She finally woke up around the afternoon, seeing the Knight setting up a video camera.

“Master Bruce?” interrupts the comm line.

“It appears that Batgirls communications went offline sir,” Alfred informed. “She went offline at R.H. Kane Building sir, perhaps you should check it out.”

“When did she put back on the suit?” Bruce interrogated. “It appears about a two months ago,” Alfred claimed. “Oracle, can you hack into cameras around that location?” Bruce asked.

“Certainly.”

Bruce drove over to the R.H. Kane building and got out of the Batmobile, he used his grapple gun to zip up to the top.

Once at the top, he looked around turning on the detective mode in his cowl. He saw towards the edge of the building– Batgirl's communications and the tracker that he built into her suit. Bruce eyed around the rest of the rooftop and noticed her cowl. “Her cowl is off?”

Left behind as well was her utility belt, and a note.

“If you want to find out what happened to Robin, meet me on top of R.H. Kane.

Wear the Batgirl uniform.” he read.

“Why would she go up here?” Bruce questioned.

“Tim’s right here next to me?” Oracle was dumbfounded.

“Sir, I do deeply regret I informed you of this but maybe it is about Master Jason.”

“She knows that he died, by Joker. It doesn't make sense. Why would she willingly go into a trap?” Bruce questioned

“We need to find her, I'll look through surrounding footage and see if I can get anything.” Oracle line dropped out.

“Master Bruce?” Alfred calls out from the Bat Cave. “There’s something you should see er–”

“What is it, Alfred?”

“Something that is not pleasant. It has Batgirl in it.” Alfred sounded shocked. “Please tell me that it's not like Jason's video” Bruce insinuated “Much worst sir. It is quite graphic in the—er— I will warn you, it's not something you want to see, he has it bugged so you have to watch the whole video.”

“It's fine Alfred send it to me,” Bruce demanded. Alfred sent over the video and Bruce played it on his gauntlet display.

He hears a distorted voice calling out.

“Okay, Princess we're gonna make a video for Bruce. Get over here for Daddy.”

She got off the bed and made her way in front of the man and asked “Why are we making a video?”

“He's gonna suffer and watch while I defile his little girl.”

He shoved her onto the bed right in front of the camera. He put his gloved fingers in her mouth. “Suck,” he commanded. She did as she was told, looking up and staring at him. “Good girl.”

“Look into the camera, Princess.”

He grabbed her hair, making her look. “Smile, Belle.” She tried to smile with his fingers in her mouth, trying to please him.

“See Bruce? She's all mine now.”

He said taking his fingers out of her mouth. “Good girl all nice and soaked,” he expressed.

He pulled out his gun and put it to her mouth, “Daddy’s gun needs to be polished, can you use your spit, Princess?” She nodded and started running her tongue down the sides, toying with the slide. She then licked the inside of the muzzle. The taste of gunpowder coated her throat, “Am I doing good Daddy?” she asked with the biggest smile on her face.

“Yes, you're being such a good girl. I think that's enough for Daddy’s weapons.” He put the gun back in its holster.

“Tell Bruce how much you love me,” he snarled.

“I love him so much, he's so pretty and I love his voice. He touches me and makes me feel good. He's trying to get me pregnant so we can have a family together. He's been watching over me for years and has been sending me gifts. He said he rescued me from you, and that I don’t have to worry anymore. That I don’t have to fight criminals anymore, and that he's going to take care of me. He's the best boyfriend ever, Dad.” she proclaimed.

The man went over to the door and entered the code making sure it wasn’t in view and opened it. “Here Princess, you can leave if you wish. You don’t have to stay anymore,” he announced.

She looked confused, “Why would I want to leave you, Daddy? I love you, we’re gonna start a family?”

“I’m giving you the choice to leave,“ he restated. “I don't— I wanna marry you.” she declared with stars in her eyes. He closed the door and walked over to her and put his hand on her head, petting her. In response, she was rubbing her head against his body, giggling.

“See Bruce, she developed Stockholm, she's all mine. The trauma definitely did a number on her psyche, you know she has PTSD right? From seeing Jason be killed? She was hiding in the air vents when it happened. Saw the whole thing, poor girl. She was soo close to saving him too, too bad.” He snickered.

He picked up her chin making her look at him. She whined in retaliation. “Don’t worry Princess, you were just a child. It's not your fault, you wanted to save your little boyfriend.” He walked from where she was around the camera and to the other side, her eyes following him.

“Daddy, can we have fun now? I’m bored.” She pouted.

“Manners.” He yelled, slapping her.

“Daddy, please?” she whined.

He got a blindfold from a table and tied it around her head. “We are gonna do something different Belle.” He had her lie on the bed and got in front of the camera with his back facing toward it. “Are you gonna be a good girl for Daddy?” he asked before he took off his helmet, placing it out of view of the camera. He pulled up her robe exposing her daisy panties, got up to her ear, and whispered

“I’m gonna have to punish you later for wearing your tiny little panties.”

His soft buttery voice made her melt, “I'm sorry Daddy.” she mewled. He lifted her legs and pulled them off of her and stuffed them in her mouth.

He passed a single finger through her folds and chuckled.

He laid down on his stomach and had her legs folded up, he put two fingers in between her swollen lips and started pumping them in and out. He wrapped his arm around her leg. Her muffled moans and the sound of her overly wet pussy were the only things you could hear. Satisfied with her moans, he started flicking her clit with his tongue. He felt her legs try to move, he was chuckling in between each lick. He started to suck on her clit and position his fingers to touch her sweet spot.

She arches her back and grabs his hair to pull him closer.

His hot breath with his tongue going around in circles sent rippling pleasure throughout her core. Her body twitched every time he made a swift pass over her sensitive spot with his fingers. Her hips bucked each time she felt his tongue toying with her sensitive bud. He felt her walls fluttering around his fingers and knew she was about to orgasm.

He started sucking on her clit harder and stuck another finger in her, toying with a sensitive spot. Her eyes rolled in the back of her head and drool came out of her stuffed mouth. “Mmmph!” she moaned as best as she could with her panties in her mouth. She felt dizzy, and her body was air. Her back laid flat against the bed, fingers untangled from his hair, and going to remove the panties. She was panting, her core throbbing and brutally sensitive. He pulled his fingers out of her and wiped his mouth off with a corner of his sleeve. He sat up and went up to her face, kissing her afterward.

He pulled her legs up and had her swollen lips up toward the ceiling. He pulled his hard throbbing length out of his tactical pants, already slick with anticipation, and pumped it a few times before sinking his head into the inviting slick between her puffy lips. He sunk his fat throbbing length fully into her and immediately groaned. Her swollen pink lips engulfed his massive girth. “Feel good?” he whispered.

He started thrusting back and forth, he thrusted deep inside her to find the sweet spot from earlier that made her lose control. “You’re so cute like this, all needy and all mine,” he whispered in her ear. She began squirming underneath him, desperate for another orgasm.

“Does my voice make you needy? Hearing me say filthy things in your ear?”

His pace was faster, until he was relentlessly pounding her abused core. “Harder” she choked out. His mouth turned into a sinister grin and did exactly what she asked. Fully abusing her cunt, she was crying from pleasure.

“Touch yourself, Belle.” He whispered.

She took her hand and took her middle two fingers and ran right circles around her sensitive throbbing clit.

Her body starts to twitch uncontrollably, unable to keep still from pleasure.

“You want that baby, right? Then cum for Daddy.”

He slammed his hips into her, his cock abusing her swollen core. Tears sitting along her lashes, “Daddy.” The burning sensation and her body felt like heaven almost like she was a cloud. Her walls fluttered around his girth, almost sending her over the edge. She took her fingers away from her abused bud and gripped his thighs.

The overstimulation was burning her body, the man doesn't stop, relentlessly pounding her. Lowering his head to kiss her, sticking his tongue in her mouth to keep in his groans. His pace became slower and sloppy, she felt his throbbing cock twitch inside of her, moaning at the overstimulation. He pulls away from her, and a clear line of spit pulls away.

“Cum for me,” she asks instantly. “Cum in me.”

His thighs shaking, he thrust as far as he could, balls up to her pussy. She could feel the ropes of cum coming from him, starting to leak out of her. After a couple of moments, he pulled out. He got off the bed and walked out of view of the camera and put back on his helmet. She put her legs down and sat up.

“You see Bruce, she's all mine. Tomorrow, you're gonna be dead.”

#arkham knight x reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd #arkham knight #fILTH

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armpirate · 16 days

Text

Soundleasure | Choi San || CH. 17

Pairings: Soft!San x fem!reader || Strangers to lovers, fake dating

Genre: smut, angst, fluff, online sex, ghosting

Warnings: inexperienced!San, fem!reader, masturbation, online sex, camboy, first times.

Summary: You can do whatever you please and be whoever you want on the Internet. And San knew that a little bit too well.

After finally following all the signs the universe was throwing at him, he started living a double life that no one was aware of. Everyone in his daily life knew him as Choi San, the reserved and quiet boy who wouldn't raise his voice, and would barely communicate with anyone outside of his comfort group. But only a few knew him as Soundleasure, the man with a sexy voice and a filthy mind that had their toes curling just with his narrations.

He never thought of the possibility of those two lives ever meeting, he had always tried for them to follow a parallel route and had always played safe to keep his friends from ever suspecting that side even existed. But his plans will start to crumble when he gets a little too close with one of his subscribers and she invades his real-self and altergo's universes without being able to stop it.

Y/n will not only help him to keep his secret from his circle, but will also show him there's more of Soundleasure in him than he'd like to admit.

Previous || Next

MASTERLIST

Aprox. time of reading: 17 minutes

As she bit her lip, she rolled in her bed, trying to get that kiss out of her head. She could almost still feel the texture of his mouth and the warmth of his tongue gently rubbing against her as she tried to hide her head with the covers. She was sure that if it had been any other person, it would have gone further most definitely. She wouldn't have hesitated to take it to the next level, because it wouldn't have changed a thing to control herself from her wildest fantasies. He had been the main character in them for months before they met, and it didn't change a thing. She was still as into him as she was when he was simply a voice in her earphones.

San: Are you awake?

Her smile came through before she was able to control it, hiding under the blanket as if anyone would be watching her.

Just like her, San had been trying to sleep, with no luck, because every time he closed his eyes, that kiss kept replying in his head, as he kept thinking whether he should've tried to go further, until he drowned himself back to reality and realized he was too scared to do it even if he wanted to.

He encouraged himself enough to send her a text when he saw her going online, to then go back to being offline. Asking her whether she was awake was an indirect way to confess he was checking on her status constantly, in hopes she was as sleepless as he was.

Talking with her after finding out the medication in her fridge felt different. Not because she was different, but because there was that doubt in the back of his head making him wonder if he should ask her about it. And that was actually his main intention when he slid in their chat.

Y/n: I can't sleep

Y/n: And I guess you can't either

San: Well, I could be sleepwalking

Y/n: Are you?

Y/n: That means that if I ask you anything, will I get it out of you?

San: Could be

Y/n: Anything?

San: Yeah

Just with that question any idea to build a conversation about that topic disappeared for San, not wanting to ruin that good atmosphere. It wasn't something he could ask either. She should be the one telling him because she felt comfortable enough to do it.

At some point, he thought Y/n would go for a serious question. She had settled the conversation to a whole different vibe for a few seconds, to get him ready for the question that was about to come through.

Y/n: Does pineapple belong to pizza?

That lighthearted and dumb question made him cackle, forgetting for a moment he was sharing an apartment with two other people, with one of them having their room next to his.

San: Of course it does!

Y/n: Yeah, we can't be friends

San: I thought there were several other reasons as to why we can't be friends, but you draw the line at a fruit.

San: Alright.

Y/n: And I thought you agreed with us being friends

San: I can't be friends with people I want to kiss until our lips are swollen

Air left her lungs all of a sudden with the way he worded that phrase. He was so effortlessly flirty and hot when he wanted to.

And that made her nervous.

It was the first time she didn't know how to answer a text. Every time she typed something, she ended up deleting to write something else, that would be erased eventually, too. And that constant "typing..." and "Online"shifts were making him nervous, to the point where he wondered if he shouldn't have said that.

Y/n: So you want to kiss me?

She regretted sending that text almost instantly. It sounded so annoying and radiated so much fake innocence that it made her cringe.

San: Yes

San: If I hadn't had that little problem I probably would be glued to you right now.

Y/n: If you had stayed this long, we probably would've dealt with that problem by now

San: Really?

San: how?

Y/n: Cold shower, and then some skincare. I bet your problem would go away quick as fuck seeing me that way.

San: I bet you look cute that way

San: And now... Skincare routine? And then kissing you again? Why didn't we come up with this like four hours ago?

Y/n: Because we both were thinking about anything else but skincare

San: It's settled tho

San: Making out and skincare routine, and then making out again?

Y/n: Look how brave you look through messages... Let's see if you say the same while speaking directly with me

San didn't even take a minute before clicking on her name to call her, surprising her by how late he was calling. Not because she was bothered by it, but she knew he was sharing his apartment with his two friends.

—That's because you make me nervous —he said as soon as she picked up the call, speaking lowly so he wouldn't wake anyone up.

—You're still speaking to me —she giggled.

—But I have to look at you when I'm with you.

—Oh wow, thanks I guess. So decent of you —she ironically said—. I'll wear a bag on my head from now on.

The way he cackled out loud made Mingi feel forced to hit on his wall twice, just to warn him that the next time he attempts to be loud, he'd be the one showing up in his room to shut him up. San instantly cut his laugh, letting it evolve into some quiet giggles.

—I mean that it makes me nervous —he confessed while giggling—. You have a really expressive face.

—I've never been told that before.

—Well, it's true. Whenever you like something, I can tell clearly you do because it's all over your face. Your eyes open up a bit more when you're excited, like you smile with them first —he said—. And your nose scrunches a bit when you dislike something, like when you tried the mint choco ice cream and then pretended you liked it.

—That doesn't answer my question.

Although it did tell her a lot of many different things that she wasn't able to process at the moment.

—I get nervous because I want to get that eye smile instead of the nose scrunch, so my brain focuses on not fucking it up. And I get so focused on that that I react late, or I completely zone out.

—You do realize that it's way easier for you to get that smile you're talking about than the scrunch, right? —she confessed— I understand what you mean though.

He knew she did. If she didn't, she probably would've blocked him after he practically dragged her to hang out with his friends in the ice cream shop. To that day he still couldn't understand how she agreed to that after he ghosted her.

—You're so lucky you hooked me up with your sexy voice —she mentioned.

—My voice is sexy?

—Oh, don't act like you don't know that —she cut him off—. Soundleasure doesn't exist because you sound like a honk.

—Nope, I actually made you sound like one.

—Hold on a minute —she cackled, feeling forced to move the phone away from her head as her body moved to the side with her laugh—. Where in the world my moans sound like honks? —she asked when moving her phone back to her ear.

—I don't know. It's been a while. Maybe you should try to light me up and refresh my memory.

—I see what you tried to do there —she bit her lip—. Why don't I refresh your memory, and send you to sleep? Because you clearly forgot you have to wake up early tomorrow for class.

—But you can't deny it was slick, right? —he continued.

—I'll tell you when you're able to do it in person —she teased him back—. You still have a long way to go.

After a short stop, San felt like talking again. He knew that if the silence continued long enough, one of them would suggest hanging up. And he didn't want her to end the call, even if that meant feeling like sleeping on the university desk while he overheard some lecture about programming.

—The camping is this weekend —he started, changing the topic—. We'll probably go hiking and fishing. Do you have everything you need?

—I don't know—she admitted—. My mother hates the idea of nature, and I've never really had friends with whom I could do it.

Her tone suddenly changed to a sadder one, even if she tried to hide it as much as possible.

—I'll have to teach you how to fish, then. I'm the best —he continued—. I once got one that was a meter long.

—Seaweeds don't count —she immediately replied.

—I promise I did! —he insisted.

—Sure, right.

—You don't believe me? I'll show you on Saturday.

—When you don't even know how to put the bait, you'll have to give a lot of explanations —she clicked her tongue—. But answering your question: no, I don't. I don't even know what I need.

—Do you want us to meet tomorrow and buy what we need? —he quickly asked, although he immediately regretted it at the thought of her declining his offer.

—Yeah, why not? I'll love to hear all those lies you're cooking right now in person —it sounded like a threat.

—You'll see I'm not lying.

—Uh-hum —she nodded, as if he was seeing her—. What time do you want to meet? Five?

—Yeah, at five is perfect —he excitedly answered.

—Then I'll see you tomorrow.

—Bye.

—Bye —she whispered with a smile before hanging up the phone.

San was left looking stupidly at his own phone, still reading her name at the top of his screen before something suddenly flicked his forehead through his bangs and made him instinctively move back.

When he looked up, Mingi was looking at him with an annoyed expression.

—I know you're in love and shit feels like you don't need to sleep to get energy, but some others are normal and actually need to sleep —his voice sounded heavy as he scolded him—. If I hear you again, I will make sure you won't sleep ever again. And you don't wanna know how.

After giving him one last killing look, Mingi got out of the room.

San moved around nervously at the entrance of the shop, hiding his hands in the pockets of his bomber while he waited for her. She wasn't late, and it wasn't like she disappeared -she answered to one of his texts not even ten minutes back-, it was just that he got there half an hour early, and people around him were looking at him as if he were crazy.

He was sure that if he sat or crunched next to the column at the entrance, people would give him money for charity.

The bus stop wasn't far from where he was living, and he walked pretty fast, so it wasn't like he'd get late if he had left his place later. But he just was so excited to see her, to manage to be the one to ask her out, that he didn't want to risk it and be late and make her be the one waiting for him.

His back quickly straightened as he recognized her car entering the parking lot. She looked so beautiful as she hopped off, securing her boots on the ground before she completely revealed the rest of her outfit. She was looking more informal than usual with those tight jeans, the tucked in t-shirt and the white blazer.

What was he supposed to do when she reached him? Kiss her? Hug her? Shake her hand?

—Did I make you wait a lot? —she worriedly asked.

—No, I've just got here —he lied.

—Great, then!

He felt a bit relieved when she rubbed his arm, guiding him inside the store.

—How was class? —she asked first, reaching for a cart that he sneakily took from her so she wouldn't have to push it.

—Hmm boring, nothing new —he shrugged—. How was work?

—Pretty much the same —she sighed—. At least it was a calm day. I didn't have to leave my office, I didn't have to deal with anyone... Actually, it was a good day —her tone shifted to a happier one as she said that.

—That's good to hear —he smiled.

—What do you have to buy? —she asked as they entered one of the aisles filled with running clothes.

—Me?

Nothing. He didn't have to buy anything.

Not only was it an excuse to keep talking with her, but he also guessed she probably didn't have absolutely any campware that she could take. It wasn’t a wild guess, it was something that crossed his mind after hearing her mention a few times how comfortable she felt in his group, and how much she liked that atmosphere since she wasn't able to leave a similar one… and how she admitted the previous night she never went to one.

And it wasn't like he wanted to directly act like he knew she didn't go camping in her life, it could be she did, but she just didn’t care about anything she needed because others took care of it. It just felt better to ask her that way.

—I have to buy... a... water bottle.

—A water bottle? —she looked at him confused— You've come all the way from your place to buy a water bottle that you could've bought anywhere else?

—It's a special water bottle that is only sold here.

—Ah okay.

She walked next to him, carelessly placing her hand near his as she helped him push the cart. Her hand was so close that just one slight move could make their fingers rub, but it seemed like she didn't notice at all by the way she looked around like she wasn't sending him into an inner hysteria.

—What should I buy? —she innocently turned to him.

—Hmm?

—You're the one who knows about this. What should I buy if I have nothing?

—Main things —he seriously mentioned, stopping his walk—: A sleeping bag, a pillow, a pad, a bag and a lintern —he mentioned, lifting a finger with every item—. I have all the other important things.

—Should I buy camping clothes, too?

—Hmm, not really. If you have comfortable clothes, and shoes that will allow you to walk comfortably, you won't need anything else. It isn't like we are seriously camping either.

—What does that mean?

—It means that we walk for thirty minutes before Hongjoong starts asking to go back to the camping base —he admitted in a whisper—. And we spend like a day and a half near the beach.

As they walked together, and her hand remained in the same place, San spotted a continuous movement from her thumb on three of her fingers, she kept rubbing it against the fingertips of her other fingers.

He had noticed it before.

He wondered if it was a nervous tick.

After twenty minutes, she only left his side to try on some hiking clothes she thought of buying, leaving him alone in one of the aisles while he uninterestedly looked around.

—Hey —a feminine voice got him to immediately lift his head, momentarily thinking it was Y/n—. I saw you've been looking around in this area for a bit.

—I'm not stealing anything —he hurriedly mentioned.

Instead of scaring her away, that comment made the blonde giggle as she looked away before driving her eyes back on him.

—Even if you were stealing, I wouldn't say anything. It would be a secret between us —she whispered.

He scanned her clothes, noticing she wasn't wearing the uniform the rest of assistants were wearing.

—I saw you a bit lost, and thought that maybe I could help you out —she shrugged.

He went completely mute, unable to process what was going on other than having a woman a bit shorter than him, and that was probably around his age, talking to him unprovoked and getting closer for no reason.

—Well, I don't need help —he shut off every possibility of the girl to keep talking to him—. I'm just looking.

Y/n, from afar, was holding the few clothings she managed to try on and like when she came across that scene. San was smiling nervously while the girl, who she could only see from aback, placed her hand comfortable on their cart.

No uniform, and with that body language... Y/n could tell what her intentions were by the way her hair swayed with the movements of her head.

And it annoyed her. She had no reason to be annoyed, but it made her want to get there.

And with those thoughts, her feet started moving in their direction, throwing the clothes inside the cart and positioning herself next to San to intertwine her arm on his.

—I'm already done —she innocently smiled at him.

—Oh —the disappointment in her tone gave out that her suspicions were right—. So it's true that you're here with your girlfriend... —the girl mumbled— I just wanted to check if he needed any help —she justified herself to Y/n—. It was nice meeting you —she told him, before escaping that uncomfortable situation.

It wasn't like Y/n was paying any attention to any of her words as she saw her walk away. The only thing that stuck with her was how San possibly said he was there with his girlfriend, instead of trying his luck to flirt with someone.

—What was that? —San asked, looking at her with a smile.

—This? —she looked at their arms, shrugging without changing her posture while she walked again— I saw you with her, and thought: what if someone we know saw you? Wouldn't they think it's weird? I did it for that, because we're supposedly dating for your friends and my circle —she lied.

That wasn't even one of her worries. It didn't even cross her mind until she had to come up with an excuse.

—Did you tell her you were here with your girlfriend? —San nodded, still walking next to her— Why?

—Because... —instead of admitting what crossed his mind, he played along— The same as you. What if someone saw me? It'd be inappropriate of me to flirt with someone else while I'm dating you. What if someone overheard our conversation?

First of all, he didn't even know how to speak with that girl. And second, did he even want to be able to speak to her at all?

—We're a good team —she pressed her fingers on his bicep—. We're so connected for this cause that we even think alike.

She tried to play it cool, unaware that San felt like hiding his real intentions as much as she did.

They both walked around like that the rest of the time they were there. Neither bothered to move away. And, even if they did check on something, the other went back to that same position as if it was fixed they had to be holding like that.

It was only at the exit that they moved away, having Y/n suddenly stopping and having him stopping too with her bags as she worriedly looked at him.

—We didn't buy the water bottle.

—What water bottle? —San asked, confused at first— Ah, that water bottle —he immediately remembered— I'll buy one somewhere else.

—Didn't you say they only sell it here? —she inquired.

—Yeah, but it's alright —he tried to hurry her to start walking to her car.

—We're already here. If you need it, we can leave the bags in my car and get back inside.

—It's alright —he insisted.

Despite carrying a bag filled with her clothes with his left hand, San walked towards her and gently pushed her so she'd start walking.

—You didn't need any water bottle, right? —she inquired again.

—I told you I don't mind buying a different one.

It was obvious he was lying by the way his lips were exaggeratedly pouting, that she couldn't do anything but smile as she followed him to her car.

That water bottle wasn't mentioned ever again while she drove him to his place, not even to tease him, until she parked the car in front of his building.

—I feel so bad for making you go all the way to that place and not get anything.

—I told you it doesn't matter —he assured her—. I'll buy what I need tomorrow.

—That's a relief —she smiled at him—. Because I was thinking that I should've made up for making you show up even if you didn't need that bottle.

—Make up? —he stuttered.

—Hmm —she nodded.

His heart pumped against his chest when she undid her belt, turning completely to him before she leaned to his body.

—Yeah —she whispered, landing a soft kiss on his cheek—, when someone does something for you, the best you can do is thank them back by giving them something they want, show them how grateful you are.

He felt so weak as her lips rubbed his skin all the way down to his jaw, that he thought he was probably imagining it. His whole body squirmed when it first got into contact with the sensitive skin of his neck, feeling her lips warm and wet and she gave soft kisses all over his freckles.

He felt instantly guilty when the first image in his head was having her head bobbing in his lap. They had talked about it so many times before, that he couldn't help but crave that experience with her only.

—But you came because you needed that bottle, so I don't really have anything to make up for —she finally said.

—What? —he was shocked when she moved away.

—We both needed something, so we were just shopping together.

—But I didn't need that water bottle —he finally admitted—. I promise, I didn't need anything. I have everything at home.

She pecked his lips first, having San instantly answering back with his mouth sucking on her lower lip. He almost got her there, feeling her hormones boiling as she kept pushing herself to drive them to her place.

Breaking the kiss, Y/n stopped herself from falling into her own needs. While getting a taste of her secret vice was tempting, she felt strong enough to ignore it. Not only because she felt responsible to be extra careful with what she chose to do with San, but because there was something scaring her of going further.

—Take this as a lesson not to lie to me —she told him.

—But I told the truth —he pouted, aiming for another kiss before she moved back.

With a smile, Y/n kissed the tip of his nose.

—I'll see you on Friday.

That bottle thing was the best excuse she could come up with to have him thinking about her until they met again on Friday.

She planted a soft kiss on his lips before he stepped out of her car. It was cute seeing him mumbling as he kept scolding himself. She was able to tell there was no bottle he'd need from only that place the second he came up with it, and she thought that it was a sweet gesture to do something for her without bragging about it. It felt different.

She liked how light everything was with San, how nothing felt forced or out of place. How comfortable they felt around each other, and the trust they were building up was something she appreciated a lot, even more than how attracted she felt towards him. It all just felt genuine.

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herrmannhalsteadproduction · 5 months

Text

That Herrmann/Halstead DNA (Chapter Four)

Summary: This is Part Twenty-One of my series A Herrmann/Halstead Production. It is an AU where Christopher Herrmann's mom had an affair with Pat Halstead resulting in a baby. The series follows this OC character (Rebecca "Bex" Herrmann) as she grows up and gets to know her brothers and the various Chicago teams. It is very much an AU, just to underscore that. It doesn't follow the same timeline and characters will follow different paths.

Click here for the Series Rundown where you can find the links to read all of the previous installments (which I highly recommend you do so that this one makes sense.)

Rating: Mature

Relationships: Christopher Herrmann & Original Female Character, Jay Halstead & Original Female Character, Will Halstead & Original Female Character, Jay Halstead & Will Halstead, Greg 'Mouse' Gerwitz/Original Female Character, Will Halstead/Connor Rhodes, Assorted OC Couples

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Assault, Stabbing, Gunshot Wounds, Blood and Injury, Whump, Trauma, Eventual Hopeful Ending

A/N: I received my degree from the medical school of Television Drama which means while things might not (*cough* will not *cough*) be accurate, they will be exciting. *jazz hands*

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chris

Knowing his family, Chris wasn’t surprised to see all of 51 was crammed into the waiting room when he walked back in.

Not surprised, no, but still touched. The tight band that had been squeezing his heart ever since Boden took him aside to break the news about Bex eased the slightest bit.

His family was good people.

“Hey, guys,” he said. Every head had turned his way when he appeared, faces filled with worry. Jay gave him a little nod before heading straight over to Mouse which was fair enough. Chris would take filling in the 51 crew over the conversation the two of them were about to have.

“How is she?” Dawson asked as she hopped out of her seat to give him a hug.

“She’s, uh—she’s pretty banged up,” he said, directing his words at the whole group. “Not sure of the extent of things yet, but Will’s taken her for some scans so we should know more soon.”

“And Emery?” Shay asked quietly. She was seated between Severide and Bex’s friend, Sam, who looked about as rough as Jay did.

“Haven’t heard anything yet,” Chris said, wishing like hell he had some kind of good news to share.

“Kira and Malia are on their way,” Sam piped up, voice rough. “Kira—she’s one of Emery’s emergency contacts so she’ll probably be able to get more information.”

Okay. One good bit of news.

“Does Emery have any family we can call?” Otis asked him and Sam shook his head with a frown.

“She’s just got us,” he said, staring down at his hands with red eyes. Shay reached over to rub his back and he leaned into her touch with a small sigh. “Bex is listed as her other emergency contact…”

And she wasn’t in any shape to help.

There wasn’t much else to say beyond that. All they could do was wait.

Dawson gave Chris another quick squeeze before returning to her spot. He felt too revved up to sit so he made his way over to the quiet corner of the room where Boden had stationed himself.

“Thanks for being here, Chief,” Chris said, leaning against the wall beside him. “Sure you’re okay to be offline?”

“I’m keeping an ear out.” Boden motioned to his radio. “But we all wanted—we needed to be here.” He eyed Chris for a moment. “How’s she really doing?”

Chris shook his head, not able to find his words right away. “Not good,” he managed to get out. “She was having trouble breathing and Will looked pretty worried.”

Boden took that in, a deep line forming between his brows. “And how are you?”

“Not good,” Chris said, huffing out a flat laugh. “Worried.” He shot Boden a small smile. “Grateful for the support.”

“We’ll stay as long as we can.” Boden clapped a hand on Chris’s shoulder before pulling him into a hug. “At least until Cindy gets here.”

“Hah.” Chris sniffed as he stepped back, doing a quick swipe of his eyes. “She’ll be happy to know it takes a full firehouse to fill in for her.”

“And we’re still a poor substitute,” Boden grinned back him.

Chris nodded, trying to keep the lightness going, but was unable to keep the tears back this time. “Shit,” he muttered, facing the wall to scrub at his face.

Boden stood silently beside him, blocking him from view.

A tissue appeared from the other side and Chris glanced over to see Trudy holding a whole dang box. “I swiped them from the desk,” she said. “Go nuts.”

“Ah, thanks, Truds,” Chis said, sniffling as he grabbed a few more. “Sorry, I’m just—seeing her like that—I need to get it together so I can be there for her—”

“It’s okay to need a moment, Chris,” Trudy said. She took a few tissues and stuffed them into her pocket. “I expect we’re all going to at some point so no judgement here.”

“None of you are alone in this.” Boden reached around him to grab tissues for his own pocket. “Remember that.”

Taking a deep breath, Chris nodded, letting their words sink into him. They’d get through this like they got through everything; all of them together.

And then, as if on cue, four familiar faces came rushing in from outside.

***

Sam

Sam leapt to his feet as Devon, Isaac, Malia, and Kira ran through the front doors. Kira spotted him first and rushed over.

“Sam!” What’s going on? What happened?” The rest of them came up behind her, all staring at him with anxious faces.

He stared back at them—mouth opening and closing as he tried to give them some kind of answer, but all he could do was shake his head. Shay came to his rescue.

“Ty attacked Emery,” she said quietly as she joined their little circle. “He stabbed her, and Bex, uh—I think she walked in on the attack and she fought him off. She’s getting checked out now.”

“Stabbed—” Malia pressed a hand to her mouth, eyes wide. Devon wrapped an arm around her and Kira pressed in on her other side. Isaac’s face crumpled as he stepped over to Sam and hugged him around the middle. Sam closed his eyes, letting himself lean into his strong arms.

“Have you heard anything?” Devon asked Shay. “About Em?”

“No, they would’ve been waiting for me, right?” Kira said before Shay could answer. Sam opened his eyes to see Shay nodding and Kira disentangling herself from Malia. “I’ll see what I can find out.”

He watched as she straightened her shoulders and marched off toward the desk, determined despite the tiny tremble of her chin.

Today had been…awful and Sam didn’t see it getting any better, but at least they were all here now. Whatever happened next, they would face it together.

***

Shay

“I hate this,” Shay muttered as she took her seat again. Kelly made a questioning noise beside her, but she couldn’t look away from the little group of Bex’s friends huddled together on the other side of the room.

Looking so incredibly young and so incredibly scared.

She wished Julie were here.

Sam had said something about her staying on the scene and then going to Lakeshore with Ty which—thank goodness he hadn’t been brought to Med, but Shay still wished Julie was there with them. She’d have better words for Sam. For his friends.

Sam and Julie had hit it off as not only partners, but as friends which meant that once Shay started dating Julie, she was quickly brought into their orbit. She’d spent plenty of time with Sam and his boyfriends and Malia and Kira as well. Shay probably knew them almost as well as Bex did at this point.

And Emery—even when she’d been away from the group, they talked about her. They still loved her so much and when she made her way back to them, Shay kept getting all of the updates.

All of them were so proud of how far Emery had come.

And now this.

“It’s not fair,” Shay said, shaking her head. She rubbed at her eyes and then took the tissue Kelly offered her.

“Hey,” he said softly, ducking his head down to catch her gaze. “Talk to me.”

“I just—” She waved the tissue at the group before crumpling it in her hands. “I hate this. It’s not right. Emery, she’s come so far, you know? And this? This is what happens? It’s bullshit, Kelly.”

“Yeah, it is,” he agreed, sinking back in his chair with a deep sigh. “It really is.”

“It can’t end like this for her,” Shay whispered. “It’s not fair.”

“You can’t think like that,” Kelly said, grabbing her arm and giving it a little squeeze. “No, listen—” He cut her off before she could get going again. “I get what you’re saying and you’re right. It’s bullshit. But…why are we here?” He stared at her, giving her a little nod, waiting for her to answer.

“To be here,” she said. “To support Herrmann and Bex and Emery and all of them.”

“Right,” Kelly said as he sat up and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “And what would Bex say if she was here? ‘Don’t put out bad energy’ or something like that, right? You know how she talks.” He smiled down at her, looking entirely too pleased with himself when Shay managed a small smile back. “Emery and Bex are fighting their way through so we need to sit here and believe that they can do it. They’re gonna be okay, Shay.”

She really hoped he was right. Shay took a shaky breath and settled into Kelly’s side, ready to start putting all of the good energy out there.

***

Connor

“We have a pulse,” one of the nurses announced.

Connor nearly sagged against the operating table in relief. It was the second time Emery had coded since they started and the way things were going, he knew with a sickening certainty that it wouldn’t be the last.

Come on, Em, he willed her to hear him. I’m not going to stop fighting so you’re not allowed to stop either. Work with me here. Bex’ll never forgive either of us if you die so cut it out.

Dr. Latham called for another unit of blood and Connor cut a quick look over at Emery’s stats, frowning at what he saw.

“Come on, Em,” he whispered.

“Dr. Rhodes, perhaps we should reconsider your presence—”

“Respectfully, Dr. Latham,” Connor said firmly. “We should not.”

He wasn’t leaving her.

Not when there was still a chance.

***

Mouse

Platt vacated the seat beside him, nodding at Jay as they passed each other and heading over to see Chris. Jay plopped down in the empty spot.

He groaned, resting his elbows on his knees and scrubbing his hands over his face. Mouse waited, playing with the empty coffee cup in his hands until Jay finally looked over at him.

“Thank you,” he said. “For getting Chris. That was—that was the right move.”

“Just wanted to do what I could to help,” Mouse said. “Seemed like the best plan.”

“I’m sorry, man,” Jay said and Mouse stilled, not quite sure where this was coming from.

“For what—”

“I just left.” Jay sat back, managing to look miserable, exhausted, stressed, angry, and apologetic all in one go. It was almost impressive. “I ran out of there and didn’t let you know what was happening,” Jay said. He rubbed at his forehead with a sigh. “Didn’t think to even ask anyone to let you know or—”

“Jay.” Mouse had to stop him right there because he couldn’t listen to anymore of this. “Don’t even—just—are you seriously apologizing for not stopping to let me know you were leaving? When Bex was in danger? I don’t—you had to get to her. That was what mattered.”

“Didn’t get there fast enough,” Jay muttered.

“She needed you and you got there as soon as you could,” Mouse said. “I’m glad you didn’t waste any time doing it. Okay?” He stared at Jay until he nodded and then Mouse sat back as well. He had a thousand questions he wanted to throw at him, but Jay didn’t look up to talking. Mouse didn’t want him pressing for more details to be the thing that had Jay falling apart when the guy was clearly using everything he had to keep it together.

Mouse knew the feeling.

He kept his thousand questions to himself and worked on bracing himself for their inevitable answers.

***

Jay

Jay closed his eyes as he settled into his seat beside Mouse, more grateful than ever for his friend’s ability to read him and know when he needed to leave Jay be.

Talking was not something Jay could do right now. Not without screaming.

He bounced his knee, trying to block out the sounds of the waiting room and centre himself like his therapist was always going on about. Quiet his mind.

But the quiet—it just made room for Bex’s voice to come back in.

Over and over, sounding so scared as it came through the phone.

Please. Put the knife down.

And her scream.

Jay was never going to forget it as long as he lived.

He hadn’t been fast enough.

Not fast enough at all.

***

Will

Will closed the door to Bex’s room with a quiet click. Resting his forehead against the wood, he took a moment in the quiet hallway to just breathe.

Bex had gone through all of the scans and tests like a champ, but was struggling by the end of it so they’d given her another round of pain meds and she’d conked right out.

Well, not right out. She’d managed to garble a few instructions at him first and tell him that she loved him. So much. Will smiled to himself. The ‘so much’ had been repeated quite a few times. Bex on pain medication was going to be an interesting experience.

Since they needed to keep her at least overnight for observation, he’d gone ahead and settled her into a room instead of taking her back to the ED or another holding place. He’d add fast tracking the process to the list of things Goodwin could yell at him for later.

And now he had to go and update their family. He sighed. It’d been hard enough for Will to hear the laundry list of Bex’s injuries, but to have to tell the others and see their faces…he needed to be a bit steadier to handle that.

It was going to suck, but he wasn’t about to pass the task on to anyone else. Not after what happened with Chris when he got hurt and god, was that really only a few months ago?

How were they right back here again?

“Dr. Halstead!”

Will straightened up, looking around to see Sharon Goodwin coming down the hall towards him trailed by two unexpected faces.

“Ms. Goodwin,” Will said, nodding at her and the two men behind her. “Dr. Charles...Dr. Abrams? I thought you’d all gone home for the day. Is everything okay?”

“Is everything—Will, we heard what happened,” Sharon said, reaching out to give his arm a squeeze. “We wanted to check on you.”

Oh. That was…hunh. “I’m—” Will dragged a hand through his hair and a slightly hysterical little laugh slipped out. “It’s, uh, it’s been a day.”

“I’ll bet.” Dr. Charles peered around him to peek through the window in the door into Bex’s room. “How’s she doing?”

“She’s in rough shape, but she’ll be okay,” Will said. “Eventually. She’ll be better when we know how Emery is.”

“Don’t worry about finishing your shift,” Sharon said. “Dr. Armstrong is coming in early and the ED can manage without you until then.”

Right. He’d absolutely abandoned his job as soon as Bex came in. Crap. Sharon shook her head at him as soon as he opened his mouth.

“Don’t worry,” she repeated. “You’re having a family emergency. We all understand.”

“Been there a time or two ourselves,” Dr. Charles said with a kind smile. He reached out to pat Will’s shoulder. “Anything you need, be sure to let us know.”

“Remember to take all the time you need,” Sharon added and then the two of them headed off down the hall. Dr. Abrams remained, staring at the door to Bex’s room.

“Dr. Abrams?” The man didn’t respond so Will tried again. “Sam?”

“Yes.” Dr. Abrams cleared his throat and glanced over at Will, a flicker concern disrupting his usual impassiveness. “What Dr. Charles said. If anything is needed, for either of you…”

“I’ll let you know,” Will agreed. “That’s—thank you. It’s appreciated.”

With a short nod, Dr. Abrams turned and walked away.

“Bex, you make the weirdest friends,” Will whispered. He chuckled to himself and took a last look to make sure she was still sleeping before heading out to the waiting room.

He still had one job to do.

***

Chris

“Christopher!”

Chris whipped around at the sound of Cindy’s voice and rushed over to meet her in the middle of the waiting room.

“I got here as fast as I could, I’m sorry, It took me way too long to get out of the house —my parents, and then the kids—” she said, tripping over her words as she grabbed onto his hands. “Have you heard anything yet? What’s going on? How’s Bex? How’s Emery?”

“Hey, hey. Breathe, Cinds, it’s okay,” Chris said. “Bex is getting checked out and we—we haven’t heard anything about Emery yet.” He moved to wrap his arms her and held her tight. “God, I’m so glad you’re here.”

She squeezed him back, tucking her head into his shoulder. “It’s bad, isn’t it?”

“It’s not good,” he murmured.

They stood there for a moment, taking what they needed before breaking apart. Cindy met his eyes. “Whatever it is,” she said. “We’ll handle it.”

Now that she was here, he actually felt like that was true. Chris leaned in to press a kiss against her forehead. “I love you,” he whispered into her skin.

An “I love you, too,” was whispered back, just for him to hear.

After one more tight hug, Cindy took a deep breath, centering herself. “Okay,” she said. “Where are the boys?”

“Jay and Mouse are over there,” Chris said, jerking a nod in their direction. “Will’s with Bex while she’s getting checked out and Connor—he’s working on Emery.”

“I’m going to sit with them for a bit,” Cindy said, but before she could head in Jay and Mouse’s direction, Will came in and everyone’s attention instantly turned his way.

Jay and Mouse jumped out of their chairs and came to stand by Chris and Cindy. The rest of their gang crowded in behind. Chris reached for Cindy’s hand only to find her already reaching for his and they clung to each other; ready for Will’s update.

“Cindy, hey, you’re here. That’s great,” Will said, giving her a soft smile before taking in the whole group before him. “And all of 51 is here. Nice, now I owe Bex five bucks. Thanks, guys.”

Chris smiled at the quiet wave of laughter that welled up behind him. Bex got him on a dummy bet, for sure. Knowing Will, he probably went along with it just to make her smile.

“Okay, well, she’s given me permission to share with everyone because, and I quote, ‘they’re all nosy enough to get it out of Chris anyway,’” Will’s lips twisted in a wry little grin at the reaction that got. His face fell back into serious lines though once everyone settled. “This is going to be a lot to take in so I want to start by saying Bex is going to be okay. We’re keeping her overnight for observation, but barring any complications—”

Complications? The word sent a jolt through Chris.

He and complications were not friends.

“—she should be cleared to go home tomorrow,” Will finished.

“Is anyone with her right now?” Cindy asked. “Has she been admitted or is she still in the ED?”

“We’ve got her in a room,” Will said. “She’s sleeping right now; she’s on some pretty heavy pain medication, but the nurses are keeping an eye on her and I can take you back to see her yourself when we’re done.”

Heavy pain medication. The pressure was back in Chris’s chest and he gripped Cindy’s hand tighter. “Okay, so…tell us how she is, Will,” Chris said. “All of it.”

“She has two lacerations that required some stitches,” Will began. “One over her shoulder which was fairly shallow.” Chris had seen that one. It might have been shallow, but it was still disturbingly close to hitting an artery. They’d been lucky. “The one on her side was deeper,” Will continued. “But not enough to damage anything serious.”

“Ty went after her with the knife he used on Emery,” Jay piped up suddenly. He had his arms crossed and was staring a hole into the floor. “Bex disarmed him.”

Christ. Chris was more grateful than ever for the lessons Jay and Hailey and their crew had been giving Bex. Probably saved her life.

“She also had a deep laceration on her right hand—”

“—stabbed Ty with broken glass,” Jay muttered.

“—but, uh, she didn’t damage any ligaments so that’s good,” Will said. He shot a concerned glance at Jay who still wasn’t looking up from the floor. Cindy shuffled them over a bit so she could reach out to wrap her free arm around Jay’s waist. He stiffened; then relaxed minutely.

Cindy nodded at Will to keep going. He cleared his throat. “She has a hairline fracture in her right arm,” he said, pausing and right on cue—

“Ty threw her into a bookshelf,” Jay said quietly.

Chris rubbed at his forehead and swallowed hard against the growing nausea building in his gut. The tension in the room was growing, but no one walked away. Listening to this—the clinical rundown from Will and the admittedly horrible context from Jay—it was brutal, but they needed to hear it. To know what had happened and to prepare themselves for how they were going to get everyone through the aftermath.

“Her arm is splinted right now,” Will said. “It looks like the injury was aggravated and it’s too swollen to cast at the moment so we’ll have to take care of that after it goes down.”

“She was trying to do compressions on Emery when I arrived,” Sam’s voice came from the back of the group, shaky, but clear.

“Oh, that’s—” Will’s breath caught and he blinked before schooling his face back into something more professional. “That’s good to know,” he said, making a note on her chart. He looked back up at their group, pressing on. “She also has a few cracked ribs and one broken one,” he said. “Which leads me to her most serious injury and the one we want to monitor. Bex has what’s called a pulmonary contusion which is basically a bruised lung.”

“Jesus,” Gabi exclaimed as she came up on Chris’s left. “A pulmonary contusion? That’s—that’s a blunt force trauma injury. How—”

“Ty fucking stomped on her,” Jay bit out. “That’s how.”

“What the hell—are you serious?” Kelly asked, voice raising. “Where is that asshole? He—”

“He is being dealt with by the CPD,” Boden said, moving to stand by Will and casting a grave look over their group. There were a few more grumbles, but the Chief’s stare silenced them.

Chris leaned into Cindy, grateful to Boden for stepping in because he didn’t have it in him right now. He was angry too—of course he was. He wanted to track down Ty and give a taste of his own medicine, but what good would that do? It wouldn’t help Bex or Emery.

They were all needed here. With the two of them. That was who they had to focus on. Screw Ty.

All Chris cared about was his family.

“What do you need to watch out for with this contusion thing?” he asked Will.

“Her breathing, for one,” Will said. “We’ve got her on oxygen to help ease things along and we’re checking her levels regularly. There’s also a small amount of internal bleeding that we’re watching, but it should resolve itself.”

Jay’s head whipped up at that. “You’re not doing anything about it?”

“We had multiple doctors look at the scans and everyone agrees,” Will said. “It would be too invasive to try and repair it when more often than not, it does heal on its own.”

“Do you not remember what happened with Chris?” Jay exclaimed. “You guys said it would be fine and he almost died.”

“Jay, trust me, please.” Will rubbed at his eyes with a sigh before facing them again. “I know it’s scary and it sounds awful, but this really is the best course of action to take. Bex will be monitored constantly. She’ll probably get pissed off about it, but she’s also going to be okay and that’s what matters.”

Jay opened his mouth, ready to argue some more, but Boden’s radio squawked right then and everyone knew what that meant. Duty called.

“Folks, I’m sorry, but we have to head out,” Boden announced to the group. “51, with me. Herrmann, we’ll be back when we can. Give our girl a hug for us.”

“Will do, Chief,” Chris said. “And thank you.”

With a nod and some quick hugs, Boden and the rest of the team filed out, leaving the rest of them to figure out their next steps.

“Um, they said there’s a room up on the surgical floor where we can wait?” Kira said, coming over to stand at the front of their remaining cluster. “They’ll let us know how things are going with Emery as soon as they can.”

“I’ll go on up with you kids,” Trudy said and all of Bex’s friends looked relieved by that—an expression Chris wasn’t used to seeing directed her way. Hunh. When had Platt managed to adopt her own gaggle of twenty-somethings?

That…was a puzzle to be solved another day. Right now, Chris was glad she was going with them because he and Cindy needed to check in on Bex first.

“Let us know when you hear something,” he called after them and Trudy gave him a nod, waving her phone as they headed through the doors. Chris turned to Cindy with a sigh, tugging on her hand. “Let’s go see Bex.”

“In a minute,” she said quietly. He followed her gaze to where Jay and Will stood, faces tense while Mouse hovered anxiously beside them. Will was talking to Jay, quietly but intensely, and Jay was shaking his head. “Come on.” Cindy steered them over to see what was what.

“You have to trust me on this, Jay,” Will was saying. “I know you’re scared—”

“Don’t friggin’ patronize me,” Jay snapped, scowling at Will. “Of course, I’m scared. It’s Bex. How can you ask me to trust you—to trust any of you after what happened last time. You wanna risk her life—”

“Both of you take a breath,” Cindy asked, stepping in between them.

“I don’t need—” Jay withered under the look Cindy pinned him with, a muscle in his jaw ticking as he clamped it shut.

The kid needed a lot of things actually and top of that list was someplace quieter to talk. “Hey, Will,” Chris said. “Is there somewhere private we could all go?” The meltdown Jay was teetering closer and closer to would be better off happening away from prying eyes.

“Oh, uh…” Will blinked. “Yeah, there’s a family room I can take you to—”

“We don’t need that.” Jay’s back immediately went up again. “Why—”

“Maybe you don’t,” Chris said. “But I’m an old man who’d rather be in a comfier chair than on my feet for the rest of this chat.” He made eye contact with Cindy, a silent conversation whipping back and forth between them until they landed on the same page a few seconds later.

At which point she winked at him.

…he really loved her a stupid amount.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Cindy announced. “Mouse, you go on ahead with Will to see Bex.”

Mouse’s eyes went wide. “Me? Don’t you want to, uh, I-I can wait—”

“No, no, you go,” Chris said. “She was asking about you earlier and I know she’ll want to see you. Please.”

“Jay…” Mouse looked hopelessly lost as he turned to Jay who jerked his chin in the barest agreement. “Okay,” he said softly. “I can do that.

“Everyone follow me then, I guess,” Will said carefully. He led them back in through the ED and down a few other hallways before stopping at a door and peeking inside. “You guys can use this one,” he said, stepping away and leaving the door open. “Mouse, if you—”

“You’re coming back, right?” Jay demanded. “We’re not done talking about this and—”

“Yes, Jay,” Will sighed. “I’ll be right back.” He strode off down the hall with Mouse in tow.

Chris used Jay’s momentary distraction of glaring after them to herd him into the room and Cindy closed the door after them. She came to tuck herself into his side once again as Jay began to pace in front of them.

Kid was wound so tight he was about to break himself in two.

***

Jay

“Jay,” Chris began and Jay sliced a hand through the air at him.

“Don’t,” Jay said. “Don’t tell me to calm down. Don’t tell me I’m being unreasonable. Not when we all know that I’m right.” He stopped in his tracks and took a step toward Chris and Cindy. “It’s Bex.” Jay’s voice broke over her name.

He shook his head, trying to get it together. He had to be calm. He had to be strong about this and reasonable so they would listen to him.

“They need to check again,” he said. “And-and-and do something! They can’t just let her bleed. We can’t stand here and do nothing while she’s hurt. She’s in pain. I can’t watch that, not again, not after—not after hearing her and—I can’t—not again—I can’t—”

Chris lying unresponsive in his hospital room.

Bex’s scream echoing out of his phone.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Axel facedown in the dirt with blood pooling out from under his uniform.

Blow after blow from Ty thudding through the speaker.

“I tried—I tried to get to her—I wasn’t fast enough—”

“…Jay…breathe…panic attack…” Cindy’s voice couldn’t break through the noise in his brain. One after another after another.

Bex calling out for him.

An explosion.

His world turning sideways.

Mouse staring at him with deadened eyes.

Bex.

Screaming.

And Jay…doing nothing.

“I’m sorry. I—”

***

Mouse

Will stopped in front of the door to Bex’s room and turned to face Mouse. He pressed his lips together as he dragged a hand through his hair. “I feel like I should give you a head’s up before we go in there,” he said quietly. “You just—you need to brace yourself, okay? It’s rough to see her like this, but I meant it when I said she’s going to make a full recovery.”

Mouse nodded, swallowing hard as he tried to do what Will said and brace himself before following him into the room.

…but Will’s warning hadn’t been enough.

He must’ve made some kind of noise because Will’s head whipped back as he looked at Mouse in concern. “You good?”

“No,” Mouse whispered. “But I’m not going anywhere either.” He stepped around Will and got closer to the bed.

Bex was still asleep, snuffling a bit under the oxygen mask. She was bruised and battered all over—Mouse had a hard time spotting a part of her skin that was unmarked and what he could find was deathly pale. Lying there, unmoving, she looked so fragile.

Mouse sat down in the chair, stopping himself when he reached out to touch her. Her splinted arm was on the other side, but the hand closest to him was bandaged as well. “I don’t—I don’t want to hurt her,” he said to Will. “How should I—”

“Gently,” Will said, giving him an encouraging smile. “You can hold her fingers on that hand, just don’t squeeze, or hold on to her wrist there. And talk to her if you want. She’ll probably wake up soon.”

“Okay, yeah, I, uh, I can do that.” Mouse placed a tentative hand on her wrist, stroking at the soft skin there. Will clapped a hand on his shoulder and Mouse looked up at him. “Thanks. For letting me stay here with her.”

“Thanks for being her for her,” Will said. He patted Mouse on the back before quietly leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

Mouse turned back to Bex. Talk to her, Will had said.

It took him awhile to figure out what to say, but eventually he just decided to go for it and started talking.

“Hey, Bex. It’s me, Mouse. Uh, Mouse Gerwitz.” He palmed his face, chuckling quietly. “Mouse Gerwitz. She knows that, you idiot.” He looked back at Bex, startling forward when her eyes started to blink open. “Hey,” he said quietly. “Hey, Bex. That’s it. Open your eyes, baby. I’m right here.”

She frowned a bit, gaze hazy as she tried to focus on him, and she pulled her bandaged hand free to try and tug at the oxygen mask.

“Oh, no, hang on,” Mouse said. “That’s supposed to stay there.”

Bex grumbled something unintelligible at him. She batted his hand away and pulled down the mask anyway. Her head rolled on the pillow, tilting to look his way as a dopey smile spread across her face. “You’re here,” she said, voice all raspy.

Mouse scooched his chair in closer, leaning in as he stroked her forehead. “I’m here.”

“I like it when you’re here,” Bex whispered. “You should always be here.”

“That’s the plan,” Mouse said.

For as long as she’d have him.

***

Cindy

Between her and Chris, they’d managed to get Jay seated in one of the arm chairs. He had one of his hands tightly gripped around Chris’s while the other was white-knuckled over the faded upholstery. Cindy crouched in front of him, hands braced on his knees as she tried to make her voice heard through the storm currently raging in his head.

“Jay? Jay.” Cindy squeezed his knees until he met her eyes. “Listen to me, listen to my voice,” she said. “Focus on it.”

He was still taking air in through choppy breaths, but he looked more there than he had a moment before and he blinked at her. Slowly. Deliberately.

“Good, that’s good, sweetie,” she said. “Do you think you can take a slower breath for me?”

He shook his head, eyes sliding away from her. Cindy grabbed his chin gently with one hand and brought him back to face her. “That’s okay,” she said quickly. “Don’t worry about that yet then. Why don’t we try this—can you tell me five things you can see?”

Jay rolled his eyes at her over his next ragged inhale and she took that as a good sign.

“Come on,” Cindy cajoled him. “You can do it. Tell me the five ugliest things you can see in this truly sad family room.”

“Uh, chair,” Jay huffed out, casting his eyes around. “Car-carpet.” Another breath. “Paint. Lights.”

“Great, that’s four things,” Cindy said. “One more.”

“C-Chris.”

“Hey, now,” Chris laughed. “I feel like I should have ranked higher than the carpet.”

Cindy grinned at Jay. “That was perfect, hun,” she said. “How about four things you can touch.”

“Chair,” Jay sighed, his next breath coming ever so slightly slower. “Chris. You. Carpet.” He tapped his foot and Cindy nodded.

“Good, really good.” Cindy squeezed his hand. “Three things you can hear?”

“You,” Jay whispered. “Um, the, uh, the fluorescent lights making that, uh, hum sound, and—and people talking in the hallway.” He took a deep breath, sagging back in the chair a bit. “Please don’t make me do the smell thing because I think Chris’s deodorant has given up the fight.”

“Oh, ha-ha,” Chris said, smiling as he patted Jay’s back. “Glad you’re back to making jokes, bud. Even if they’re cheap.”

Jay laughed weakly, leaning into Cindy’s hand when she ran it through his hair.

A light knock sounded at the door before it opened and Will poked his head in. “Hey, I got Mouse settled with Bex. She’s still out…” He frowned when he got a good look at them, shutting the door behind him. “Everything okay in here?”

“Just taking our moment,” Cindy said. She stood up, wincing at the crack in her knees and shooting a look at Christopher before he could crack a joke of his own. She settled down on the arm of Jay’s chair and rubbed a hand on his back. “Better?”

He nodded. “Yeah, thank you. Uh, Will, man, I’m sorry about earlier—”

Will waved him off as he pulled up his own chair. “I get it,” he said. “I meant it though, Jay. Bex is going to be okay. I would never lie to you about that.”

“I know,” Jay whispered. “I just—I hate that she’s hurting now.”

They all did. If Cindy could take this on for her, she would. In a heartbeat.

“Jay.” Chris dragged another chair over and sat next to him. “I know you didn’t want to talk about it earlier, but I think we have to, bud.”

That flipped a switch in Jay and he instantly tensed up again. “No—”

“Sweetheart,” Cindy said, pulling him into her side. She didn’t want to push him, but this wasn’t something they could let fester either. “Before—you kept apologizing. You know that none of this is your fault, right?”

Jay scoffed. “I should have left as soon as she called,” he said. “I would have been there faster and I—I should have told her to come to the station! We could have gone together or-or-or I should have convinced her to stay in the car and wait—”

“Hang on,” Chris held up a hand and exchanged a frown with Cindy over Jay’s head. “You were on the phone with her when she got to Emery’s? That’s how everyone knew so quickly what was going on?”

“She’d called to ask if Ty was still in jail because Emery thought she’d seen him,” Jay said. “By the time I called her back, she was there and she told me the door was open and I told her to stay in the car, I swear.” Jay lurched back upright, looking between the three of them with wide eyes. “I called for back up and I left and I told her, I said stay in the car until I get there, but she wanted to check on Emery—”

“Hey,” Chris said, reaching out to settle a hand on Jay’s shoulder. “Listen, she’s half Herrmann, half Halstead, and her friend was in danger. There was a zero percent chance she was going to listen to you. It’s not your fault, Jay. Put the blame on Ty where it belongs.”

Everything Jay had said here and back in the waiting room suddenly fell into place for Cindy. She knew how it all went down with horrific clarity. “You stayed on the phone with her,” she whispered. He’d heard everything. “Oh, Jay.”

Jay’s eyes filled with tears as he shook his head. “I couldn’t help her,” he said. His voice cracked and a shaky sob slipped out. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“No, no, no.” Cindy nudged him over and squished in beside him, grateful this sad little room at least had spacious arm chairs. “Look at me.” She cupped his cheeks and turned his head, barely making him out through her own tears. “Thank you,” she said, willing him to hear her. “Thank you for being there with her through all of that. She needed you and you stayed. You stayed, Jay, until you could get to her. Thank you.”

His face crumpled and Cindy pulled him into a hug, pressing him close as he sobbed into her shoulder. Oh, her poor boy.

Christopher and Will weren’t faring much better on the tears front. They were all hurting today.

She gave them a tiny nod and they both moved in to join the hug.

They could stay here for each other. As long as they needed.

***

Bex

Mouse said he would stay.

That was nice.

She always wanted to be around him and not just because he was really, super handsome.

The handsomest.

…don’t tell Connor.

Mouse choked on a laugh and Bex frowned. Her brain felt all goopy so she wasn’t sure, but did she say that out loud?

“Um, yes, you definitely did,” Mouse said, smiling down at her. “But don’t worry, I won’t tell Connor.”

“He’d be sad,” Bex said. “He likes being the handsomest.” She squinted at him. “But your face is so good.”

“Thank you?” Mouse bit at his lip.

“I don’t just like your face though,” Bex tried to add quickly. Her words were so slow though. Each one felt two steps behind. “I like all of your parts,” she explained. “Inside and out.”

“That’s good to know,” Mouse said. “I like all of your parts too. Inside and out.”

“Yeah?” That was nice. Mouse was nice. She was so happy they were finally going on their da—

…wait.

Bex closed her eyes against the onslaught of memories that suddenly flashed through her brain.

Ty. A knife.

Emery.

***

Mouse

Bex let out a small, pained noise that instantly had Mouse on alert. “Are you okay?” Stupid question. “What hurts? Should I call a nurse?” He shouldn’t have let her keep the oxygen mask off. What if that had made things worse? So stupid—

“Emery,” she whispered, opening her eyes to look at him again. “Is she okay?”

“She’s still in surgery,” Mouse said, hating that he couldn’t tell her better news. “We haven’t heard anything yet.”

“It’s taking so long,” Bex said. Her fingers plucked at the sheet as she took a shaky breath. “Is that a good sign or a bad one?”

“If she’s still in there, that means she’s still alive,” Mouse said. “She’s still fighting.”

Bex nodded, pressing her lips together. “I thought—I thought she was dead when I found her,” she said, a tear running down her cheek. “Ty—he tried to kill her. How could he do that?”

“I don’t know, Bex.” Mouse stroked a hand over her uninjured wrist. “People like Ty…they’ve got something broken inside of them.”

“I should have told her to go to the police station when she called me,” Bex whispered. “If she hadn’t gone home—”

“Hey, no,” Mouse said. “This is all on Ty. All of it.”

She looked like she was about to argue further when there was a knock on the door and Will came in, followed by Chris, Cindy, and Jay. They were all sporting red-rimmed eyes and watery smiles. Cindy made a beeline for Bex who let out a sob at the sight of her.

Mouse stepped back to give them a moment, making his way over to Jay who looked like he was about to fall on his face. He bumped shoulders with him, getting a small smile in return.

“How’s she doing?” Jay whispered as he watched Cindy fussing over Bex, straightening her pillow and getting her oxygen mask back in place.

“Blaming herself,” Mouse said.

“Fuck.” Jay closed his eyes briefly, his shoulders sagging.

It was a horrible instinct, but one that so many of them had. Something like this happened and you couldn’t help playing it over and over in your mind. Wondering what you could have done differently. ‘Nothing’ was a nearly impossible answer to accept.

Knowing if Emery was going to survive might make it easier though.

“Any news?” Mouse asked Will, keeping his voice low. Will shook his head grimly.

He wasn’t a praying man, but Mouse sent out a call to whoever might be listening to give them whatever help they could. Emery had to make it.

She had to.

It would break Bex if she didn’t.

***

Connor

“God dammit, Emery,” Connor gritted out as he focused on compressions.

“Dr. Rhodes,” Dr. Latham said solemnly.

The sharp whine of the monitor filled the room. It set Connor’s teeth on edge despite his best attempts to block it out. He didn’t need a screaming reminder that he was failing.

“Dr. Rhodes,” Dr. Latham tried again. “We should call it.”

“What?” Connor shook his head, panting with the effort of trying to restart Emery’s heart, sure that he’d heard the man incorrectly.

“The patient is too far gone—”

“No,” Connor snarled. “No, she’s not. And don’t—don’t start talking about me leaving. I’m not doing that and I’m not giving up. Not on her.” He glanced up at Dr. Latham and saw the hesitation—the pity in his eyes. Connor’s breath caught. He couldn’t stop. He couldn’t give up.

But he couldn’t do this on his own either.

“Dr. Latham, please,” Connor begged. “You were right. I probably shouldn’t have been in here, but I had to be. This girl. She—she’s part of my family and I couldn’t let her go through this alone. She needs me. She needs us. Help me fight for her now. Please. Help. Me.”

Connor stared at him, not breaking the rhythm of his compressions despite the merciless drone of the flatline weighing him down.

There could be no giving up.

“Please.”

Click here to read Chapter Five. Click here to read Chapter Six. Click here to read Chapter Seven.

Click here to read That Herrmann/Halstead DNA on ao3:

And here is the tag list (let me know if you wish to be added or removed):

@sorry-i-spaced, @thegirlwhowishedeveryonelived, @ivyalmighty, @thewannabewriter, @lexhalstead3, @multifandomgrl08, @foxes-and-cats, @sensitivemallysix, @thebewingedjewelcat, @emme-looou

#a herrmann/halstead production #one chicago #chicago fire #chicago pd #chicago med #rebecca 'bex' herrmann #jay halstead #oc character #will halstead #christopher herrmann #greg “mouse” gerwitz x original female character #greg “mouse” gerwitz #greg gerwitz #whump #hurt/comfort #trauma #whump fic #angst

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jjsmaybank20 · 1 year

Text

Merry Christmas To Me

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Natasha can't keep your hands off each other.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI Literally just smut. Strap on (Nat receiving), Oral (Nat receiving), Fingering (Nat receiving)

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: Here's some smut before I go offline for a couple days. Enjoy!

navigation marvel masterlist

She couldn't care less about the people in this room, she was surrounded by millionaires and government officials who pretend to be good people because of how powerful a friendship with the Avengers and by association, Stark Industries would be.

If she could have opted out of this gala she would have but being that it was Tony's annual Christmas party, and he had given her no choice but to make her appearances.

All night she had listened to rich narcissists brag to each other about the size of their vacation homes and private jets, she found it amusing every time one of them would trip over themselves trying to impress her.

Natasha stood at the bar, sipping on a glass of whisky on the rocks and checking the time to see how much longer of this dreadful event she had left.

"It should be illegal to look this gorgeous," a voice says, breaking her from her trance.

She looks up from her phone to see you standing next to her.

"Y/N Y/L/N, you are such a charmer," she smiles, "and you look quite strapping tonight."

"Well I had someone to impress," you say adjusting the collar of your suit, "though there is no way I could ever compete with you. That dress you're wearing is out of this world."

"Why thank you. So, are you enjoying yourself?" She asks.

"Seeing you has been the best part of my night," you grin and lean in to whisper in her ear, "and my suit isn't the only thing strapping about me right now."

Natasha gulps, the two of you had fallen into a pattern years ago and that pattern was leaving whatever boring event you were at and making your own fun.

"Well how about we go up to my room so we can be alone," she smirks.

"Lead the way Ms. Romanoff," you say.

Your lips are attached the moment the elevator door shuts and her hand feels the bulge in your pants.

"You brought the big one," she smiles.

"I know it's your favorite," you reply.

The elevator dings indicating you've reached your destination and you barely make it down the hall.

You were ready to take her right there, out in the open, but Natasha continued to guide her throughout the floor.

She locks the door behind you and you have the best view of New York City at night from the wall of windows.

You finally make it to her bed and lay her down, kissing her neck and grinding your hips down into hers.

She tangles her hand in your hair and tugs slightly, bringing you back up to her lips.

Your kisses only get more heated and she starts unbuttoning your shirt until your chest is on display for her.

She squeezes your breasts through your bra and moans as the toy moving between her legs gets her more and more turned on.

You move down her body, hiking the bottom of her dress around her waist to nip at her thighs.

"So wet already," you tease, rubbing a finger over her soaked underwear

"You knew what you were doing the moment you put that suit on," she groans and she was right.

You slowly pull her underwear down her legs and kiss your way back up to where she needs you the most.

Natasha gasps as your tongue finds her, licking in a motion that you had found long ago makes her thighs tremble.

She grasps at the pillow under her, rocking her hips up into your touch.

You suck on her clit and she moans your name, two fingers pushing inside her.

You pump them in a steady rhythm and your tongue flicks rapidly over her clit, Natasha breathing heavily as her first climax hits her.

She lets out a low groan as you remove your fingers but she feels another wave of arousal hit her when you stick them in your mouth to suck them clean.

She watches in awe while you undo your belt and soon your strap is free.

Natasha bites her lip, this is a view she could look at forever.

You position yourself above her, teasing her with the tip of the silicone cock.

"Please Y/N," she begs.

Her moan is like music to your ears as you push the toy inside her, giving her a moment to adjust to the size.

"Remember the last time I fucked you with this?" You say thrusting slowly, "we were on vacation in the Bahamas, we told everyone we were going on a mission and instead spent four days locked in our hotel room."

"I remember I could barely walk after that," she chuckles.

"Every man down there wishes they could be in my position right now, if only they knew I was the only one who could bring the great Black Widow to her knees," you say with a harsh thrust that makes her moan.

"We both know none of them could ever fuck me like you can," she says.

Her words are making you move faster, your thighs hitting hers with every motion.

"You are so God damn beautiful Nat," you say, kissing her sloppily.

For a few minutes the only noise that fills the room are the sounds of your pleasure.

Natasha wraps her arms around your neck and holds on tight as she cums again, chanting your name.

The base of the toy is hitting you just right and Natasha in this state brings you over the edge as well.

When both of your orgasms subside you slow the rocking of your hips, giving her a few shallow thrusts that make her shake from aftershocks.

"So, when can we do this again?" You ask soon after as you are both fixing your clothes to try to hide what just happened when you rejoin the guests down below.

"I'm not sure, but I think Tony's planning a New Years Eve party next week," she winks at you.

"Now that you mention it I do remember hearing him talk about that the other day," you smirk, leaning in to kiss her sweetly.

"As much as I prefer being up here with you the party will be ending soon and I have to make it seem like I never left," she sighs.

"Well, my training with Steve isn't until the afternoon tomorrow, maybe after this you can come back to my room and we can continue our rendezvous," you suggest. "And then we can stay up all night, doing what ever. You. Want."

Natasha shudders. You strut away, cocky. She can't help but watch you leave. God, the things you do to her.

---

Join my taglist!

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff fluff #avengers x reader #avengers x y/n #avengers x you #natasha romanoff imagine

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tigerdrop · 7 months

Text

so im kiiiinda redoing half of my fic. to account for the, uh. "canonically being able to put gordon into the computer" thing.

on the one hand i think its a way better deal b/c i will look 10% less insane writing about benrey literally putting him into the sims and playing with him like a doll . but on the other hand i have a bunch of words about gordon fingering himself that i cant use anymore

so. here they are, for u. "Enjoy"

———

Gordon blinks at the screen.

Benry Benry wants to have Oraljob sex with Gordon Freeman. Do you wish to proceed?

The laugh that erupts from him is high-pitched and violent, leaving him gasping for air. Benrey cackles in his ear. “I— I— Oh my God,” Gordon wheezes, doubling over. “You want to have what with me?! We can’t— We can’t show that on a Christian channel! We’re going to get so banned—“

“do you want to—“ Benrey can’t finish the sentence, gripped in the most intense laughter Gordon’s ever heard from him. “do you want to have oraljob?”

Gordon clutches his desk, weeping and howling.

When he calms down from his sudden fit of hysterics, he clicks “No”, to a chorus of disappointment from the chat. “I know, I know,” he says, sympathetic, “but seriously, Papa’s gotta pay the bills. Gotta keep it clean. PG-13, that’s my motto.”

“then why’s your dick out,” Benrey wheezes.

“Very funny—“

He stops in his tracks when he sees that his dick is, in fact, out. His Sims dick, that is. Gordon slams his ‘commercial break’ button so hard that he misses a few keys and takes a screenshot.

“Whoa! Put that thing away, man!”

“nice,” Benrey says appreciatively.

“Bear with me, folks,” Gordon begs. “We’re having some, uh, technical difficulties.” Why did his dick pop out? He said no! (In fairness, his Sim is decidedly not having oraljob sex. He’s eating a sandwich. With his penis out.) He hurriedly clicks through menus upon menus, trying to find a way to put his clothes back on, but none of the options do what he wants. “Why can’t I put away my stupid dick?!”

“hey, look. you just went up a level in nudism,” Benrey snorts.

Gordon buries his head in his hands, but can’t stop himself from an anguished laugh. “Okay! Give me fifteen, everybody. Go smoke a cigarette— or, or vape, I know the kids are big on the Juul these days, I don’t care, I’m not your dad.”

With that, he ends the stream.

“What kind of fucking mods did you download on my computer?” he asks, exasperated. “I feel like I need to give it a bath.”

“normal ones.”

“Uh-huh. You know my dick’s not even rendering correctly, right?”

“huh?” Benrey zooms in on it. “huh. it’s, uh. checkered.”

[some sort of connecting thought]

“I don’t even look like that, anyway,” Gordon mutters, brushing him off.

Benrey peers down at him. The webcam light turns on, drawing Gordon’s eye. “huh. i dunno. i can see the, uh… the resemblance.” He enunciates the last word carefully.

“Did you just turn on my webcam? Are we streaming right now?” Gordon sits upright, hastily checking on his streaming software. Still offline. Not that it would have mattered - he’s panned away to look at a stray dog in his yard - but it’s the principle of the thing.

“yeah, uh. no,” mumbles Benrey.

Gordon closes down OBS and Firefox entirely. Just to be safe. “A little fucking warning next time? How did you even do that?”

“administrator privileges.”

There’s a pause. Then Gordon sinks back down into his chair, defeated. “I shouldn’t have given you those. I should have smashed you up into little pieces when I had the chance. After you bought fucking Burnout Paradise on my dime—“

“you should show me what you look like,” blurts out Benrey, voice low and blunt.

“I— What?”

“i can make it look better. more like you.”

Gordon stares at the screen. Benrey avoids his gaze. He boggles a little, so far beyond comprehending this that he’s skipped past ‘denial’ and ‘anger’ all the way into ‘acceptance’. “Are you— Are you hitting on me?”

“for the immersion,” Benrey says stiffly.

———

Gordon throws his head back in frustration. “They’re just not— fucking— they’re not big enough! They’re short and stubby and I can’t— get them— where I want!” His wrist bends, desperately seeking something that he can’t describe. The tendons sing in pain. He hisses, then relaxes it, letting his hand fall limp.

Benrey stares down at him, mouth parted.

“This was stupid,” groans Gordon. “Now my hand’s all sticky and I don’t wanna wipe it on anything—“

“try again,” Benrey interrupts him, blunt and hoarse. “please?”

Gordon peers blearily at him from over the top of his glasses. “Huh?”

“i wanna.” That massive jaw gyres, struggling to work itself around a thought. “i could do it better. make it good.”

Heat rockets through Gordon’s belly, spiraling up his spine and leaving his hairs standing on end. His dick twitches without his conscious effort. Benrey’s eyes immediately dart to it. Emboldened, Gordon draws his fingertips around his hole, threatening to slip back in. “Yeah, bud? You sure? I don’t think you’ve ever done this before.”

“how would you know,” Benrey puffs.

“Uh, well, you’re in my fucking computer, for one thing.” He slips two fingers in with little resistance, just up to the second knuckle. For show. Nobody say he never did anything for Benrey. “But you know what? Maybe this’ll be funny.”

Benrey’s face hardens. “it’s not funny,” he says, pouting in high-definition. “i would never joke about pussy shit.”

“Point one: That is one hundred percent not true,” Gordon points out. “Point two—“ He curls them and groans, a soft noise. “I wanna hear it. Straight from the horse’s mouth.”

“what does this got to do with horses,” says Benrey, bewildered.

Gordon shifts in his seat, stretching a leg high into the air and gripping the back of his thigh to hold it firmly in place. His fingers move in a slow, back-and-forth motion, just enough that they visibly slide in and out, shiny and wet. Benrey makes a strangled noise in his throat.

“You think you could make it good for me? Tell me. Show me what I’m missin’ out on.”

Benrey’s fingers twitch around his avatar, scaled up to giant-like proportions, far too big for the task at hand but itching to put it into practice. “fuckin’,” he starts, low and rumbling and struggling to articulate himself, “stretch you open… mine’re bigger. lookie.” With his other hand, he waggles his fingers in front of Gordon.

“Well, duh,” Gordon says.

Above him, Benrey’s gaze shifts to his own hand, gears churning behind his eyes. “they’re still bigger,” he insists.

To prove his point, he snaps them - in a stomach-churning instant, Gordon’s camera snaps back to an isometric viewpoint, looking in on their dollhouse. On them. On Benrey’s Sim, pale and shirtless, beads of sweat tastefully textured on his skin, leaning over his own on the cheapest double bed Simoleons could buy. There’s a hand pressed against the mattress, and another at his waist. Pawing at him. And, unlike Gordon’s own hands, they’re proportioned well for a guy his size: closer to dinner plates than the slim, short ones he’s furiously trying to bend into the right shape in real life.

He shivers in his seat.

“Point taken,” he says. His voice cracks partway through.

As if on cue, their Sims start moving again, gracelessly sliding and snapping into a new position. Gordon’s stripped naked, letting Benrey between his legs, and one large hand buries itself in that hairy, thorny knot of polygons and glossy pink textures while the other holds him wide open. The fidelity’s good enough that Gordon can see exactly how the fingers curl: two outside, keeping them back, and two inside, making his Sim’s hips gyrate.

“lookatchu,” Benrey rumbles in his ear. “takin’ it like a champ…”

Gordon sucks in a sudden breath. He curls his own fingers in time with the animation, speeding up to match.

“bet you could take more.”

He whines and visibly clenches around his fingers. “Jesus, man!”

“yeah? yeah? c’mon,” taunts Benrey, shy of breath. “show me. put another one in.”

Gordon weakly mumbles some expletives as he leans his head into the crook of his headphones. Presses himself closer to that voice. “Who taught you how to fucking— talk like that,” he groans, pushing in a third finger.

The fans inside his tower spin faster. Louder. “fuuuck, dude,” he hears, a low, pained utterance.

“I’d let you,” Gordon says dizzily, “God, I must have lost my fucking mind, I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” his fingers make slick, filthy, squelching noises inside of himself, “let you put your hand in me—“

“i wanna,” Benrey cuts him off, too fast. Eager. “wanna fuckin’— wear you like a puppet—“

Gordon makes a sharp noise that surprises even himself. The he half-laughs, half-pleads, “Don’t say shit like that! That’s not— That’s not hot!”

“you moaned. i heard it, buddy.”

He ignores this. Benrey takes the opportunity to lean in, getting a closer view of Gordon’s webcam. And the slick folds Gordon’s spreading open for him.

#writin stuff #i cant really keep this in but i also cant really cram it into the other AI benrey thing i wanna write. so .

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fioreofthemarch · 10 months

Text

Finding Her - Chapter 13

Link makes notes, takes photos and keeps time on his quest across Hyrule, in the hopes of finding Zelda and staying sane until he does. [ Previous | Next | First | AO3 ]

Log date: 17:30. 7th month, 27th day 10AC. Location: Gerudo Desert Gateway Weather: Hot, low humidity

Started the week at Outskirts Stables. Picked up a few errands here and there — the Stable Trotters have lost their flutist (flautist? flutee?), one of the stablehands wanted to catch a stalhorse so for his own good I said I’d do it, and Penn, of course, had a new lead.

We interviewed Nell, one of the Zonai researchers, who said he’d been asked by a stranger to help her find her friend. Something felt off he said. I’ve known Nell a while, since before the Calamity ended — he’s one of Zelda’s more sensible researchers, and hard to fool. Believed him right away.

I had a hunch, and came up with a plan. Fetched a bucket of water from the stable and went in search of the woman, with Penn in tow. Found her shading under a large tree, mumbling something about her friend being lost and in danger.

Step one: take the bucket, and upend it over the woman. Her shriek made me doubt this, but only for a moment. As she and Penn were demanding to know what was going on, I prepared step two: a Topaz Rod, recently won from a wizzrobe in Hyrule Ridge. The woman’s eyes went wide. ‘What are you doing?’

I said that she must recognise me, and know my name, and have heard of what I had done to Yiga like her. I held the electric rod towards her soaked clothes and assured her that I had no wish to hurt anyone, but that I knew what I was capable of, now. And that neither of us should want to find out what that was.

The woman disappeared in a puff of smoke and in her place — a Yiga in full gear. ‘Kohga will hear of this’, they said, and then they were gone. Do I feel bad? Not sure. A little fear can go a long way, and avoid a lot of bloodshed. Still, Penn’s been nervous around me ever since.

From Outskirts Stable, we hiked to Gerudo Canyon. Penn decided to join, having heard of further rumours of Zelda’s whereabouts. It was tough going over rocky and sometimes flooded terrain, but it wasn’t all bad: we rescued three lost travellers, and helped unblock the well at the Gerudo Canyon stables.

I do feel bad about that. It was only after we opened the well (standard issue monster infestation) that I remembered it was Zelda who ordered it closed in the first place. We promised to come back and clear it out, but never did. Thankfully the owner didn’t seem to remember me. Or maybe, he was too polite to complain.

A photograph of the now defunct Gerudo Canyon Stables, its furniture and wears packed into large boxes. Penn is sitting atop some of them, scribbling notes for his next article.

Caption: I hope they stay, after all.

---

Warning: Detecting high levels of particulate matter, Purah Pad geographic sensors offline.

Please keep the Purah Pad ports, buttons and casings free of sand, dust or other abrasives. The Purah Pad’s patented level surface visual-tactile interface is not scratch resistant, at this time.

---

Log date: 12:15. 7th month, 28th day 104AC Location: Kara Kara Bazaar, Gerudo Desert Weather: Sandstorm. Visibility ten metres.

Made it to Kara Kara Bazaar. Instinct says turn back. Don’t like ignoring it, when so far it’s kept me alive.

Not far from Gerudo Canyon the trouble facing Gerudo presented itself — a sandstorm, and a big one. Can’t even tell where it ends, except that it hasn’t reached Kara Kara. If it were just a storm, I’d wait to let it pass – eat a few hydromelons, snooze by the oasis…

But it’s not just a storm.

I’d just purchased a Gerudo headband to stay cool when I heard two Hylians arguing: You go find him! No, you go! Their buddy was missing in the storm, so I offered to help. They said he’d run off after gibdo attacked the bazaar. Gibdo? They didn’t know how to explain, their only advice being don’t get grabbed. Easy enough. I headed out and met with an ocean of scratchy brown air. Nothing but sand and cactuses and shrubs until… something moved.

Just one at first, then more, and then they were everywhere. Shambling, creaking things with long mandibles and beady eyes. I hit one with an arrow, and then a sword, and it didn’t flinch. Then it had its hands on me, jaws clicking and oozing, inches from my face. I froze up, but instinct kicked in and I shook free, running fast as I could and stumbling over sand until suddenly it gave way and I was falling — down, down, down.

The good news is I found Ponthos, the missing Hylian. He’d gotten stuck in a cave below a sinkhole. We made it back to Kara Kara without running into another one of those things, and his buddies were so happy they gave me an orb. Which isn’t rupees, but surely someone is in the market for… orb.

The bad news is Gerudo Town is at the centre of the storm, I think. And the only way to reach them (and help them) is to make my way there on foot.

A photograph of Gerudo Desert and the blanket of raging sand that covers it. A Zonai creation - a sled with a fan and steering stick attached - is poised ready to go just outside the edge of the storm.

Caption: Maybe I don’t have to go on foot, exactly.

---

Log date: 05:35. 7th month, 29th day 104AC Location: Underground Shelter, Gerudo Town Weather: Sandstorm. Visibility five metres.

Arrived in Gerudo Town, found it abandoned. Snooped around until I found Riju’s diary (why do people always leave them open and so easy to read…)

She wrote of the sudden appearance of the sandstorm, the hasty evacuation of everyone into an underground shelter, and her wish to do something to help, going off to the North Ruins to train.

We kept close contact with Chief Riju, over the years. She and Zelda had a lot in common. They were two sides of the same coin in a way; Zelda led through analysis, weighing options, evaluating outcomes, where Riju led through action, trial and error, and gathering feedback. They relied on each other a lot, and together they made it work.

So no surprise to find Riju taking a hands on approach. She’d been working on a lightning power and just needed arrows to help her guide her focus. I was happy to oblige. When she heard that Zelda was still missing, she paused a moment, and looked back to the storm: ‘Let’s sort this mess out first, Link’.

Mess is an understatement. The gibdo marched on Kara Kara first, and then Gerudo Town. We figured out fast enough that they’re weak to electricity, it practically blows them up. Fire burns them and water turns them to mud, so plenty of options. But there’s also plenty of them, and their nests take a beating before they go down. Worse, some of them fly. Others are fast. We only survived the attacks thanks to Captain Teake’s soldiers and Lieutenant Padda’s cannons, as well as Riju’s lightning. She challenged me to a contest before each fight: whoever downed the most gibdo got the wildberry tart she’d been saving. But we both stopped counting after fifty, so we split the reward.

Now I’m here, in the underground shelter. Suppose they don’t mind a voe around so long as he saved the town. Riju hasn’t slept – she’s working on a lead about the source of the sandstorm. Will help her soon. For now, in the mood for breakfast, and keen to try the fried voltfruit they make here…

A photograph of the painted mural in the Gerudo underground shelter, a determined Riju standing before it. She is deep in thought, a hand to her chin. There is no hint of fatigue on her features.

Caption: Never seen a Gerudo back down from a challenge.

---

Log date: 17:45. 7th month, 29th day 104AC Location: The Mural’s Myth (Lightning Temple), Gerudo Desert Weather: Sandstorm. Visibility less than one metre.

Injured. Typing with right hand. Left in bad shape.

Made it to Lightning Temple. Three pillars in the desert, three lights, metal conduit in the middle. Hit it with Riju’s lightning. “Zelda” was there, but gone soon after. Big stone temple rose from the sand. Mural’s Myth? Probably not what it was called.

Big bug guarding it. BIG bug – the Gibdo Queen. Not fun. Never any fun. Gotta be source of the storm.

We chased her off, Riju’s lightning very helpful. But I got bit, left hand. A gibdo jumped me, sunk in its teeth. Hurts bad. Bandaged it up, fairy tonic didn’t do much. Poison? Hand’s burning.

Going on anyway. Can’t leave Riju alone, can’t let Gibdo Queen escape. Hurts hurts hurts. Riju seems scared, but trying not to show it. Gotta show her we can still do this – that she can still do this.

A photograph of the outside of the Lightning Temple, the ancient stone pyramid emerging from the sand. The photo is a little blurry, taken with unsteady hands.

Caption: Stay alive. Just stay alive.

---

Log date: 10:20. 7th month, 31st day 104AC Location: Gerudo Down Weather: Clear. Hot.

Where to begin. I, Chief Riju, of Gerudo Town, am making this account, in the season of the Sun, on the tenth day of the fifth Heroine. I believe the equivalent Hylian date is attached to this log, so I will not transcribe it.

I am pleased to report that all is well in Gerudo Town. By the Heroine’s and the Goddess’ blessing, Link is still with us. We have seen his illness before, many times. The lizalfos of Gerudo Desert often use poison as defence, but a concoction of voltfruit and electric saffina is a powerful salve, and it worked quickly to heal Link’s infected hand. His injuries there still pain him, so I have offered to keep up the task of maintaining this extensive photojournal, for the time being.

We had just arrived at the Lightning Temple the day before last, to confront the Queen Gibdo. It was there that Link was injured, but he insisted we continue, and that I lead the way. “Your power opened this place, and your power destroyed the gibdos. I’m just a conduit.”

And so we went on – through winding hallways, treacherous traps, and puzzling chambers, up and up through the huge pyramid structure until we at last reached the roof, and the den of that foul beast.

She was magnificent, in her own terrible way: six segmented legs with snatching talons, a fluttering scruff from which her shrieks shook the air, and grotesque hairy wings that bent and warped in impossible ways. She, like all monarchs, was fiercely protective of her subjects — and to the death.

Link’s strength had been waning our entire climb, and there were beads of sweat on his face that I knew were not from the desert heat. By the time we felled the Queen Gibdo – in a desperate and chaotic fight – he could barely stand. When I shook his hand to pass on my Vow, as was my sacred duty as the Sage of Lightning, I could feel him shaking.

I admit, I don’t know what I would have done, if he hadn’t made it. I have lived with so much doubt for so long – am I doing what is right? Am I worthy of being Chief? Link’s confidence in me erased these doubts, and his perseverance was what won the day, I believe.

After he’d recovered, needing only a day to come back from the brink of death, Link proposed a new way to hone my abilities. “The leader of the Yiga Clan is hiding in the Depths below Hyrule. I’d like your help to root him out.” I wish I could capture the look on Buliara’s face when he suggested it! But she could hardly say no — I am a Sage now, after all.

Ah, I have never seen such a fearsome and beautiful place as the Depths. Its deadly terrain, fierce monsters and hidden treasure spoke of a land of hardship and discovery, qualities close to the hearts of the Gerudo. No wonder then that our dark reflection, the Yiga, have flourished there. Once we found them at the Abandoned Gerudo Mine, however, it was fast work to dispatch them. They had funny little Zonai contraptions that flew through the air, with which they may have been able to outrun my blades – but nothing can outrun lightning.

Link held back, confident in my abilities. I thought it a failure when I reported to him that Master Kohga had escaped, but he was not disappointed. “The Yiga and I have unfinished business,” he said. “Hopefully next time I see them, I’ll be ready.” I assured him that he would defeat the Yiga, but he said that was not what worried him. I sensed a darkness in his voice then — the rage of a warrior scorned that the Gerudo know well — and I understood that he had restrained himself from the Yiga for their benefit, not his.

With our immediate troubles past us, I must now do my part to find the Princess. We saw her likeness near the Temple, but I, like Link, do not believe it was really her. I know Zelda too well: in a crisis, the first thing she ever wants to do is talk. The several hundred letters we have exchanged through the years can attest to that. She would never keep away from us, unless something was very wrong.

Zelda is out there, somewhere. I know it. It’s not where we look, but how.

A photograph of Link relaxing on a cushioned sofa in a sunny courtyard in Gerudo Town. His left hand is wrapped in a thick bandage, while in his right he holds a sunset coloured drink garnished with wedges of fruit, in a tall glass with a thin stem and a wide brim. It’s an ice cool reward for a well-earned thirst.

Caption: Very few women in Gerudo history have known what it’s like to have a brother, and I am one of them (he let me have a sip, when Buliara wasn’t looking).

---

Incoming transmission… Message medallion activated.

Answer transmission?

… …

Answer transmission?

… …

Answer—

LNK: Hello?

JSH: Goddess be praised! Link, where are you?

LNK: Gerudo Town. Why?

JSH: No time to explain. You have to come back to Lookout Landing. Did you find the Lighting Sage? I’ve sent word for the others but—

LNK: Josha. What’s going on?

JSH: You have to come back, as fast as you can. It’s urgent, really urgent.

LNK: Why, Josha?. It’s not a short trip.

JSH: We— We found Zelda! She’s at Hyrule Castle and it’s really her, Link, I swear it.

LNK: Zel…what? How?!

JSH: Dr. Purah spotted her through the telescope. It’s like the Princess is calling out to us. Link, please hurry!

[A pause, and a sigh]

LNK: Alright, but tell everyone to be ready for a fight.

JSH: W-what? It’s the Princess!

LNK: Just tell them to be ready. I’ll be there soon.

Connection terminated.

#totk #tears of the kingdom #link #riju #zelink #tears of the kingdom fanfic #my writing #tloz #is it possible to have a parasocial relationship with a fictional videogame character also hi riju i love uuuuuuu

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noonaishere · 3 months

Text

Online/Offline [C.S] - twenty-nine | “just mix them up”

Warning: use of r-slur

“I want some macarons. A dozen.” The customer, a man in a suit with one airpod in his ear and his phone in his hand, said before Minsoo could even welcome him to the café and ask him what they wanted.

“O-okay,” Minsoo smiled. She got the box that fit a dozen macarons.

Though you were busy with the drink order of another customer, you kept an ear out in case she needed help.

“Okay, which ones would you like?”

“Just mix them up.”

“Are-- are you sure? There’s a lot and I might not pick ones to your taste.”

“Just mix them up.”

Minsoo nodded with trepidation. “Okay.”

She began picking up macarons from various trays, trying to give a good mix of dessert flavors and fruit flavors.

You handed your customer their drink order and wished them a nice day before noticing the lid rack was getting short on supply and turned to Minsoo.

“I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.”

You walked to the back to get more lids and came back with a new sleeve and began refilling the rack.

“Not that one,” the customer said to Minsoo.

“Oh, sorry.” She put the one in her hand back and went for one on a different tray.

“Not that one either.”

“Okay.” She put it back.

“I don’t want fruit flavors.”

“I-- half the box is fruit flavors.”

“I don’t want them.”

“--Okay.” She began putting back the fruit ones.

“Are you stupid?”

You didn’t like that question or the tone he asked it with. You turned to face them. Now that you were looking at him, you could see he was a middle-aged man, and something in his expression told him he was the self-important type to go to restaurants to abuse the waitstaff. You had seen his type before, anyone who worked in retail or food service knew the type. Minsoo was new, she didn’t.

“What?” Minsoo asked.

“Are you stupid? Why are you giving me fruit flavors when I don't want them?”

“I-- I asked you what kind you wanted and you told me to ‘mix them up.’”

“But why would you give me fruit flavors? Do I look like I want fruit flavors?”

“Hey--” You said as you walked over.

“Are you retarded? Does your brain even work? Why would I want fruit flavors?!”

Minsoo’s eyes widened and began to water at his words. She shook from the panic and held on to the box harder to try and hide it.

“Don’t yell at her!” You yelled back as you moved in between her and the counter.

“Don’t yell at her?! She doesn’t know how to get someone’s order right!”

��You didn’t tell her what you wanted, that’s your fault!”

“I shouldn’t be treated like this! I am a paying customer! I come in here all the time!”

“Really? Because I’ve never seen you before!”

“I demand to speak to your manager!”

“Fine! I’ll get him--”

“Why are there raised voices in my establishment?” Seonghwa asked as he came through the kitchen door and walked over towards the counter.

“Are you the manager?!”

“I’m the owner.”

“This employee of yours is too stupid to get an order right, and this other one yelled at me! I am a paying customer and I demand you make this right! My order should be free!”

Seonghwa watched him for a few moments. The man faltered for the first time since starting his hissy fit as Seonghwa grilled him, his gaze raking over him like the eye of Sauron.

You thought Seonghwa was one of the prettiest people you’d ever seen since you first walked into the cafe, with his big eyes and sweet smile that made him look somewhat soft and feminine-- it was no wonder he modeled at one point. But right now he was kind of terrifying; his eyes narrowed as he scowled at the customer, and he suddenly looked like the perfect face to cast for a villain in a drama.

“And-- and you should fire her!” He pointed past you, to Minsoo.

Minsoo jumped, dropping the box of macaroons and sending them spilling onto the floor. The tops of several cracked while others went rolling across the floor and under the counter. You felt Minsoo’s head drop to your shoulder and her hands grabbed your shirt as she held back a sob.

The man smiled.

He thought he was getting his way, the piece of shit. Your lip curled as you opened your mouth. Seonghwa held a hand up, stopping you before you could do anything. You watched him, his face more relaxed, and somehow, his new lack of expression made him look more terrifying.

His lips parted and he paused for a moment, raising an eyebrow and gesturing politely to the camera on the wall. “You’re aware we have CCTV, right?”

“What?”

“And that newer systems have audio as well as video?”

“I-- what does that have to do with this?”

“I heard how you baited my employee into not knowing what you wanted. You told her to ‘mix it up’, and then yelled at her for giving you things you didn’t want. Explain to me how her inability to cater to your unspoken wishes is somehow her fault when you kept those wishes to yourself?”

“I-- she--”

Seonghwa turned to you. “Did he pay for the macaroons yet?”

“No.”

Minsoo’s grip tightened on your shirt and you reached behind your back to give her a reassuring pat. You could hear her breath hitch in her throat as she kept her head down, barely able to hold back tears. You kept your hand on her to try and reassure her.

“Good.” Seonghwa turned back to the man. “Get out.”

“What?!”

“You’ve insulted and yelled at my employees and you’ve insulted me by lying to me, you’re disturbing the other customers and causing a scene. Get out.”

“I-- I demand--!”

“I don’t care. You didn’t buy anything and I wouldn’t sell you anything now anyway, so get out before I call the police.”

At a loss, the man opened his mouth and closed it several times. You stared at him, angry because he had yelled at Minsoo. Seonghwa watched him coldly before taking out his cellphone and dialing.

“I-- I’m going to give this place a bad review online!!”

“Then I’ll post the CCTV footage of you yelling at my employees. Are you sure you want the people in your life to know that this is how you treat others?”

He jolted, clearly not wanting his friends or family to know he was such a piece of shit.

“Get out. Now.”

Clearly outgunned, the man huffed, turned around and left. He probably would have slammed the door too, if it didn’t have a hydraulic closer on it. He seemed embarrassed that he couldn’t storm out properly and walked faster.

Seonghwa stared in his direction until he could be sure he wasn’t turning around and coming back.

A customer - who you realized was the Song Mingi you had helped on your first day - was sitting at a nearby table with a short-haired woman and had been watching the whole thing. He clapped his hands and pumped his fist into the air. “Yeah! Boss man!”

The woman he was with put her hands out to stop him. He turned to her, confused by this, and she motioned for the three of you to ignore him and laughed at him quietly.

Seonghwa exhaled a laugh before turning to you and Minsoo. “Are you two okay?”

Minsoo shook her head.

“Minsoo, let’s go in the back,” you said over your shoulder.

“I-- I can’t move.” You and Seonghwa exchanged concerned glances.

“Okay.” You turned slowly, loosening her grip on you. You put your arms around her and put your hands on her head to shield her. “I’m going to help you walk back there, okay.”

She nodded.

You walked backwards slowly, helping her to follow you as you made your way to the back. Her feet dragged, leaden from fear.

Once in the kitchen, she tripped on the floor mat and fell to her knees. The quick journey to the floor must have shocked her, because she started sobbing.

“I-- I-- I didn’t do anything wrong!”

“I know, honey, I know.”

You wrapped your arms around her and held her close as she cried. Her sobs came in quick bursts of pent-up emotions as she hyperventilated. You rubbed her back as she tried to speak.

“I didn’t-- he didn’t-- why did he--”

“I know.”

“I’m not stupid!”

“I know. You’re not stupid. He’s the stupid one.”

“He is!”

“He’s so stupid he had to come here and yell at someone to try and get free shit. You know what kind of person does that?”

“W--what?”

“A really fucking stupid person, that’s who. I bet he doesn’t even like himself.”

“Re--really?”

“Mhm. Who the fuck goes around yelling at people for no reason? Like, he doesn’t give a shit at all about how his actions affect others or how other people see him or what kind of atmosphere he’s creating.”

“He doesn’t!” She cried harder.

“It has nothing to do with you, you were just an easy target since you work behind a counter and people behind counters aren’t supposed to retaliate. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

She nodded.

“Hey.” Seonghwa said as he watched the two of you from the doorway and kept an eye on the counter at the same time. “Would you mind going back to the counter? I can take care of her.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’ve got her.”

You extracted yourself from Minsoo’s grasp and went back to the counter. Before you left, you saw Seonghwa take your place as she leaned into his chest and he wrapped his arms around her. You smiled, though you found it a little odd. But you guessed they must be close in some way because she’s San’s girlfriend. You went back to the counter and found Mingi and the woman he was at the table with waiting there.

“Hi Mingi and…” You gestured to the woman, indicating you didn’t know her name.

“Dei, nice to meet you.”

You smiled and nodded. “I’m sorry about all that, do you need something else?”

“Hey, don’t apologize,” she said. “Is your coworker going to be okay?”

“Yeah, she’ll be fine. Our boss is talking to her.”

“What the fuck was up with that guy, huh?” Mingi asked.

“Mingi!” Dei hit him on the shoulder.

“What? He was a piece of shit.”

She nodded but rolled her eyes at his lack of tact.

“Yeah, I don’t know,” you said. “Some people just need to bully others to feel better about themselves I guess.”

“That was the weakest dick energy I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“Oh my god,” Dei whispered.

You laughed. “I mean, you’re probably right. I can’t imagine a confident man acting like that towards other people.”

“Anyway,” she added. “We just wanted to check on her since she seemed pretty rattled. She was so nice to us when she helped us earlier.”

You nodded. “Thank you for your concern, I’ll let her know you asked about her.”

Mingi nodded. “See you around.”

“Yeah, see you.” Dei waved as they both turned to leave.

You waved with a smile. “See ya.”

You watched as they left and then turned to the mess on the floor and started picking up the macarons Minsoo had dropped. Wooyoung appeared, probably having come from the second kitchen door, and handed you a broom.

“Ah, I was just about to go looking for that. Thanks.”

He nodded.

You crouched as you swiped the broom under the counter, trying to get the macarons that were under there.

“I’m really sorry I didn’t come out while that guy was yelling at you two.”

You looked up, surprised. “Oh… don’t worry, Seonghwa handled it.”

He shook his head as you went back to hunting for the stray macarons.

“I had earbuds in and didn’t even realize what was happening until I saw Seonghwa murderwalk through the kitchen.”

You could see a macaron way back under the counter and fished for it. “I mean, Seonghwa was the only person who could have stopped his rampage anyway; since he owns the place. Assholes like that guy only respect authority.”

Wooyoung was quiet.

You looked up. “Why do you feel so bad?”

He crouched down. “I-- you guys are my friends, I should help protect you from shitty customers.”

You tilted your head at him with a sigh and then stood and handed him the broom. “Get this macaron for me and we’ll call it even.”

Confused, he took the broom from you and got onto the floor, looking for the pastry.

You stretched your back. “Anyway, he was literally a ‘I want to speak to the manager’ type of businessdouche. There wouldn’t have been anything you could have done.”

He sighed as he knocked the macaron out from under the counter. It rolled and you stopped it with your foot.

“Yeah, I guess.” He picked it up, stood, and threw it into the garbage. “I hate that kind of person. Wasted such beautiful macarons, too.”

“Hey, if you feel so bad, maybe make something nice for Minsoo. I’m sure she and San would appreciate it.”

He tilted his head in confusion before seeming to consider what you said. “Yeah, I guess they would.”

You nodded.

[ᵃ/ⁿ: ᵀʰᶦˢ ᵇᶦᵗ ʷᶦᵗʰ ᴹᶦⁿˢᵒᵒ ʷᵃˢ ᶦⁿˢᵖᶦʳᵉᵈ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰᶦⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʰᵃᵖᵖᵉⁿᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵉ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᴵ ʷᵒʳᵏᵉᵈ ᶦⁿ ᵃ ᵍʳᵒᶜᵉʳʸ ˢᵗᵒʳᵉ. ᴬⁿᵈ ʸᵉˢ, ᵗʰᵉ ᵍᵘʸ ᵈᶦᵈ ᵃˢᵏ ᵐᵉ ᶦᶠ ᴵ ʷᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉ ʳ⁻ˢˡᵘʳ 😀. ᵁⁿᶠᵒʳᵗᵘⁿᵃᵗᵉˡʸ ᴵ ᵉⁿᵈᵉᵈ ᵘᵖ ᶜʳʸᶦⁿᵍ ʷʰᶦˡᵉ ʰᶦᵈᶦⁿᵍ ᵇᵉʰᶦⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗᵉʳ, ᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ ʷᵉʳᵉ ⁿᵒ ʸ/ⁿˢ ᵒʳ ˢᵉᵒⁿᵍʰʷᵃˢ ᵗᵒ ʰᵉˡᵖ ᵐᵉ.]

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#San #Choi San #Ateez #Ateez smau #Ateez fic #Ateez au #cafe au #streamer au #fake dating #reader fic #ᴏɴʟɪɴᴇ/ᴏғғʟɪɴᴇ

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withoutalice · 7 months

Text

oops! all food!

Rating: M

Warnings: disordered eating, binge eating, mental health struggles

Word count: 3,600

~~~

Fortress Maximus could only stare directly as the bright, phosphorescent light from the Lost Light’s halls poured into his habisuite, cascading over him exposingly. Dust stood still in the air, illuminated sacredly in the dark kitchen.

“Maxie? What’s happened to you?”

(Full story under the cut)

A/N:

Hehe~ oops! All food p*^n!

TW: Binge eating and talk of disordered eating guilt

Good luck!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fortress Maximus crashed into his berth. This had to be one of his longest days on the Lost Light. Early this morning, he went to get a checkup at Ratchet’s to ensure he was recovering from his coma properly. After that, he had his appointment with Rung, which took up the rest of the morning and a bit of the afternoon. For some reason on the way back to his habisuite he was dragged off to Swerve’s to get the “friends check-up” so he wouldn’t lose it, or something. Well he wanted to use their inner energon to paint the ship the whole time. He abruptly had said goodbye to the table before he did something he regretted and trudged to his room, exhausted.

Now he lay face down, venting heavily but evenly. He was so tired and-

He heard his tanks groan.

Fort Max punched the wall next to him and sat up. He needed fuel. He hadn’t had anything all day except for a mint in between Rung’s and Swerve’s. He leaned against the backboard of his berth and pulled his private datapad from under his pillow. His bleary eyes squinted at the several applications he could choose from. It was only 6pm, it definitely was dinner time. He decided to start with a standard personal pizza. He put in his order and closed his eyes, waiting for the knock on his habisuite door.

He still startled when he heard the rap at the door fifteen minutes later. Still in a sleepy state, he dragged over to the door with a handful of shanix for a tip. Then he stepped back to his bed, settling in with his dinner and turning on a program to watch. His servos were large enough for the whole pizza to fit easily, so he began to bite away at the steaming hot pizza. With each bite the cheese stretched in gooey strings from his denta that was then quickly swiped up with his glossa. Steam rose from each separated piece of pizza and swirled past his optics. Fortress sighed satisfied and relaxed more with each large bite. Before long, the personal pizza was gone and Fort Max left to wash the grease off his hands in the kitchen sink.

He went to go sit down and continue his program. He gnawed on the ends of his servos for a few minutes before he finally conceded to his tanks protesting. He clicked off the program and put on some music instead. Max reached over to grab his datapad off the nightstand for the second time. It was okay right? He should have a little extra because he had eaten nothing all day. It was totally justifiable. He realized as he looked down at his apps that he didn’t know what he wanted to eat specifically. Well, he had a few ideas, but he couldn’t possibly order more than a couple items? He offlined his optics.

After a moment and another yowl from his tanks, he decided it was fine. I mean, have I ever done something like this? It can’t hurt every one in a while… He opened up a different app this time. Can’t have the same place again…what if they think I regularly eat more than one bot should? Shame burned in his cheeks at the thought. Max placed his order and waited again, eyes fixed on his habisuite door. Fifteen minutes passed, and his order hadn’t arrived. To stave off the hunger he got a glass of low grade energon, then a second one, then half of third before his tanks sloshed uncomfortably with the weight of the smooth liquid. His tanks still clenched painfully like he hadn’t eaten in a week.

His optics bored into the door, and when that long awaited knock sounded he couldn’t hide his desperation as he stepped to the door and opened it jerkily. Fort Max shoved the heavy tip of shanix into the delivery bot’s servo through the slightly open door. He was trying to hide from guilt that he didn’t know the origin of. Carefully he put down a towel on his bed and set out the food. Set in front of him were two large bowls of macaroni and cheese, a plate of mozzarella sticks, a basket of fries, fried chicken, a caesar salad, and a 2-liter bottle of carbonated sweet energon. This could feed six bots, or a larger family unit of bots easily…he reflected to himself. He didn’t want to dwell on that. He wanted to ease the clenching of his tank.

Fort Max practically inhaled the fries first, not really savoring the taste or texture; he ate them without any of the provided sauces. The salt dried out his glossa shockingly fast so he washed it down with long gulps of the sweetened fizzy energon. Tanks feeling a little more satiated, he mulled over what to eat next. He decided on the macaroni and cheese. He popped open the lid of the plastic to-go container and sighed open-mouthed at the smell. He dug in with the plastic spoon. The macaroni and cheese squelched with each stirring motion. The cheese sauce was so thick it was hard to remove the spoon when he was ready to eat. Maximus then carefully put a spoonful into his mouth. The sauce coated the inside of his mouth intimately and his denta stuck together while he chewed. He vented shallowly through his nose. He nearly missed the next bite. His spoon was going faster than his mouth, and some of the food dribbled onto his chest plating. Fort Max quickly swiped it up with a napkin but cleaned his lips with his glossa. He wolfed down the last few bites of the dish and set it aside.

He then started on the mozzarella sticks. He broke the first one apart with his hands and watched the steam rise. After he ate that first one, he realized he forgot the marinara sauce so he cracked that open too. Max tried to savor them. He was still disappointed they gave him so few…

Fortress was starting to feel weighed down by the grease so he took a break by eating his caesar salad. He had no urgency, as his tanks finally were above the empty level but not completely full yet. He took the first couple bites, cringing at the unpleasant dryness of the salad even with the dressing. But he knew it was healthy so he continued through, eyeing the bucket of fried chicken strips. The music in his habisuite droned on in the background. He picked the last few lettuce pieces out of the salad that his fork couldn’t get and swallowed them quickly, tossing the container into the can next to him. Fortress took a few more sips of fizzy energon before starting on the salt-heavy fried pieces.

It was unfortunate that the chicken was room temperature at that point, but the taste was still amazing. He went through two or three little to-go containers of BBQ sauce, ranch, and ketchup each. He was feeling a little overwhelmed by the delicious taste, but half of the bucket remained and he was out of sauce. His eyes wandered up to the second container of macaroni and cheese that was left. He had to reach far to grab the last container, feeling his nearly topped off tank put pressure on his insides, but it wasn’t too uncomfortable yet. He was able to finish off both containers by using the rest of the chicken strips to scoop up the macaroni. The explosion of flavors and the comfort of the cheese and protein in his tank felt like it was warming his spark. His HUD popped up a suggestion to recharge, but Fortress Maximus didn’t feel like going to recharge just yet. He turned on the TV again to catch up on the news for the day finally.

```

Fortress Maximus fell asleep with the TV still on.

```

He woke up with condensation from his frame pooling underneath him. He panted and swiped a servo on his forehelm. It came away wet. Even worse, his tank was rumbling again, even after his larger dinner. Checking the time, he saw it was a couple hours past the night mid-cycle. The Point-One-Percenter got up, went to the kitchen again, and poured something to drink. His frame felt like it hadn’t eaten in vorns, his processor acted like it was starved of nutrients. I should get that checked out by First Aid or Ratchet tomorrow… He thought to himself. He was so mad and ashamed and confused about what had transpired in the last 24 hours. He forgot two simple meals and now his frame was breaking down like a malnourished illegal miner mech.

He couldn’t help his survival coding. He grabbed an emergency ration stick from his day kit for emergencies and sat on his habisuite floor with his datapad. Maximus barely registered the total of his purchase. Hopefully no one would question the charge. After punching in his delivery information with shaking servos, he curled up in the fetal position on the floor of his kitchen. His processor was woozy and his optics swam in exhaustion. His whole frame shook and he felt like his internals were digesting each other to get any scraps that had semblance with nutrients. Tears leaked out of his optics at the pain.

Honestly, Fortress Maximus was scared.

The delivery mech, as per his directions, knocked and left the food at the door. Fortress laughed in relief. He pulled himself off the floor and pulled the food inside.

He didn’t even make it to the table in his suite. He ripped open the first of the many paper bags with his order in it. It was a large extra pepperoni pizza. He reached into the bag again, finding the extra ranch sides he requested with the order. He ripped open several packs with his denta and squirted them all over the pizza. He frantically used his servos to spread it onto multiple slices before grabbing two slices and shoving them into his mouth. He wasn’t even tasting the food as he chewed and swallowed as fast as he could. He grabbed another fistful of pizza and opened his jaw as wide as possible to stuff as much of the food he could into his mouth. He sniffled and swiped up more ranch to put on the pizza. He felt as if he couldn’t eat fast enough. He ate two, three, four pieces at a time until the whole family sized pizza was gone.

He moaned and lay face down on the floor. His body shivered as it struggled to digest the large meal he ate. He ate too fast but that wasn’t enough to stop him from grabbing the next bag full of party size chip bags, bread and mayonnaise. He took out the toast pieces and slathered them in mayo, crushing chips in between and making a ‘sandwich’. The soft, soggy bread contrasted with the crunch of the chips and the mayo stuck to his glossa heavily. Some of the mayo oozed out of the bread and covered his servos. Without a second thought he shoved each finger into his mouth and licked his palms clean. What he couldn't clean off with his glossa he simply wiped onto his own thighs, leaving a sticky, greasy mess in its wake. All the while, his processor screamed at him to stop, to take control of himself. But his body refused to listen, determined to gorge itself in desperation. Maximus knew he was self-destructing.

Next was the pastries. Oh mmph…pastries… The tray of cinnamon rolls with the glistening, viscous sugar slathered on them was almost erotic in a way. He felt perverted just looking at them. He curiously stuck a singular servo into the center of one, and it made a slick shck! noise when he pulled it out to lick it clean. He tenderly raised the one with the fingered hole in it up to his face.

He took a bite. Immediately he received that dopamine shot from the sugar, sobbing with relief. He was already envisioning the next cinnamon roll he would consume. As he finished off the final pastry, the feeling of guilt began to set in. But it was too late. He had already fallen off the wagon.

Maximus reached for another unknown pastry box. He flopped back to lean against the kitchen wall, spreading his legs wide to make room for his overfilled tank with the box of donuts in his lap. He opened the box, smelling the copious amounts of sugar, smelling the signature fried butterfly dough. Max heard a muffled Ping! from his lower panels. He felt his belly strain against his armor and rub against internal nodal wiring unnaturally but pleasurably. Just at the smell and his cooling fans clicked on, blasting at their highest speed. Even though he was uncomfortably stuffed, Fort Max began to polish off the donuts.

He had an eating ritual for all 12 donuts. He would nibble the edge a little, then stick his glossa through the center hole, eating it without the help of his hands from there. He slurped up the sticky maple, chocolate, strawberry, and frosting cream off of his servos and chin lazily. He was slowing down. He was getting tired, but his frame was still raging for fuel. Fort Max looked at the empty boxes around him. He still had more in his order. He had to continue.

He whimpered and strained to reach the next box. He went through a loaf of garlic bread, chocolate bars, sugary cereal, cheesecake, popcorn, hot wings, triple chocolate cookies, cheese burgers with fries, ice cream and-

His frame stopped.

Max's processor returned to him and finally all his emotions bubbled to the surface. At first, tears silently leaked out of his optics as he looked around his habisuite's kitchen. He hardly remembered eating all of that but, checking the time, he realized it was possible that this was his doing. He had to have been eating for three hours straight. At least the early rising bots were already walking around the ship. The pain from Fortresses' stomach registered next, he couldn't get up and was bloated beyond belief. He tenderly held his stomach with shaky servos, slouching back farther against the wall nearly lying on the floor, and rubbing slightly to ease the stiff pain.

At first it was a sniffle, then a short cut-off sob, a weak cry, before he was completely wailing at his predicament and anguish. He let go of his bloated belly to cover his face with his servos, laying on his side in the middle of all the food scraps and wrappers and other trash on the floor. His frame shook and armor jiggled as he cried. It was a complete nightmare. He felt angry. Sad. Pointless. Disgusted, guilty, shameful and everything in between. He had never experienced such self hatred towards himself. He'd never felt so…ugly. Max hiccuped. Beating one fisted servo against the floor, and biting the other, he screamed in torment.

Why does this always happen to me!?

What is even the point?!

Fortress Maximus felt his tanks clench in being over-full this time. He continued crying like a lost child as he sat up again, looking around the habisuite hopelessly.

No one can know…

But why was he so anxious about being caught? It was just fuel, wasn’t it? After his day off his bloating would be mostly gone and messes could always be cleaned. It’s not like he broke any rules of the ship…

Everyone makes mistakes everyone makes-

The door handle turned with a click!

“Maxie? What’s happened to you?”

He recognized that silhouette anywhere. First Aid was standing in his doorway, and when Max’s optics adjusted to the searing light, he could see the terror upon the medic’s face. The tension was thick and charged with grief, confusion, disgust, concern, indifference…

Embarrassingly, the Point-One-Percenter tried in vain to stand up without the use of his servos and arms, to prove he was still capable. He failed.

“I-it’s not what you think!” He wailed.

The medic just shook his helm.

“I just don’t know what to do, Max.” First said grimly.

“Please! I can fix this!” The panicking bot uselessly swiped away wrappers, only uncovering more crumbs and trash piled on the floor.

“You need help, Fortress. This is…horrific!” First Aid gestured wildly at the state of the habisuite. The medic stepped in and grabbed receipts off the dining table. As he read the numbers of the cost of each order, his optics widened.

Maximus, overwhelmed with sadness and shame, drops his head to the floor. First Aid just stands there, his EM field tightly restricted, his arms folded in disappointment as he watches the sad spectacle unfold.

"First Aid...I...I...I just don't know what went wrong," He sobs. "This isn't me...you know that!"

First Aid's voice dropped to an alarming whisper. Maximus had never seen such anger in First Aid's optics before.

"You ate everything... again? I've heard this so many times."

Max's voice grew desperate.

“Please, don't tell anyone!”

“Fortress Maximus, you are beyond help,” First Aid said, his tone stony. “Get it together, frag it all! You can't just eat everything in sight every time you feel emotions.”

The large mech whimpered.

"I... I know... I thought I was doing better..."

“For frag’s sake Fortress!? It’s been nearly a year of therapy; it’s been two years since you were rescued from Garrus 9.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What do you think…”

Fortress Maximus felt betrayed.

First Aid took a step inside and surveyed the mess. His optics scanned over everything, and then his scanners caught a glimpse of the discarded boxes scattered around the room. Max, still on the floor, tried to cover himself up with his servos. He was ashamed, but he knew his efforts were useless.

"I can explain," he tried. "Please believe me-"

The medic's hand clenched the receipts tightly, shaking as the point-one-percenter's heart rate began to accelerate. The medic looked up from the receipts, and their optics met. Maximus' optics widened, knowing the time had come. His optics lowered to his chest panel in a silent, defeated sigh as he realized there was simply nothing he could do to hide the evidence. The damage had been done.

"I know, I know! It's just... I can't stop. Everything I taste is amazing at the time, but after..."

Maximus trailed off as First Aid began reading the total cost of his multiple orders. He was speechless. It was an inconceivable amount of shanix. Maximus just watched in anguish as the medic picked up each receipt and added up the total. He wanted to cry again.

"Just a rough patch, First! I'm in perfect control!" Fortress Maximus waved away the medic's concerns even as he took rapid shallow breaths, gasping and panting in front of him. The medic could see deep stains in the Point-One-Percenter's armor that suggested this binge-eating episode was not the first.

Fortress Maximus froze at First Aid's words, a cold realization settling on him like a blanket. He was utterly helpless to control himself, and he knew it. How many times would he repeat this same cycle before he lost everything? Maximus knew in his spark that he had hit a rock bottom, but how would he ever climb out? The Point-One-Percenter felt First Aid's judging gaze pierce the deepest part of his spark, and he had no response.

"But I'm doing better! I am. The binges aren't as bad as they were, at least not physically. I just... I need to keep myself entertained, distracted. If not, I get bored. Then I get depressed. Then I eat until I've become this... this embarrassment." The sad bot looked up at First Aid, his optics pleading for understanding.

"But it's all I have, Aid.”

First Aid shook his head one last time in disgust, opened a comm to Rung, spun on his heel and slammed the door behind him, locking Max in his habisuite with his mess. He was alone to wallow in his shame and the evidence of his binge-eating. Maximus was at a loss for words as he heard First Aid walk away. He felt so helpless, a feeling he wished he’d never have to know again. He stared around his habisuite for a moment, breathing deeply to try and calm himself down.

He knew what he had to do next, but he couldn't summon the strength to leave the mess he had made. Eventually, he closed his optics and laid motionless on the floor.

~~~~~~~~

A/N

First off, I’m sorry I wrote this. Uhhh points for creativity? Eheh >.<

Thanks for reading though! Just remember, that even though I write about heavy topics doesn’t mean I'm struggling. ;)

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