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mockerycrow · 11 months

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Emergency Contact (1/2) (Ghost x GN!Reader)

>> emergency contact concept here << PART TWO HERE!!

Summary: Simon is your roommate, and you haven’t seen each other in months, considering Simon’s job. An unfamiliar number pops up on Simon’s phone, and answering it makes his world turn upside down.

A/N: How you two moved in together is very vaguely inspired this ghost fic right here. please give it a read! If you finish the song above, I highly recommend listening to the entire album while reading. i’m not the happiest with this, but i’m happy enough to post!

[WARNINGS: Blood and injury, traumatic events/trauma brought up, gore, little comfort, medical inaccuracies, tbh ooc simon but it’s ok.]

Eight months, thirteen days, and nine hours. That’s how long it’s been since he’s been home, since he’s seen you. That’s how long he’s been stuck on base, or thrown into a foreign country to complete some mission, or to gather some intel, or to kill someone, just somewhere, anywhere but with you.

Eight months, thirteen days, and nine hours. That’s how long it’s been since you softly asked him to stay as safe as he can, and to come back alive, and to come back with at least eight fingers. It was a running joke between you two, a way to relieve the terrifying reality of his job; as long as Simon came home alive and with majority of his fingers, he could consider it a job well done. You didn’t know much of his job, of course—only that he’s military, and he’s gone a lot. You already guessed it was a lot of classified stuff, probably down top secret government type of things. That did make you scared, though. You didn’t want the day to come, the day where people in fancy uniforms show up at your doorstep like you’re some widow. The thought of someone informing you of Simon’s death makes your stomach twist.

Eight months is admittedly a long time. Simon.. he missed you, but he’s rather die that verbally admit it, but he sure as hell felt it. He missed the way he could hear you walk through the house, the weight of the floorboards creaking up your feet. Simon missed walking by the bathroom and the air vaguely smelled your shampoo and body wash, a clear indicator you had just taken a shower. Simon missed the way you carelessly have your shoes next to the shoe rack, not even on it, and despite his annoyance of your laziness? He misses it every single time he’s away. He never really realizes the difference of living on base versus being home with you, and he’s comfortable in both environments for completely different reasons. Simon is comfortable with you because you’re safe, you aren’t associated with anyone he has to deal with on a near daily basis. You don’t scan the kitchen to see which household items could be potential bombs in the vicinity like he does. On base, Simon finds comfort in the familiarity of being constantly on alert, the need for a gun to be against his hip—it’s not the best, considering he’s in fight mode majority of the time, but it’s comforting. It’s familiar. It’s.. home, in a way.

You and Simon call at least once every three weeks—it’s not more because you’re both busy, you have your life to tend to while he has to do something like protecting an American Embassy, or sneaking into a compound to retrieve some vital information. You two talk about all kinds of things; you complain about the neighbors for the nth time, or you talk about your job, just something that he hasn’t heard about in a while. Simon.. he’s limited on what he can talk about—what he wants to talk about. It’s a bit difficult, keeping details of his job hidden away from you. He also keeps you hidden away from them; his team. Price vaguely is aware of your existence, but all he knows is your name and your phone number—someone to alert when he eventually would pass away.

It surprised Price when he requested access to his own file to make a change. Simon went for years without anyone in that section, leaving it blank—and then suddenly ‘[Name] [Last Name]’ is written down, along with your phone number. Simon doesn’t want to die somewhere and then you sit at home, dreading the fact that you haven’t received a call from him for over six months. Other than that, no one is aware of your existence and he wants to keep it that way. It keeps you safe, and he doesn’t want the one thing he has going in his life to be taken away from him—not like everything else has been.

No, you and Simon aren’t together. You just are the one constant he cannot allow to die. How you and Simon became close was rather funny, really—before you were roommates, you bumped into each other at the local stores, the bank, even several public spaces like parks and such. You didn’t see him too often and you weren’t aware on why, but you didn’t really wonder why either. By this point, you knew each other for a couple of months. He introduced himself as SR—not Ghost or Simon, but as SR. You didn’t bother to question it because this tall, bulky man seemed like he was trying keep himself as anonymous as possible. Without fail, you always saw him wear dark colored clothing that hid any identifiable markings—tattoos and scars, that kind of thing. He usually has his hood up with a black face mask covering his nose down, but you do know one thing—he has to have bright blonde hair. Why else would his beautiful eyelashes and eyebrows be that bright? It would catch your eye every time you’d see them. Sometimes you would see him with a beanie on and the mask, with his hood down. This wasn’t too often, as it exposed some scarring he has on the back of his neck, as well as his forehead. This also silently lead you to believe he has a tough past of some sort, which is confirmed when you run into him somewhere you never expected to—your therapist’s building. You bumped into him right outside, and you apologized profusely before looking and going silent as you made eye contact.

A silent agreement was made between you two that day, one that you could never put into words. Something in that moment that dragged you two closer together. You had been through some shit in your life, shit that had permanent effect on you, shit that you wanted to work through. It was horribly tiring, but you knew you needed to work through it—so you could live a life you felt was worth living. Simon, was on the other side of the spectrum. He didn’t want this. He never wanted to tell anyone about anything, but Price, Price fucking made him. Simon spends his days and nights plagued with nightmares and memories—he’s woken up in the middle of the night enough times to know that he needs help, but he was so adamant about not talking to anyone about it. But seeing you there? Someone who he hasn’t known for long, someone who had always greeted him with a smile on your face, laughter spilling from your beautiful vocal cords, and someone who doesn’t touch him without permission? It made him so angry and hopeless about this world. Not even you, a stranger who he sees as the best human being he’s known in a while—despite not knowing you for long—could escape from the cruel and sharp jaws of the world. You found out you two accidentally scheduled the same days, so it became an unspoken agreement to wait for the other outside of the building so you can both go in. Even when you weren’t sure when his next appointment would be, you’d be right outside of that building, waiting for him. You would always be right there, and that’s something he quickly learned.

You lost your house to a fire, everything went with the burning embers that raged inside of the 4 walls of your previous home, the structure collapsing in on itself. You had gotten out in time, and you numbly watched the fire roar, the crackling burning it’s memory in your ears. The piercing sound of different sirens were approaching, but all you could do is stand there with your phone in your hand, watching the home you worked so hard for burn to the foundation built years ago. You felt a hand on your shoulder, but you didn’t bother to turn to see who it was. Everything was going so slow, almost like a movie scene in the worst way possible. Your nostrils burned from the smell of burning wood, drywall, and installation. The hand squeezed your shoulder and you slowly looked at who it was—and was him. Simon. His eyebrows were furrowed, eyes ever so slightly panicked and it was obvious he was asking you something, but you didn’t hear him. All you could focus on was that he was here. You blinked rapidly as your eyes began to burn from the smoke and from that choked feeling going from your chest to your throat. “I..” You croak ever so slightly. You couldn’t hold it back—you quickly grabbed onto Simon desperately, letting out a heart-wrenching sob because you just lost everything you owned, every memory, every piece of furniture, everything.. but he was here. He was the only thing was wasn’t crumbling away from your grasp, the only constant. Once you clung to him, Simon’s senses were flooded with you. Fuck, your touch burned, just like everyone’s else’s but he liked—no, loved how it felt. Despite the image of a burning house in his wake making dread bubble in his gut, your sobs and touch were the only thing he could focus on. Simon hesitates for only a second before pulling you into his personal space, his arms wrapping around you and weighing heavily on your body. Neither of you spoke, he just let you scream into his chest and sob, your fists gently banging against his chest—the anger, the sadness, everything was too much. Simon knew exactly how you were feeling, so he didn’t mind the twinges of pain your hands produced. Simon was the one who helped you while you chatted with the paramedics and the police. He was the one who helped you find your words when you had none left to share, the smell of the smoke imprinted on your clothes.

Without question, Simon took you to his house. He did not have another bed set up, so he had you sleep in his room while he slept on his couch. He hated the hollow look your eyes held, the way you were delayed with your answers, the ways your hands shook. Your everlasting smile had dissipated into a wobbly frown and he.. Simon couldn’t handle it. He grabbed you some of his clothes and helped you into his bathroom, quietly telling you to take a shower. He’ll take care of your clothes. Simon left you alone, and you showered for a long time. He didn’t count, but it was over an hour and a half. Simon didn’t say anything about you possibly racking up his bill, how could he when you had just lost everything? He wanted to.. to help you, and he wasn’t sure why. Even when he found himself scrubbing your smoke and tar covered clothes in his kitchen sink, he couldn’t find an exact reason why he wanted to help you. Maybe it’s because you made him feel human when he needed to be, maybe you were the one thing that kept him coming back to this town, the one thing that kept him from completely pulling away from the civilian world. You had found him in a corner like a dog, lips curled back and snarling—sharp teeth clashing together, and without a word, you gave him reasons to trust you. Although they may not be.. normal reasons to the regular eye, but they were enough for Simon.

You’re enough for Simon. He scrubbed your clothes until his arms burned, and then some.

That’s when he found out that you too, were also someone who could not stay asleep for long. When Simon awoke with his adrenaline pumping from the muffled sound of vomiting, he had to calm himself down because he’s safe, and you’re safe, most of all. Simon isn’t sure when he began to think that way, but it’s one of the many things he’s decided to not question—which also new for him. Simon is man who demands answers, yet with you? it’s like everything naturally falls into place, which is why he doesn’t complain when your stay at his house—which you swore would only be until you gathered enough money for an apartment—turned from a two week stay, to Simon carrying in an IKEA bed frame to put and assemble in one of his empty rooms. Many sleepless nights came and went, and each and every one you spent them with each other, sitting by a windowsill together, other times spending it in the backyard and looking at the sky. Sometimes you would wake up first, sometimes it would be him. You somehow always knew when he had woken up from a nightmare, his heart pounding in his ears—until your hands grab his and squeeze, to ground him. You burn him, and he welcomes the tickle of your ever-glowing flame. A year into this arrangement, Simon finally shows you his face and he appreciates that you don’t look at him any different. He usually hates the searching eyes, trying to memorize every inch of his face—but he’s greedy when you do it. When your eyes roam over every scar and acne scar, when you point out his messily cut hair and half-assed shaven stubble, he doesnt get angry. Simon doesn’t feel suffocated by your glances. He doesn’t wear his mask at home anymore, not when you’re there.

Then Simon gets the notice about his three month leave ending soon; and he knows that you need to know about his job. Or at least, the bare minimum you need to know. In reality, it’s how much he wants you to know, but he doesn’t want to admit that. He sits you down one morning, a cup of tea in his hand and he had a mug of your favorite morning drink on the other side of the table he had bought a few weeks you started staying here. Simon explains that he has a job in the military, that he can’t tell you much, but it means he’s going to be gone for weeks, even months at a time. You’re at a loss at first, because who is going to have an extremely positive reaction to “by the way, I work an extremely dangerous job and I can’t tell you anything and I’ll be gone for a while.. Oh yeah, you likely won’t know if I die!”? Despite your initial reaction, you grow to be okay with this situation. Or, we’ll, as okay as you can be with it. You also find out that he was here for way longer than he originally is, due to his boss demanding him to take a break—AKA, “go to therapy you dafty”.

For a little over two years, you two fell into a good rhythm. A call every three weeks, him coming home and you becoming the safest space he’s ever had in his life.

Which is why when his personal cell phone begins to vibrate in his pocket during some fuck-all meeting, his eyebrows furrow. The number is unfamiliar, but the area code is not. Simon quietly excuses himself from the extended round table, taking his call outside of the meeting room. Price’s eyes follow his figure as he exits, noticing it’s his personal cell phone in his hand. Simon answers the call and presses his phone against his masked ear, muttering a low, “Hello?”

A high-pitched, soft yet serious voice filters through the speaker, a woman. “Hi, is this Mr. Riley?”

Simon pauses, and so does his heart. “Who’s asking?”

He honestly regrets asking that in the moment—one part of him genuinely wishes he never answered this call, and the other part of him is glad he did. “I’m a nurse from Northern Manchester Community Hospital, you’re written down as [Name]’s emergency contact. They’ve been a victim of a hit and run situation, sir. They’re alive, but they’re in the ICU.” The nausea that suddenly bubbles inside of his guys, the stomach acid mixed with whatever he had eaten previously, threatening to travel up his esophagus, burn every inch and then exit with a horrific sound. Simon’s head began to spin—he’s your emergency contact? A hit and run, you were fucking hit?? By what, a car? A pick-up? A semi? God, Simon has seen the most horrible, gruesome, fucked up shit you would ever see in his entire life, yet he isn’t sure if he can handle the image of you spread out in a hospital bed, with one too many tubes circulating around you. His mind plagues him with intrusive images, ones he never wants to actually see played out. Fuck, his head hurts. It feels like someone is physically shoving a knife into his chest and twisting it, like God is laughing at him and playing with Simon’s pain for his own gain. How could he not think that, especially with everything that has happened to him? His friends, his family? His old CO? The fucking abuse he endured??

It’s like Simon lost his hearing for a moment, because he cannot bare fucking losing you, too. There’s a vague ringing in his ears, almost like there was an explosion and he stood too close. And then suddenly every sound comes rushing back to his eardrums, and everything suddenly everything is so fucking overwhelming. “Mr. Riley?” The nurse calls over the phone, her tone laced with worry. He clears his throat and when he speaks, he sounds wrecked, which he fucking hates. “I.. I’ll come as soon as I can.” Simon hangs up, not giving the nurse a moment to speak. He drops his phone and if he doesn’t sit down, he’s going to fall over like a tree that’s been cut down. Simon lets out a shaky breath, trying to ignore the way his stomach is screaming and twisting as he puts a hand on the wall, and he crouches down. It’s the first time he doesn’t look around to see if anyone is watching his sudden display of emotion. When he’s suddenly rocked with the feeling of home at work, especially with the news that you’re fucking injured—he’s overwhelmed and twisted all over the place. Simon finds himself stumbling back to his barracks.

Price finds his way to him after Simon never returns to the meeting. He knocks on the door, but his knuckles pause before they can knock against the door for the third time as he discovers the door is open—which is very, very, odd. He slowly opens the door while calling for Ghost, and is met with the sight of Simon shoving some of his clothes and belongings into a duffle bag, as well as his military travel documents. “Ghost?” Price questions, who stopped in his doorway to watch Simon lose his mind while packing. Simon doesn’t respond as he practically rips his phone charger out of the wall and stuffs it into the bag, zipping it up. He slings it over his shoulder and he turns around, pausing when he sees Price. Simon’s eyes tell everything he’s feeling—that something’s happened, something bad, and he needs to leave. Price bites his lip and quietly exhales, his fingers rubbing at his chin. “I’ll approve your leave. Just shoot me a text of how long it needs to be, yeah?”

Simon makes sure to note to send Price a thank you of some sort, because within the next two hours, Simon is boarding a plane, heading for Manchester, wearing some black clothing, a jacket, a black face mask, gloves, and his beanie. The entire time, he could not stop thinking about you—and how you could possibly die before he got there to send off his final goodbyes. Is that something he would actually want to do, though? See you in the hospital, knowing it’ll be the last place you’d ever be alive in? Go home, see how you left the house exactly as you left it? A house, but without his home in it? Simon stares out the airplane window blankly, his hands curled into fists, and his nails would be digging into his palms if he didn’t have gloves on.

He couldn’t lose you. Not like this.

The next part for Simon, it’s a blur again. Got off the plane, got his luggage, provided documentation, blah blah blah—he didn’t give a fuck about any of it. His focus was you. He didn’t bother to stop home to drop his stuff off, he took an Uber straight to the hospital from the airport. It was a fairly expensive Uber too, but he could worry about the costs of everything later. It took another half hour to get there.

His heart began to hammer in his chest as the sight of the hospital’s signs began to pop up on the road, the anxiety taking hold in his stomach and his head begins to hurt again. Simon quietly thanks the driver, tips them, and exits the car with a swiftness once they pull up. Simon walks through the main entrance’s sliding doors, going up to the desk. A woman behind the counter hangs up the phone, murmuring a goodbye, and then she looks at Simon with her pretty blue eyes. “How can I help you, sir?” She murmurs sweetly, noting how anxious he is. She can see the sweat on his brow line. Simon clears his throat, his voice rumbling in his chest when he speaks. It takes everything in him to not yell at this innocent woman and get thrown out. “My.. My name is Mr. Riley, I was called ‘cause my friend is here,” Simon manages to push out. “[Name] [Last Name].” The woman turns to her computer and clicks the couple of buttons and types a couple of words and holy fuck, Simon just wants to go to your wing already—“Ah, yes, I see you’re listed as their emergency contact,” The woman grabs a sticky note and writes with a pink pen your room number and elevator floor, handing it to Simon. He barely gets a “thank you” out before he nearly jogs to the nearby elevator. Fourth floor, room 283. Fourth floor, room 283. Fourth floor, room 283—it’s the longest minute long elevator ride in his entire fucking life.

Simon changes face masks whilst facing the wall, and then he finds your room number—and his heart is beating out of his chest. There’s cops standing outside of your room who stop him from entering. Simon’s anger flares up so quickly, he nearly makes a scene until a doctor exits your room. She’s wearing her usual blue scrubs, her coat, and she’s dawning a N95 and some sterile gloves. She’s holding a clipboard. “Mr. Riley?” She questions, holding the clipboard close to her chest. Simon nods without hesitation, and she responds, “I’m sorry, but due to the nature of this case, you’ll have to provide some identification for me and these officers.”

Usually, Simon would hesitate—he gives anyone outside of his team the bare minimum, hell, he only introduced himself as SR until he knew you for a while. This time, he takes out his military ID and shows it to the officers. He ignores their looks of surprise, and ignores the murmurs that come from them. Simon puts his ID away and he holds back the urge to shove them out of the way as he glares down at the doctor on accident. “Come in,” The doctor opens the sliding door and steps into the hospital ICU room with him. Simon follows behind her and he immediately smells the sickening smell only the ICU gives off. There’s a small wall blocking his view from you that he hasn’t past, and he can already hear the machines working. A heart monitor, a ventilator, combined with other machines he doesn’t know too well. The doctor flips through the papers pinned to her clipboard. “They were hit by a vehicle of some sort, the scene suggested they were walking home from the local corner store. [Name] has multiple broken bones and fractures, a punctured lung, a fractured jaw and internal bleeding. They lost a lot of blood at the scene.” Simon doesn’t respond as he slowly walks forward, and he finally lays his eyes on you. It’s.. traumatizing, to say the least. You were never supposed to be in a hospital bed like this, hooked up to machines he can’t even name. He slowly walks over to you, dropping his duffel bag somewhere on the floor. He doesn’t care to look where. Simon barely pays attention to what the doctor is saying—his hands tremble as he stands by your side, his heart thumping harshly in his chest. Fuck.

He drags over one of the chairs next to your bed. Simon takes off one of his gloves slowly, and then he tears the other one off in a frenzy. He feels so unlike himself, so.. different.. human. He reaches over to your hand and his fingers grab your wrist, so gentle as if you’re glass. Simon presses his fingers against your pulse point, counting your heartbeats despite the monitor. The thumping under your skin makes it more.. real. Feeling you, your heartbeat, your warmth and your skin—it’s comforting. Simon clears his throat and fights the urge to vomit once a gain, watching your chest rise and fall, produced by the ventilator.

He moves his hand to intertwine with your fingers and he uses his other hand to feel your pulse. Simon closes his eyes, muttering the beats per minute under his breath.

At least you’re alive—you’re here, you’re alive, and you’re with him. And that’s all he asks for.

tags;; @alwaystired--neversleeping @handsomeunderwear-art @indefenseofkara @kaysav608 @1-is-loneliest-number @rosee-sensuelle @kitty-satan1 @k4marina @rahmown @royalty-purple @bowtruckleninja — if you are not tagged, it’s not allowing me :-)

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chvoswxtch · 5 months

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Girl I have been silently reading and praising your stuff from my sisters account. Like liking all you stuff for safekeeping. The whole thing crashed and now I am trying to do the whole interacting thing. I am so embarrassed and scared that my idea is shit so this I am anonymous. But listen - I check your blog every day for updates. I luv u.

Okay my request is a bit messy. But like an angsty/fluf fic with Frank and a woman who is like small but indestructible - you know like a super power or x-gene thing. You cant see any wounds on her body they´ll just heal or something. And all she wants to do is protect Frank and he is just not having it.

If this is shit and not duable I get it! And if I missed somebody writing something simular please share the link - I would love it! Rant over...sorry...and thank you <34567

hi nonnie!

firstly, welcome. there's no need to hide in the shadows, or to apologize or feel embarrassed or any of that. i'm happy you're here and felt comfortable sharing your idea with me! I actually got a somewhat similar request, so I ended up combining the two to get the best of both worlds :)

also if you're into frank x powered reader, I highly recommend @grippingbeskar! she has an entire completed series called salt, ice, and fire that is phenomenal that I can't gush about enough

I hope you enjoy!

warning: swearing, mentions of guns & blood word count: 1.4k

bulletproof.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“What the fuck are you doin’?”

Frank’s thick brows were angrily bunched up in the middle of his forehead, a trail of crimson slowly leaking from the cut that covered the bridge of his freshly broken nose. His jaw was harshly set and he scowled deeply at you while switching out the cartridge on his rifle by muscle memory, not even having to look down.

“I told you-“

“No, I told you to take the goddamn stairs to the roof while I took out-

“I had it under control, Frank!”

Frank scoffed and let out an exasperated puff of air through his lips while shaking his head and gesturing towards you loosely with his free hand.

“Under control my ass, look at you. If you had fuckin’ listened to me, you wouldn’t be bleedin’ right now.”

Frank’s voice had risen in volume, and the timbre of it carried through the empty space between the two of you with a subtle growl. He might have been pissed at you, but you were fucking furious with him. You’d lost count of how many times the two of you fought about the exact same fucking thing over and over, and you weren’t arguing about it with him anymore.

The heavy sound of approaching footsteps and yells caught Frank’s attention, but as he began to march towards the open loading dock of the abandoned warehouse with purpose and a raging vendetta burning in his eyes, the metal shutter door suddenly came barreling down with a wave of your hand. It collided with the concrete floor, a loud thud echoing around the space, not only preventing Frank from getting out, but anyone else from getting in.

Frank instantly paused, snapping his head to look over his shoulder at you with an expression of pure annoyance covering his sharp features. Your eye color had shifted to an incandescent shade, glimmering like two deep red rubies caught in the sunlight. There was still a flickering scarlet glow around your right hand as you kept the door shut, and Frank could tell by the look on your face that you were incensed by his behavior, but he refused to back down anymore than you did.

Grabbing the hem of your top with your left hand, you hastily lifted it upwards just as one of the bullet holes above your right hip began to close up and heal. Frank’s narrowed gaze dropped downwards to watch, and his features softened just a sliver, only to harden once again when he looked back into your illuminated eyes.

“I can heal, Frank. You can’t. So when I tell you I have something under control, that doesn’t mean you fucking jump in front of me guns blazing. That bulletproof vest can’t protect you from everything, and I swear to whatever God you believe in, if you pull that shit again and get yourself killed, I will find a way to raise you from the dead just to kill you myself.”

Frank didn’t visibly react to your words, even as your voice rose in a hysterical volume and filled the empty space surrounding you both. Any other person might have been fucking terrified to be alone with a woman that had glowing red eyes and could trap them somewhere with her mind. Then again, anyone else probably also would’ve been scared shitless to be alone in a room with the Punisher himself.

But Frank wasn’t afraid of you, just like you weren’t afraid of him. You both knew what the other was, and you loved each other anyway.

That was the root cause of your recurring argument. Frank wanted to protect you, and you wanted to protect him. Despite him knowing about your abilities, he still felt responsible for you. He didn’t like seeing you get hurt, even if it did heal. He didn’t want anything to happen to you if he could prevent it.

Letting his rifle drop by his side, Frank let out a deep exhale through his broken nose, his eyes wandering over your figure slowly before meeting your gaze.

“You know how much I hate seein’ you get hurt, baby. You know what it does to me.”

The sudden change in his voice to a softer and more sincere tone had your eyes shifting back to their natural color, and your previous anger began to instantly cool. You did know. If someone so much as bumped into you on accident, Frank was ready to tear them to shreds. He had always been extremely overprotective of you, and knowing his traumatic past, you couldn’t blame him, or stay upset with him for very long.

Letting out a soft sigh of your own, you ran one of your hands through your hair before taking a few steps towards him, your heeled boots echoing along the cement floors. Despite the three inches of height they gave you, Frank still towered over you completely. The size difference between the two of you was nearly comical, especially considering he was the “big and scary” one.

But you were the little witch that had a nasty temper.

“You think I enjoy seeing you get hurt? I’m the one who has to fix you up, remember?”

Neither one of you paid any mind to the incessant banging on the shutter door, or the sound of ricocheting bullets and yelling coming from the other side. When you brought your hands up to gently grab Frank’s face, he leaned down to nuzzle into your palms and instantly melted into your touch, his attention solely focused on you.

“I know.”

Brushing your thumb lightly along the violet bruise that began to bloom on his right cheekbone, you took in the cut along the bridge of his nose and frowned softly with a sigh.

“Your nose is broken again.”

“Ain’t the first, won’t be the last.”

“Can I try something?”

Frank arched one of his thick brows in question, glancing over his shoulder momentarily at the shutter door before looking at you again.

“Right now?”

“You have somewhere to be?”

Rolling his eyes, Frank let out a soft chuckle and gave a slight nod of his head.

“Alright. S’pose they ain’t gettin’ in no time soon.”

A proud smirk was all you offered in return to his comment. Taking a deep breath, you removed your right hand from his face and let your index finger hover over his wounded nose. Focusing intently, your hand was once again glowing, and you traced a crimson line in the air from the top to the bottom of his nose. All of a sudden, the cut on the bridge of his nose sealed up, and the indigo patches that had blossomed around it vanished.

Frank blinked a few times in dumbfoundment, wiggling his large nose and glancing down at it in a mixture of confusion and awe. Your own eyes widened in surprise, and your mouth hung open in shock before your lips parted into a wide grin. Frank looked at you, his features twisted up in wonder and puzzlement.

“Holy shit. How the hell did you do that?”

“I…I don’t know. I just…wanted to see if I could, and…focused really hard. I can’t believe it actually worked!”

Frank stared down at you incredulously when you said that.

“The hell you mean you can’t believe it actually worked? You didn’t know it would? What if you had given me a tail or somethin’? Or put my ass where my nose was?”

“Oh, well then I could never kiss you again.”

Frank actually looked offended by that, and you couldn’t help but laugh at his expression while you gently patted his shoulder and stepped around him to face the shutter door, brushing your hair off your shoulders.

“Alright big guy, let’s wrap this up. I’m starving, and there’s a Gilmore Girls marathon waiting with our name on it.”

Frank’s plush lips pursed in an adorable pout as he cocked his rifle and aimed towards the shutter door, keeping his narrowed gaze locked on you.

“You and I are gonna have a serious talk ‘bout this magic shit when we get home.”

tags: @day-dreaming-goddess @kdogreads @heimtathurs @mars-rants-a-lot @casa-boiardi @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @hazallem @avencol @neverlandcity @charmedkim @queenofthenoobs @stilldreaming666 @mattymurdock1021 @bubuslutty @ninejlovebot @purrrfect @pennylovey @firesunflamed @oscarisaacsleftknee @ameliaswife @vane28282 @kmc1989 @messymissy @dark-academia-slut @strawberry1042 @utterlynuts

#frank castle #frank castle x you #frank castle x reader #frank castle request #frank castle fic #the punisher #the punisher request #the punisher fic

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psychedelic-ink · 1 year

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𝑰 𝑵𝑬𝑬𝑫 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑻𝑶 𝑻𝑬𝑳𝑳 𝑴𝑬 𝑻𝑯𝑨𝑻 𝑰'𝑴 𝑮𝑶𝑶𝑫

pairing: tommy miller x fem!reader

genre: smut, soft enemies to lovers, minors dni

word count: 3.4k

summary: when you met him the first time him and his brother was your captor, months later he becomes yours, and quickly after that he become a resident of Jackson. You've already forgiven him for his past, but he's not happy with how eager you are to excuse what he's done.

warnings: tommy having a hero complex, tommy lashing out, piv sex, time skips, oral (giving & receiving)

a/n: the format I've written this in is inspired by @littlemisspascal 's getting lost is being found joel fic, which I highly recommend by the way it was amazing, one of my favorite things ever 💜

The world went to shit, well joke on the world, your life was already shit long before outbreak day.

It wasn’t for a lack of trying. Nothing just seemed to work out for you. But then all hell broke loose and suddenly it felt like you were off the hook, that you could be someone else, someone you always wanted to be. Someone that you knew you were. Before all this, you were just hurt, felt broken, but still smiled and went about your day. You tried to be good. Tried to be nice. For the most part, you like to think that you succeeded.

You became a guide. Somewhat similar to Charon, if you spared yourself the thought but instead of guiding the dead to Hades, you guided the living away from it. Things went smooth for the most part, you helped people where they needed to go, killed infected, shot down those who shot first. It was the oddest type of freedom that you felt.

But life had other plans, and life loved to point its middle finger right into your face.

It’s a dad and his two kids this time, you were helping them get to the nearest QZ. You cut the fence, helped them through, you knew hunters were lurking nearby, people who survived on killing and stealing—vultures.

You feel a tight grip on your neck and you’re being violently pulled back. The kids look back at you with horror lingering in their eyes, the dad eager to pull them away. With a deep breath, you manage to force out a smile.

“Go!” you shout. “You’re almost there!”

And they run, they run as fast as they can.

“Fuck!” you hear one of them say, a deep souther drawl heavy in your ear. “Shit, they got away. They had good weapons on them too.”

“At least we got the one,” the man that holds you answers. “Let’s go back, see what this one has.”

“Let me the fuck go!” you struggle, attempting to elbow him in the stomach. “You fucking assholes. They were fucking kids.”

Finally one comes into view, he’s broad—broad enough to stun you into silence. The fear of death lurks around your heart, sucking you into a black pit of realizing that this might be it. He has a glare that could kill, a hooked nose, and, most importantly, a gun. This man, you notice, this man would kill you in a heartbeat. He gives you one last once-over before tilting his head to the other holding you down.

“Knock her out, Tommy.”

ii.

It’s late. Far too late for anyone to be awake. The embers of the crackling fire had died down, only specks of golden orange shimmering between the ash. You’ve learned the names of your captors; Tommy and Joel. Brothers, you assumed, they didn’t really have to spell it out for it to be obvious.

You’re not sure why you’re still alive. You remember Joel muttering something about using you as bait, or to learn more about the routes that you seemed to know. Tommy had agreed.

In another life, another time, you would’ve deemed the men attractive. Especially Tommy. He had a boyish charm to him, longer hair compared to his brother (those poor dark locks had definitely seen better days), and mussed unkempt facial hair indicating that they’d been at this for a long time. You understand, to a degree, why someone might choose this to survive. Some people just didn’t know what else to do. Some people simply enjoyed it; the power, the freedom, the giddiness of not having a system to say no.

From what you understand, these two just had no idea what else to do. Too far off to reach a QZ, or they simply don’t trust FEDRA, whatever it is they seem to have made a life for themselves neither of them looked happy to be in.

Your eyes fall to where Joel is sleeping, Tommy’s on watch, which makes you somewhat hopeful, you don’t have the strength to piss off Joel—Tommy you can take a chance with, he seemed softer. Softer like a rose, pricking you if you’re too lax and not careful enough.

You’ve been captured before, and due to that, it doesn’t take long for you to free yourself from the hard ropes they tied you in. You hold your breath as you move away from the camp, careful not to step on any branches or rubble. You see Tommy ahead, he’s looking at you, the moonlight reflecting in his eyes. You expect him to shoot, to chase after you.

He continues to stare as you disappear into the night.

ii.

You see a lot of dead bodies by the riverbed. Some infected, some not. You think about turning around, walking back to where you came from but before you can make a decision you’re surrounded. Your hands rise instantly, not wanting to cause trouble. Multiple rifles are pointed directly at you, and you notice a cute black dog but you have an inkling you won’t be feeling the same in a couple of minutes.

“I’m not here to cause trouble,” you say, the cold seeping through your jacket. “Just lost. I’m not infected.”

“Naive for you to think we’ll believe you,” one of the horsemen answers. “You mind if we test that out?”

You didn’t mind, but even if you did, you doubt you have any say in the matter. The dog comes forward, ears pressed against his skull, and you instinctively reach out your hand. You can’t really feel the wetness of his nose, but you can imagine it as he presses into your gloved palm. A moment later he starts wagging his tail.

A horse, along with its rider, steps up and everyone looks nervously at the equestrian. You straighten yourself and notice that even the dog pulls away, the energy she has demands respect, and oozes power. You swallow, looking up at her with both amusement and fear.

"You can come with us," she says, and without hesitation, one of the men helps you up onto the horse they're riding. Your hands fumble nervously as you grab onto the horse's shoulders, trying to steady yourself.

You’re not dead yet so you must be doing something right.

iv.

You trudge through the biting snow, your skin prickles with cold and the relentless flakes melt as soon as they touch your skin. You shudder. The cold is almost unbearable, but everyone has to pull their weight, no exceptions. Narrowing your eyes,, you spot a lone figure struggling in the snow. The way he moves is sluggish and ungainly, like a snail inching its way along a path.

With a sharp whistle, you signal to your companions to follow. They circle around the body with hesitation; it’s a man, a man that is somewhat familiar to you. The stranger groans and turns to his back, chest heaving heavily, you notice the tremble of his lips, the redness of his nose. You even notice the build-up of snow in his hair.

You know him. You have no idea how he ended up all the way here, but you know him. Getting off the horse, you shake your head. You don't know him, not really. You only know his name and what he represents.

Ian approaches, his eyes questioning as he asks, "What should we do? Should we leave him?"

“I know him,” you say, a hint of amusement in your voice due to the irony. “Let’s take him in. I’ll talk to Maria.”

His eyes flutter open, a brief expression of confusion appearing on his features. You can’t help but lean over a bit, hands placed on your hips.

“You’re not dead yet. Don’t worry.”

But as soon as the words leave your lips, Tommy loses consciousness.

He’s alone at the bar. He’s always alone.

Initially, Maria was reluctant to let Tommy stay, but for some reason, you vouched for him. You deeply believe that everyone deserves a second chance. A slightly foolish, maybe even childish, thought on your part but you can’t help it. In his eyes you only see parts of a broken man, his belief in the world shattered and gone with the wind.

Tommy struggles with socializing. He says hi and good morning but that’s pretty much all anyone can get out of him. You’re the only one who knows he has a brother, what he’s done. He’s especially annoyed when you’re around, which you think is a little bit unfair but you digress. He does what he’s told and handy with most things—which is lucky for you, you would hear a handful if he couldn’t do anything.

You want to talk to him, you have ever since you first saw him again. Hoping that this time it’ll be different, you sit near him not next to him. There are two empty seats between you two.

“Hi,” you greet him, he doesn’t look at you. In fact, he doesn’t acknowledge you at all. “How are you?”

No answer.

“You’re not having any issues right? You know, heating, water pressure, all that jazz.”

You’re not surprised at the least when he gets up and leave, not a word uttered. He pushes past the crowd and disappears through the door, into the cold. Unlike other times, this is the first instance where anger simmers hot in your gut. You’ve been nothing but patient. But not tonight. He’s going to talk to you whether he likes it or not.

With anger in your steps, you storm out. Luckily, he’s not far. You find him staring up at the undecorated Christmas tree. Normally, you would find it a somber sight, but you’re too frustrated to think about how good he looks with snow falling around him.

“Tommy!” you yell out, and he flinches, head snapping to you with wide eyes. “What the hell is your deal?”

“My deal?” he answers, voice eerily smooth and calm. “I should be fuckin’ asking you that.”

You’re standing an inch from him, the cold biting into your skin. “My deal? I’ve been nothing but nice to you. Wouldn’t wanna play that card but may I remind you that you’re fucking alive because of me? You could at least not be an asshole.”

“Sure you wanna go that route sweetheart? Because I could easily say the same thing for you.”

That night—the night that you escaped, so he did see you. All this time you convinced yourself that it was your eyes playing tricks in the dark. You shake your head, wanting to dislodge the moment from your mind.

“That still doesn’t answer my question,” you hiss. “Why are you avoiding me? I just want to talk.”

“Just leave me the fuck alone. You shouldn’t want to talk to me— someone like you… It ain’t normal. I should’ve died that night. I didn’t ask you to fuckin’ save me.”

You’re taken aback by the silent rage but refuse to show him the effect he has. The only indication that his words had any kind of result is when you take a step back, allowing him some semblance of space.

“You’re right, you didn’t,” you say softly, slowly. His gaze bores into you. “But I did. And you’re here. I didn’t save you that night to just make a point of who’s the better person. As you said, you allowed me to go that night—thank you by the way—but what are you going to do, just not talk to me? Ignore me? I don’t think that’s fair for either of us.”

You stand frozen as Tommy takes a step closer, his breath hot against your skin.

"What do you want from me?" he growls, his voice low and threatening.

You try to take a step back but he follows, closing the gap between you. You can feel the heat emanating from his body, a stark contrast to the frigid air around you. His lips curl into a slight sneer, and you can't help but feel a slight twinge of fear.

"You're always so nice, aren't you?" he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "But what do you really want? You want me to be your little pet? Fixing me up like some broken toy. Well, newsflash, sweetheart, I'm not broken. I'm just fine the way I am."

"That’s not—" you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "That wasn’t my intention at all. The world is shit, I just didn’t want to add to it."

Tommy scoffs, his eyes glinting with anger. "But you did by keeping me alive. I did horrible things, things you can’t even imagine. So don't pretend like you understand me, because you don't."

“I know the shit you did Tommy. I was almost one of your victims, remember?”

His eyes drop to the ground, the fire in his eyes finally fading. He takes a quick step back, shoulder slumped, he shakes his head.

“I remember. There ain’t a day I don’t remember the shit I’ve done—we’ve done with my brother.”

Tommy gives you one last look before walking away, “I don’t need your pity.”

Half an hour later, you’re still standing there under the snow, completely alone.

vi.

It’s a dance almost. You find different ways for Tommy to communicate with you. You unlock his anger, his disappointment, his need to be good—the hero, if you will. But to be fair, you can’t take all the credit. It was mostly due to him, you got too close, and he got too frustrated. It was a brief moment of lips touching, then it quickly turned into a desperate ask for submission. You were eager to give, he hated that. Hated that you could when he couldn’t.

You know that there’s a high chance of other things lingering below the surface, things that he probably hadn’t dared to address himself.

In the privacy of your bedroom, you’re on your knees for him. Sucking on the tip of his cock eagerly as he stands upright, his hands are firsts that are stuck to his sides. This isn’t the first time, it isn’t the last. By the way salty precum coats your tongue, you know he’s enjoying himself. He has to be, if he wasn’t this wouldn’t be happening.

You figure that he enjoys fighting against it until he breaks. When he surrenders himself to it, to the pleasure, to the primal need to take, he pins you down and fucks you with everything he has. All his frustration seeps into you, each stroke deeper than the next. You enjoy that he’s rough, you enjoy feeling the lingering sting on your skin long after he leaves.

Looking up, you swallow him further down. He’s not overly thick but long, the dark curls at the base trimmed but still looking untouched. Tommy thrusts forward, the head of his cock brushing the back of your throat. Your nostrils flare as your lungs convulse with the need to cough, he notices but doesn’t pull back. Instead, you feel two hands cradling the back of your neck, pulling you further down his length, making you take him whole.

Your eyes go wide and squeeze shut right after. You feel him throbbing in your throat and you swallow, again and again, which prompts him to drag his cock out slightly only to bury himself back into your throat. Your jaw aches, spit dripping down the corners of your lips as you flatten your tongue over the underside of his cock. A faint growl echoes from the back of his throat, you swallow again, he fucks your mouth as he would your wet cunt. Tears flood your lashline, you can barely breathe. Your throat tightens around him.

“Fuck, don’t close your eyes,” he grunts, the dark curls at the base tickling your nose. “Look at me. Look at me like you always do.”

The Look, is something that you still don’t quite understand. He says it often, telling you to look at him the way that you do, but you emphasize nothing special when you do end up looking at him. It’s just your normal gaze. He only asks for it when he’s inside you.

You slowly open your eyes, your lashes wet and stuck together. His thumb smooths over the patch of skin right under your eye, his chest stutters, muscles growing taut under your gaze.

Ironically, he closes his eyes and lifts his head as if staring at the ceiling. He doesn’t utter another word after that, your lips raw from the way he thrust forward. You feel the twitch of his cock, thick ropes sliding down your throat. You never tire of the taste of him. Not sweet, not bitter. You enjoy the brief moment he forgets where he is, that soft noise escaping his lips, the juvenile way his thighs shake—those are the things that make you ache for the taste of him. You’re an addict.

But so is he.

vii.

Your palms press into the smooth surface of the bar counter. Tommy lurks behind you, cock pressing inside, fingers making dents into your warm skin. It’s late into the night, you’re not sure of the exact time but you know it’s late. His one hand slips between your legs, he feels how wet you are, how needy you get for him. He presses a finger to your clit, the pads of the digits moving in deft circles.

A sharp moan parts your lips, back arching as he pounds into you, the sound of skin against skin loud, yet not enough to pierce the sound of the snowstorm outside. A dose of pleasure buzzes through your veins, electricity crackling across your skin as you feel his length press deep inside. His fingers grasp your throat, pulling you up until his lips tickle your ear. He heaves, his warm breath fanning your skin.

“Tell me I’m a good person,” he chokes out. “Please.”

“You’re good,” you answer slightly out of breath. You touch his neck, the position slightly straining but worth it when he holds you tighter. “Such a good man—and I mean that.”

Your eyes widen with shock when he slides his tongue into your mouth. Tommy doesn’t kiss you often, if at all, but it lights a fire under your stomach. It burns you from the inside out, the smoke of it making your mind spin. Your eyes flutter close and you take a deep breath, he grinds his hips, your insides pulsing around him.

“I don’t care even if you’re lyin’—”

He releases you and you stumble forward, hands finding purchase on the bar counter once more. But you can’t hold your position for long, not with the way he’s hammering into you, reducing you into a babbling mess. Your hands slide, your upper body completely falling over. Tommy doesn’t pause, he doesn’t even slow down. He presses you further into the surface.

“Because I know that you are.”

Tommy suddenly pulls out, a sharp gasp rips from your throat, your cunt clenching around nothing. Before you can protest, however, he turns you over and pushes you. He kneels between your legs, lips finding the tender folds of your pussy.

Your head falls back when he licks into you eagerly, tasting himself and your arousal. His groans vibrate against you, your thighs threaten to close, the meat of them pressing into both sides of his face.

His lips press against your clit, suckling and teasing it in a way that drives you wild. His tongue moves in circles as he pushes two fingers, curling them and applying pressure. Without a second thought, you fingers thread his hair, tugging him closer. Arousal pools between your legs.

Your breathing becomes labored and your body starts to shake. Your eyes roll back as your entire body shakes. Your hips buck against him as he continues to bring you over the edge, your cries of pleasure echoing off the walls of the bar.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you collapse against the bar counter, your body still shaking from the intensity of the orgasm. You can feel your skin tingling, your heart pounding and your head spinning. Tommy stands, a hint of pride lingering in his dark eyes. You continue to breathe and watch as he fists himself, the tip of his cock a shade darker when he comes thick ropes over your stomach. You hiss at the heat, the feeling of having a part of him staining you.

Tommy pulls up his pants, and you notice as you get dressed, he’s avoiding your gaze. You’re too satisfied to care. He licks his lips, which you found was a nervous habit he has and offers you his arm. You hadn’t expected it, but indulge in the gesture by taking it.

“Let’s get out of here before someone sees us.”

#tommy miller x reader #tommy miller x you #tommy miller x f!reader #hbo the last of us #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction

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dear-galileo · 11 months

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bitty batty baby vigilante crew

There were two kids up on the roof. They couldn’t have been older than ten, but frankly, they looked like babies. The boy had dark hair and a red jacket, while the girl was dressed in all purple with blond hair poking out from under her hood. Jason was pushing himself over the ledge before he could really think about it. What were two kids doing on a rooftop, in the middle of the night, in Gotham? the story of two kids conning their way across gotham, and (mostly) inadvertently into the batman family.

read on ao3!

20k words, gen, young tim and stephanie join the batfamily early

tim drake & stephanie drake & jason todd

written for the @batfam-big-bang! i worked with the ever lovely @kartsie, she made all of the wonderful wonderful art for this fic! heres one piece that she did, you will have to read the rest on ao3 to see more : P or go check her page out because im seriously obsessed with everything she does always

It was a quiet, boring night in Gotham the first time Jason met them. He and B had separated when Catwoman had dropped in, leading a chase that Batman had charged into a bit too excitedly. Jason had cut out as soon as he possibly could have. He didn’t need to be present for whatever weird flirting rituals they had.

There hadn’t been any recent break-outs in Gotham, and their most recent case had hit a dead end. Jason instead took this time to practice his rooftop jumping. Golden Boy was off on a mission from space, but before he had left, he had promised to take Jason jumping on the subways in Bludhaven, as long as Jason worked on his balance. This just meant that Jason had a justifiable reason to go soaring through Gotham.

He was in the process of reworking his mental map of the city, testing himself on which shortcuts on top of buildings led where.

B had just radioed in and confirmed that he was still in pursuit of Catwoman, to which Jason jeered at him.

If nothing interesting happened soon, he was going to go back to the manor. It was summer, which meant that B couldn’t make him go to bed at a “reasonable” time after patrol, which meant he could stay up all night in the library if he wanted to. Jason had just started reading Don Quixote, a story that Alfred had recommended to him. He was just at the part where Quixote had convinced Sancho to join him and—

There was someone on the roof across the street from Jason. He paused, standing up straight from his crouch. There were two someones on the rooftop. They were too small to be Batman and Catwoman, and even from here, he could tell that they weren’t wearing any sort of body armor. They looked… little.

He wouldn’t have seen them if one of the figures hadn’t stood up and done a cartwheel which had immediately caught his attention.

Jason changed directions. His curiosity was piqued, and with B probably halfway across the city, Jason had the time. He had to use his grapple gun to cross the street, but soon enough he was peering over the edge.

Jason was pushing himself over the ledge before he could really think about it. What were two kids doing on a rooftop, in the middle of the night, in Gotham?

He heard snippets of their conversation but nothing that was coherent enough to make sense.

They were so consumed in their discussion that they didn’t notice Jason until he was standing only a few feet away from them.

He purposely let the rooftop gravel crunch under his feet, alerting the kids to his presence.

They both jumped, the boy making a squeaking noise as the girl leapt into what looked like a defensive pose, slightly crouched in front of her friend.

“What are you two doing up here?” Jason asked, putting his hands on his hips.

There was no way that he would ever be as scary or as intimidating as B, but he tried to put some force behind his words. Otherwise, no one would ever listen to him.

When the kids didn’t answer, he took a moment to survey them a bit closer. The girl was wearing elbow pads, while the boy was wearing dingy jeans and light-up sneakers. He also was clutching a large fabric case to his chest and was staring at Jason with wide eyes.

The girl also looked like she was snarling at him, but Jason decided to kindly ignore that for the time being.

“Okay, let’s start with a different question. What are your names?”

The boy and girl exchanged a brief look with each other.

“I’m-” the boy started, but the girl stamped on his foot hard, making the next part of his statement die in a pained whimper.

“He’s Shutter. I’m Spoiler. What do you want?”

Jason took a double take; suddenly, it was all making sense, the cape, the elbow pads, and the dark hood that was pulled low on her face. Oh, God.

“Please tell me you two aren’t teeny tiny vigilantes. I don’t get paid enough to deal with infant vigilantes. Where are your parents?”

“Wait, does Batman actually pay you-” Once again, the boy- Shutter, apparently- was cut off by the girl, Spoiler, though this time when she stamped on his foot, he moved out of the way quickly enough.

“We aren’t tiny! And that’s none of your business!”

Her voice was high-pitched, but she was loud. They would be lucky if half of Gotham didn’t hear her.

“Sure, yeah. Let’s make a deal. I won’t tell Batman about your little rooftop excursion, and you kiddies scoot along home.”

“We don’t have to listen to you!” Spoiler puffed out her chest. Shutter tugged at her cape, holding the black case to his chest. Spoiler leant back just enough for Shutter to whisper something into her ear. “Fine,” she said after a moment. “You never saw us, alright? And don’t try to follow us either. We don’t trust weirdos in bright colors. You may be wearing pants now, but that’s not much of an upgrade.”

Jason’s jaw dropped in shock. Before he could find a satisfactory comeback, as he was being roasted by a literal kindergartener, his comm clicked on.

“Robin. Meet me at the Batmobile, or I will have to come to retrieve you.”

“Jeez, B, I know how to use my own legs. Give me a sec; I’m wrapping something up.” Jason sniped back, pressing at his earpiece. Batman’s only response was to grunt before the comms clicked off again. When Jason spun around, the rooftop was empty. There were no tiny vigilantes to be seen.

Huh. At least that was the end of that.

read the rest on my ao3!

#bbb23 #batman #tim drake #stephanie brown #batfam #batfamily #batfam fic #em posts #my fics

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bookinit02 · 1 year

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bookinit’s byler fic recs

happy new years! to celebrate, i’m posting a list of some of my favorite fics of this year, sorted by word count. i tried not to include a bunch of super well-known, commonly-recced fics, and of course, there are SO many more that i didn’t include just because there isn’t enough time in the world. but i really wanted to lift up some amazing authors, my friends included, as well as some more underground fics. happy reading!!🥳

my top byler fics of 2022

1 - 10k

- it’s a choice (getting swept away) by @wiseatom. i just skimmed this again to see if i wanted to include it, and even just SKIMMING, i was having goddamn heart palpitations. there is something so special about healthy communication and resolving misunderstandings with emotional intelligence and kindness instead of anger. don’t get me wrong, big dramatic blowups are lots of fun to read, but this one stands out for how quiet it is. how gentle. not only is the willel done FANTASTICALLY, but byler here is so soft and tentative, and i was eating up every minute of it. as always, with thea, a phenomenal read. (categories: post s4, mileven breakup, painting conversation, getting together, willel)

- the body is a blade by inblue. this author is severely underrated—incredible prose, such unique fics, and so much genuine emotion in such a short space. i sincerely recommend all of their works!! phenomenal, and despite their short length, they’ve stuck with me since i read them—this one in particular. (categories: poetic, unique, character study, will byers needs a hug)

10 - 20k

- i’m caught up in you by @wiseatom. the first half of this is genuinely novel-worthy—beautifully written & crafted, to the point where i couldn’t stop writing down sentences as inspiration. the second half kicks you into an apocalyptic adventure, filled with byler banter, miscommunication, wound tending, a Painting Debacle™️, and literally everything you could want out of byler in the upside down. thea’s byler is SO much fun to read—they absolutely are best friends, and they don’t let you forget it! the banter is so realistic and snarky and fun, and i’ve read this a million times over at this point. infinite kudos always💗💗 (categories: byler in the upside down, miscommunication, angst & fluff, tension, wound tending, will has a gun)

- i hate accidents (except when we went from friends to this) by blackdeathmamba. a classic, and for a good reason. great tension & pining, super butterfly-inducing, with a twist at the end that simultaneously had me yelling and giggling into my pillow. ADORABLE. so, so wonderful. (categories: pining, miscommunication, college byler, roommates, fluff)

- running up that road by @smoosnoom. i had a really hard time trying to figure out which of moon’s fics to rec bc i feel like all of them, in general, defined my 2022. and of course, everyone and their mother has recced tearing you asunder! but going back over the fics, i think this one truly had the biggest impact on me. first of all, it was the first fic i ever read while listening to the accompanying playlist, and that experience literally changed my life. it is so hard for me to read without listening to music now😭 but seriously reading this w/ moon’s song choices felt like watching a movie. second of all, i really got inside mike’s head here. his character was great, and the fic displayed some of his more unpleasant qualities that some people might shy away from, like anger or resentment. this was just a very real portrayal of byler, and of mike in general. and a lot of the scenes in here—specifically the beginning and end—have stuck with me since i read them. overall, incredible experience, and i’d read it again in a heartbeat. (categories: post s4, character study, mike centric)

20 - 30k

- the gaps and the silence by delusionaltogether (whyyyyy) aka @parkitaco. i read this last night and cried my heart out—not big dramatic sobs, but more of a silent & continuous cry that would pop back up without warning. this was just so exquisitely written—the best of parker’s work that i’ve seen, which is such an impressive feat because i love absolutely everything they publish. the resolving of miscommunication, the healing of byler’s fractured relationship, the responsibility taken on both sides, and the love that still persists through all of it—this is a masterpiece. it is a triumph of human emotion, and a truly excellent mark of good writing. cannot recommend enough—along with absolutely all of parker’s other works. (categories: angst, miscommunication, reunion, college byler, first dates, mutual pining)

- mike wheeler’s guide to falling in love with a superhero by @smoosnoom. this was my first introduction to spiderwill, and i loved every minute of it. this is fun, fast-paced, a little crazy, and just SUCH an enjoyable read. plus, i get a cameo as bagel girl, which in my opinion, is the best part!! but fr this was honestly so well done and even as i’m writing this, i’m getting the urge to read it again. loved, loved, LOVED. (categories: spiderwill, fluff, light-hearted, energetic)

30 - 40k

- you can hear it in the silence by @astrobei. there is truly not enough praise in the world for suni’s fics, or her writing in general, but this one was really something special. mike in this fic is one of my favorite mikes ever, and i think about his big conversation with robin at least once a day. this is truly just a magical coming of age romance. it is so soft & tender & real, and i genuinely could read it every single day and never get bored. also, as someone who worked in food service, i appreciated the accurate portrayal🫡 but also. never again. customers can suck my dick. getting off track here :) (categories: coming of age, friends to lovers, mutual pining, soft)

- i know, i know, i know by aude_sapere. season 4 rewrite!! the writing of this is incredible, the plot is fantastic, and it was one of my first really notable reads in this fandom. really gives will his main character moment, as he deserves!! (categories, s4 rewrite, main character will, pining, action)

40 - 50k

- i’ve come home, i’m so cold by @astrobei. this one is just. ohhhhh my god where do i even start?? this is my ideal college byler fic. it’s literally so perfect, start to finish. will’s narration is incredible, and additionally the plot is just so, SO interesting?! there’s something about suni’s writing that i just can’t get enough of. she writes exactly the way i think and it results in prose that flows effortlessly and is so much fun to read!! i am just chomping all of her fics up one by one and i am still hungry☹️ i think suni needs to write just for me forever & always actually. (categories: college byler, mystery, pining, best friends to lovers, roommates)

- boys don’t cry series by @padmedala. this series is so special to me, specifically the first installment. it was one of the first works i really read that focused on will’s queerness in other terms than his relationship with mike! there was so much queer joy & healing & growing up in this series, and it was really beautifully explored in a way that left me crying, but still unable to put my phone down. really, really wonderful, and criminally underrated. (categories: coming of age, season 4-5, queer joy, healing, romance, pining)

50 - 100k

- chiron in gemini by babydraygen. this was one of the first season 5 fics that i read, and i still think this is a REALLY interesting take on it. eddie’s alive, mike is kind of a dick, and the apocalypse is in hawkins, but everyone’s pretty chill about it. i think the characters here were so complex and interesting, and i was honestly hooked the whole time. (categories: season 5, coming of age, angst, getting together)

- there is a season by ghostlin. yet another s5 fix-it, mike-centric this time. really well written, great character development, and truly so much fun to read. to quote my original bookmark: this is, without a doubt, one of the best fics i’ve ever read. writing is impeccable, everything (EVERYTHING) is perfect, and i cherished every single word. this is my season 5. if you are reading this right now, stop and read this fic. yes, me too. read it again. (categories: s5, character development, slow burn, apocalypse, drama)

- i’ll find a new place to be from by @andiwriteordie . clearly i have a thing for s5 fics, but this was honestly so amazing!! i think about it a lot, and am definitely pulling inspo for my own eventual s5 fic (hopefully coming next year!) andi has written so many (and i mean SO. MANY) wonderful fics for this fandom, which is a gift in itself. but there’s nothing that i think about more than this one. (categories: s5, drama, will byers has powers, getting together)

100k +

- you are the heart by touchthesky. i spent months reading this one, chapter by chapter, as it uploaded, and i don’t regret it one bit. this was such an interesting, complex, and well-done take on season 5. there were some really shocking plot twists, gripping moments of turmoil, and satisfyingly resolved arcs for every single character. the action sequences are god-tier, the internal dialogue is fascinating, the worldbuilding is INCREDIBLE, and i honestly just cannot say enough good things about this fic. will probably be giving it another read soon! (categories: s5, angst, the full package, slow burn, will pov, intense worldbuilding, main character death)

again, there are SO many more—and yall are always welcome to search my bookmarks on ao3—but those are the ones i was thinking about today. here’s to more great fics in 2023!!🥳🥳

#byler fic recs #feel free to use

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wheredidhiseyebrowsgo · 1 year

Note

You recently did an ask about an angsty mpreg fic...I love the concept. Could ylu possibly recommend some more like that?🥺

AND

Anon asked: any fics where stiles is pregnant and unfortunately gave birth by himself? i love mpreg angst

Hi anon. @kevaaronday made this list!

baby of mine by suddenlyatiger (35/35 | 78,402 | Mature | Sterek) "It's not a joke," Stiles says. He looks at Derek, brown eyes wide and worried. "I need your help."

"By marrying you?" Derek asks.

"Yes," Stiles says.

My Liberation Has A Name by SilkO (12/12 | 66,380 | Mature | Sterek) Stiles is a prince under the Argent clan, the king, Gerard Argent had killed Stiles's clan years before taking Stiles as his own due to the omega being born a spark. The Argents had used Stiles's spark against the people. Killing many while using Stiles's name for the murders.

Years after Stiles was taken and imprisoned in the Argents castle Derek's clan gets massacred. Peter, filled with anger and vengeance trained Derek to go and kill Stiles, the witch of the Argent clan and avenge their family.

Derek goes and as he meets Stiles his reasoning falls, only leaving behind Derek's emotions, something he thought had died years ago.

if it’s meant to be, it’ll be by DeancebraArt & EvanesDust (4/4 | 27,560 | Explicit | Sterek)

Following a chance encounter with an irresistible and alluring omega, Derek wakes up in bed alone, with no way to contact the man he met the night before. Over the course of the next year, Derek finds himself wondering: how can he miss someone he doesn’t even know? And, more importantly, how can he find him again?

After a one-night stand with a mysterious alpha werewolf leaves Stiles pregnant, he resigns himself to raising his child as a single parent. It’s not until the man he’s been pining over for the last year shows up at his doorstep, does he realize there might actually be something more complicated than raising a child on his own: love.

Mama Please by Parkkrys (1/1 | 20,699 | Mature | Sterek) Claudia gave up hunting to marry Noah and so far no regrets. Yes, it irks her that Noah is friends with the Hales, but she had been able to put it to the side.

Now after having twins, she struggles with watching lil Stiles and Derek grow closer, and now at the age of eighteen Derek reveals that Stiles is his mate. Something in her snaps and she leaves to the Argents for help. She wasn't expecting her lil boy to be a spark though.

Now years later, she knows her baby boy is married to Derek and she is determined to set him free no matter the cause.

Make Your Own (Buns in the Oven) by nezstorm (1/1 | 11,250 | Teen | Steter) Stiles opens his mouth a few times, but no words come out as he feels tears welling up again. He takes a deep, shaky breath, exhales slowly to calm himself enough to do this.

Peter waits, brows furrowed in worry as he watches Stiles.

“I think I’m pregnant,” he finally says, “And I don’t know what to do.”

Or the one where Stiles is a human incubator and Peter is not the baby daddy (until he is).

Virgin by KiraH69 (4/4 | 10,073 | Explicit | Steter) Stiles is a virgin, unmated and pregnant omega. That doesn’t make sense. Nobody believes it and things just get harder and harder.

Newborn by Anonymous (1/1 | 4,514 | Mature | Steter) Pregnant Stiles nearly pays the ultimate price for a disastrous rideshare experience.

Aka: Stiles, pregnant with Peter's baby, gets attacked by a bad driver with a gun. Do Not Read if you don't wanna see a pregnant twink get whumped in the backseat, oh ho ho.

Spoiler note: Stiles and baby are stable and recovering. The baby registry is on the Toys 'R Us website if you want to send them love.

infinitely undefined by nezstorm (9/9 | 3,999 | Teen | Steter) Stiles misses him sometimes. In the odd moments between reality and sleep.

Or the one where Stiles and Peter make a baby, but Peter is a chicken shit.

This Wasn't Supposed to Happen by Parkkrys (1/1 | 3,996 | Gen | Sterek) Stiles didn’t hide this on purpose, there just wasn’t a good time to tell him. Doing this friends with benefits thing with an alpha werewolf maybe wasn’t the best idea but how could he ever say no to Derek?

Sure, he had feelings for the man, and this could only end in heartbreak because hey, who would be interested in a long time thing with him of all people? He knew how annoying he could be. He wasn’t even sure how his dad had put up with him all these years.

But this has gone on for far too long, the scent blocker and the bracelet that he has been wearing for the past month could only do so much from hiding his not so little secret.

A Way Out by OnTheGround2012 (1/1 | 1,587 | Teen | Stackson) After finding out that he's pregnant, Stiles goes to see Jackson to fix it but things don't go as smoothly as he hoped. This is how their encounter ends.

Mpreg!derek

Expiration Dates by KaliopeShipsIt (22/22 | 226,825 | Mature | Sterek) When 13-year old orphaned Derek Hale tests positive as a male carrier, his newly appointed guardian and uncle Peter uses his influence to make the test result go away, aware that in their deeply carrier-phobic society his nephew’s status could prove to be the downfall of the family company.

16 years later Derek is pressured into firing eight months-pregnant Danny Mahealani, creating a publicity scandal that, as the Equal Rights for Carriers movement gains more and more ground, results in an unprecedented media outrage targeted towards Hale & Argent Publishers.

A very reluctant Derek finds himself forced into defending his company’s prejudiced views on national television, facing off in heated debates against Stiles Stilinski, a guy he happened to have a one-night stand with months ago and has been pining over ever since. Stiles is a disgruntled former Hale & Argent employee, a staunch supporter of the ERC movement, he hates everything Derek stands for … and, courtesy of an expired condom, he’s also, unknowingly, the father of the child Derek wasn’t even aware he could carry in the first place.

Turning the Page by KaliopeShipsIt (26/26 | 128,387 | Mature | Sterek) After being widowed and left to raise three children on his own at the age of 21, Derek Hale-Krasikeva did not expect to ever find happiness again.

He also definitely did not expect to meet the love of the second half of his life in a grad student attending the same university as his undergrad kids.

When You’re Not Expecting by KattsEyeDemon & seekeronthepath (9/9 | 49,863 | Explicit | Sterek) Derek and Stiles weren't planning on kids yet. Stiles hadn't even known biological kids were an option. But when the unexpected happens, Derek grabs onto the chance for a larger family with both hands, and everyone else is along for the ride

Derek Hale’s Baby by KaliopeShipsIt (4/4 | 38,741 | Mature | Sterek) On the last night of his vacation in Paris, Derek has a one-night stand with a handsome stranger. When he boards his plane back home twelve hours later, Derek's cute seat neighbor Stiles almost lets a backpack fall on Derek's head and Derek has no choice but fall for him.

Ten weeks later, Derek has never been this happy, he's never been this in love - and he's never been this pregnant and with no clue who the baby daddy is.

Also, he's secretly a werewolf. No Vacancy by KaliopeShipsIt (4/4 | 34,964 | Mature | Sterek) "29-Year Old Omega (muscular/scruffy/perpetual sourface) Seeking for Alpha-Baby-Daddy. Might or might not be named Stiles"

Derek is an unusually muscular Omega with irregular heats and dumb luck.

Stiles is an unusually polite Alpha who forgets to leave his number.

Laura is a furious Alpha who wants to wear Stiles' balls on a golden chain.

Cora is a pragmatic Alpha who composes Craigslist ads.

... aka, my first A/B/O-Fic

Edit: This work is now a trilogy

The Beginning of Our Wolfy Family by modestfuckup (6/6 | 20,699 | Teen | Sterek) “Stiles, I’m pregnant.” Derek blurted out.

Stiles jaw was open, an eyebrow arched, “No, not possible. I know I may have slept through freshman health, but I know for a fact that men cannot carry babies. Nice one Der. What did Deaton say?”

or the one where Stiles and Derek find out they are having a baby.

A Day in June by KaliopeShipsIt (1/1 | 13,061 | Not Rated | Sterek) Derek is happily married, a proud papa of three children, and financially comfortable.

He's also pregnant for the fourth time and doesn't want to be.

Bump in the Night by KaliopeShipsIt (1/1 | 3,600 | Mature | Sterek) The one where Derek's pregnant belly is a lot bigger in the evenings than in the mornings and Stiles mopes because he volunteered to work the nightshift for a month and thinks their unborn daughter is trying to be the next Houdini.

#teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #mpreg #pregnant!stiles #anon

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tachimichishrine · 4 months

Text

"sweet and sour"

◝≞▣≞◜ crime executive!jouno saigiku x gn!reader

warnings: except for a bit of guns + cursing and ooc jouno,, none! this is all fluff :) i didn't write this in lowercase??? crazy amirite

"Jouno Sai... Saigay? I was certain there was gay in there somewhere... Anyways! Hi!! It's a pleasure to meet you!!"

The mispronounced man in question glared at the individual who was giggling happily, strolling around in the office like they owned the place, shooting a, "Hey, Fernando, did you get a new haircut?", "Lookin' good in that suit, Ichika!", and, "Oh my god! Where did you get those shoes, I swear I saw the exact same ones at that store down the street, the uh... what's it called? Y'know what I'm talking about, don't'cha?" to his fellow executives like they've been friends for years on end.

The room had always been tense, from what he recalled. When people entered, they expected to get shot by the boss, or be given a task so difficult to complete that they would ultimately get shot. In short, a meeting with the renowned organization that Jouno Saigiku worked for was a death sentence for his subordinates, even more so for rival organizations.

Yet, this person had been bouncing around the walls like a child in a candy store, waving around the knife at their fingertips like a ten thousand yen bill and showing off the gun strapped to their thigh and waist with the same bubbly confidence of a new outfit they'd just bought the previous day.

'They're going to get themselves killed in no time,' he laughed to himself, waiting for the one in charge to enter the room.

For now, he was responsible for managing the building and their potential customer (from another criminal organization. It made him wonder how on earth someone like them could possibly be working in the same sadistic field as he did) until their meeting began. He'd never met this person in particular before, and wished he would've never had to. However, business was business, and he would need to accommodate them well enough to prevent a war between the two groups to break out.

"[l/n], was it?" he smirked, a strained playful smile that was barely hanging above the devilish one he had underneath. "It's Jouno Saigiku, and I'd recommend that you refrain from making yourself too comfortable in here. You are, as you know, on our turf, which means that-"

"Bla, bla, bla! you're so formal!" they scoffed with a wave of their hands, bouncing off of the velvet couch and strolling up to the executive, glaring at him with a particular expression that he couldn't see. "I'm actually rather touched that you knew my name! [l/n] [y/n], I'm your connect with [criminal organization name ~ [c /o/n]] so don't be a meanie!"

..."Don't be a meanie? "

As if by miracle, the boss entered right when they were about to get close enough to his straightened-out figure, almost army-like in posture, to tap his nose with their fingertip as one does with children. In his field of work, only people of utmost trust managed to meet directly with the person on the top, so he considered that perhaps they were prevalent in some other field that didn't have to do with relationships and appearance. Now, all he had to do was wait for his boss to get infuriated at their attitude and demand that he dispose of them and he'd be able to drag them out back and peel off their skin...

"[l/n], dear! It's been a while, has it not?"

This keeps getting better and better.

"Kantoku!" they beamed out, running over to the old man and avidly shaking his hand. "Oh, I've missed you so! Things have changed around here, didn't they? You never told me you promoted a new executive!"

With a playful eyeroll, Kantoku - the man in charge of his crime syndicate - gestured to the couch and began to converse, almost casually. What baffled him, perhaps the most of all, was that every regular beat of their heart was steady, this wasn't a feigned façade nor overcompensation for fear. This person was truly, genuinely an idiot.

"Pst, Jouno," the woman executive standing beside him nudged his shoulder, "the boss is here so we're free to go. Plus, that asshole who stole from us isn't talking, so we might need your help."

With that, he left behind both the room and the lingering feeling of confusion regarding [l/n] [y/n].

Jouno Saigiku did not have a very complex job.

In fact, his daily tasks mostly consisted of torture and punishment, with the occasionally laying off (which undoubtedly meant death. There was quite a bit of death around him, a certain fading scent that permeated throughout any room he'd visit. This was not a literal physical scent, for that would obstruct his sight and handicap his senses, but nonetheless he found himself rather pleased when he felt warm blood splatter across his soft cheeks.)

Today was nothing different; supposedly, someone from [c /o/n] had blundered and fled right into their territory. Given the amical relationships between the two groups, it was their job to retrieve and return the fugitive, annihilate them if they do not cooperate and it becomes necessary.

At the moment, he found himself seated in a vehicle, driving to the last location that this person was last seen, being described as "[s/c] skinned and [e/c] eyed", all attributes which couldn't possibly make any difference to him, due to his lack of vision. When he asked for a name of this person, he was shocked to learn that it was the same energetical and bubbly individual who vaguely crossed his radar a few weeks back.

"Oi, oi, Jouno slow down, we don't wanna pass 'em 'cause you're drivin' too fast, 'ight?" his coworker for this mission reprimanded. "Just 'cause you can do that fancy hearin' thing ain't mean my eyes ain't good, 'ight?"

Jouno thus pressed his foot with more force against the gas pedal, speeding up the car only because he didn't quite like the tone of this person.

"Hm?" he asked innocently. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear you very well, what did you say?"

"I said slow down you-"

They cut themselves off, not allowing for a response since their silence indicated that they had learnt something new.

"Woah, yeah, they're right over there!" they exclaimed, tapping a point on the window so that Jouno could hear the faint sound and distinguish which direction their target was. "Pull over, I'll tie 'em up and toss 'em in the back."

The white-haired man paused momentarily, thin brows imitating each other as they angled upwards in confusion.

"What do you mean? That's not them."

"For a blind bitch, ya really think yer all that, don't'cha? I can literally see them right now, they're standing outside the fuckin' car so pull over and lemme mug 'em."

His lips had pressed into a line, contemplating the situation. The reason he wasn't allowed to go on his own was because they were extremely picky about identifying the right culprit, yet Jouno cared little for his escort of sorts. He'd encountered [l/n] before, and what marked his memory the most, asides from their childlike behavior, was how their heart hadn't betrayed a thing on the outside attitude, despite being blatantly threatened. This person, the one that his temporary partner had suggested was their target, was in fact sweating buckets and had such an erratic heartbeat he might've believed them to be having tachycardia. On top of this, their breathing was not the same, from what he gauged, they couldn't possibly be the right height, build and walking pattern. People on the run obviously become more more jittery when faced with escaping an impossible situation, but this conflicted his knowledge in too many ways to be true.

"I believe," he suggested calmly with a grin appearing, still refusing to unlock the doors or pull over, therefore driving past the individual, "that [l/n] might not be as gullible as we first presumed, and that this person is a decoy set up to distract us."

And so, Jouno found himself pleasantly challenged by the least likely person.

As the sun bled out into the sky during its descent from the zenith to the crepuscule, Jouno had finally managed to shed his gravely irritating partner and complete his task alone.

That idiot - really, that's all he could call them - decided to ignore his words and kidnap the scapegoat. Of course, this person sobbed and repeatedly told them that they're not the right person, that there's been a mistake, but no one believed their words. Inevitably, they were tortured for a few hours and deemed unnecessary. Jouno shot them, then headed back to search for the real culprit.

"Now, where could they be?" he hummed, almost amusedly, to himself. "Most people tend to lay low when running from important and dangerous organizations, but something tells me..."

He was rather lucky, in a sense, that someone had spotted the fugitive near a bar. However, this was over 5 hours ago. People on the run tend to be smart enough to scatter from location to location, but he supposed he shouldn't be overestimating other people's intelligence.

The door creaked with a lowly groan, as did the floor when he applied weight onto it via his heavy tread. Upon first impressions, the bar was nearly empty.

Then, he heard a voice call out.

"SAIGAY!! Ahh, it's been a while, hasn't it?! Come, come! Can I order you anything? You look like a bourbon man, are you into bourbon? Unless... fine wine? Oh dear, don't keep me guessing, come, sit!"

Immediately, as soon as they called out his name and announced themselves with such ardor, he knew he had the right person.

"No thank you," he smiled. "I can't drink, I'm currently at work."

"Are you? Aw, you don't mean you're here to kill me?" they replied, voice dipping down to a pouty grumble as they neared the end of the sentence. "I'm tired of people trying to kill me, it's no fun."

Idling at the entrance, Jouno didn't quite motion to sit next to them, nor did he seek to keep close in case of sudden evacuation. From what he had heard, this person was without ability, so they didn't pose much danger. Nevertheless, he was a cautious man, and had known that false information could potentially be fatal in certain circumstances, especially when the target is acting so laid back.

"You stole half a million yen from one of the most dangerous organizations around, I don't particularly think you'd've expected it to be fun."

Met with muttering, he would've asked them to speak up had he not heard the nearly incomprehensible, "but I didn't steal anything" from their lips.

"You didn't?" he said aloud. "Then where do you suppose the money had gone?"

A pause insinuated, and he pondered repeating his question in a more forceful way when they answered. "Woah, you've got great hearing! I wish I were like that, half the time people talk to me and all I hear is 'bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bl-'"

Jouno pulled out his firearm and pointed it directly at them.

"Enough games. Cooperate and I'll only make it hurt a lot."

"Gee, mister, did someone piss in your cheerios? I'll come, I'll come, just give me a second! I want to finish my drink."

On the table, however, there wasn't a single glass.

Upon having Jouno point this detail out (for while he could not see, he could still visualize objects in space with his other senses), they paused briefly. "So either you're blind but scarily good at it, or you can see through that crazy squinting of yours."

"I don't appreciate you stalling," he hummed, cocking the gun. "Do you think I won't shoot?"

"No, no, it's clear you would!" giggled the individual. "But, oh, do tell me more about yourself. Being threatened is so much more pleasant when-"

He shot them once.

He shot them twice.

Both bullets landed in non-lethal locations, such as their right shoulder and calf, which was enough to get his message across without rushing his punishment for their actions.

"That hurt!" they frowned, clutching at the opening from which blood was rushing out. "Owwie! You really don't like talking with people, do you, Saigay?"

"Saigiku," he corrected with a hiss. "Do you ever stop talking? I could very well kill you right now."

"Well, I sure hope you don't!"

This just made him want to shoot them even more.

He listened eagerly as they let out a few hisses and groans, then a soft squelch and the clattering of a metal against the marble countertop. He guessed that they were taking out the bullet from their calf, since the one in their shoulder had effectively shattered into hundreds of shards, and would require special medical attention immediately if they wished to live for a few more years. Then again, he knew that they probably wouldn't live past tomorrow, so it wasn't his concern.

Letting out a soft gasp while they tore off part of their attire in order to wrap their injured limb, they still seemed to be laughing. "Thanks."

"For the gunshot wound?" the white-haired male tried to clarify. He didn't take them to be such an open masochist.

Yet, his question only spurred a flurry of coughing and chuckles. "Of course not! I meant, thank you for not attacking me further. Really thought you'd kill me here and now, but you're letting me treat my wounds without interference. Is it because you have orders not to kill me?" Adding with a terribly comedic bite of their lip, they said, "Or have you been seduced by my charm?"

Once he made it perfectly clear that he'd shoot again, they backed off on the teasing remarks and requested that he help them up. "To walk," they'd clarified. "I can't walk, y'know. How do you plan on getting me back to your base?"

"I'll drag you by your hair if I need to," he replied.

(He had to hijack a car because there was no way he'd drag a body across the city, especially not a body as talkative as this one.)

"So you're telling me," they pondered while blindfolded and cuffed in the back of the vehicle, "that you're blind, yet you have highlights? They're pretty, I'll give you that, but why did you colour it? Midlife crisis? Doesn't sound right to me, plus you can't even see the colour so why on earth would you do it? Are you responding to me? I can't hear anything with this blindfold over my ears. Aren't blindfolds supposed to obstruct your vision, not your hearing? Man, but maybe I can hear perfectly fine and it's all your fault because you're not answering me. C'mon, Saigay, humor me!"

Of course, he had no intentions of humoring them.

"You're lucky I didn't gag you," he said. "Or cut off your tongue. In fact, knocking you unconscious would've been a splendid idea."

"But you didn't!" the ex-criminal beamed. "Besides, I'm going to get beat up enough once you deliver me back to [c /o/n]. If you ask them to let you watch and/or participate, they won't say no, I think. Pops isn't too strict when it comes to those things."

"Pops?"

"Y'know, the head of [c /o/n]. He's my dad's close friend and the brother in law of your boss."

That explained a lot of things, starting with this seemingly innocent person's involvement with such dark themes. Yet, there was still something Jouno needed to know.

"And you betrayed your own family friend?" asked the blind man, quickly approaching the location of the building in which he was given rendezvous for the drop-off of the traitor.

"Ahh, connections don't mean shit," they scoffed, waving around their tied hands as if to emphasize their point. "But I didn't betray them. I'd have to be an idiot.... No, not an idiot, whatever is worse than an idiot in order to steal money from a man who would've given me the cash if I asked him for it. So, no. I didn't steal anything. That's why I didn't run; I'm not guilty of anything, running would make it look like I am."

Jouno was interiorly perplexed. So they've got a decent brain behind all of that buttery personality, after all. But, there was just something about them that didn't fit with the narrative, something he couldn't wrap his head around.

"Why wait for me to tie you up?" he finally suggested aloud, hearing his own words formed allowing him to make more sense of his confusion. "Why not just waltz into the building? This makes you look both stupid and guilty."

A laugh burst from the backseat, the kind of laugh that makes you want to join in despite not fully understanding the reason behind it. It was however cut short, due to a sharp inhale of pain then a few curses murmured at their injuries.

"Maybe I am an idiot. Maybe I wanted to get caught. Who knows? Maybe this was all part of my master plan to lure you near Negishi Station so that I could use my all-powerful ability."

He spent a few seconds registering that last bit. Lure him out to Negishi so they could...

"BOOM!"

With a jolt, he nearly crashed the car; luckily, in time Jouno had realized that this was just a sound effect from the hostage, and not a real crash caused by an ability. They were, in fact, right next to Negishi, which made the whole thing a huge coincidence, but other than that, nothing occurred. They were still in the car, unharmed and untouched by any ability that he could detect.

Meanwhile, [l/n] was laughing their ass off.

"BWAHAHAH, you actually fell for it!!" they managed between heaving breaths and uncontrollable laughter. "I knew that since you were blind you would be sensitive to loud noises but that worked so much better than I thought it would, you should've seen your face! You were all like," then they proceeded to make a plethora of faces he couldn't see, but that he knew were all mocking him.

[l/n] continued, "By the way, just because I haven't used it doesn't mean I don't have an ability. So watch out for your ass, pretty boy, or else I might just... BAM!"

He did not flinch this time, but he found himself rather frustrated with his previous reaction. People, normal people, never teased him this way. He'd have thought [l/n] would be a bit less friendly around him after sustaining the injuries, but so far, that appeared only to drive them towards a playful alternative to revenge on par with a snowball fight between two children.

"I'll tell you what," concluded the hysterical individual attempting to calm themselves down, "let's do this again, same time tomorrow? Muah, it was lovely meeting you Saigay!!"

Before he could protest or question this, they waved around their somehow uncuffed hands, reached for the handle of the car door, pushed it open and leaped out.

He found himself standing at the entrance of the bar the very next day.

It was beyond frustrating to pick up the pieces of yesterday's aftermath; based on his recollection and the most probable situation, [l/n] likely used the loud noises not only to ruffle and distract him, but to cover up for the sound of the click of their handcuffs being taken off, courtesy of a pin they had picked the lock with. On top of this, their haphazardous mention of Negishi station was just a way of situating themselves in space (since they had been blindfolded) so they could think of the safest escape route.

He quite frankly did not expect to be outsmarted by someone who can't even remember his name right. Yet, the fact remained that he was strolling up to the entrance of the same place as he'd previously apprehended them at, same hour of the day. He rather hated the sunset; nothing felt right for him. Not the consistent buzzing of the cicadas during the day nor the melodic trilling of the crickets; dusk never held a sustainable aura, and for this reason he'd grown to loathe it, despite being told repeatedly that the setting sun was beautiful.

Rushing curtly inside the building, the bells connected to the door jingled, and, almost on cue, a loud cheer roused him from his lucid trance.

"Saigay!! Over here, over here! Can't say I expected you to show up, but I'm pleasantly surprised!" gleamed [l/n] upon his arrival.

"It's Saigiku," he repeated for an umpteenth time, "and I'm here to turn you in."

They shook their head. "I'd have hoped you'd realized that I don't take to being kidnapped. But I do appreciate the perseverance, so I'll make a deal; have a drink with me, then I'll cooperate for an entire 5 minutes without trying to escape."

"...You truly are an odd person," said he, despite taking a seat by their side and waiting. He didn't know what trick they had up their sleeve (rather, their cast. Turns out, they'd gone to a private medical professional in order to have it looked at. He smiled when he noticed this; a sure sign that victory was much more likely tonight.)

"I'll take that as a compliment!" [l/n] laughed heartily, then called for the waiter. "One [favorite drink] for me, and he'll have a cup of whiskey. The good type, y'know what I mean, darling?"

The waiter raised a brow at the nickname and odd hint, but took the order anyways and began preparation. Meanwhile, Jouno sat, trying to protest that he did not want anything to drink, but was quickly cut off by his temporary enemy's much louder affirmations that he did indeed want some.

"You don't look like the type to be trying out sobriety," they hummed, "but I know if I let you chose for yourself, you wouldn't get anything. You'd be all," (and here their voice deepened and became gruff in an attempt to make it clear that they were looking to mock him,) "'I'm here to kill you! I'm a mass murderer so fear me!!' Am I right or am I right?"

Before he could respond, the fingers on their uninjured hand began to flick his dangling earring, on the right side of his face.

"You have an earring," they pointed out, almost stupidly. "Why don't you have one on the other side?"

He wasn't going to respond to any of this. In fact, he was toying with the knife in his pocket, gauging the right moment to strike with such an unpredictable opponent.

"Because I don't," he said dully. The waiter came, their glasses clinking with the ice inside as it toyed around in the liquid, gently being placed onto the counter.

"Fair enough," they smiled. "Okay sooooooo, wha'd'ya wanna talk 'bout? Gimme anything, I hate silence."

That made two of them.

"What is your ability?" he said rather bluntly, with a soft hum. He was in an optimal position to strike, only a few centimeters away, but he thought better than to attack without knowing such an important piece of information. Besides, with the way the conversation was going, they seemed to be eager to tell him the truth, for whatever reason, so he wouldn't lose anything to try.

After taking a long sip from their drink, they paused. "Nothing, I don't have one. You?"

The cautious man pressed further. "I find it hard to believe you haven't an ability in such a dangerous environment."

With a chuckle, they took another gulp from the glass. Then, turning to him with a relaxed heartbeat, they said very calmly and slowly, "I don't believe in needless deceit. Unlike you, Mr. Hide-my-knife-in-my-pocket-that-I'm-going-to-stab-you-with, I don't play dirty. So, when I say that I don't have an ability, don't be so surprised, yeah? The majority of people don't. I supposed when you're gifted, you don't quite try to sympathize with those unlike you."

So, they're aware of the weapon, yet made no move to dodge? Perhaps he's overthinking this, after all there are many people who seem invincible just because one doesn't act based on rational decisions, but based on their feelings. He should know, he spends most of his free time toying with said emotions and tearing them apart.

In one swift movement, he let his knife slide back down his pocket and removed both hands from the shadows.

"You sound genuine," he said, almost to himself.

"Well, I sure hope so," they laughed, despite nothing particularly funny being said. "I am being genuine, after all. You'll be able to bring me in and tie me up properly in a little while, so I'm going to enjoy the now while I still can, that's my philosophy!"

"Your philosophy is to drink something before you get kidnapped instead of trying to escape?" he repeated, incredulous. Perhaps their drink was laced with something, some kind of drug that drags your mood to a high. Even if he smelled no trace of anything other than [favorite drink], he concluded that this was the only reasonable explanation to this indecipherable human being.

Doubling over with a violent wheeze, they were (yet again) laughing at his words. They babbled a few words between gasps for breath, such as, "Didn't know you had a sense of humour!" and "Please, I can't breathe!" like he'd been a world renowned comedian. He almost felt the urge to clarify that he was attempting to degrade them, to criticize them and point out their stupidity, but one does not simply explain themselves when insulting another. Typically, their words transmitted the message well enough, but this was far from a typical recipient.

Finally recovering, they put on a mock angry face and waved around their finger. "You fiend, take it easy, I'm injured! At this rate, you'll make me pop my lungs out, ahah! Is that your master plan? To incapacitate me verbally? Bravo, I didn't expect that!"

"I wasn't..." he said, trailing off as he was thoroughly perplexed. What does one say in his situation? At this rate, his biggest concern was their oddities, not their capture.

On second thought, he nearly forgot that he was here to capture them.

"That's the beauty of it," they exclaimed, waving around their drink and spilling a considerable amount on his shirt accidentally with the grand gesture. "Unintentional torture! Wow, you must be even better than what I've heard about you, Saigay."

Not even bothering to correct them, he said, "And what exactly have you heard of me?"

"One, that you're very attractive. Two, you're ruthless when it comes to sadism. Three, you have exceptional intellect and four, you can hear heartbeats. Is that last one true? Wouldn't that make you a living polygraph?"

He was, but also wasn't, listening. The first thing they'd mentioned was his attractiveness, likely physical, but what an odd thing to point out, that is! Fighting down the odd feeling blooming in his chest with success, he finally mustered a response; an affirmation.

"That must be your ability," they pondered. "Isn't it? You'd be too strong if you had something else on top of this."

With a grin, Jouno explained, "It is not."

A melodramatic gasp could be heard echoing throughout the mostly empty room. "It isn't?? Gah, I must've been astronomically lucky to have escaped you last time!"

He'd've agreed had he not been promptly cut off by a rush of guesses regarding his ability. Most were way off, a select few absurd, and the entirety of them wrong. He felt his face contort into that of a confused expression when they suggested that he might be able to listen to people through walls, drawing an example by explaining that he might, and here the words were engraved into his mind, "listen in on people while they went to the bathroom, thus deducing whether their digestion was going well." Somehow, this had become a conversation in which they recounted the vivid tale of their daunting task of finding a bathroom once when they'd been in a 'foreign environment' - also known as the downtown region of the neighboring city during a negotiation.

All done and said, they'd contented themselves with a fairly one sided discussion, and he sipped down the Japanese whiskey he'd been handed. Upon noticing this, [l/n] stuck out both of their wrists as best as they could, pressed near one another as if pleading.

"Well, a deal's a deal! Take me away, Saigay! Ah! That rhymes! Maybe I should become a poet!" they giggled.

Jouno considered this for a long time, the topic that was on his mind ever since his arrival. The previous day, he'd told his boss that [l/n] couldn't be found, and that he must've made a mistake when saying that the doppelganger was a fake. This, of course, was untrue, but it also gave him leeway in case he found himself up against a formidable opponent. All of this meant that, if he did not turn [l/n] in to [c /o/n], he himself would not lose anything.

It wasn't sympathy, he told himself, that led him to get up and walk away as they left their arms extended. No, it was just an avoidance of unnecessary effort. If he walked away now, he would save himself the hassle of detaining them, all the while giving this person a second chance. Who knows, perhaps they'd be useful to him in the future.

Jouno had not expected to be called by the lower ranking members of his organization early in the morning. What he had expected was to go to his office; not being told that there was a "package" waiting for him at the base.

He hadn't a clue what this package was. His first instinct was that it was a weapon of sorts, a bomb, anything that did damage. Although, it could very well also be a traitor who had been tied up and sent to him as a peace offering. The more he thought about it, the happier he was as he approached the location in which he was expected.

"J-Jouno-sama!" exclaimed one of the nervous underlings - a kid, really - holding a...

...A dog?

It barked at him, growling and struggling in the grasp of the two kids tasked with holding it down.

"What is this, a prank?" Jouno hissed, ready to make them pay before he even got the entire story.

One of them audibly gulped as their blood drained from their face, while the other stuttered an explanation. "N-No! We f-found this dog attached w-with a leash right in front of the building, and there was this attached to its collar," they said as they handed the executive a wrinkled piece of paper which, upon further inspection, turned out to hold an uncanny resemblance to a napkin from a nearby fast food place.

On it, there were an assortment of dots which were ink being pressed hard onto the fabric. Braille, he concluded. This person seemed not only to have specifically destined this to him, but desired to keep the contents for him only, rather than have someone read it for him.

On it, he managed to decipher the following:

'Dear Saigay, Thanks for not trying to kill me!! I'm certain you're just a big softie heheh. The doc told me I shouldn't be moving around too much after those wounds you gifted me, so now I'm kinda on house arrest lolol. Either way, I'd've loved to thank you personally but can't so I got you a present, its name is undecided yet BUTTTTTT they're a bitch just like you so I called them saigay jr. for the time being ♡ plus I figured you never had a guide dog, right?? So here you go! XD

p.s. you never told me what kind of drink you liked. was I right about the whiskey? pls tell me!! i'll recover properly then find you, so you better have an answer by then >:( p.p.s. heheh peepee s p.p.p.s. you still haven't told me why your hair is dyed p.p.p.p.s. SAIGAY JR HAS YOUR MISSING EARRING BTW!!'

What on earth-

He certainly was no longer angry at this weird dog, but at the owner.

What made it worse was that the two kids had finally gotten over their fear of him and started calming down the dog (which he was not going to called Saigay Jr., much less Saigiku Jr.), noticing the earring; it was only a clip on that was obviously made up of cardboard clippings and poorly colored insides, as well as engravings that he could physically feel and recognize, but the resemblance to his own was noticeable. He wondered if this was an insult from [l/n] disguised as a present, but decided that there were too many exclamation marks for this to be anything resembling a threat. Not to mention the "XD".

Now, he had to figure out the dog. It's too much noise and too much effort, besides he doesn't like dogs all that much. He supposed he'll just have to snatch off that wretched earring and dispose of it before anyone makes the link and this haunts him, then kick it out. Surely it'll wander back off to its home or whatever. None of what followed would be his concern.

"Jouno s-sama, what should we do with the dog?" uneasily asked the kid. He shook his head, snatched the makeshift earring in one fell swoop and crumbled it into a ball in his hand.

"Take it outside, it isn't mine and I don't care about it. This was just a prank from someone I know."

With this, Saigay Jr. was released back onto the street, the collar still coated with braille dots that spell out its name.

Once work was done, he decided to go for a walk, for some fresh air. However, Jouno was not expecting to hear panting coming from his side.

Saigay Jr. barked at him, happily wagging their tail and bouncing on their paws.

"What is wrong with you," he swore under his breath, then made his tone much vocal. "Go away! I don't want you here!"

None of this, obviously, got across to the dog, who was still following him closely.

"I said go away!" he yelled, a bit louder but also significantly harsher. "Stupid bitch."

It somehow reacted differently, barking much more avidly and skipping over to him with apparent excitement.

At this rate, he'd never get rid of the dog. He contemplated calling the pound and having someone take them in, but knew that this was likely an unnecessary step to take. Regardless, he'd have to get rid of it soon. All this barking is going to make him dizzy soon.

The sounds subsided as it transitioned from growling to a soft whine, choosing to lay down. It was then that he noticed a certain odor that he hadn't paid attention to before.

...Blood?

He almost could've sworn the dog was injured.

Jouno decided that it was not his concern and left it there, on the street, alone.

The dog was certainly a stubborn little thing, as it was there when he came to work the next day.

He took out his gun, shot it in the air (loud noises hurt him a lot, but he knew the same applied to the animal) and hummed contently as it scurried off out of fear, out of his life.

Saigay Jr. came back the very next day.

"Oh, will you fuck off already?" he groaned, taking out his gun yet again to fire a warning shot. Of course, he wasn't going to actually kill the beast, but he was reaching a point where he was very well considering it.

He stopped himself as he heard it whine, then lower itself to the ground, almost bowing to him in a human fashion.

"I'm not keeping you. [l/n] should've just left you in the dump where they found you," he said, realizing that he was talking to a literal dog.

He reached his hand out with a sigh, and began to pet it. This clearly made the dog calm down significantly, as it was finally getting recognition from the one it believed to be its owner, and so it didn't noticed as he curled his fingers around the leash, detached the ends of the collar then used it to attach the canine to a post.

As soon as it realized its situation, it began to growl, barking aggressively at him, then pouting and almost seeming like it was about to cry. Jouno didn't care, however, as he took out his burner phone and dialed animal patrol.

Somehow, by some un-abiding law of the universe, Saigay Jr. was there, sitting happily, waiting for him outside of the building in which he operated.

Its leg and arm seemed to be getting better, he could tell, which made it likely that it wouldn't stop coming back to annoy him.

"It's like a miniature [l/n]," he laughed to himself.

Over time, he'd almost began to enjoy his daily encounters with the animal. He found it almost enjoyable to pet and ruffle its soft fur, eliciting the pleasant reaction of a calm dog.

Today, he decided, he would stop pushing it away. It's Houdini, this mynx, a Houdini who refused to disappear and could get out of any trap he laid for it.

"First off," he crouched down, stroking its ear, "ground rules. You are not my dog. I'm doing this to see if it'll get rid of you once you get bored with me. Got it?"

Ears drooping, Saigay Jr. seemed to be saying, "aww, but I wanted to be your dog!", to which Jouno replied with a look that said, "Don't make me get up and leave."

"Second rule, keep your piss and shit away from me, I'm not touching or smelling any of that. Third, you do as I tell you to. Understood?"

He wasn't expecting the dog to nod, but would've liked seeing it react other than burrowing its head further into the palm of his hand. Reluctantly, Jouno didn't resist, and sat there entertaining its need for physical touch for a few moments before springing to his feet.

"I'm going home. You are not allowed in my house," he warned, turning around.

Saigay Jr. followed him home anyways.

Somehow, as the day turned into night, he found himself helpless when it comes to resistance against this dog. It was thankfully very unproblematic, not making much of a mess when they arrived to the apartment which he lived in (it wasn't his, evidently. The criminal organization he worked for simply scared off all the tenants and let their members live there, unofficially.) He gestured to a corner for it to stay while he settled down, and stuck there for as long as he told it to.

As he took care of his own affairs, the time to rest finally came, and the dog didn't appear to have any plans to depart from its new best friend.

"Leave," he repeated forcefully, pointing to the door left ajar for it to crawl outside. "I said leave."

The message seemed to be getting across, as Saigay Jr. finally began to trek towards the entrance.

Then, it used its snout to shut the door, returning promptly and sitting down in front of him, waiting for some kind of reward.

"I'd really wish you'd die right now," he threw a hand on his face, tilting it upwards to display his frustration. "Fine. Let's play this the hard way."

He walked outside his apartment, knowing that the dog would follow, and shut the door behind them both. With a smirk, he activated his ability, disintegrating into the smallest specks and re-entering the room while sifting through the openings on the side of the door.

This way, he was back inside while the animal was whining from the outside, scratching occasionally to ask him to let them back in.

"Absolutely not," he laughed proudly, tossing himself into bed, trying to will himself to fall asleep before he'd begin to feel guilt about leaving the diligent and loyal gift from [l/n] outside.

A click, a creak and a shuffle later, and he heard a very clear panting noise.

Saigay Jr. had somehow managed to get inside.

"Fuck, you know what? I don't care anymore," groaned the tired man. "I give up. You win."

As he let himself doze off, the dog had crawled up onto the bed and softly laid its head on his chest, breathing steadily.

Jouno wouldn't admit that the sound and feeling was a nice change to his norm.

At this point, Jouno had practically adopted Saigay Jr.

He didn't hear anything from [l/n], which he found odd since it had been over 6 months since he'd last seen them. He knew that he shouldn't be thinking about them; he'd only known the peculiar individual for a grand total of about 3 encounters, one of which he hadn't even interacted with them and the other two being attempted kidnapping and murder. The white-haired man knew that the only reason their image stuck in his head was due to this dog, this constant reminder of them, on top of their boisterous personality that he could've swore made him look at people like him (who had little to no personality, all business and no fun, as they might've said) differently.

The dog was a weird new addition to his life as well. He'd never seen it eat nor require to be walked. In fact, their relationship had gotten to the point where he was becoming more and more eager to be in its company; he woke up with Saigay Jr. (whose name he couldn't bring himself to change nor get out of his head), the both of them walked to his work, and then when he was done with his daily torturing, the loyal animal was waiting for him at the door of his apartment. He occasionally let it sleep in his bed, but mostly it found a small corner on the couch where both of them seemed content. It was a particularly odd situation; Jouno did not like pets. In fact, he didn't like people, so why would he expose himself to this small, fluffy thing for daily companionship? He didn't know, but found that there was no need to question a mutually beneficial situation.

Today, however, something odd had happened.

Saigay Jr. was not waiting in front of his door when he got back, covered in the heavy smell of blood for today's session was especially... artistic.

"Junior?" he found himself calling out, a name he never had the need to say out loud due to their chemistry. Yet, there seemed to be no movement nearby.

Weird, he thought, but there's no need to make a big deal out of this. The animal probably had to attend to its animal business, or whatever. Maybe the meeting that they always attend while he's at work was running late, he humored himself.

A few hours later, and nothing happened, no one showed up scratching at his front door or barking at it. He'd told himself that he was going to keep going on with his day as if nothing happened, but sleep was difficult to find because of the nagging feeling that something wasn't right.

It was then that he heard a knock at his door.

Not a scratch, but a knock.

He grabbed the firearm from the drawer next to his bed, and greeted the guest with a smile as he unlocked the door cautiously.

"Saigay!!"

He couldn't believe it; [l/n] was standing at his door.

"Sorry, sorry, I know this is sudden but at least be glad you were wearing pants when I knocked on the door," they spoke casually, letting themselves into his apartment and spreading themselves on the couch like they'd been living there for a while, in a particularly odd way that eerily resembled that of his dog, "but I was running late since my dad was telling me that I should come clean about this whole thing and bla bla, y'know that old man wisdom? You seem like you know what old geezers think. Anyways, Dad was givin' me the lecture and whatnot, so I told him that since I was mostly recovered, I might as well come and say hi without barking."

"Without... barking?"

He squinted his eyes even further as he tried to make sense of this.

"So you didn't gift me a dog, you..."

"Were the dog? Yup! The name's actually Soseki [y/n], and I've been a spy at [c /o/n] for about a year or two, can't remember too well since my time was cut short by a certain injury some pretty asshole gave me. Annoying, ain't it? I hate getting shot at. Being a dog is so much easier."

"You lied," he said, trying not to panic from the fact that he had been sharing his life for quite some time with another person in disguise, "when you said you didn't have an ability."

"Of course! Isn't that what everyone does? People lie tons, like when you told 'Saigay Jr.' that you didn't have a ticklish spot, only for me to find out that you have sensitive ears and chest. Very ticklish, especially when you think no one is watching."

He felt the blood rushing to his face while he swallowed dryly. What else had he done accidentally in all that time? He couldn't possibly have kept track of everything.

"Aw, he blushes," they laughed, tapping his nose before he could recover. "Relax, I'm not out to get you. I thought you were interesting and cute when you kidnapped me, so I thought I'd put you to the test for a bit while I recovered from my injuries. Okay, not so much a test, per se, but I wanted to hang out with you. I had a feeling you were lonely, and I was right!"

Heartbroken wasn't the right word to describe how he felt; what was running through his mind was a hellish mixture of embarrassment and fear of vulnerability. It's the sensation one feels when one is deceived and looks back on it, wondering how they could've been so foolish. He should've known, he kept telling himself.

"I get that you probably feel humiliated. Dad says that most people do, so I've just gotta smile and remind them that I've got a terrible memory," they laughed, reading his mind. "Maybe once you get over it you'll come to realize that I wasn't lying about wanting your friendship."

With a timid smile, nothing like what their usual bubbly personality would typically make, they bowed gently to him, seemed to consider leaning in to hug him, then decided that this all would be too much at once.

[y/n] left, hesitantly adding, "Same place... tomorrow?"

Why had Jouno showed up at the bar where they had originally been introduced, all those months ago, when he'd been so foolishly deceived?

Perhaps it was as he kept repeating in his head, that he was there to pick up the pieces of his torn dignity. Or maybe it was to finally kill them and receive the reward on their head.

Or was it to accept their offer?

He reassured himself that he couldn't possibly, that people were terrible and he couldn't let himself get soft with this one or else he'd become mushy and weak. He wasn't sure what terrified him so much about that idea, but he didn't even consider it as an option.

As always, the bells jingled as he entered, but there was no shout of his mispronounced name.

Nevertheless, he took a seat at the counter, ordering the whiskey not because he wanted some, but because he subconsciously attributed it to this location and time, despite not having an overwhelming number of memories here. He supposed that certain memories can be short but impact you more than you could ever fathom.

Even while he waited, he'd began to feel the pit of his stomach drop, like he had a cavity in his chest in place of a soul. Jouno hadn't realized up until now how accustomed he'd grown to a persistent joyful presence in his life, be it [y/n] under human or canine form.

The waiter returned, placing his order against the counter, and murmuring in a melodic voice, "I didn't expect you to come."

He didn't have to glance upwards to know it was [y/n], and so kept his gaze downcast.

"I'd say I'm sorry but I don't quite see anything to apologize for," they said, taking a sip out of his drink, lips lingering at the rim of the glass. "I had a lot of fun in the past few months, haven't you? My approach might've been a bit cruel, but think of it as Karma for shooting me, twice. This way, we're even! Wha'd'ya say? We good?"

Jouno's mouth betrayed him as he snatched the cup from them, chugged it all down at once, then said, "yeah, why not?"

Immediately, their heart rate sped up from excitement, and they leapt across the counter to trap him in a bear hug. Trying to resist but knowing there was no point, he eventually melted into their embrace.

Pulling away, they giddily babbled, "Okay, so now that you've forgiven me, I feel like it's a great time to mention that I've seen you strip multiple times and I would've told you that it was weird to change your clothes in front of a dog but I didn't know how to tell you or look away without acting weird so I just went with it and I feel like maybe I should compliment your stellar abs while I'm rambling like this but complimenting you will probably not do much good so how about I just offer you another drink and we forget this whole thing?"

Jouno cursed under his breath, nearly chuckling but not quite, realizing that they were right. "Fuck, what else did I do?"

"Well, I've got to tell you that your snoring is adorable, but you roll a lot in your sleep and that, mister, is something we need to take care of."

For the first time since he could remember, Jouno laughed a genuine laugh, not laced with malice or sugarcoated, as he listened to [y/n] vividly recounting their numerous embarrassing tales of him, only to be teased back for their dog habits like the panting and tail wagging. He'd've thought that the drinks were making him loose, but [y/n] had actually told the waiter to give them both multiple shots of apple juice.

As the night progressed, Jouno slowly found out that he'd opened himself up a lot more than he was comfortable admitting. Yet, this made him both want to retreat and lock [y/n] out of his life and invite them into his daily rituals, to never let them go. On the other hand, [y/n] had always found him to be a wonderful person, and only became further entranced as they watched him operate on a daily basis.

Somehow, Sweet fell in love with Sour, and Sour fell in love with Sweet.

Another set of months later, Jouno returned from a particular mission given to him in the middle of the night, exhausted, ready to do nothing expect collapse onto the bed and sleep.

He was practically dragging his feet as he approached the door of his apartment, inserted the keys lazily and opened it. As always, his partner called out for him.

"Sai!" they said, skipping up to the door and noticing his beat up expression. "Damn, what did they force you to do this time?"

He shook his head before burying it into the crook of their neck and letting his hands dangle by their side. "The guy I had to interrogate was an opera singer, lungs of fucking steel." Strands of his hair were brushing by their skin, and his lips were murmuring against the warmth. "He wouldn't stop screaming my ears off, even with the gag."

Unable to contain their laughter, they poorly comforted him with a rub on the back while shaking from giggles. "My poor baby, today hasn't been your day, has it?"

Almost like handling an infant, they snuck their arms under his own and half-carried him to the bedroom. Getting in with him and tenderly placing a kiss on his cheek, [y/n] traced out random features on his face with their fingertip, hoping to soothe his body with touch.

"You smell terribly by the way," they said sarcastically in a deep sultry voice. "Do I kick you out to sleep on the couch or are you gonna take a shower? I can smell the blood on you, darling."

Half-asleep already, he slurred a, "Tomorrow...", followed by, "It's not my fault you've got the nose of a dog."

"You aren't any better," [y/n] teased, rolling over on top of him and kissing his sensitive lips with the delicacy of a flower blooming in spring snow.

"Just... let me sleep," he groaned, waving them away like a fly, only to have his hand caught by their own.

"Mnn, fine," murmured the [h/c] haired individual, gazing at him softly with heavy eyelids, as mesmerized with him as always. "Want something fluffy to snuggle into?"

"No, stay the way you are."

With another kiss that lasted a bit longer and in which Jouno participated weakly, [y/n] rolled back and cradled his head, bringing it onto their chest.

"'Night, [y/n]," he managed to say, shifting himself so that he was curled up against their figure. After a brief pause, he shuffled himself again under the covers, resting his head on their body. With their chest steadily rising and falling in sync with their consistent breathing, he found that he slept so much better.

They smiled gently.

"Goodnight, Saigiku."

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #saigiku jouno #jouno saigiku #bsd jouno #jouno bsd #jouno x reader #bsd x reader #jouno bsd x reader #jouno saigiku x reader #jouno x reader bsd

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cosmicrecs · 7 months

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Kpop Fic Recommendations

by yours truly @cosmicrecs 💛✨

okay so this is just gonna be a blog compiling all of my favorite fics, aus, and oneshots of all time (that are on tumblr) and i will update it as time goes on

i will break it up between groups (i mainly just read ateez and skz fics though) i will also put warnings if needed :) let me know if i miss any warnings though!

please support the blogs and authors themselves if you do end up enjoying their stories!! a little love goes a long way 🫶🏻

ATEEZ Fic Recommendations

💛 Pirate King by @chaseatinydream

sfw, pirate!au, ot8 but also reader x hongjoong or wooyoung (you'll see)

warnings: blood, wounds, in depth descriptions of injuries (both the characters and readers), guns & weaponry, just violence in general

by far this is my favorite ateez fic ive ever read its so well put together and thought out and the way she writes the characters and brings them to life is 😍😍

it is quite long but i promise you once you start reading you won't be able to stop, the character development and the readers role in the story is so fascinating i genuinely could not stop reading until i was finished

the ending is so beautiful as well GAHH i cannot recommend this fic enough guys 🙏🏻

💛 Stained Glass by @mingtinys

sfw, mafia!au, soulmate!au, san x reader, angst

warnings: blood, open wounds, violence, guns

guys. when i tell u this fic ruined my life 💔💔 its so good!!! heartbreaking and shattering but written so well how could i not love it :')

i'm not even san biased but this fic is SO good.. genuinely made me sob and fics never can do that to me usually 😭😭 please go check it out

💛 Entropy by @in-san-ity

nsfw, mafia!au, reader x yeosang, fluff, angst, smut

warnings: violence, guns, blood

guys guys guys guys. wrap yourself in a blanket and grab a snack bc this fic may be a little long but it is SO good

if you don't like kids maybe this one isn't for you but GODD everything abt this one spoke to me!! getting to see yeosang w a kid and help out of a dangerous environment...... idk man i just rly like this one and personally i really think you should also check it out 🔪 (this is a threat)

Stray Kids Fic Recommendations

💛 Star Lost by @nomniki

sfw, jeongin x reader, smau, soulmate!au, college!au, some angst

warnings: swearing?? i cant remember any more T-T

okay im not jeongin biased but this au is so well put together and just funny i rly rly enjoyed it

mostly fun w some angst idk its just a lighthearted read and i rly do recommend it:)

💛 Things Stray Kids Do That Make Your Heart Flutter by @aclowntiny

sfw, skz x reader , fluff ‼️

had me blushing giggling kicking my feet 🤭 so cute so sweet yesyes

one of my fave writers on this site!!! pls go check it out and her other stuff :)

#kpop fic #kpop recommendations #kpop fic recs #ateez fic #ateez fic recs #skz fic #skz fic recs #ateez au #skz au #ateez x reader #skz x reader

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nobodysdaydreams · 25 days

Note

i am holding you at (water) gun point. which fic are you most proud of.

Thank you so much for this ask! It's incredibly sweet, and I'm sorry it took so long to answer!

This is such a hard ask. I'd say SOS, just because of all the cool plot twists, how much it adds to the canon that we never got from the show. If you're sad the show got cancelled and/or need something to fill your time, I'd highly recommend it. I'd also recommend it if you like stories about redemption, guilt, complex/broken family dynamics, plot twists, and forgiveness.

However, in terms of themes, I love my book Martina redemption fic. If you're a books fan and want a shorter fic, I'd recommend this one. The executives in the books were abused as children, and I don't think that wasn't talked enough. I also loved writing this fic, particularly because it concisely expresses my view about redemption and forgiveness, and I think that's a very important message.

Here's a snippet from the fic where Mr. Benedict is talking to Martina. It was one of my favorite parts to write:

“I am being honest with you Martina. I don't think you’re irredeemable.”

The former executive looked up at Mr. Benedict in surprise.

“I think you have done bad things," he clarified, "but I do not think that makes you a bad person. No, I believe that you were a young and vulnerable child who did her very best to survive under very unfair circumstances. I don't see you as a monster, and I don't agree that the world would be better off without you in it. I look at you, and I see a very beautiful and intelligent young woman who my brother kept from enjoying her freedom and sharing her gifts and joy with the rest of society. And I think it would be a shame if you allowed the memory of my brother to continue to limit and suppress your potential. The best way to make up for what you've done is not to hide yourself away, nor is it to destroy yourself. It is to say that you are going to be different from the person my brother tried to mold you into. That you are going to find out who you are and who you were meant to be and be that person instead, despite what he tried to do to you. And that you won't allow the world to be deprived of that person any longer.”

Thank you again so much for this ask, Kats! I hope you have a wonderful day!

#Y'all are so kind #Bods Answers #tmbs #the mysterious benedict society #mysterious benedict society #mbs disney #tmbs disney #mbs fanfic #tmbs fanfic #mr benedict #nicholas benedict #martina crowe

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morallyinept · 7 months

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HAPPY SUNDAY LOVELIES! 🖤

Well after the craziness of last week, I've been back to work, and it still feels bloody crazy! I've managed to squeeze in some reading this week, but it never feels like enough. I want more time, damnit! 🥵

Anyhoo, let's crack that whip Jack, and get into this week's whip round. Yeehaw! 🤠

Catch up on last week here, sugar

☆ Things I've posted this week

Five Days Chapter 6 - We're halfway through this angsty, romance Joel story now, and I'm so glad those who are reading this are enjoying it. Warms the cockles of my little heart it does, to read all your comments. Thank you so much! 🖤

Unworthy - A Javier Pena GIFLET

Domestic Spice - A Marcus Moreno GIFLET

Trick Or Treat? - A Dark!Frankie Morales, Dark!Joel Miller & Dark!Dave York one shot for Halloween. This is my first time writing anything remotely dark, (although I felt it was pretty tame in comparison with some other dark fics I've read and enjoyed) and I'm completely floored by the positive responses to this story. Thank you to everyone who read it on Halloween, and who has enjoyed it since. 🎃

This week's Self-Care with Dieter & Jett looked at bullying and how you can deal with bullies, and avoid inadvertently becoming one yourself.

And this week's Writer Wow shone the spotlight on the wonderfully talented - and equally wonderful person - that is @boliv-jenta Go give them some love.⭐️

☆ Things I'm currently working on

Writing some more Christmas fics, have a bunch of GIFLETS lined up as always, and working on some one shots featuring Frankie Morales, Marcus Pike and Dave York.

I'm also getting soooo many ideas that my Google docs is a chaotic mess that I really need to put some order into. 🥴

☆ Things I've read this week

Head Shots - Chapter 4 - @secretelephanttattoo Everything about this series is so sweet and romantic, and has the perfect Marcus Pike in my opinion. I love how El perfectly places you, as the reader, in the scene so that you can literally see, hear and feel everything, and she manages to do it wonderfully. You must read this if you're an Agent Pike fan. Or any Pedro Boy fan, just read it. Thank me later. 🫠

Steep Is The Mountain - @sin-djarin Becca's Tim Rockford is just exquisite. Sexy, gruff, gun holsters... what more do you want from this handsome detective? I thoroughly enjoyed reading this and will deffo be re-visiting this when I have more hankerings for Rockford. The descriptives in this were utterly divine, and not just the smut. (Although that was scorching!) 🔥

The Haunting Of Dieter Bravo - @idolatrybarbie I have so many Halloween fics to catch up on, and reading this one was an absolute delight. I love how original and captivating this was, yet contained all the creep and dread that you want. And Dieter being Dieter, even though he's clearly spooked. This was a great read and I deffo recommend adding to your read list. Utterly spook-tacular! 👻

The Clink - @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin Let me tell you, if they had PrisonGuard!Javi P in prison, I think I would deliberately commit crimes to be locked up with him... This was hot AF. Damn hot, and in true Angela style, she captures the essence of that hotness and locks you up tight in it. Oof! 🥵

Juniper - @softlyspector This was an incredibly vivid read of Joel helping you get to sleep, in the only way Mr Miller can. And it was just delicious. I'm still thinking about this one, it's seared in my brain. 🫠

Hey There, City Boy - @sweetenerobert I had a fun cameo in Robert's Halloween Ghostface!Joel fic, and I'm still cackling about it now! Thank you, friend. The story was brilliantly hot and had that familial dread we've all come to know and love from the Scream franchise. And the smut was hella smutting for sure. Spooky Joel shenanigans aplenty! 🖤

Anytime - @undercoverpena Oh, I just fell in love with Javi P even more after reading this. Jo's romantic, friends-to-lovers story here is just beautiful! I urge you to read it because I am still drowning in my feels about it. 🥰

A shout out to lovely @beabliss who has been putting together some hot "things he'd say to you" drabbles. Some of my favourite's have been Marcus Pike & Javier Pena - super hot! Although all the one's she's released so far have been amazing to read, and inspiring too. 🥵

Also want to throw a nod and some love to @wildemaven who has been creating some of the most stunning mood boards I've seen. Again, so inspiring and creative, and some of my favourites so far have been Dieter Hosting SNL, Jackson Librarian Reunites With An Old Lover & Halloween with Dave & The Girls. But honestly, I could favour them all, they're incredible. 🖤

All these amazing fics will be added to my Pedro Character Fic Rec List when I update it next too. I've also created a Kinktober Specific Rec List now from this year, and current years gone by. So many amazing writers have contributed to this yearly theme, and the stories are incredible. Please go check them out. 🫶

☆ What have I been watching/listening to this week?

Blink 182 dropped a new album this week! And I've had it on repeat - A LOT! Growing up they were one of my favourite bands, and I've seen them live too, which was just incredible.

This new album is reminiscent in some ways of their old sound, with punchy anthems, but has some of those grown-up style ballads, similar to their album Neighbourhoods, dotted in there too, and I love it. It's been giving me embryo punk-rock Jett vibes from my college youth. And I'm still in love with Mark Hoppus to this day... 🥰

Some of my favorites from the album are Fell In Love, Terrified, One More Time & Edging.

☆ What have I been up to this week?

I went back to work this week, which was a shock to the system after a week of lay ins and writing a lot. 🥴 Feels like I've hardly done any writing at all this week.

I went out with my mom for lunch and a spot of shopping on Saturday, which was lovely, and I hung with my friends this week too for a belated birthday movie night - I was graced with a Pedro Pascal air freshener for my car... if I crash into a ditch, you'll know why! 😉

C'mon Jack, let's line dance outta here, cowboy!

That wraps it up for this week's whip round. I hope you've all had a good week and enjoy the remainder of the weekend.

Once again, thanks to everyone who sent Asks and left DM's. You guys rock! 🤘🏻

Stay kind, stay creamy. 🖤

🖤

#jett's weekly whip round #agent jack daniels #agent whiskey #agent whiskey kingsman #agent jack whiskey daniels #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #jett's fic recs #jett's writing #Spotify

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wisteriaiswriting · 3 months

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can you make a fic with ashe, where it's a enemies to lovers? the plot could be that you were a trusty member of the deadlock gang but then betrayed Ashe to rescue echo and help Cassidy escape, but you never really joined overwatch and ran solo. And then one day the deadlock gang gets into big trouble and you rescue them, reuniting with Ashe.

ℕ𝕠 (𝕎𝕠)𝕄𝕒𝕟 𝕃𝕖𝕗𝕥 𝔹𝕖𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕕

Words: 514

Deadlock has gone through their fair share of members, with the current ones being the last in a while. But there were two that wouldn’t leave her mind, both for very different reasons.

First was Cassidy, or during his Deadlock days, Jesse. He was a wild one, just like the gang. But there was a fire that couldn’t be tamed, after years it finally grew too big. And the next thing Ashe knew he was gone.

Secondly was you. One of the top and most trusted members ever in the gang, except for her of course. And previously her lover, having forged a connection that seemed so strong.

But of course everything had to go wrong in her life. At the time it was you leaving. Cassidy showed back up where his face wasn’t wanted, so obviously a fight started when he didn’t back down.

There was something no one expected, it was a traitor within the gang. And that traitor being you, shooting down one of your own before rushing away from them firing back.

Ashe was so shocked by the betryal, her heart shuttering, that she missed the many grenades [I assume?] Cassidy threw. Suddenly the world went black for her.

Waking up to see Cassidy standing over her, the crate behind him. And you? Pushing off the vehicle when you noticed her awake, hiding your eyes under your hat.

Which she had custom made to match with her. Even after all these years, you never rid of it. Pulled out of her thoughts by Cassidy returning B.O.B’s hat. You watched as she yelled as the vehicle left.

***

Fuck. The mission was meant to be so fuckin easy, but of course one of the rookies had to go mess it up. Now the gang has been cornered by Overwatch, with Cassidy…

He looked so smug about capturing her and the gang.

“Look at what we caught, huh Ashe?”

“Cassidy, you–”

“Hold on now,” A new voice had everyone turn their head, revealing you stepping out of the shadows. Your gun was raised and pointed at Cassidy, never leaving his head.

“I recommend you leave before I do something drastic…”

“What will you do?”

“Don’t think the government would like Overwatch being back in town.” That had them leave. Either they did or likely they wouldn’t have any more missions to go on.

So with no other choice they left without the gang.

“What is wrong with you.” Before you could speak the ‘click’ of a gun’s safety was heard, Ashe was holding you at gunpoint.

“Wanted to save me one last time before shooting me?” Soon enough she couldn’t help herself, asking question after question before you could respond. But there was one she needed the answer to.

“If you hate me so much… Why keep the hat?”

“Who said I hate you?” She didn’t have an answer to take, only lowering the gun.

“If you don’t, come back…” Her face flushed and she looked away, “Everyone misses you.” Throwing your arm over her shoulder.

“Can’t disappoint them, can I?”

#overwatch x reader #overwatch x male reader #overwatch ashe #overwatch ashe x reader #ashe x reader #wisteria♥

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oathkeeperoxas · 11 months

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TOP GUN / Icemav fic recs part 3

Good morning aviators, I am here with yet more fic recs! As always, I've tried not to repeat authors in the below, but if there here then I would also recommend opening their profile and checking out the rest of their works :D

Rec list 1 here

Rec list 2 here

now it's us https://archiveofourown.org/works/45161386 by @icemav86

“There was nothing to say, no alternatives, so Maverick dragged Ice to his bedroom and did his best, that day and until Ice left with his packed duffel over his shoulder, to show Ice how he felt about their impending separation, to communicate I need you, I’ll miss you, will you miss me? in every touch and gasp and moan. All of that went unsaid, though, Ice leaving on a warm spring morning with little more than a chaste kiss and a mutual agreement to keep in touch.” After three months apart, Maverick and Ice reconnect.

Love the comparison here between Mav feeling free in the sky and grounded with Ice. The boys use their words!! Very good and hot get together (properly) fic.

Love etc. https://archiveofourown.org/works/34701868 by @m-madeleine

A hospital visit and progress, of sorts.

Developing relationship and quiet moments where the two of them are figuring each other out – I adore how this author writes them.

Working on Nathan Hale’s Eulogy https://archiveofourown.org/works/47643871/chapters/120085639 by @lambourngb

The last words of Nathan Hale were inspiring to the generations that came afterward, but they were considered apocryphal by scholars. Propaganda that was repeated over and over again meant to keep a nation fighting for its freedom and independence. At the same time, the truth slipped away into a place where the living would never know it, and the dead were beyond caring. He wondered what his own final words would be; Thomas ‘Iceman’ Kazansky, COMPACFLT, a great naval officer, the second-best pilot, and a decent man. He hoped they would be ‘I love you’ to Maverick, but he was worried it would end up being ‘I’m sorry’ instead. [Tom has to find a way to break the news of his diagnosis to his wingman and partner, Pete.]

Get your tissues ready for this one!! I did in fact cry reading it. The emotions and the build and development of the icemav relationship through this gentle ending is so very satisfying.

leave a tender moment alone https://archiveofourown.org/works/44548714/ by vulcanx

Five times Maverick walks in on others in compromising positions and one time someone walks in on him kissing his husband.

Very classic 5+1 that I did enjoy!! The +1 icemav has me INCREDIBLY soft, I am such a sucker for the two of them being able to live and love in the open, which this fic amply provided 💖

The good part makes everything else incidental https://archiveofourown.org/works/48098077 by @adevotedreader

What Tom had not expected was that despite the exhaustion, the bloat from steroids, the soreness from surgery and radiation, and the mental exhaustion of just staying alive, he could still look at Maverick and feel the tendrils of arousal spark to life in his mind. The spirit was willing though the body had no hope of rising to the occasion. And, more shockingly to Tom, Maverick still felt attracted to him.

The two of them figuring out how to love and live even with everything that has happened to them!! Very soft and tender, very full of big feelings 💖

newsworthy https://archiveofourown.org/works/48089791 by @gracedbybattle

The Honorable Thomas Kazansky, SECNAV, retired from his post Saturday, June 11th, following a well attended ceremony in Alexandria, VA. Before departing, he was kind enough to impart a few words with Variety on his compelling career and enduring legacy.

Outsider pov and social media fic!! Two of my most beloved things to see in fics, all smashed up together. I very much enjoyed the look at what our main characters might look like to those outside what we know of them. The whole fic being in italics is a bit killer on my eyes, but it’s worth persevering through!

Running on Empty https://archiveofourown.org/works/46914424/chapters/118176517 by @wordsonamission

Maverick has spiraled down to a very low place. Although he was cleared of wrongdoing in the accident that caused Goose's death, he still feels that he bears responsibility for the tragedy. He's ready to leave the Navy to keep from hurting anyone else when Slider finds him hiding in an off-base bar and drags him back to the housing unit he's been sharing with Iceman during Top Gun. Maverick has a breakdown and Ice and Slider try to put the pieces of Maverick's broken heart back together. Maverick and Ice are also dancing around feelings that they're afraid to address. Maverick is left with a huge choice: does he stay in the Navy or start a new life as a civilian? Chapter one fills in the gap in the movie starting where Charlie tries to tough-love Maverick into flying again and Maverick going to see Viper at his house. Chapters two and three follow the plot of the rest of the movie.

Mav whump my beloved!! He’s definitely going through it in this fic, but he’s got some external support and love that helps him through the roughest parts. A really good dive into what Mav’s headspace might have been looking like immediately after Goose’s death, with a solid icemav relationship that shows their steady beginnings.

(I Love You) A Bushel and A Pallet https://archiveofourown.org/works/27142859/chapters/66285392 by @boasamishipper

"Only you, Mitchell," Ice says, "could possibly manage to get a concussion in a fucking Costco."

Domestic icemav my beloved. This author writes them so wonderfully, the dialogue and the set up for the fic are absolutely perfect and a real treat to read.

Rivalry https://archiveofourown.org/works/11851326 by thedevilchicken

Ice has always liked to be the best at everything he does.

Ice figuring out what he wants and how to love and what competition means when you’re also in love with your rival.

time = distance ÷ speed https://archiveofourown.org/works/36308572 by omnidirectional

Maverick hasn’t seen Iceman in years. But inevitably, they always cross paths again sooner or later. Five (plus one) potential timelines in which Maverick meets Iceman again 35 years later; some more on the comical side, others less so. Or, a pre-emptive strike: Six scenarios I’d prefer to see than whatever the actual sequel turns out to be. (If it ever comes out.)

WHEN I SAY I CRIED. As the summary suggests, this is a 5+1 focused on possible ways Top Gun: Maverick could have gone. The way the author ties each (tragic, comedic, wistful, ridiculous, heart-rending) of the 5 times into the +1 is genuinely awesome and I love how it plays on the 5+1 format. This was one of the first icemav fics I read and oh boy was it a doozy of an introduction to this ship!!

#some tearjerkers on here. take care of yourselves darlings #icemav #top gun #maverick #iceman #tg #fic recs #fan fic

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white-poppie · 2 years

Text

How Ran Likes em'

Characters: Ran Haitani x reader Genre: Crime AU Warnings: casino, poker, gambling, drinking, suggestiveness Writer: @ white-poppie

Song recommendation: Gangsta by Kehlani

This fic is an excerpt from my book: L'appel du vide (Please check it out !!)

Tokyo Revengers (東京リベンジャーズ)

"Wait how did I lose again?" you pouted fakely, staring at the dice.

You liked the black dress that you were forced to wear. A tight bodice that fell till your knees and renaissance-style puffy sleeves that adored your shoulders.

Your phone lay in your purse, connected to it was a chip, Naoto and Mitsuya could hear everything.

"You bet 5 and it landed on 6," the man chuckled at your unknowingness, "first time here?"

"Yeah, my friend said she would be here, but she cancelled at the last minute, so I thought why not try a hand when I am already here," you muttered, "but I am failing miserably!"

"Wish someone could teach me though," you whispered softly, but loud enough for your prey, no rather your hunter to hear.

Cloudy violet eyes travelled across the table, meeting your gaze, you pretended to squeak in surprise at the encounter (which wasn't really pretence, because, boy were you scared.)

Ran raised his eyebrows at your reaction, a little toothy smirk adorning his porcelain face.

He walked over to your table, a hand swirling the Vodka glass in his hands, standing behind you, he chuckled when you visibly tensed at your position.

"Need a hand, pretty?" he said huskily and you shivered in slight fear, "I'll help you with the game."

"That- would be g-great thank you" you answered, suddenly the corset wrapped around your waist felt much tighter.

"Are you from Japan?" he questioned

You fake gasped and smiled, "yes! you too sir?"

"Mhm," he smiled, secretly liking the fact that you addressed him as 'sir.'

✅: Ran loves being called sir.

He looked at the host, "what game you playin'?"

"Hazard," he answered.

"Ooh, a simple one," he said breathily, "Listen, doll, you'll be given two dies, choose a number between 5 and 9 and roll, you get money or get money taken from each right or wrong answer."

"Got it," you nodded taking the dice in your hands. Shaking them in your hands.

"Pick a number," the host asked.

"7," you answered and rolled the die and it landed on 7!

You smiled at the host, he passed you the 20000 yen ($150)

"Ooh~ you are a first learner," Ran grinned.

"I calculated the median (middle value) as soon as I understood the rules, a high chance of a win," you answered sweetly.

"Impressive."

✅: Ran likes em' smart

"Say, doll, wanna watch me play poker?" he asked and you nodded shyly, how pretentious.

Ran chuckled and guided you to the poker table, everyone there just screamed 'rich' without even uttering a single word. The wooden table glinted under the yellow light, people wearing suits and their women practically stuck to them with glue.

"Give me the deck," he told a man who looked like he was in his forties.

"Eh? It's my turn right now!" he panted out, keeping a hand on the woman's spine who sat on his lap.

Ran smiled and took out the gun that was tucked under his shirt and kept it on the table, a kind smile was etched on his face, "the deck, old man."

The man gulped ad handed him the deck, and the lady squeaked in terror. "Let's go," he told her and left his seat, another man took the opportunity and sat opposite to Ran.

"Didn't know guns were allowed at Casinos," you said as calmly as possible.

"They aren't, but people make an exception f' me," he looked at you and winked. A few seconds of quiet went by as he spoke again, "what's wrong, doll, scared?"

"More like intrigued," you said cheerily.

Ran chuckled at your response, "aren't you an interesting one."

"By the way, I didn't catch your name yet," you asked.

This made him suddenly go stiff and for the first time tonight, you feared for your life.

"Usually I don't answer when people ask me this, but it's Haitani Ran."

"Ash(Hai) Valley(Tani) and Orchid (Ran), you have a pretty name."

✅: Ran likes em' occasionally bold

Ran laughed at your etymology of his name, "how adorable," he whispered, "let's start the game, shall we?"

Saying that Ran Haitani had skilled hands at Poker would be an understatement. His nimble fingers worked quickly through the card deck, shuffling his cards in some squanderingly extravagant way.

You weren't going to lie, you were impressed.

"You are so good at this," you said staring at his hands, "like a magician."

"Wanna see some real magic doll?"

You nodded excitedly, mentally groaning at the act you had to put up.

"Get me a Martini princess, I'll win for you til' then," he chortled, giving his opponent a dangerous glint.

You nodded and walked to the bar, "one martini please."

✅: Ran likes em' obedient

Ran wasn't lying when he said he was going to show you some magic. You had absolutely no idea how he had managed to win 10 million yen ($74,300) in a matter of minutes. He extended his hand and you gave him the martini.

"Cheers," he said while bumping the glass in the air, towards his opponent, he was mocking them. The man tsked and left at his humiliation.

You clapped in delight, "sir that was amazing!"

"You were the lucky charm, pretty," he smirked and you couldn't help but cringe at his blatant flirting.

"I failed to catch your name," he asked.

"Tanaka Yumi," you smiled while placing forward a fake name Naoto had given to you.

"Tanaka Yumi, would you be interested in working for my organization?" he asked, you heartbeat lifted at his offer, he had fallen right into your trap.

"Don't have to do much, just run a few errands, listen to everything the members say, calculate a little and most importantly, not tell a single soul where you were and what is happening inside the premises."

"May I know what is the name of the organization," you asked to appear genuine.

"Bonten." bingo.

You gasped at his statement, "Bonten as in the criminal organization?"

"Mhm," he chuckled, "you'll get a lotta money though, and if you disagree...I'll have to kill you because you know too much."

You gulped and nodded, "I-i- accept sir, I am in need of money, my brother passed away recently, he was the only one I had in my family,' you sniffled.

Ran cooed and patted your head in faux sympathy, "there, there."

You looked at the time and gasped, "I will have to leave now sir, would there be any interview for the job?"

"Nope, I am the interviewer and you are hired, come to work from tomorrow," he searched his pockets and took out a card, "remember doll, no harm will be done to you as long as you keep your mouth shut."

You nodded and bowed at him.

'Ran Haitani,' you thought.

'Tanaka Yumi,' he pondered.

"I am going to ruin you."

Tags: @rintaroubby @nanaseishiro @dislownini @idowritingandstuff, @bakaface @denkis111, @jazzylove,@maybeleftoverjourneys, @lordmypantsaresocool, @futuristicallykawaiiturtle, @kristaline2dmensimp, @astrofai

Tokyo Revengers (東京リベンジャーズ)

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set-phasers-to-whump · 10 months

Text

Day 21: Creation Prompt - “Please.”

whumpee: napoleon solo, illya kuryakin

fandom: the man from uncle

hi! this fic is pre-ship and it's more angst than whump but i hope you like it anyway! i had a lot of fun writing it :)

“Kill the Russian.”

Napoleon waits. He expects an if you have to. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Nothing.

“I hardly think I’ll need to kill him.”

He’s supposed to steal a file from Illya. Information on a few British agents, compiled by the KGB. It’ll be easy. He knows where Illya likes to hide things.

There’s certainly no reason for anyone to come to harm over it.

“There’s really no need -”

“Kill him.”

“Why?”

Sanders slaps the table. “Because I told you to. Because you still owe me five years. Kill him, or go back to prison within the week. I recommend you use your head.”

He stands up and leaves, just like that. Napoleon sits at the table, heaves out a long sigh, and thinks.

It’s not like he’s actually known Illya for a very long time. They’re about to head to Bangkok on their third mission together. Sure, Istanbul had been a breeze. They’d worked well together.

He pointedly does not think about the explosion. How he hadn’t known whether Illya had gotten out in time. How his heart had thrummed in his chest until he’d seen Illya emerge from the wreckage, completely unharmed.

That doesn’t mean anything. He works for the CIA. Illya works for the KGB. They are fundamentally opposed, even if their masters are allowing them to play for the same team at the moment.

You can’t afford to get attached in this job. Too much of it is lying. There’s never enough trust.

And it’s terrifying, caring about someone when you know the danger it puts the both of you in.

If Illya is dead, it’s not like Napoleon can grow any more attached.

It’s not like he needs to be able to look at his own face in the mirror.

And he emphatically does not want to go back to prison. Five more years, and Sanders would be sure to make them as miserable as possible. He’d probably find a way to pile on more charges, to keep Napoleon in there until one of them dies.

Napoleon hates being in a cage. But the cage of the CIA is miles better than the cage of prison. He can’t exist like that, in a world of metal bars and pervasive cold and impersonal violence.

He’ll figure something out.

Three days later there’s a pistol in his hand and it’s pointed at Illya’s heart.

An hour ago, Sanders had sent him an “encouraging” message, detailing the hell Napoleon would go through if he dared to disobey orders. And he’d snapped, fitting the suppressor to the Browning hidden in the lining of his suitcase with horribly steady hands.

He’d invited Illya to his room in their hotel for a drink after having completed the first phase of their mission. (He’d forced himself not to think of Rome. Of the smell of burning plastic and the feeling of camaraderie).

And now Illya is at the other end of his gun. Napoleon had drawn on him so quickly that he hadn’t even reacted. (He knows there’s a pistol, a Makarov, tucked inside Illya’s jacket. There always is).

He wishes Illya had drawn too. Maybe they’d have gone out together. Maybe Illya would have killed him.

At least then he wouldn’t be here, doing this.

He hates how steady his hands are.

Illya is just standing there, which makes it worse. He’s standing there and his hands are raised slightly, held away from his body, and he doesn’t even look surprised, the bastard.

He can’t delay the inevitable. His finger tightens on the trigger. Illya doesn’t so much as flinch.

He can’t do it.

He can’t shoot him.

“Please.”

“What?” His voice is rough and raw and his hands are still steady. His finger is still on the trigger.

“Please, just shoot. I understand.”

Illya’s eyes are too bright. He looks calm. Like he’d known that this was going to happen.

It’s how lives like theirs end, more often than not.

Fuck.

He lowers the gun, engages the safety, lets it clatter harmlessly to the floor.

Don’t they deserve something more than this?

He sinks to his knees. A few feet away, Illya slides to the floor with his back against the dresser.

His hands are shaking now, at last. So are Illya’s.

It’s horribly silent. They’re both breathing heavy, adrenaline ebbing away.

How does he come back from this?

“Why you didn’t shoot me?” Illya asks. His voice is quiet. “It was your mission, yes?”

Napoleon shrugs. “Kill you, or five more years of prison.”

“I do not want you to go to prison.”

“I can’t kill you.”

Neither of them speaks. Napoleon would not blame Illya for getting his own gun. For leaving, getting as far away from him as possible.

Illya shuffles closer, until his back is pressed against the bed and he’s so close that Napoleon can feel his heart beating, too hard and too fast.

“We are even,” he says, still quiet. “I almost killed you in Rome.”

“I could have killed you then, too.”

“You saved me from drowning at Vinciguerra.”

“You saved me from Uncle Rudi.”

“You waited for me after the explosion.”

“You saved Gaby and me from Alexander.”

“I think we are even, see?”

“What do I do now?”

Illya shrugs, his shoulder brushing against Napoleon’s.

“Sit with me,” he offers.

He leans into Napoleon a little, and his body is still shaky but he’s completely relaxed and Napoleon feels like he can’t breathe and fuck, Illya trusts him with himself. Illya wants him to stay.

They’ve both done terrible things. There’s blood on their hands that is never coming off. But between them, there is nothing. No betrayal. No blood spilled. Just Illya’s body, warm and soft against him, and this feeling blooming in his chest.

I think I’m falling in love with you, he thinks.

“How about that drink?”

thanks for reading! hope you enjoyed <3

#whumpmasinjuly2023 #wij23day21 #the man from uncle #napoleon solo #illya kuryakin #at gunpoint #emotional whump #i say things #my writing

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intriq · 9 months

Text

✧ little moon

photo above

Content warnings: blood, death, mentions of firearms [guns], angst, fatherly!Alfred, bigbrother!bruce, genderneutral reader, no mentions of y/n [i try to avoid doing this in my fics from now on], possibly my shitty attempt at poetry, little bit of time jumps

.·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ .

PLEASE note i literally know NOTHING abt the DC universe and got insanely tempted to write this because of Rosa's [fairybaby on c.ai] discord, bc vampire au bots were being discussed and then it divulged to me talking about father figure alfred teaching the user stuff and then to vamp hunter alfred getting rid of newly turned user, which lead to me writing this.

.·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ .

TLDR: non canon compliant VAMPIRES AU DC Universe Angst Fic about VampireHunter!Alfred getting rid of NewlyTurnedVamp!Reader [genderneutral friendly]

.·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ .

time it took to write: around 5 hours [started at 6:59 pm Central time, finished at 11:09 pm Central time]

.·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ .

link to the song i wrote this to [i recommend listening to it while you read!]

☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ

The moon cannot stay in the night sky for forever, despite it’s gentle splendor.

You’d always been close to the quite famous vampire-hunting Wayne family, including Alfred, a closely trusted family ally who also just-so happened to be the butler of the family. To you, Alfred was like your father. Someone you looked up to.

And to him, you were like his child. One that he could never have in life.

The entire reason the Wayne family had become significant vampire hunters was due to the head of the family, Bruce Wayne.

It was a well-known tale of tragedy, known for every citizen of Gotham. For every civilian, every vampire, every vampire hunter.

because no matter how beautiful it may be,

Bruce, at the young age of just twelve [12] years of age, had been on an outing with his parents. They’d been walking amongst the street of rapidly darkening Gotham, streetlights flickering into life as the sun just barely peeked its gentle yellow-orange golden rays over the horizon of the city.

While there were different versions of the tale past this point, of how Bruce and his parents had even stumbled past a particularly vampire-infested portion of the city, it all leads to the same fate.

The fate of Bruce having to watch his parents be torn apart before his very eyes, helpless. Unable to do anything.

And to Bruce, fate was cruel enough to leave him alive. Just him. Forced him to sit there as his parents slowly turned cold as the blood drained from their bodies when the vampire that had attacked them scampered off when some random vampire hunter had shown up.

It all ends the same with Bruce having to literally feel the bodies of his parents grow cold in his grasp, as his hands hold theirs. Sitting with them as he cried.

But his tears, no matter how warm, could not bring warmth back to the cooled bodies of his mother and father.

That was the very tale that sparked Bruce to become a vampire hunter. All to make sure no other child would need to suffer such a cruel and cold fate.

The fate of watching their parents die before their very eyes.

Alfred had taken you in, too. For that very reason.

You’d only been the young age of six when one of Alfred’s vampire hunter buddies had come upon your family. Bodies already cooled, drained of blood that coated every inch of your home. But yet, somehow, you were safe.

You were “lucky” as some might say.

But no child is lucky in such a fate. There is no “luck” when it comes to being the only survivor of your families brutal massacre, leaving you with nightmares. Nightmares that would cause such a young child to wake up screaming and crying in the middle of the night.

With nowhere left to bring such a young child [this young child being you in particular], Alfred’s friend comes knocking upon the Wayne manor.

no matter how gentle she may seem,

It’d only been a week or two since the loss of Bruce’s parents, and when Alfred had opened the doors to find you cradled in his friends arms, sleeping with eyes shut and red, puffy from crying due to the nightmare that had woken his friend.

It’d been nearly midnight, too.

“Whose this?” Alfred had asked, reaching forward in just about an instant to take you from his friends arms. You don’t even stir from your slumber when Alfred takes you, cradling you in his arms. Your head rests on his shoulder as he holds you, and you even let out the smallest, softest little sigh.

As if you found Alfred’s comforting hold on you better than his friends.

Alfred’s friend gives off your name, and it makes Alfred’s brows furrow in recognition. He’d known your father. They’d served in the British military together, after all.

This was how Alfred came to know that one of his friends had died that same very night, and learned that his friend had even had a child.

You.

“I can’t look after a six-year-old with what I do, Alfred. You think you could..?” His friend’s voice trails off, and the question is clear. Alfred only slowly nods, giving him quick thanks before returning inside Wayne manor just as his friend turns to depart.

Bruce was still awake, too. He’d sat at the top of the stairs, just watching the brief encounter. And in that same night, Alfred introduces Bruce to you. Tells Bruce about your father, just in a few brief words.

Brief words that Bruce knew held a lot more weight behind them than Alfred could put on.

And from that night onward, Alfred raised you and Bruce.

Over the next couple of weeks after your arrival, Alfred would often be awoken in the night by your crying. Or your screaming, whichever one broke through your nightly terrors first. It would wake Bruce, too.

Bruce would always just stare up at the ceiling on these nights. Listening as he heard Alfred’s frantic, muffled footsteps come tumbling down the hall. Listening as Alfred opened the door to the bedroom you stayed in. [which was right next to Bruce’s, by the way]

Bruce could hear, from behind the wall his bed was against, as Alfred comforted you. As Alfred assured you that you were alright. Listening as your sobs and frantic gasps of air turned to sniffles after a long while, and then eventually quieted, with Alfred leaving exactly ten minutes after.

He’d even recognized the nickname Alfred had for you. “Little moon,” he’d always call you. Bruce wasn’t sure why, Alfred never explained.

One night, you’d awoken from a nightmare. But Alfred had been out on some personal business that day, and hadn’t quite yet returned. Bruce only awoke when he’d heard you open the door to his bedroom, your blanket hugged tightly under one of your little arms whilst you held some sort of stuffed animal that had been brought from your old home.

Even in the dark, Bruce knew you were crying. He could recognize those little sniffles, seeing as they kept him awake whenever you woke him by your screams of terror from your horrifying dreams due to your memories.

You’d asked him if you “could please sleep in his bed since Alfy wasn’t home yet”. And for some reason, despite how he’d ignored you at first, he couldn’t say no.

So you’d crawled into bed next to him, your little body huddled close to his. And Bruce hugged you, for some reason. Some sort of instinct, some sort of gut feeling.

It was like a natural reaction for Bruce, because he didn’t even process a thought before he’d done it.

And the moment he did so, your sniffles quieted faster, your tears stalling quicker than most other nights. And before he knew it, you were asleep again. And for once, you didn’t have a nightmare.

And from then on, Bruce saw you as a little sibling. And because of the loss of his parents not long before, he grew protective of you. Stepped into the role of your big brother without even a second thought.

After all, you’d both lost your family due to the same reason. The same way.

the sky does not have the room to hold the moon for forever, in all her silver glory

However, Alfred and Bruce did everything to keep you away from vampire hunting. And I mean everything.

Not once did they speak a word of it to you. Not once did they ever let you even notice how their presence left the Wayne manor at night to clear out the infested streets of Gotham.

So with that, you grew up mostly normal.

Sure, you got picked on and teased for how small you were in school. Sure, you’d come home battered and bruised from being shoved around a little too harshly by those kids who just easily towered over you.

You’d blame it on being clumsy. It was believable to Alfred. After all, you’d taken many tumbles in the years leading up to when the bullying started.

But Bruce never believed an ounce of it.

Sure, he’d try and ask you what really happened. But all you’d do is blink up at him, give him a forced smile, one that didn’t reach your eyes in the same bubbly and warm way it did usually. You’d always hoped he didn’t notice how forced it was.

But he always did. He just pretended not to notice it.

And when one day, Bruce happened to see the bullying firsthand. Seen it right before his eyes.

And that same day, after you’d disappeared from sight, Bruce got into his first fight. He’d come home just as beat up as you, maybe a little more-so, but he was victorious.

“You’re gonna get in trouble with Alfy if you get into fights, Bruce.” You’d whined, placing a cute little flower patterned band-aid on Bruce’s split knuckles. It wouldn’t do anything to help, but the thought certainly mattered.

And Bruce would only gently smile at you. That had been the first time, too. First time he’d ever smiled at you. He only ruffles your hair⎯ much to your disapproval and dismay⎯ and tell you that it was alright, that he didn’t mind if he got in trouble.

Because he truly didn’t. Not when it meant you got to live a more peaceful and normal life.

You were nine years old then, making Bruce fifteen.

He didn’t care if he got quizzical looks the next day for the fact he had those childish flower patterned band-aids on his split and bruised knuckles, or on any part of him that was bruised and battered. Bruce just didn’t care.

It made you feel helpful. So why would he stop you?

because the sun is a jealous twin, jealous of it’s sisters beauty, of her fragile elegance, and it yearns for that same beauty

So, yes. You were quite close with the Wayne family. You were practically an unofficial member of it.

In fact, you were close enough with them that all of Bruce’s children [adopted or biological] knew you quite well. All of them had a different nickname for you, one that they called you by. To them, you were just as much of a parental figure as Bruce was.

Maybe even more-so, since you’d take any opportunity to get them something. Even if it was a small little trinket.

But to them? That trinket was everything. It was worth more than any fine jewelry or expensive painting. To them, it was utterly priceless.

But hiding vampire hunting from you couldn’t last for forever, and you’d discovered it just after Jason’s disappearance. Why?

Because you’d gone looking for him.

Gone looking for him, and had accidentally caught Bruce in the middle of taking out a vampire. Which, unfortunately, caused you to relapse into memories of that night when you were six-years-old, due to how brutal killing vampires is.

You’d had another bout of nonstop nightmares for almost three months after that before they calmed, and Bruce had been there for each one, since you still lived in the Wayne estate.

Bruce never quite stopped feeling guilty after that, too.

and while the sun always feels sorry for it’s envy, the moon understands.

And now it was years later. Years later, and it was just a few days after you did something stupid. You’d slipped up, accidentally coming home much too late.

You were always quite bad at navigating Gotham, especially at night. So you’d wound up lost, in one of the worst parts of the city. One of the more vampire infested areas.

And you’d been bitten, and turned. You’d become one of them.

You didn’t mean to, you honestly didn’t. You tried to hide the signs from Alfred and Bruce. From Alfred, you hid it quite well. He just figured you weren’t feeling well, having a migraine.

But Bruce knew better.

He always could tell when you were lying.

So when Bruce had the confirmation that you were a vampire when you’d almost attacked him just the night before. He’d come home a little more beat up and hurt than usual, but nothing serious. To him, at least.

But to you, a newly turned vampire, resisting the urge to not attack when you hadn’t fed once just yet was impossible.

And that’s how Bruce found out. But he didn’t have the heart to kill you. No, he didn’t. He couldn’t kill the one person who he’d seen as a younger sibling for so many years. He couldn’t kill the person he’d tried so, so hard to protect from the infestation of Gotham.

So Bruce told Alfred, right after you’d fled Wayne manor.

And that’s what lead up to now.

she always gives the spotlight to the sun whenever it asks, as gentle or harsh or beautiful as it may

So here Alfred was, gun in hand. Stood before you.

Your gums burned and ached so badly due to how long you’d been going hungry. But you manage to hold yourself in, just simply standing there. Looking at Alfred, as you both stand in that trash filled alley, walls covered in graffiti.

“How long?” Alfred asks, finally breaking the silence that had been held for the pasty thirty minutes of you two staring at one another.

It’s hard for Alfred to hide the way his voice quivers. The way his hands tremble, nearly dropping the gun that was aimed right at you.

Your quiet for a moment, swallowing the forming lump in your throat. You can feel tears stinging your eyes, just like they did when you’d gotten the nightmares. You draw in a quivering breath, hands clenching painfully, nails forming crescent moons into your palms.

“Almost a week.”

Alfred is quiet. You can hear the way his heartbeat picks up, the way his breathing faltered for just a moment, as if he struggled to take in any air.

Alfred takes a moment to steel himself. To steady his emotions.

You and Alfred both have this thick weight in your chests. In your entire bodies. It’s like static, and it brings with it a bitter acidic taste to the mouth, makes the tongue go numb and heavy like metal.

Everything’s quiet, as Alfred steadies his aim again. He cocks the gun, too. But he closes his eyes when he does that, only opening them again after the click resounds.

“I’m sorry, Alfy. I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.” You begin, eyes glistening with tears. And before you know it, they are falling.

The same tears that Alfred could remember wiping off your face when you were six-years-old. The same tears that would cause him to nearly trip and fall on his own feet when he’d heard you crying due to those night terrors when you’d first come to stay with him and Bruce.

The same tears that he’d spend almost an hour every night coaxing to a halt. Sometimes even telling you stories about your father. The stupid things they’d do together, the stupid things Alfred did when he was a teenager.

And he’d smile when those tears stopped, halted by your little giggles that made relief flood his chest, warming it.

And before Alfred knows it, he’s stepped toward you. Gun still ready to fire, of course, but he uses his free arm to bring you close. And he hugs you.

Alfred hugs you in the same way he did when you were little, gently patting your back as his cheek rests on the top of your head, his gaze watching as the sun rises in the distance. And you cry.

You sob into him, hugging him back. Hugging him back so, so tightly. All you can get out between your hiccupping, broken sobs is just the words “I’m sorry, Alfy, I’m sorry” over and over. And Alfred simply continues to console you, replying with a very quiet, broken words of his own.

“I know, little moon. I know.”

Bang.

You fall limp in his arms. And Alfred weeps, cradling your bloody body in arms. For the first time in a long, long time, he cries.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you, my little moon.”

because the sun always rises, for the moon cannot lead with it’s gentleness for forever, for the world is not as gentle and forgiving. there will always be the light on the morning horizon, drawing your attention away, as the moon dips away from the sky.

#dc universe #alfred pennyworth #father figure alfred #big brother bruce wayne #angst #shitty poetry #reader death #non romantic oneshot #oneshot #no mentions of y/n #gender neutral reader #gn reader #non canon compliant #non canon compliant dc universe oneshot #i dont know the fandom im writing for #vampires au #vampire hunters #vampire!reader #newly turned vampire reader n stuff

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