#tunnel bore war | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

piratefishmama · 9 months

Text

Finders Givers | Prompted by @aellafreya

Curiosity.

Some may call it a dangerous thing. Some may argue for its ability to lead you to the truth of things. Some may claim it leads you to temptation, to regret, to suffering.

Steve Harrington, was curious.

He’d found the source of his curiosity while visiting a bar he’d planned on purchasing. It wasn’t a huge establishment. Or a well known one. Not exactly big bucks in the making but it was sat in a prime location atop a cellar that led to miles of underground tunnels which frankly.

He wanted.

He wanted them and not for legal reasons either. The tunnels weren’t on any official city map, predating them, Robin and Nancy, his right hand, and his researcher, found them by pure chance while on a fun little jaunt through the local libraries.

Fun being a stretch for Robin, but she needed to hang out with another woman her own age. And so did Nancy.

But he wanted those tunnels, they stretched all over the damn city, with just a little bit of work they could pop up anywhere, perfect for many a less than legal activity.

So many by-chance happenings had led him to that ratty little bi-fold leather wallet. Wasn’t even quality leather either. It looked old too, black with an embossed devil head pattern that probably came from some truck stop somewhere.

He could have just handed it in to the owner he was trying to buy out, could have even thrown it away, but curiosity was a devil sometimes. So there he was, sat down at one of the many tables in that little bar while one of his people did the majority of his work for him (honestly what’s the point of having people if they cant do your work for you?) perusing the contents and feeling more and more depressed by the second.

First, there was a wad of coupons and a single quarter in there instead of bills, which was never a good sign.

Second, a single, solitary, sad, badly rolled little joint.

Third. A single bank card with Mr E J Munson on it. Not even a credit card, just. A debit. Which statistically didn’t mean great things about this person’s credit score. Could just mean the owner was trying to avoid debt, but… doubtful.

Fourth, a stick of gum.

Fifth, a guitar pick.

Sixth, a library card, oof couldn’t even afford to buy the books.

An expired driver’s license desperately in need of renewal registered to Edward Joseph Munson, the photo made him look like he’d just gotten out of jail or some shit, his hair a terrible buzzcut and eyes too big, too dark, and too haunted to be anything else, but then that was just sometimes how those photos turned out. He could have been a totally innocent man!

It had his address on it, a few descriptors, height half an inch shorter than Steve himself, brown hair, brown eyes, male, 140lbs at point of issue (he’d been seventeen), date of issue, issuing State, along with a date of birth, clocking him at a year older than Steve, twenty nine, and… that he was apparently a donor.

And finally, a month old pay stub from a local fast food joint. So minimum wage worker at best.

It was… kind of sad really. Steve actually looked up the address on his phone, just for curiosities sake, because he was already in deep enough to look through a guy’s wallet, might as well google the poor saps address, just in case he felt charitable enough to drop it off on the way back to the high rise.

Oh there was that deep sadness some people might yell ‘I told you so’ about.

It wasn’t bad. But it sure as shit wasn’t good either. Steve knew of at least six bottom dweller drug dealers that operated out of that block, which explained the joint.

And also made him sadder about the joint, the weed probably wasn’t even all that good.

“Hey Robbie?” His long time friend and platonic soulmate turned her bored gaze over to him, she’d been playing angry birds on her phone, he could hear the war cries of those birds every time she launched one. “We done any charity this quarter?”

“Mmmmmnmnnnnoooooo?” It always looked good to the public for a rich guy like him to do charity work. Wouldn’t look too deeply into him if he was seen publicly doing good. “Unless you count telling Dustin to go wild in that nerd shop last week as ‘charity’, your child nearly emptied the damn shop.”

“Nah that was his birthday present, can’t call that charity.” He wasn’t going to reiterate that Dustin wasn’t his child. He was basically mom at that point.

“Alright, so what’re you thinking?” She sat up, turning to face him properly, putting her phone screen down on the table “Sponsoring something? A drive? There’s this cute little animal shelter in Japan called HEART I read about last month, ran by just a woman and her husband working with volunteers, could be a good thing to donate to? Helping animals is always good for PR.”

“…Those sound way better than what I was thinking, this guy’s wallet is bumming me out.” The expression on her face could have probably put grumpy cat to shame. “Pick one of your choices and do something with it, whichever you want. Imma do something about this wallet.” It didn’t have to be a big PR stunt, the fact that he was doing it on the DL as well? It always came back around all sunshine and roses because people believed it was totally selfless.

Didn’t do it for PR, couldn’t be doing it for PR, he hadn’t announced it.

It was always for PR. Always. The reaction just took a little longer to circulate and people were suckers.

“Just give it back to him? That should be charity enough. It’s like nine bucks to replace a driver’s license, you’re saving him nine bucks. Charity.”

“For someone who started out poor, you’re awful, Robin Buckley. Deal with this bar thing for me would you? I’m going to go on an adventure.” Curiosity was a powerful thing!

“Alright but if you come home with another stray I’m suing!”

“That was—”

“Seven times Steve! Seven!!” It wasn’t his fault that he struggled to see teenagers down on their luck. And four of them were two sets of siblings so it technically counted as one time per set, and one came with Nancy so—!

“Fine!” –So, he wouldn’t argue.

Empires weren’t built with throw away people who held no loyalty to you although he did have many of those on staff. Empires like his were built on the foundation of family, and while the one he’d grown up with was a little bit lacklustre, the one he’d built was perfect.

So he wouldn’t argue, he knew she loved them just as much as he did, in her own way, and that any additions would be welcomed with open arms.

—

Steve didn’t take the car. Although he probably should have, he knew at least three of his people would be following him, keeping an eye on him for safety reasons. At a distance of course but they’d be tailing him for the sake of safety.

That neighbourhood wasn’t safe. No matter if he had a weapon on him or not, it wasn’t safe for people like him.

People with visible wealth.

The watch on his wrist alone was probably worth more than some of the buildings in that neighbourhood, and it wasn’t exactly early in the day either. The sun setting made for an excellent ‘rich person in the wrong goddamn neighbourhood’ future police report.

But he made it to his destination unscathed.

The fast food joint from that pay stub. He even double checked the address on it. The chances of this Edward Munson being there were low, but that was fine, he just wanted to check it out. The atmosphere in there, the management styles, he’d hang out in the corner, get a cheap coffee and people watch for a while. See how fun Edward's work life was so he could add it to his decision making tree.

Curiosity really was one depressing little bitch baby.

The manager on staff was loud. Rude. Sexist. And he was pretty sure he’d made one of the staff cry because she’d hurried out very quickly rubbing at her face and sniffling. The temptation to put out a hit on him? High. But no, that was a lot for one asshole… maybe he’d just send Jane out, let the kid take his knees out.

She deserved a little bastard ba—

Someone beat him to it. A commotion later started by someone with a lot of hair, hair that’d been put up in a net and half hidden beneath the uniform’s god awful mustard yellow cap. It’d been two hits, the guy hitting him, and the manager hitting the floor, blood pouring from a very broken nose, spectacular.

The rest of the staff looked on in wide eyed horror, one yelping “Eddie, holy shit!” as the man pulled his cap off to reveal all that hair. “You’re so fired!”

“Didn’t need this shit show anyway! Chris an I quit, peace out assholes!!” Eddie. Eddie. Steve rose to his feet. Godawful coffee forgotten in the face of the mystery Edward, who caught his eye once before continuing on his way, all big brown frankly beautiful Bambi eyes, less haunted but still so big, full, kissable lips, and god, so much hair, going in the same direction as the blonde who’d disappeared to probably go and cry.

Eddie did need that job. He really needed that job. Steve had seen the state of his wallet. He needed that job, or at least he needed the paycheque that came from that job. Couldn’t even afford to buy his own books! He rented them, he rented books.

Jesus.

God, Robin was gonna judge him so bad for the person he was about to become.

Part 2

#PirateWrites #FindersGiversFiclet #Steddie #Mob Boss Steve Harrington #No Upside Down AU #Shady!Steve #CW: Stalker Vibes #nothing nefarious it's all lighthearted non-threatening stuff #Sugar Baby Eddie who never agreed to be a sugar baby but isn’t complaining.

677 notes · View notes

kaapstadgirly · 4 months

Text

Every day I wake up, a zionist reblogs my post, and I just want to go back to sleep.

guys let's be fucking fr, the whole Jews vs Muslims war is getting boring. Am I the only person who has seen Jews supporting a free Palestine?

Hamas did not attack Israel because they hate Jews. They attacked Israel because their people have been living under their occupation since 1967, and this has been ongoing for 75 years. Hamas was established in 1987?

And don't even "human shield, tunnels, beheaded babies" me, because all of that has either been debunked or Israel has not provided any clear proof, and it's clear how Israel continues to lie so that the world can take their side, but fuck that.

Before October 7th, they lived and still live under an apartheid system. I do not support Hamas and their actions, but fucking hell you cannot expect people to just sit and take that kind of abuse. My people (South Africans) didn't. My people fought for the free country we live in today. You can not expect them to not resist. RESIST.

I don't indulge in silly internet kak, so I will leave this here. @abirbable @inklingm8 @archtroop , please stay off my page or create your own posts supporting your zionist faves.

#palestine #free palestine #free gaza #free west bank #gaza #gaza strip #genocide #israel #social justice #yemen #human rights #jerusalem #tel aviv #middle east #anti zionisim #not antisemitism

205 notes · View notes

redstonedust · 1 year

Text

you know behind the scenes doc is probably having the time of his life. that man has been looking for a valid reason to go to war with either of his neighbors since they moved in. he's had to scrounge for petty reasons like ''i think one of them waxed my copper'' and ''scars morning announcement is kind of loud'' i am convinced the tunnel bore incident is the best thing to happen to him all month /hj

901 notes · View notes

cobblestoneore · 1 year

Text

How to start a war: by Mumbo K. Jumbo (spoilers)

First, lay your copper out to oxidize. The less optimized the positioning the better.

Have your friend, let’s call him G., have G take this as a personal challenge and stack your copper even more sub-optimally on your base.

Counter by oxidizing the copper on top of his base the shape of the statue of lib

erty

Have G use this as an opportunity to procrastinate building the back of his base

Make sure G advertises this to his friends as he does this. This step is very important.

Have G's friends stage an intervention for his "Back of Base Building Bane"

One of these friends must be the one furthermore named S. We'll get to why later.

Have friends threaten G until he starts building.

Here's where S comes into play. S is a known enabler, and so he will undoubtedly distract G. This is crucial.

Have G bring up a certain someone's (we'll call them D) tunnel bore, and S will latch onto it, asking to see it.

G will of course use this as a means of procrastination, and show S the bore.

Have G and S go to the bore.

G and S will be so impressed by this machine that they will of course try to use it

They do not know how to use it and it will most definitely fail and blow up.

Have G and S try and fix it.

If that doesn't work, have G and S suck up to D. Of course, as this is a starting a war tutorial and not a stopping a declaration of war tutorial, this will without doubt fail either way. But at least it’ll make G and S think they are helping before their untimely demise.

Have D notice the bore is broken, preferably while G and S are present.

Have D declare war on G and S

Meanwhile, you will be working on your own sus base none the wiser of the chaos you have unleashed.

Congratulations! You have successfully started a war!

#hermitcraft #hermitcraft season 9 #hermitcraft spoilers #mumbo jumbo #grian #goodtimeswithscar #docm77 #im not sure what exactly this is #but my brain wouldnt let me sleep until i wrote it #also tumblr fucked up the formatting for this so i had to add italics instead of indents #hopefully that doesnt affect readability

622 notes · View notes

siilvan · 8 months

Text

bloodsport – II

prologue | part one | next

characters: vladimir makarov

summary: you never realized how boring captivity could be. you hate to admit it, but makarov is the only interesting thing around, and perhaps the closest thing you have to an ally in this place.

genre: angst, slowburn, enemies to ?, fem!reader (callsign: petra, no desc.)

warnings: semi-proofread, cursing, canon-typical violence, descriptions of blood/injuries, inaccurate medical procedures, reader gets harassed :/, reader kills a dude, russian written by a non-russian speaker (please correct me if it's wrong!!)

word count: 3.7k

note: the temptation to write the filthiest makarov/reader/yuri fic is slowly taking over my brain. i'm begging activision to reveal my ex-war-criminal husband already bc i have two hands for a reason

true to his word, you don't see makarov for the rest of the day. after you're brought back to your cell and locked away, you take the time to rest and gather your thoughts. the lumpy bed provides little comfort as you try to sleep, but it's better than the cold floor. you manage to drift off eventually, even with every voice and sound in the corridor stirring you awake.

when you finally drag yourself out of bed the next morning, blinking away any lingering exhaustion and gently stretching your sore muscles, the sky is still dark. the storm that was raging all night had subsided for now, and through the single barred window on the back wall, you can see groups of soldiers outside. running drills, training in marksmanship, transporting supplies, patrolling the grounds - it reminds you of the bases you've visited with the team.

the team. you trudge over to the only other furniture in the room, the metal chair that you moved to sit near the window, and plop down onto the seat unceremoniously. with how muddled your mind has been since the conversation with makarov, you've hardly had time to think about them.

they're alive. you just need to keep telling yourself that. they'll come for you as soon as they can. all you can do until then is keep faith and survive.

as a pair of boots stomps down the hall towards your cell, you begin to ponder if taking matters into your own hands is the only way you'll escape. you're just as capable as the rest of your team, surely you can find a way out of this crumbling prison.

you turn your head at the sound of keys jingling. a guard is standing at your door, unlocking it, before looking at you. "let's go," he says, thick accent lacing every word. "you're on a schedule."

with a small wince, you rise from the chair and cross the room. the guard starts down the corridor, heading in the opposite direction that you went yesterday. you follow close behind, clammy palms wringing together. it almost feels like you're restrained again, with metal cuffs digging into your wrists and binding you, keeping you from struggling or defending yourself.

after descending a staircase and passing a few corners, you reach wherever the guard was taking you. he pushes a door open and ushers you inside, revealing a sizeable shower facility. you send him a cursory glance, confused as he motions for you to step further into the space.

"shower." he mutters, standing by the door. you wordlessly turn to the showers, then back to him.

"do you mind?" you ask, nodding towards the door. "i'd like a little privacy. it's not like i can tunnel my way out."

he shakes his head at first, refusing your request, until you decide to do the same, silently staring at him. a beat passes between you until he spins around, grumbling something along the lines of "hurry up," and exits the room. once the door slams shut behind him, you let out a relieved breath and walk over to one of the many stalls.

you scan the area before carefully undressing, paying close attention so as to not mess up your bandages or strain any of your healing injuries. you quickly dive past the thin curtain and toss your clothes over the curtain rod.

a string of curses fall from your lips when you twist the knob and cold water pours out of the shower head, prickling like ice against your skin. cleaning yourself up whilst protecting your bandages is a difficult task, but you manage to keep them relatively dry. you were in need of a fresh set, anyway. grains of sand and dust leftover from al-mazrah is washed down the drain, and as you start to adjust to the freezing temperature, some of your muscle aches follow suit.

a few minutes of relief pass by as you try to relax, though the bliss is short-lived when you remember your conversation from yesterday. you hate the thought of listening to makarov of all people, but did he have a point? are you truly just as bad as him, even with good intentions being your motivation?

you're well aware of what your job entails. as captain price so bluntly puts it: we get dirty, and the world stays clean. you know that some missions leave a sour taste in your mouth and a doubt in your mind. are you truly doing the right thing? can you do better? is there a way to save everyone?

as you shut off the water and attempt to dry off with a clean towel left on a small bench nearby, you realize that you're giving makarov exactly what he wants. he brought up the topic with the intent of messing with your head. he's trying to break you - for whatever reason, you're not sure. all you know is that you can't give up. you have to stay strong for the team.

you pull your clothes back on, nose scrunching at the uncomfortable feeling of damp gauze sticking to your skin. the guards seemed to bounce between civility and cruelty depending on the moment; perhaps you can catch someone in a good mood and request a replacement.

the door swings open and you jolt, spinning around to face the intruder. the man from earlier is standing in the doorway, a look of disinterest evident even through his balaclava. "you are done, yes?"

clearly he isn't the person to ask, you think, following him into the corridor. he leads you back down the same path as earlier, through winding halls and up a set of stairs, stopping once you arrive at the cell you call home. you keep an eye out for anyone along the way who looks to be doing well, searching for a person to seek help from.

no one catches your attention, leaving you only one option: the guard currently locking the door behind you.

"uh– can i ask you a question?" you turn around to look at him, wrapping your hands around the iron bars. he sends a small glare in your direction, but pauses nonetheless.

"what?" he murmurs, standing up straight.

you lift your arms, showing off the damp and gradually loosening bandages. "any chance i can get these changed?"

his eyes flit down to your arms, then back to your face. he sighs, heavy and deep, and grumbles out a reply. "i will get the doctor."

with that, he leaves your sight, lifting a hand to his radio and saying something that you can't understand. "should've agreed to those fucking russian lessons from price," you mumble, staggering across the room and sitting on the bed while picking at your loose gauze.

it feels like an hour passes by before you hear someone coming down the hall again. by this point, you were assuming that the guard had forgotten about you.

you sit up from your slumped position against the metal frame and are immediately greeted by a new person on the other side of the door. an older man, nicely dressed and carrying a heavy bag that you fear will topple him over, regarding you with a grin that feels out of place in this shithole.

"you must be petra," he starts, pushing the door open and letting himself inside. he keeps his distance, both hands visible and wrapped around the handle of the bag in front of his body. "doctor tarkovsky." he continues, introducing himself. you nod, watching closely as he approaches you and places his bag on the bed next to you. the chair is dragged over, much like the other day, and he sits.

"the work you did... you saved my life, doctor." you mutter, allowing him to take one of your arms into his gentle hold. he hums in reply, taking great care in undoing the dressings.

"спасибо, but it was not me that saved you." he chuckles softly, eyes briefly lifting from your arm to meet your gaze. "the commander was responsible for that. by the time you arrived here and into my care, he had managed to stabilize you."

he mumbles something to himself about "his military days" while dropping his gaze back down to your newly exposed skin. your eyes follow his, and you wince at the sight of burn marks and stitched lacerations. a cold breeze enters into the room through the window and stings as it sweeps over you, making you clench your hand into a tight fist.

"the commander? you mean makarov?" you ask, forcing yourself to look away and stare at the wall behind the doctor. the same man that put you here is the one that kept you alive. go figure. you glare holes into a random brick, trying to make sense of it. based on the few interactions that you've had with him, as well as the many things that price had to say, that kindness seems out of character.

the fact that he hasn't tortured you to the brink of insanity is odd enough.

"yes, he demanded that i give you the best treatment. said he wanted you alive and in good condition." the doctor rummages through the bag next to you and begins to clean your wounds and apply new dressings, deft hands making quick work of the process. you remain silent as he wraps your arm in a new set of bandages, waiting for him to finish.

you finally speak once he's halfway through rewrapping your other arm. "is he always so... touchy?" you murmur, almost a whisper.

"touchy?" he repeats the word.

"i think i pissed him off yesterday," you say, tongue darting out to wet your chapped lips. "ended up slammed against a wall. is he always so quick to anger?"

after securing the bandages on your arm, the doctor leans back and shakes his head. "commander makarov is usually the calmest person in a conversation," he replies with a surprised huff. "whatever you said or did must have struck a nerve, made him lose his temper. even the soldiers working under him struggle to do such a thing."

you furrow your brow at him. he waves off your befuddlement and gets started on treating your other injuries - namely, the large gash on your side and the burns on your back. as he's loosely wrapping your back in gauze, he makes another comment.

"it could be that you angered him, rather than what you did."

"i angered him?" you parrot back to him, craning your neck to look at him over your shoulder. the doctor nudges you forward again and hums affirmatively.

yet another thing that doesn't make any sense, you think. besides your affiliation with the one-four-one, there's nothing about you that should stand out to a man like makarov. you don't possess any top secret intel or really hold any importance to anyone outside of your team; so, why is he treating you so strangely? is it a game he's playing, trying to mess with his real enemy, the captain?

are you merely a pawn, a bargaining chip between two forces much bigger than yourself? makarov is dangling your life like bait, hoping to catch a better prize. you squeeze your eyes shut and take in a deep breath, considering your options.

makarov would only hold onto you for one reason. drawing out captain price. that means price is alive, at least to makarov. if you stay here, you might be able to confirm this plan for yourself. however, if you can escape and deliver all the intel you've collected so far, you could prevent the plan from advancing any further. no matter which option you choose, rotting away in this prison cell won't help.

as kind as the doctor is, he's still one of makarov's men. you can't trust him. you're on your own.

"so, is it going to scar?" you inquire with a smile, fixing your shirt after he pulls away. he moves to gather his things, reaching into his bag and handing you a dose of painkillers.

he sighs and sends you another smile of his own. "the burns aren't deep enough, thankfully, and the lacerations shouldn't scar so long as they're properly cared for. you are very lucky."

"guess i am. thank you, again."

you swallow down the pills - dry, much to your chagrin - and give him a small wave as he exits the room, the iron door closing behind him with a soft clunk. the guard from earlier reappears to lock it moments later, leaving you trapped in the cell once more.

⋆⋆⋆

another five days pass by, and you mentally curse whatever higher power put you here. your routine remains largely unchanged: at roughly seven o' clock, one of the guards stops by to take you to the showers. by seven-thirty, the doctor arrives to change your bandages. you're given your only meal around noon and left to your own devices until eight in the evening, when the doctor arrives to change your bandages again.

you are slowly beginning to heal, at least. the lack of nutrition was stunting the process, but according to the doctor, you were still on the mend. it won't be long until you can get the stitches taken out.

you've spent several of these past one-hundred-and-twenty hours wondering if that's what makarov is waiting for. he wants you alive to torture, to indulge in breaking something fixed by his own hand. maybe the doctor is in on the plan. you wouldn't be surprised to discover that he's reporting your healing process to makarov, giving him a countdown of sorts.

as you rest on the cold, hard stone floor, with your back propped up against the side of the bed, tossing a rubber ball that you pocketed at the wall, you question if your paranoia is getting the better of you.

the rubber ball rolls across the ground after you throw it at the wall. it starts to come back to you, before bouncing off the edge of your boot and heading towards the door. you lazily follow it with your eyes, until you notice a person standing at the other side of the bars, their gaze transfixed on you.

it's a man wearing an outfit similar to the doctor's, though you can easily tell that he's substantially younger. in his late thirties to early forties, you estimate. he carefully kicks the ball out of his way after entering the room. you watch him like a hawk, an uneasy feeling washing over you.

"i'll be handling your care today." he announces, plopping his similarly-designed supply bag on the mattress. you pull yourself up to stand and dust yourself off, taking a healthy step back from him.

"something happen with doctor tarkovsky?" you ask as the younger man rummages through his bag and slips on a pair of latex gloves. he shakes his head, not even bothering to look at you, and continues searching through his supplies.

"tarkovsky is busy," he responds, motioning for you to sit. you hesitate for a second, but ultimately decide to shake off the nerves and follow his orders. "i'm going to start with your back today." he adds. you nod, moving to face away from him and lift your shirt up.

he's silent while replacing the gauze, and you're not sure whether you prefer that or talking. his touch is slightly less gentle, which you chalk it up to less experience. eventually, he moves on to the gash on your side, settling in the normal chair with an expression that you find hard to decipher.

your unease is suddenly validated as he cleans the stitches. his unoccupied hand comes to rest on your thigh, just above your knee, catching your attention. your eyes fall from the wall to his hand, then to the open bag at your side. laying near the top of it is a scalpel - small, but lethal in the right hands. you clear your throat and shift, bouncing your knee under his hold, testing the waters.

instead of removing his hand, he slips it just barely higher. you squint, gnawing at the inside of your cheek, debating on acting now or waiting a little longer. maybe he doesn't realize it.

as his hand slides higher, though, gloved fingertips digging into the plush of your thigh, that notion goes out the window. you slowly lower your hand closest to the bag and place it on the mattress next to it. the younger doctor pulls back, examining his work, his thumb rubbing languid circles into your skin. you act while he's distracted.

with trained proficiency, you grab the scalpel from the top of the pile and shove the man forward, slicing across his neck in one swift motion. he stumbles backwards, reaching up to desperately grasp at his throat as he chokes on the blood pouring from the open wound.

"don't fucking touch me again," you seethe, fixing your shirt and holding the scalpel in a white-knuckled grip. the sounds of him tripping over the chair and falling to the ground alerts the guards stationed in the corridor, who immediately rush through the door with their guns drawn and pointed at you.

they're shouting at you, but you can't make out what they're saying over the blood pounding in your ears. you turn away from the dying man and stare them down, unmoving from your spot in the middle of the room.

after a brief standoff, the guards suddenly look over their shoulders and shuffle away from each other, revealing a familiar face. one you haven't seen in almost a week, and assumed you wouldn't see for a while longer.

makarov steps to the front of the small group as the ringing in your ears begins to subside. his eyes dart from you to the man lying on the ground, having choked to death shortly before he arrived at the scene. he chuckles, low and controlled, and turns to the guards.

"убрать этот беспорядок," he mutters, waving towards the corpse. the men holster their guns and move past him, lifting the body up and carrying it out. as the group disappears down the hall, you find yourself alone with makarov. the scalpel slips from your fingers and clatters against the floor, pulling his focus back to you.

"well? are you going to punish me for that?" you ask plainly, the pool of red still visible in your peripheral vision.

"should i?" he counters, casually sauntering across the room. his gaze flits from yours to your cheek, which you soon realize is wet with the man's blood.

you shrug, shoulders drooping. "i killed one of your men. most people would punish a prisoner for less."

he wipes the blood off your cheek with his forefinger and huffs softly, seemingly pleased with the situation. it's only now that you notice his slightly disheveled appearance; his white dress shirt is untucked and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing off his forearms that are covered in a light layer of dirt. minor cuts and bruises bloom on his skin, resembling self-defense wounds.

"i could never expect a member of the one-four-one to accept capture quietly," makarov remarks, picking the chair up off the floor. "i'm surprised it took you this long, if anything. i was expecting to receive reports by the second day."

he raps his knuckles against the seat twice, urging you to sit. you end up mirroring your first interaction after he sits on the bed across from you, elbows resting on top of his knees.

you grab a set of cleaning wipes from the bag forgotten at the foot of the bed and offer them to him. "so, i'm assuming you're not here to share the fun story behind those obvious self-defense wounds?" you tilt your head to the side, regarding him with a sarcastic smile.

"like i said in our prior conversation," he takes the pack from your outstretched hand and haphazardly wipes his arms clean, the lack of care enough to make you inwardly flinch at the potential pain. "once traitors are found, they are dealt with."

"seems like they got to you first," you snort.

besides a pointed glare, he doesn't dignify your comment with a response. instead, he takes your arm into his hold, removing the old bandages with almost the same level of indifference that he treated his own injuries with.

"ow." you grunt, a bit overdramatic. in truth, his touch isn’t any less gentle than the doctor you just killed.

"stop complaining." he responds bluntly.

"maybe be more careful, then." you snap, tugging your arm back. you're being intentionally difficult, pushing his buttons, but you deserve to be a little shitty to the man holding you hostage.

makarov grabs your elbow, one of the few relatively uninjured parts of your arm, and yanks you forward, until your free hand slams down onto the space next to him to catch yourself from falling. he leans in, your noses nearly touching, and sneers.

"this is the extent of my kindness, petra." he tightens his hold when you try to create some distance, locking you in place. "do not tempt me to withdraw it." he whispers, dark eyes boring into yours.

you swallow back a whimper as his grip tightens again, blunt nails digging into healing skin, nodding in reply. he releases you a moment later and resumes his previous actions, quickly yet effectively rewrapping your arm. you grudgingly decide to cooperate for the other set, making it go by much faster than the last.

"tarkovsky said you're usually pretty calm," you mumble as he secures the bandages in place. "is it the one-four-one that frustrates you so easily? or, am i just a special case, hm?"

makarov, clearly interested in continuing the running theme since your first meeting, does not respond. you really should get used to it. you say nothing more as he stands up and grabs the discarded supply bag, walking towards the door. he pauses, holding the door open, and you nearly miss the words said to you over his shoulder.

"anyone else would be dead already."

translations:

спасибо (spasibo) - thank you

убрать этот беспорядок (ubrat' etot besporyadok) - clean up this mess

taglist: @sofasoap, @roosterr, @rohansregret, @lonesome-doves, @thorrsexual, @miss-nob0dy, @woodeelf, @fbs-fc-ur-mommy, @soap-mactavish, @itsyellow

⋆ feel free to ask to be added to/removed from the taglist! (18+ only please <;3)

#call of duty #cod #cod mw2 #mw2 #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #mw2 x reader #makarov x reader #vladimir makarov x reader #cod makarov #vladimir makarov #sylph.writes

321 notes · View notes

cattimeswithjellie · 1 year

Text

My favorite part of watching Doc's episode today is how clear it is that he finds the whole situation incredibly funny but is trying to hide it.

He went through the pile of gifts, ignoring the building blocks of course, and was amused by all the Scarland food and merch. He tried on the Jellie ears and showed them off in F5 mode, which was extremely cute, and then quickly took them off and reminded everyone that he was still Big Mad and Out For Revenge.

Then he gave a blow-by-blow account of how Scar and Grian destroyed the tunnel borer from their videos. He explained what they'd done and gave a detailed account of Grian's screaming and their horrified silence. He was practically laughing aloud at how the pair had been tripping over themselves to get away. Then he sort of cleared his throat and reminded us all that he was still Big Mad and Out For Revenge.

And then, after discussing his anvil cannon and the TNT-spewing mecha-goat all episode as potential tools of vengeance, in the end Doc decided to flex his baffling redstone skills to do something impossible to Grian's nether portal instead of blowing anything up. 100% True GOAT behavior right here.

#hermitcraft #docm77 #grian #goodtimeswithscar #tunnel bore war #can't wait to see what he does next

2K notes · View notes

onceuponaoneshotfanfic · 10 months

Note

I'm wondering if you would write either a Roy Kent x reader where they go to NY or Disney? I'm a big MT fan and a big Disney World/Disneyland fan

The Happiest Place on Earth

Roy Kent x Reader 1.5k words Warnings: Language

Ahh this was such a cute request! Roy at Disneyland would be the cutest, funniest thing. (And if there's any artists out there, I am begging someone to draw that grumpy man in some Mickey ears!!!)

I hope you like it! ❤️❤️

“Where the fuck are we going now?”

You rolled your eyes and grabbed Roy’s hand. “Small World. It’s got a short line right now,” you explained, weaving through the crowd. “And stop having such a good time, it’s embarrassing.”

A bunch of the staff and players for A.F.C. Richmond had decided to spend some of their off-season at Disneyland, and you’d somehow managed to convince Roy that it would be fun. However, you were pretty sure he only agreed to go because you were so excited and that the allure of Mickey Mouse and princesses and Star Wars had absolutely nothing to do with it.

“If that fucking song gets stuck in my head, you’re going to have to perform a lobotomy,” he muttered, earning himself a sharp look from you. “Sorry, sorry. Look, we’re having fun, whee.” He offered a smile that was really more than a grimace as you approached the ride.

You wrapped your arms around his middle, gazing up at him, all grizzled and handsome and brooding- and wearing a pair of Mickey ears he’d reluctantly let you pick out for him when you bought your Minnie Mouse ones. It was a nice sight- or at least it would be if he was smiling. His signature glower would probably scare more kids than any ride on the Haunted Mansion could.

With a sigh, you tugged on his leather jacket. “Aren’t you hot in this thing?”

Finally, a smirk. “You tell me.”

“Just get on the damn boat.” You chuckled as you approached the front of the line, which was even shorter than you’d expected.

The two of you settled into the back row of the little boat, joined by a father and son duo. The dad’s eyes lit up at the sight of Roy, and he leaned down to whisper something in his son’s ear. The little boy turned around, mouth wide, and waved at Roy, who gave a little growl of acknowledgement. The boy didn’t falter; instead, his smile widened, and he and his father exchanged high-fives.

As the little boat traveled around the world, you bounced your head from side to side and hummed along, enjoying the familiar warmth of Roy’s arm draped around your shoulders. When you snuck a glance at him, your heart melted a little when you noticed the corner of his mouth moving ever-so-slightly along to the words of the song.

Once the boat finished making its way through the tunnels, Roy nearly jumped out of the boat, turning around to offer you his hand as you climbed out. You glanced at your phone, debating what to do next. With a grunt, Roy nudged you. You followed his gaze to a passing princess.

“Hi, Snow!” you called good-naturedly, not caring that you sounded like a child and not an adult woman.

Snow White paused, smiling at you. “Hello there!” Her voice was high and sweet, like cotton candy to your ears. She pointed to Roy. “Oh dear, is something wrong?”

Roy’s face bore the same expression he wore anytime someone called Jamie his best friend. “What? No.” He was clearly holding back a “fuck” somewhere in there.

You giggled and nudged Roy. “That’s just his face.”

“Ohhh,” Snow White responded, nodding in understanding. “He’s like my friend Grumpy!” she chirped with a giggle. “He always makes a face like that too!”

Roy’s frown deepened as you laughed.

“Could we get a picture?” you asked, pulling out your phone.

Snow White turned to the cast member that stood next to her, who shrugged in response. “Absolutely!” she answered, fluffing out her yellow skirt.

You handed your mobile to Roy, who quickly snapped a picture of you and the princess. After he handed the phone back to you, you nodded to him.

“No fu-” He stopped as a small child crossed between you. “No,” he grumbled.

“Roy, are you going to disappoint a princess?” you reasoned, nodding at Snow White, who was ready for another pose.

With a heaving sigh, he went and stood next to Snow, looking more like an inmate on death row than a man on vacation. After a quirked eyebrow from you, however, he smiled- at least, his version of a smile.

“Have a beautiful day!” Snow White called over her shoulder as she continued on her way, probably heading to a well-earned break after walking around wearing that dress in the Anaheim heat.

You showed Roy the pictures and smirked. “So, all it took to get you to take a damn picture was mentioning the beautiful princess, hmm?”

Another one of those grumbling sighs escaped his lips. “I didn’t do it for fucking Snow White.” He placed his hand firmly on your waist. “Did it for you. ’Cause you’re my princess, or some shit like that.” His cheeks were tinted pink, a telling sign of his embarrassment.

Standing on tiptoe, you kissed one of those warm cheeks. “Well, guess that makes you more like Prince Charming than Grumpy, hmm?”

He gazed down at you with a smile- a real one this time- and shrugged. “Are princes allowed to be grouchy?” he teased.

You took his hand and continued your walk. “Oh sure. Haven’t you ever seen Beauty and the Beast?”

“So, I’m a beast now? Fucking thanks,” he muttered, kissing the top of your head.

“Hey, if it makes you feel better, I think the whole ‘giving her the library’ thing is like the hottest thing any Disney character has ever done.”

Roy rolled his eyes as Sam and Jamie walked by, leading a group of Greyhounds wearing Disney spirit jerseys and waving to us enthusiastically. “Your standards are far too high to be dating me,” he mumbled, greeting the guys with a nod.

You shrugged. “Guess you gotta step it up, Kent,” you shot back.

The two of you made your way to Space Mountain, the only ride Roy had named when you’d asked him what he wanted to do that day. As you waited in the futuristic hallways, you felt a pair of arms wrap around you from behind.

“Careful, my boyfriend used to be a professional footballer,” you joked, looking up and seeing Roy gazing down at you tenderly.

“Oh yeah? Is he big and strong?” he played along, his mouth ticking upwards.

You twisted around to face him, wrinkling your nose. “I guess. But you could probably outrun him, he’s got shit knees.”

Roy rolled his eyes. “I see he’s got a very supportive girlfriend.” He tilted his head down and kissed your lips gently. “Lucky bastard.”

With an eyeroll, you playfully shoved Roy away. “Alright, relax, there’s kids around, Kent.”

“One more.” He ducked his head again and pressed one more kiss to your lips. “You having a good time?” he asked, shifting to keep one arm around your waist as the two of you shuffled with the moving line.

“I am,” you assured him. “Not sure if you are though,” you admitted.

His thick brows furrowed. “What makes you say that?”

You shrugged, a little embarrassed. “I mean, you’re hard to read sometimes.” You reached up and used your finger to push up the corner of his mouth. “The whole brooding scowling thing is sexy and all, but it’d be nice to be able to see that you’re having a good time,” you joked.

“Hmmf.” Roy gave your hip a small squeeze but didn’t say much else for the rest of the wait.

As the two of you climbed into the rocket ship, you turned to face him. “You mad at me?”

He made a face and shook his head as he took off his ears. “You’re fine,” he said, his gruff tone assuring. He shot you a wink before you turned around to make sure your things were secure.

As the ride shot through the dark, you couldn’t help but hear something familiar over the music: Roy’s laughter. The sound was different than his usual snickers at Jamie’s expense or the huff of air he’d let out when watching Step Brothers. This laugh was loud and gruff, sounding like it came from the depth of his lungs. It was punctuated by a few hoots and hollers when the ride picked up speed or took particularly sharp turns. By the time you returned to the start of the ride, you couldn’t tell if your heart was racing from the ride or from how happy Roy sounded.

Just like with Small World, Roy quickly got out and reached down to help you exit the ride. He gripped your hand tightly as you walked away from the ride. Though you intended to keep walking past the ride photos, Roy tugged your hand, pulling you towards the screens.

“Roy?”

He jerked his head up towards the pictures. “Want me to buy you one?”

You looked up and stifled a giggle at what you saw. There you were, gripping the rail in front of you tightly, mouth wide open in a scream. More importantly, behind you was Roy, hands in the air and a giant smile filling his bearded face. It made your heart burst to see him so full of… joy.

When you looked back at him, he was putting his ears back on, smirking at you. “There. Can you tell I’m happy now?”

“Yeah,” you answered softly, planting a kiss on his cheek. “Absolutely. Now, can you go buy one? I’m putting that on my Christmas card."

#request ❤️#he's here he's there he's every fucking where #roy kent #roy kent fic #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent fluff #roy kent fanfic #roy kent x reader #ted lasso #ted lasso imagine #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fic #ted lasso fluff #roy kent imagine #roy kent one shot #roy kent x you

266 notes · View notes

blingblong55 · 1 month

Text

Epiphany- John "Soap" MacTavish x Reader x Simon "Ghost" Riley

Based on a request: Hello do you do limbless? If you do would you write for reader who has no arms or legs and Soap and Simon finds her somewhere after she got lost while out (she doesn’t have fake body parts) it’s fine if this makes you uncomfortable but I’ll like to know if you do these types of writings ---- F!Reader, comfort?, fluff?, angst, platonic!relationship ----

A/N: I believe I did some limbless fic some time ago but yes, the answer is yes I do.

Hello do you do limbless? If you do would you write for reader who has no arms or legs and Soap and Simon finds her somewhere after she got lost while out (she doesn’t have fake body parts) it’s fine if this makes you uncomfortable but I’ll like to know if you do these types of writings

A/N: I believe I did some limbless fic some time ago but yes, the answer is yes I do.

It was the same old tale for a soldier like you. Losing part of your body for the greater good, but what does that even mean when no one remembers you?

It took months of therapy to get used to not having an arm and half of your right leg, but with so much support, you prevailed and now roam the streets of your town when the home gets too boring. It's also the reason why today, you're out and about.

However, as good as the day seemed, all went wrong. A loud noise from the busy road workers triggered a deep memory of yours. The noise is all too similar to gunshots, the men yelling reminding you of the hours you spent thinking they'd be the last time you saw the moon. And before you knew it, there you are, sitting on some bench, creeping others away as you hold yourself.

This wasn't meant to happen.

Where's home? I need my home.

Home...home...please...

Where am I?

What is this place?

Shit...I'm far from home.

"Y/N!" the man says over the bombs. They are closer now. The guns are all out of ammo except yours. The blood and body parts of fallen comrades were scattered all over the grounds. "Y/N!" they keep yelling, knowing you were the last of them to do something. Do something.

Your helmet falls to the ground as you try and cover the small child that crosses the fire. "Ma'am, I think he's bleeding out!" one of the young soldiers yells over the noise. Your gaze falls on the child. Oh...oh dear god.

The things bombs and guns can do to a small child. The worry a war brings to those innocent. The memories a soldier takes to their grave.

As the bombs get closer, the empty cases fall to your side.

There are things you can never speak about and the child in your arms will be one of them. This isn't something they ever taught you in school. Grief was never part of the training. Death of a soldier was but never of a child.

You serve the nation, the innocent and those soldiers with you. You would serve and die with them. Never leave a soldier behind, you remember.

I want to go home.

"I need to go home. Please.." you whisper as you silently cry. Your limbless self brings all the memories of those days. "Y/N?" Soap's voice stops all the memories. Ghost knew that look in your eyes. "Let's get her out of 'ere," he tells Soap and in some quick motion, you're carried out of the bench.

You shut your eyes like a child that's in fear.

"Where am I?" Your voice is soft, but the fear and worry leak through your mouth with these words.

"You're home, Y/N," Soap whispers.

Home, what a tragic word it must be to those in war. It'll always be a word you think about right before you reach the tunnel.

Once in the comfort of the cosy and small place you call home, you hear the whispers of your friends. "Should we call Price?" Soap asks and for a second, you can hear the hesitation I Ghost's voice. "...No, she will be fine. We'll make up some excuse to stay the night here." And that they did. Never leave a soldier behind, they remind themselves.

When Soap hands you your medication, they see as you drink it down. Within minutes, they can see a glimpse of relief. To many, this small glimpse is nothing but to you, it helps make sense of all the horror you saw.

It's a sad kind of relief.

For days, Soap and Ghost always rotated in taking care of you. They made sure to keep the home quiet if needed and never brought up the sad tales you whispered in the night.

Your restless body looks a the missing parts, wishing that for just one more time, you could use them. That those scars from childhood would be there again, but now they are gone. All you have left is an appointment to be given prosthetic body parts and the two men who swear to care for you until their bodies give up.

And today, as you woke up from some midday nap, they were sitting there. Arguiig over some game show, the same one they told you was absolute shit. You smile. Maybe after all, all will be fine.

"Did yer see that! He fuckin' missed it! How do you miss it?!" Soap says as he stands up and with so much anger he walks away. Ghost laughs. " what's s'funny?" you ask with a small smile. "I recorded an old episode of the show and made sure it was one of the episodes where all goes bad," a sly smile on him. You laugh and shake your head.

Yeah...all will be fine.

Tags:

@liyanahelena @sampaisleyriot @uniquecroissant

63 notes · View notes

as-de-spadas · 1 year

Text

Ok so just to sum up the craziest happenings of JUST THIS WEEK:

Grian was busy one-upping Mumbo in an impractical copper-aging structure competition when Impulse, Gem (who are having an all out prank war with Pearl) and Scar arrived to absolutely bully him into building the back of his base, giving him twenty four hours to build it before they explode his base, later installing a giant TNT dispenser above his base set to explode regularly the front of his base after 24 hours. However, he was too busy accidentally exploding Doc's tunnel bore machine with Scar, later trying to rebuild it, leaving gifts as apologies and blowing a hole through the ceiling to escape when breaking the news to Doc, which just worsens his mood when he finds out not only that, but that Grian has been stealing copper from the walls of the Perimeter for months. Keep in mind, Doc is in possesion of an anvil launcher, a slimeblock moving mecha-goat which launches TNT, a charged creeper launcher and something even worse in the works. He then procedes to make Grian's nether portal one single portal block to haunt him. All of that just for one-upping Mumbo with an Amogus meme, who, by the way, created the Button 2, which dispenses the hermit's diamonds back to them, but if they wait to much to press it, it explodes them all. Also, Cleo, as a british person, built a museum with his friend's prized possesions and a lot of the king's memorabilia the day of King Charle's coronation irl, and also, Scar hawkeyed Bdub's day one horse "Mi Amore" ("My Love" in italian) just after he built a whole ranch in a custom horse head shaped mountain just for him.

So yeah. May is gonna be an interesting month it turns out.

Edit: Ok, so as @orangekingfisher pointed out, "Mi Amore" actually translates to "Me Love", which actually does not surprise me at all, the hermits have a history of messing up foreign languagues lol.

(See Bdubs calling Pearl a bitch in spanish by accident)

382 notes · View notes

lunastarseeker · 10 months

Text

Grian: I'm not gonna start a war this season! :D

Doc: Grian blew up my tunnel bore and hired Poultry Man to fill my perimeter with chickens. This is a declaration of war, I need to start gathering allies-

#you tried Grian #grian #hermitcraft #hermitblr #docm77

125 notes · View notes

justatypicalwizard · 1 year

Text

Rough and new | bakugo | part two

✦ Summary: You meet a new and interesting creature that seems to share your curiosity. Both of you have motives to your actions that turn out to be vastly different.

✦ Warnings: mer!Bakugo, fem!reader, adult reader, smut(ish) content due to the curcumstances of the story do not expect full smut, dubcon

Minors do not interact

Humans are specific, very weird in their actions and customs yet, like every other creature in the world, they deserve respect. Some mers know a lot about humans just as some humans know a lot about mers but on a daily basis the sea specimens don’t really care for the two-legged. They were always present in the world and that’s just it.

Due to that, humans were never really present in Bakugo’s mind. He never anticipated he would become so attached to one of them.

It was a peaceful day of hunting, guarding and all of the other shit he has to do for the colony. The dynamic of the group he’s in fluctuates easily. It’s a mixed group of mers, which in his mother’s opinion is healthier than living in a similarity-exclusive one. Because of that the mers living in this place are of all colours and shapes. Because of that he was also destined for a certain role. His mother taught him, from the very beginning, how to be a warrior, a tough and resistant one. At a very young age he picked his weapon- a sword.

Now he was sitting on a rock next to the main gate of his group habitat. It was hard to give a proper name for places like this. Mers mostly availed what the natural landscape gave them, building their homes from what they found. Bakugo’s home was situated in an underwater cave hideout. The undetermined and rough shape of its inside has been softened by decorations, lamps and various different signs of family life. Yeah, the whole group of mers was mostly like a big family. Smaller caves, often connected to others by winding tunnels and corridors, were occupied by single mers or families. Elders and adults spent their time educating the younger, pursuing the groups history by painting murals or telling stories or just simply scolding the youth for their dubious games and horrific lifestyle. The stronger ones went hunting or guarded the main, and a few smaller gates. Pup’s swam everywhere when it was not lesson time playing the, earlier mentioned, dubious games.

Bakugo rested his back on the stone grumbling to himself out of boredom. He was well aware of how important keeping guard was. Even though nothing happened to their hideout for years it didn’t mean they could underestimate what the sea hid beneath its dark waters. As important as the job is, it is also painfully boring. Sitting with his sword sheathed on his back he looked at Kiri situated on the other side of the gate. The redheaded mer swung a heavy war hammer in his hands, back and forth. Ditching the designated sitting spot for a guard, Bakugo swam to his friend.

‘’Whatcha doin’ Katsuki?’’ Kiri’s soft yet masculine voice rang through the silent, slightly too loud.

‘’You saw me for the last thirty minutes, what could I be doing?’’ Bakugo asked, slightly annoyed. He wasn’t irritated by his friend but more because of the overwhelming boredom.

‘’I don’t know, I’m gonna fall asleep any second now.’’ The redhead sighed, not losing the wide smile from his prominent face. He was so used to Bakugo’s causticity that he didn’t mind the snarky remarks.

‘’Better not, my old hag is gonna bring us food any minute now and she will kill you if she finds you asleep.’’ The blonde smirked at the thought of his mom giving Kiri, yet another, earful. She treated Kirishima like her own son which ment hard love and a lot of scolding.

‘’Thanks for reminding me that I’m hungry, now ‘m not only bored but also starving.’’ Kiri deflated on the stone he was sitting on.

‘’Worry none.’’ Another blonde mer swam their way making Kirishima perk up on the stone and Bakugo turn around with an always present frown. ‘’Here boys.’’ His mother handed them fish placed neatly on seaweed. It was chopped and decorated with some seasoning but still pretty much raw. ‘’And why exactly are you not sitting on that stone?’’ Bakugo’s mother pointed to her left with a scrutinising glance.

‘’To piss you off.’’ He spat before digging into his meal.

‘’Thank you for the food.’’ Kirishima tried to sooth the growing tension between the two explosive mers but his tries backfired instantly.

‘’Yes, thank you to Eijiro. Don’t you think using magic words would be nice brat, eh?’’ Bakugo’s mother swam closer to him, yet her son kept ignoring her, on purpose. ‘’Do you really think this is a fucking game between you and me?’’

In their pup’s years Bakugo always fought with his mother. Having no proper fatherly figure he was forced to rely on her. She never let him down but there was one certain problem. The two shared nearly identical tempers which turned out to be a minefield. From the very beginning Kiri remembered Bakugo always ranting about how stupid his mum is and how much she expects from him. Of course he didn’t really think like that, at least not about the first part. On the other hand the expectations… they were high.

Bakugo’s, Kirishima’s and a few other families had been the main guards and warriors of the whole colony for a long time now. Raising him a certain way was obvious and the blonde didn’t have a problem with it, at least with most parts. He loved being a warrior, training and fighting, bathing in the glory that no other speciality could encompass (at least that’s how he saw himself in his head). Unfortunately there was one thing that he never agreed to and always fought off.

The mating.

Kirishima was well aware that the same responsibility lay on his shoulders, but for his own peace his parents didn’t pressure him about it. The thought rooted in his head was enough for them to be calm about their son living up to the expectations. Bakugo on the other hand openly voiced out his total disagreement. His tossing around made a handful of elders disappointed in him which also took a toll on his mother's reputation. These old pricks were so dramatic.

The duty was simple. As a warrior, mate in the best and most fertile years of your life. The later you’d start the lower the chances of breeding another great warrior. That’s something the colony could not suffer. Actively look for a mate or at least don’t brag about ditching your responsibilities (like a certain someone). The colony gave you the best meat, the best sleeping quarters, the best jewellery, all in thanks for your sacrifice, your hard training, your long hours of guard and your simple, natural duty of passing down your power with your blood.

This is why some looked at Bakugo with a mixture of emotions. He was great in everything he did, except for that one little thing. Why can’t he just obey?

Why? The answer is simple and one that the explosive blonde would never voice out to anyone. He was sacred. Mers mated for life so he had only one choice, for eternity. This made uneasiness bubble inside of his chest as if someone constantly reminded him that one mistake would doom him. He didn’t want a life of spite. For the one person in the whole sea who is supposed to be his soft spot and safe shore to be his collar.

Bakugo couldn’t believe how careless Kiri was about the topic. How little fear he felt. The redhead always said that he’ll just wait a bit more. Maybe the person isn’t from their colony, maybe he should visit some neighbour mer hideouts and look around there. He believes that when he meets the one he’ll know in an instant.

Oh yeah, Kiri was all ears for the elders' stories about how monogamy is rooted in mers DNA, how meeting the right person sparks something in you. It only takes the scent of the other person to recognise that you only have a half of your heart, the other piece is in their hands.

Bullshit.

Bakugo never believed in this shit. It was all a bluff to make them less hesitant about the mating for life. Nothing like that happened, at least not on a daily basis, not with everyone. The harsh truth was that he’d have to court someone he doesn’t even probably like and then bear with them for the rest of his life. And produce pups, oh for fuck’s sake, he’s so done with this. Nothing in the sea will make him end up like that. Not a chance.

Lately such thoughts clouded his mind every time he talked with his mother. Bakugo saw that behind her eyes, felt that in her angry tone. She was counting time for him, she was well aware of his statement, she hated it. Yet, she cared for him. If it wasn’t for the sheer fear of being kicked out of the colony which meant countless dangers for her son and a lifetime of loneliness, she wouldn’t pressure him as much.

Just bear with it, accept it and don’t be so hung up on the one small topic. You just have to make a few pups and move to a different pit. Later you can live your life how you want it to. Please…

Yet, she knew he wouldn’t listen to her begs. Softness and sweet words never laid in their dynamic. It was anger, frustration and ambition that pushed them, both of them, to the goal. She knew she had to do it like that, even if it wounded her heart.

‘’Not a chance.’’ Bakugo spat at his mother. ‘’Leave me.’’

She rolled her eyes knowing well, spotting it in his composure, that he didn’t mean the food she just brought, the long hours of guard he had to keep today or anything else. He was already deep down spiralling in his self-destructive thoughts.

She had to pressure him.

‘’Can you at least once in some time do what you’re asked and supposed to.’’ She growled at her son.

‘’And what the fuck do you mean by that?’’ His gaze was piercing but so was hers.

‘’You know damn well what I mean by that.’’ She pointed her finger straight into his muscular chest. He was bigger than her but their presence was identical, clashing, none of them able to take complete power over the other. ‘’What do you plan for mating Eiji?’’ Both of their blonde heads darted Kirishima’s way. The redhead prayed for this to stop before they smash him to the ground with their hateful gazes.

‘’I don't know yet…’’ He tried to wiggle out not hurting Bakugo but also not getting on his mum’s bad side.

‘’Don’t you lie to me.’’ That scrutinising finger pointed his way this time and he felt daggers shot at his chest in embarrassment. She read him like a book.

‘’I think I’ll visit some… other… colony…’’ Each word that rolled out of his mouth was more and more quiet until he was mumbling under his breath looking everywhere except for the two mers in front of him. If he’d stand up he'd be bigger than both of them but unfortunately he sat on that damn rock, looking small and not very serious afraid to move even an inch under Bakugo’s mother’s gaze.

‘’See? Is it that fucking hard to do anything?’’

Pretend, just pretend you’re doing something. You don’t need to settle down if you hate it that much. I don’t care if you breed another warrior, I just want you to be at peace finally.

She couldn’t tell him what she really thought. It would be wrong, not educational. She just prayed he would finally get to it on his own and pretend until people forget about this issue. He could say that he tried but never found anyone and they would believe, take care of him, saying how sorry they are that he didn’t find the one. And he would have lied to them for a bit and it would all be over.

‘’I’m not doing anything like that. Leave me.’’ Her son was unmovable, his feelings carved deep down into his soul. Stupidity and lack of cleverness too. Maybe also being truthful, he couldn't lie like that to himself or anyone else. What a disaster.

She left, huffing and puffing. He was also fuming for the rest of the guard with Kiri trying to lighten his humour, telling him that they can go together to search in other mer hideouts.

As his job for today neared its end Bakugo found his way back to their lair, having changed the guards. He was still angry, the intrusive thoughts never leaving his head. The blonde swam around pointlessly hissing at the pups that bounced off of his tail. He wasn’t able to find a place for himself. This feeling was familiar to him, as if the multiple layers of water above pressured him too much, crushing his form.

‘’Another fight for mating?’’ The blonde heard a familiar screeching voice.

Skula, one of the most elderly elders, swam up to him. Subconsciously he slowed down his pace for the crippling mer to catch up. She looked as if she was to fall apart any second. He honestly asked himself how old she was. Some said she forgot and came up with a random number every time someone asked about it. That way sometimes she was 98, other times 105, on better days 21.

One thing about Skula distinguished her from the majority of elders. She honestly liked Bakugo and believed in him without even a tint of dissapointment. Skula remembered the old days when the sea wasn’t as peaceful as it is now, maybe that’s why she had a soft spot for any warrior, or maybe she just recognised Bakugo’s distress.

Nevermind her motives, she held onto his fin, the one situated beneath his back. Usually that spot was reserved for more… intimate situations but Bakugo knew damn well that this old witch wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to entertain herself before she dies (and she looks like she’s ready to die anytime soon).

‘’Oh, you just swim too fast, I need some help.’’ She laughed at his eyes rolling.

‘’You just want a handful old hag.’’ Skula brushed off his remark.

‘’Another fight?’’ She pressured the youngster.

Bakugo only nodded. He never knew why but this woman always made him open up, even if it was just a tiny crack in his various defensive layers.

‘’Go clear your head before you bite any pup.’’ She patted his back a few times.

‘’No place for it here.’’

‘’You’re hot-tempered, angry and aggressive.’’ She began in a slightly lower tone, as if she didn’t want anyone else to hear her. Bakugo looked at her wrinkled face that held a mysterious tone in it. Was she about to start again with the stupid shells and rocks she’s been looking into all day long? Prophecies and shit? ‘’The ocean’s cold and calm, deep, dark and mysterious. You’re none like it. You shine my young Bakugo.’’ She circled soothing eights up and down his back. ‘’Don’t blame yourself for feeling out of place here when your heart’s not at peace.’’

‘’Do you really mean that I’m just a shity mer?’’

‘’No stupid, listen to me.’’ She huffed at his flat response. ‘’You need something else. I want you to see something. The waves told me about it.’’ There you go again. ‘’There’s something matching your temper that you need to see with your very own eyes. Something as hot…’’

If she’ll really tell me in a second that this hot thing is my butt then I’ll honestly kill…

‘’It’s up there.’’ Skula pointed her crippled finger upwards, following with her eyes. ‘’It’s big, hot and golden. It’s gonna speak to you, listen to all of your problems and tell you what to do.’’ She was mysterious yet enthusiastic.

Normally Bakugo didn’t follow Skula’s different prophecies and things she read out of scattered stones but this time…

‘’D’you mean above the water?’’

She nodded her head a little too fast, it looked like it could crack.

‘’You want me to swim to the surface and talk to… something big and fucking golden?’’

‘’Exactly.’’

This was stupid enough to entertain him. Beside there was one crucial thing that Bakugo was interested in. He never swam to the surface. It’s not forbidden but why should anyone do it? There was nothing interesting there for him. He heard stories that the surface felt hot, or extremely cold. It depended on something but he didn’t remember what it was called. Sometimes water poured from… something there. Ah shit, he didn’t know anything about the surface… and this only made him more interested.

‘’And when should I go, oh mighty oracle?’’ Bakugo asked Skula theatrically.

‘’Now.’’ She stated simply as if it was nothing.

‘’Now?’’

‘’I thought I was the deaf one.’’ She snickered.

‘’Don’t laugh at me old hag.’’

‘’Go, nothing’s gonna happen. Nothing bad my child.’’

‘’Mum will…’’

‘’I’ll tell her it’s my fault. What will she do? Shout at me, an elder?’’ Bakugo honestly loved this old witch and how she still fearlessly lived her life. Jokes will never leave her side.

So Bakugo went, up and up and up. With only his sword, frustration and the stupid little prophecy that a golden thing will cure his problems. It felt tiring, as if the water above was endless. He imagined what it would look like, the very top. Would it be a single, straight line or did the water disappear gradually? Swirling and turning he went up, climbing layers and layers of water. It started to feel warmer. Why?

After a long journey he neared what looked like a breaking point. The water looked weird here, like it was pierced by something light. He had to squint his red eyes, slowly nearing the edge. Anxiety flooded over his body, pumped by his racing brain. Was he scared? Yes he was but he’ll never recognise it. Clenching his fists he swam up, finally breaking the surface.

‘’Ah fuck!’’ The mer growled as the sun burned his eyes.

After what felt like an eternity of pain his eyes finally started to adjust to the new light source. It was so bright, so hot it fact. He felt it on his cheeks. Was this why the water here was so hot? Guarding his eyes with his hands he looked around. The surface was weird, not exactly flat but also not gradual. It moved constantly, splashing aggressively. He liked it. There were some elements in his field of vision that seemed to stand still. One of them was a big rock. At least that’s what the thing looked like, it was similar to boulders down in his hideout so he just assumed the obvious.

Bakugo swam up to the rock. It sank deep down, reaching the downhill seabed. Behind this one there were a few more on them. Then he remembered. Big, hot, golden thing. Groaning, he felt the need to do as Skula pleased. She was the one that gave him this idea and he had to admit, the surface was more than he imagined. He felt so good here, between his and this world. The blonde honestly started to like how that hot feeling falling from above him kissed his wet cheeks, whatever it was.

He looked around, not spotting anything in particular. Then, he looked up.

‘’Fucking shit my eyes!’’ Once again he was blinded.

Shielding his face with his palm he took a glance up. There was something big there, yellow or maybe orange… gold? A very warm colour at least. The warmth seemed to flow from that. Was it the thing that Skula talked about? Did her prophecy really come true? Then did every one of her prophecies mean something? (If yes then he had a problem because she often foretell for him various stupid things)

Should he really talk to that thing? It seems pretty static and… not doing anything. He hated feeling dumb and that’s exactly how he felt right now.

Suddenly something splashed into the water near him. Instantly he lowered himself, burying his head under the surface. From behind the sunken boulder he saw some commotion in the water. Something was there, something big in fact. Should he retreat? No, he’s not a coward.

The thing stopped moving after a few seconds and he waited. It seemed like an eternity of him, hiding behind the boulder observing the very same spot, waiting for the thing to make its next move. It never came, the water splashed above him like it did all the time, swaying him back and forth against the stone.

His turn. Bakugo swam up closer, slaloming between the few stones underwater. Finally, he reached the one that particularly interested him. Something above the surface moved there and then went still. He couldn’t make out the exact shape because of the waves. He had to swim closer.

Putting both of his hands on the stones surface she went up once again, nearing the strange thing. The closer he got the clearer the image. The thing started to look just like him… at least its upper part. It had a face, hair, a torso, hands that held it form as if it was scared and…

As if he’d been lightstruck something clicked in his brain. That smell, that faint tint. He felt intoxicated as if he could only breathe this for the rest of his life. What the fuck was that? Why did he never feel it? Where is the source?

The thing moved, and he saw a hand stretched his way. The palm, the fingers looked just like this, except for his membrane. It didn’t have a membrane… that’s a human. The first human Bakugo ever saw in his life.

The faint smell hit him again. The human put their hand under the surface and touched his hair. He didn’t have a clue why he allowed all of this. Some mere human roaming their hands all over his head… but he liked it. The small fingers grazed his forehead slightly, their touch soft and subtle. It moved lower. With its palm just under his nose he finally got what he was looking for. That sweet intoxicating smell came from this human.

Bakugo felt a million emotions rush at one time. He was hungry, desperate, interested, intoxicated and horny. Could it be? Is this his mate? Do they feel the same?

He grabbed the tiny wrist connected to the small arm (at least compared to his). The human jumped back and started to squirm but Bakugo didn’t care. He was too high on the new feeling springing inside his ever so cold body to acknowledge that the human didn’t look at bliss like him. He pushed himself more and more wanting to show off his body and inspect the mate, subconsciously knowing how to court.

Suddenly the human screamed. The primal sound tore him out of his clouded state and he dipped back into the water slightly. The human hugged their wrist, then looked at it and finally after some time showed it to the mer. He saw a bruise in the shape of his hand.

Did he just hurt his mate? Were they this delicate? Fuck, he should have known. This was definitely not very courtesy of him.

‘’Fuck.’’ He mumbled.

Looking up at the human’s face he saw that the earlier fear subsided to curiosity once more. Were they also interested? He had to check.

Emerging from the water he sat next to the thing. It was harder than he anticipated, slipping at the first try. Something pulled him down like it was crashing down from above him, he felt heavy here. It didn’t matter, the intoxicating smell was more important.

Bakugo followed the human’s eyes and spotted that they’re looking at his tail. The small hand of the creature neared his scales. He felt excited, deep down he wanted this touch, he wanted that human’s hands all over the place where his skin met with orange scales. He wanted to tangle the human, wrap around them, claiming all of their body. He was blind to the crucial differences between him and them. Yet, his mum raised him to be somehow a good boy, or at least to have some manners. This was too intimate for seeing each other for the first time so he slapped the human’s hand away, much to his own displeasure.

He was happy, no, he was in a state of complete bliss. The creature, his mate, wanted to be close to him, wanted to claim his body just as he wanted to take theirs, they just showed it. The eagerness, that look in their eyes. Do they also feel intoxicated by the scent of his body? Should he show off more? Should he unsheathe his sword and show combat skills? No, he could scare them just as he hurt them a moment ago. This creature’s very delicate.

Bakugo was honestly out of his mind right now, blinded by something written deep down in his DNA. He wanted to touch the human, subtly, let them know that he wants to take it slow, the right way, and court them like they deserve. They didn’t once talk to him so he also stayed silent a bit scared after what he did to the human’s wrist.

Bakugo dipped his hand into the human’s hair. It was soft, extremely soft and delicate. It felt like nothing he had ever touched in his life. He smeared his hands all around the weirs texture wanting to feel the most of it until he heard something pierce his ears.

It was the human’s sound. He had no clue what it meant, not understanding a single thing but he loved it. The tone, so much more melodic than how he and his species spoke. Or at least that’s what he thought. He wanted more of that sound so he continued to play with the human’s hair.

That smell, it was still all around him, dripping off of the creature’s body. He wanted to scoop closer. Bakugo held the human’s hair and exposed their neck for him. The smell was thick there so he buried his face into the crook of their neck. It made his insides twist out of hunger and need. He wanted to devour them, have all this sweetness to himself, bathe in it, let his own skin soak with it. But he’s gonna play it nice, just like they deserve.

What did your body look like? He wanted to know every inch, every important thing. Their teeth, were they sharp like his? Do they have pointy canines just like him? He dug his finger inside the human’s mouth searching for an answer. They started to squirm. Did he annoy them a bit? He liked the thought. Loved the feeling of their body moving under his. He could make the trash, he wanted to hear those primal sounds erupting from their throat just for him and because of him. But he’s gonna play it nice.

Bakugo found his answer. The human’s canines were short and soft, just as he imagined. It was not perfect for raw fish but he didn’t care, the feeling of his mate being weaker and softer than him made him want to claim here and now. But he’s nice.

The blonde straightened his back moving away from his mate. He looked them up and down, pleased with what he had, excited for what he would do next, how their relationship would bloom and how he’d make them feel. He was still blind to the fact that your bodies were very… different.

PART ONE | PART THREE

SERIES MASTERLIST

#katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou fluff #mha bakugou #bakugou x y/n #katsuki bakugo mha #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha bakugou #boku no hero x reader #boku no hero acadamia #my hero academia #mha bakugo x reader #bakugo smut #katsuki smut

295 notes · View notes