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kyofsonder · 2 years

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Find the Word

I was tagged by @on-noon to find a specific set of words in my WIPs, and tag others to keep the game going. Thank you for the tag, the more times I play this game the more fun I have and the more I enjoy the perspective it gives me on my own writing.

My Words: grow, worse, wind, snow, and wake.

I’ll tag @aohendo, @junypr-camus, @starlightscribe, @did-i-do-this-write, and @marinesocks this time. It's also an open tag for anyone else who wants to join, as always!

Your Words: voice, equal, second, purpose, and greed.

I found grow(s) in an original short story WIP, titled “Kiyo”:

Kiyo herself is pretty small, also like me, but her leaves are strong. They're bright red and her vines are a soft orange, so it's less that she grows like a regular plant and more that she spreads like a flame. She's a little wizened, with some crunchy edges of brown on some of her older leaves and a lot of black in her veins, but her roots keep pushing their way down through the soil. Reaching for water or more soil or whatever it is they find for her. The guy selling all those half-neglected plants hadn't acted like there was anything special about this one in particular, but I haven't heard of plants that look like Kiyo... pretty much anywhere.

I found worse in my novel WIP “To Be Honest”, although it does show up in a scene where there’s (magic-related) self-injury and mentions of blood:

The feeling from earlier is practically screaming at him now, rattling his bones until he thinks the vibration might knock him out. The way David had greeted him. The way his voice has been changing. The fact that Micah hasn't been able to see his face this whole time. The repeated circles when he'd tried to walk. Something is wrong. Micah can feel the magic in his own blood, warning him that if he takes too long to figure this out he'll end up trapped here. Not just here in the woods, but somewhere much worse. He can't control his breathing anymore and every spell he knows is gone from his mind. Alright. Fine. Screw patience, then. The witch takes as deep and steady of a breath as he can manage, wincing each time it catches on the way down to his lungs. Without sparing a second more to think, he brings the knife down on his arm at whatever angle fate decides. If he's lucky, it won't catch any major arteries and he'll be able to bandage himself up later.

I found wind in a draft of a Given oneshot fic “Present Tense”:

He steps toward the water, bracing himself against the wind. It isn't cold, somehow, but he still feels like he should be wearing a jacket of some kind. The sound of the ocean makes it feel like Winter, steady and calm. Rolling like the sand, only stronger. Moving steadily. Making itself known. White noise, washing away the feelings of early afternoon sunlight that had been so vivid just a few moments ago. He finds himself sinking into a crouch, closing his eyes again and holding his knees close to himself. He buries his face into his arms. Ah. He wants to sink into this sound. Let it wash him away, too. Out toward the sunset. The gradually darkening blue and fading light pink of nightfall. The warped yellow and orange of a sun saying its goodbyes for the night. He wants to fall into these soft colors like a fluffy bed and rest.

I found snow in a Sk8 the Infinity fic “True or False”, although it shows up in a scene where Langa is experiencing a type of unreality that might affect some readers:

It's quiet for a while, then Langa adjusts himself so he can speak -- still holding as tight as possible, "Sometimes... I have dreams. They aren't like normal dreams. When I wake up, I can't tell if they were real or not. If I was remembering things that really happened, or dreaming things that never did. It feels like I'm awake and just thinking about real memories, but it also feels like I'm asleep and dreaming. That doesn't make sense, but... the dreams don't make sense. They get... it happened for the first time after I got lost on a mountain as a kid. I was out in the snow all night. I kept thinking that I remembered the way back -- then I'd realize that it was the wrong way. The path I remembered was from a dream. No matter where I walked, it didn't get me home. It got... really confusing. Ever since then, I'll get that way again sometimes. Confused from dreams like that, I mean."

I found wake in my novel WIP “Apricots” when the main character is talking about how long it’s been since his girlfriend died:

Noah doesn't let him get away that easily, "The beginning is the day Jess died, whatever day or month or year it was when that happened. I think you know that much."

"Kade's lost track of time since then, too. More than usual. It feels like he started talking to her ghost months before she died, every time he was at her bedside, like he'd already known it was coming. I guess... when her condition... that's probably why you got mad at me. You knew she would die so much earlier than I did. I still don't think you should have blamed me for not knowing. I did the best I could to take care of her. It's been two months and I still wake up thinking I'll take the bus to her place to... I think I'm still not convinced that she's even gone at all."

Thank you again for the tag – there was a little more original content mixed in with the fanfiction this time! I'm learning to balance how much I write between original and fandom projects, which is encouraging to see when I play this game.

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majjiktricks · 2 years

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choosing to disregard bb's height on the metal gear wiki because this is too fucking funny

if kaz is 5'10 AND snake is wearing heels

hes like. 5'6, 5'7 MAX

#big boss bigger venom which devolved into dick jokes between me and nate #anyway. massive dick venom canon.#venom snake #big boss #kazuhira miller #metal gear #jazz noises #meanwhile the medic is like 6'0 or more LOL #i would need to use an image editor to get actual proportions and accurate numbers but im at work right now

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2003toyotaprius · 2 years

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#the gif with ocelot being kind of a prick that i mentioned #dont use venom to climb up :(#well ok actually i have a drawing prompt written down #with ocelot eva and kaz organising annual party next to BiBo's bed #they have party hats on and put one on BB #play cards on hospital trolley and the visibility is low from the amount of smokr #and they use medic's bed as a sofa #cant decide if they sit on him on threw him off #probably on him #mgs #metal gear #metal gear solid #revolver ocelot #metal gear bits and pieces #but look at his face he looks OFFENDED some hobo is treated the same way his Bing Bong is

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ghostssweetgirl · 1 year

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Reader x Ghost + König - Using them as weighted blankets

Put me in a cold room, lay them on top of me and watch me sleep fuckin' HARD bc this genuinely seems so comforting

alternate version here

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Thought you were crazy at first for asking him to do such a thing, he knew he was big and didn't want to crush you, but he eventually caved in to your pleas.

It was so cute watching his huge frame crawl on top of you nervously, ready to set down all of his weight on you.

He was quite surprised to see how much faster you fell asleep when he lay atop of you, and used the time to caress your delicate cheeks, watching your chest rise and fall in a peaceful slumber.

He spoiled you with it, resulting in you not being able to sleep worth a crap without his body weight. Weighted blankets had to do when he was deployed, but it didn't compare to the safety of his blanket over you.

Even then, it was the hardest time falling asleep without him. You stayed up too late almost every night, resorting to nighttime medications to try to make yourself sleepy.

The first thing Simon did when he arrived home in the middle of the night, was walk into your shared room, spotting you asleep, sat up against the headboard as you were waiting on him, hugging your bunched up weighted blanket. He sighed a chuckle as he took his gear off and kicked off his boots. He lay his mask on the table and slowly replaced the blanket you were snuggling with himself.

You hummed awake at the newly added weight on top of you. Your hands hug him tight as you sleepily greet him. "Baby... I missed you."

"I missed ya too, luv," your lips finally met, and just like that, the kiss deepened naturally before he pulled back. You cup his jaw, and smile at him. "I think you're rubbin' off on me, babe."

You tilted your head. "How so?"

"I'm findin' it hard to sleep if 'm not laying on you." Dammit, you were his addiction. "'M gettin' tired a'ready."

You smirked as you scooted down pulling more of his body weight on you, resting your head on an actual pillow while you stroked Simon's messy hair, hearing his soft snores as he starts drifting off. "Go to sleep," you whispered. "I love you."

König

At first he was only open to it halfway. He'd drape his leg over yours before adding weight from his chest onto you.

As he slowly moved more on top of you with his head on your chest, he kept checking to see if you were okay, if you were still breathing or having a hard time breathing.

Lots of reassurance later, he finally let all of his weight down on you.

Instantly wrapped your arms around him tightly, taking a deep breath at the peace you feel right now with the perfect amount of weight on you.

He chuckled as you stroked your nails along his toned back, soothing strokes up and down his soft skin.

It wasn't surprising for movie nights to end up like you are now, barely keeping consciousness as you're blessed with the weight of König laying on top of you as a weighted blanket. You fell asleep in the middle of the movie, your boyfriend laid between your legs, crawling up to lay across your chest.

The AC was on, and your room was the perfect coolness. The mixture of König's warm skin pressed against you and the cold air relaxed you. Your hands instinctively tickled softly across his back muscles, soothing the both of you.

The sensation had König's eyes fluttering shut in his state of relaxation.

"You asleep, baby?"

"Nein..." he replied, but with that tone of voice, you could tell he was lying, trying to fight off the sleep overtaking him. "Trying to... relax into your touch, Meine Liebe..."

Your hands slowly start to massage his tensed muscles, furthering his relaxation. He groaned as more body weight pressed on top of you, your telltale sign of how tired he actually was.

"Baby..." you cooed with a grin across your lips. "You need to sleep, yeah?"

He didn't reply verbally, but he barely shook his head. You leaned up best you could to see his face, eyes closed, mouth agape as he slightly drooled onto your tank top. You chuckled, rubbing a tuft of hair as you laid your head back, soon to fall asleep yourself.

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puppys-tiny-space · 4 months

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👑Tips for littles on a budget👑

This is some tips for tinies (or carers looking for gifts for kiddos) on a budget! Of course you don't need any gear to be a good regressor but a lot of us like toys etc. and it's okay to want them!

🧸thrift stores, a lot of thrift stores have toys and plushies, sometimes they are a bit broken or dirty but there are lots of tutorials on YouTube for cleaning and restoring plushies and toys🧸

🐾e-books, you can find kids books online as e-books which are often pretty cheap or you can watch tiktoks of people reading those books🐾

🩷diy onesies, a lot of regressors like onesies but the prices are pretty steep, if you can't afford them don't fret! Its super easy and affordable to make one yourself all you need is an old t-shirt and snap buttons plus a way to attach them, just get a big t-shirt, sweatshirt or even hoodie and add 2-4 snap buttons in the crotch, boom you have a super cute and discreet onesie!🩷

🧸diy toys, there are lots of toys you can make yourself either by sewing or crafting and there's lot soft videos on YouTube for it, or get creative🧸

🐾mobile games, I love to play video games when im regressed but game consoles are expensive so free mobile games are a great alternative🐾

🩷dollar store etc, while you shouldn't rely on stores or websites that use cheap labor for everything it's okay to make exceptions every now and then, especially for toys, pacis, sippy cups and similar🩷

🧸pull ups, instead of cute printed diapers get big kid pull-ups in the baby-section or medical diapers from a drugstore, they are less then half the price of a pack of adult diapers from brands like tears etc.🧸

🐾learn to diy, making things yourself is often the most affordable thing to do, not with everything obviously but with a lot of things, learn as much stuff as you can so you can make lots of gear yourself🐾

🩷look for affordable stores, lots of paci stores on Instagram are very affordable and the ones that aren't often have sales so keep an eye out for that, lots of shops also have promoter codes they are happy for you to use, for example with my code 'bunnybab' you get a small discount at pacisbybunnie and cozypacicorner🩷

🧸buy second hand, thrift stores are a great place but if you want little specific stuff looking on vinted, swoop or even insta is a great idea! Lots of people sell gear they no longer connect with🧸

Fun fact of the day: Bluey's pilot was only a minute long and never actually aired

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taptrial2 · 30 days

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lalalaaaaa au time. dont tag as ship or i will end you. ik it isnt super original but something something two cakes

the gist: instead of dying later in life, both danny and vlad were stillborns and turned half ghost after being resuscitated. their parents were told they had died and they were shipped off to the pentagon as little babies to be studied. theyre the same ages as in canon, they just grew up differently

they moved to amity park after they escaped because of the high level of ghost activity, wanting to learn more about other ghosts. they don't know about danny's birth parents living there YET. they only got out in like june and the actual story i imagine starts in the september of the same year after vlad and danny learn that its illegal to not have danny in school. they're super unfamiliar with the outside world and are super weird. they're rich but only because they do crimes for money (mostly theft), and because of that and not legally existing, they only use cash

their ghost forms are in medical gear because thats the only environment they've ever known and they can't really conceptualize themselves in anything else. they wear their hair long and down to cover up the spots of hair that the scientists lasered off to have easier access to their brains.

danny learned the ghostly wail early and uses it often enough (along with a few other voice based projectiles) that he's classified as a banshee subtype of ghost. he has very strong projectiles but his punches hit like wet paper bags. vlad is well rounded in his skills and very strong, but he and danny are VERY unused to fighting and are therefore pretty bad at it.

they're eventually nicknamed by the public "the doctor ghost and his patient", eventually shortened to "doctor" and "patient".

they're very close and consider each other family, but they don't put a specific label on it like father and son. every time they hug, it's as if they had been reunited after a war. they're used to being jostled around by scientists and so are very comfortable touching each others' hair, cuddling, etc and dont quite understand other people's physical boundaries for a while. they're protective of each other to the point of violence.

i have more but i already hate when i see posts this long in main tags so i will stop. if you actually read any of this shit thanks man have some choccy milk

#exoticbutterstxt #danny phantom #danny phantom au #a lot of the ways danny and vlad act w/ each other is based off of how i interacted w/ my parents #so dont be weird 👍#not all of it obvi but. yeag #biscuit's special danny phantom au

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fortheloveofkonig · 1 year

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Hello, hope you're having a good day/night

I was wondering if I could request the 141 x Male reader, they know alot of medical like they use their knowledge of the human body against anyone whom threatens them (or people the care about). They aren't a medic are doctor parday but have extensive knowledge of the field that helps the team. Seem cold uncaring and ruthless but if anyone of them is injured its like a total switch of 'mom bear mode' checking them over the gentle hands and worry.

(Kinda of trope of don't mess with the doctor lol)

Summary: TF 141 reacts to Reader who knows a frightening amount of medical knowledge.

Note: I'm going to do this as more of a headcanons type of post ^^ hope this is good enough! ^^ I did 95% of this all in the last 2 hours

Content: Medical speak, Injuries, Slight Torture, Slightly Bad Medical Research, But I Did Research. Roach Talks.

Word Count: 1085

TF 141 x Knowledgeable in Medic Field M! Reader

Ghost

Probably first heard about your knowledge from Soap talking to him about how terrifying it is to see it come into play

Doesn't believe him.

You've always been good at what you do but have never shown any previous knowledge or interest in the medical field so, who can blame him?

There was also no way you could've went to medical school unless you were years above your usual education range

He finally sees it come into play when you two were 'interrogating' someone.

"If you're gonna stab, don't do it right there. Price said he needs to stay alive."

Ghost looks at you, annoyed. "I've stabbed many people and seen many people survive stab wounds of surrounding areas."

"In lower places of the abdomen and with quicker medical care, if you do it there" You point to where he had the knife, pointed at the tied up man's skin. "It could puncture an intestine and we will be fucked. If you want to stab, move the knife below the belly button...about right... right there. Do not remove the knife once it pierces through."

He did as you said, with questions, but still followed your lead.

From then on he watched everything you did, even noticing that you took care of some of the rookies that ended up with minor cuts and damage that wasn't enough to bother the medics with.

Needless to say, he also ended up coming to you for some patch ups, mostly when he wanted to keep his new damage a secret from Price.

He ended up finding it kind of hot during the interrogation thing so he often asked to do things like that with you again.

Soap

Honestly, probably figured out about your medical knowledge after he was being a dumbass with explosives and almost got hurt.

"Go change into some shorts and a tank top." Your voice was in a serious tone as you went to grab a nearby first aid kit.

"Already wanting to see me strip?"

You just glared at him until he actually left and did what was told.

Despite having only a few scratches, you still cleaned them up as best as you could.

You also went on a rant about it too, about how dumb he was

"Do you realize how dumb you are? What if you actually made a big explosion and a piece of shrapnel flew and hit one of the carotid arteries in your neck?

"My What?"

"Do you realize how fast you would've died? Why weren't you wearing any protective gear?"

"I'm pretty bad at forgetting protection."

If looks could kill, he'd be dead.

That was not the last time you had to clean his wounds, he seems to be a magnet for them.

Asks you more about medical stuff, just to get an idea on how much you know.

You know a lot.

Unsure at this point if he hurts himself in new ways just to hear you yell at him for what dumb way he could've gotten himself killed this time.

Gaz

He falls out of helicopters a lot, that's the truth. What's one more time?

This time (and somehow not the last?) he ended up hurting his foot, you were there the whole time when it happened.

When the both of you were both safe in the safety of a van, you got him to put his leg up so you could check it.

"This is stupid" He mutters, "It's nothing more than it has been in the past."

"Shush, let me concentrate" You mutter feeling around his bootless ankle, nodding your head when you hear him hiss at a pointed touch.

"Any pain when you walk on it?"

"Possibly....yes."

"I'm gonna say it's a sprain for now but I think we should take you to the infirmary after we get back to base. Doesn't seem dislocated. Possible fracture though."

It was just a sprain

Was surprised when you spoke fluent...doctor to the doctor.

Honestly felt like a little kid in the doctor's office, watching his parent's converse with the Doctor telling them what was wrong.

Wouldn't have it any other way.

Price

Always knew, almost nothing gets by him unnoticed

Was probably one of the reasons he wanted you on the task force.

He knows how soap and gaz the boys are

Has you teaching rookies how to probably put a tourniquet on.

"What the fuck are you doing? That's not how I taught you."

The rookie you were speaking to just looked down at the dummy that they were working on and the tourniquet, "It looks-"

"Terrible! He's still bleeding out! Retry it."

Definitely has to sit in on these sessions, some rookies have complained to him that you take it too far.

You always just use the excuse that if those were real people and not training dummies, they'd be at fault for letting them die.

He agrees with you.

The rookie looks over at Price.

"Get to it. He told you to retry it. The man is bleeding out."

Mostly just sits in because it's less complaints now that he is showing he agrees with you in front of everyone.

Roach

This fucker needs a friend that has medical knowledge

Much like Soap, it seems like he is a wound magnet

Was probably the first of the 141 that you had to go full protective, medical knowledge out and work on him.

Man's like a tank too, no matter what the day brings to him it seems he's just able to walk it off

You don't let him

"You're limping, sit down."

He just waves it off, "'m good."

"Like hell you are." You walk up to him and grab his wrist, dragging him to a nearby chair and pushing him onto it. "Stay or I'll have Ghost lay on you."

Does not stay.

You cannot get Ghost to lay on him.

You just end up pelting pillows at him until he joins into a pillow fight, and you both end up getting exhausted.

"I'll rest right here."

"Good."

Stubborn but still okay with medical help

Often comes to you with oddly specific questions.

"Hypothetically, if a car blew up in the near vicinity of where I was at, what is the possible health issues that could arise?"

"Well, burn marks obviously, depending on the distance it could be any degree. If it was enough to knock you over, then a possible concussion. Depending if you hit the ground and hard enough, possible broken or fractured bones. Not to even mention the possible pieces of metal and glass flying, and just blast trauma in general. Could cause damage to internal organs with enough force."

"Okay, so...hypothetically, if that happened, I should go to the infirmary?"

"Roach, were you next to a car when it blew up?"

"..."

"Gary???"

You immediately dragged him to the infirmary.

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copperbadge · 3 months

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hi, i had a medium to big question. in your post about the adhd self-help book you mentioned people with adhd being conditioned to be nonconfrontational, but i've never once in my entire life connected the two? can you break down the connection for me so that i can once again (this week, even) have my understanding of my own condition blown wide open?

So, you are not the only person to ask about this, but that's on me for being unclear -- I wasn't trying to assert that kids with ADHD are automatically conditioned to be nonconfrontational, I was more trying to be like "Hey not everyone needs lessons in medical self-advocacy but a lot of nonconfrontational people do." And I think there is a higher population of people with neurodivergence who are deeply confrontation-averse, but I don't have like, numbers for that, it's just an assumption based on other knowledge.

It gets complicated; ADHD is a disease based heavily in acting impulsively against your best interests. But yeah I do think people with ADHD are often conditioned to avoid confrontation because of two main factors: rejection-sensitive dysphoria and executive dysfunction.

RSD, which I hate perhaps more than any other symptom or behavior associated with ADHD, automatically kicks our nervous system into high gear in social situations and encodes embarrassing moments in our memory with high-def clarity. Because RSD naturally causes a level of anxiety around socialization, it tends to make us nonconfrontational simply because a) we don't want to be yelled at, b) we don't want to embarrass ourselves by getting emotional about something that may not warrant it, and c) by the time we realize what's happening our body is already on high alert which means we are likely to go into fight-flight-freeze mode.

Me, I freeze, usually, but none of those three options are great for fast thinking during an argument. I used to lose arguments a lot simply because I couldn't think or react as fast as the neurotypical person I was fighting with, so I simply stopped having fights. Notably, I did not have this problem when fighting with my brother, who is also neurodivergent and has many of the same freeze reactions I do.

If people disagree with me, even when I know I'm right I also know I probably won't be able to vocalize it properly, so I back down. Usually it's trivial so it doesn't matter, and I've gotten strategic about how and when I argue about things that do matter; it's also a lot easier to do with strangers or professionals (like doctors) where I don't have to worry about long-term social repercussions. But yeah, our own nervous system tells us "hey maybe don't pick this fight" about every single fight and if we do pick that fight, it treats our opponent as a dangerous predator.

Executive dysfunction's interaction with nonconfrontation is something I have less problem with because while I do have poor executive function, I've spent a lot of time and energy training myself to cover the Important Stuff. I have mild ADHD so I'm capable of this; I'm not trying to say everyone with ADHD is, because lord knows it's exhausting for me and I've been doing it for roughly thirty years. But essentially, I cover where it counts: if someone needs me to do something I do it, I meet deadlines, I pay bills.

So with that disclaimer in place, a very common issue especially for children with undiagnosed ADHD is that they'll be told or asked to do something and simply be unable to begin or complete it, then when they're asked why they didn't do it they can't explain. Even if they try to explain that they simply couldn't, like they were incapable of doing it for reasons they don't understand, that usually doesn't hold water with a lot of parents and teachers.

"I couldn't bring myself to write this essay," is actually something I told myself a few times in college, but it's not something I'd bother trying to tell someone else, because if you think you're neurotypical that sounds very insane. So I'd lie and say I forgot, or I'd take the fail, or I'd simply drop out of the class. Crucially I would not fight with the authority figure who was questioning me about it, because I knew I wouldn't be able to explain myself, and I'd just end up getting in more trouble for longer.

Our culture is structured for neurotypicals, and it's not even structured for all neurotypicals. Behavior that deviates from Approved Neurotypical even when you think you are Approved Neurotypical is highly punishable. So if your options are passivity, even when passivity leads to pain, or confrontation, most people who aren't Approved Neurotypical will opt for passivity once they've had a taste of where confrontation leads. I know I do.

And the thing is, there's nothing actually wrong with that. It's a strategy calculated to minimize pain. Even when I'm firing on all cylinders on a fresh dose of Adderall, I still generally let fights go unless there will be actual real consequences, because it's just not worth it. But knowing we have ADHD and knowing we fall into this pattern, I think it is good to be aware that sometimes letting a fight go is really going to fuck you, and at that point even being bad at it is better than not engaging.

I'm pretty good at calculating those, but it's a lifelong process, knowing which hills to die on when you assume you will automatically die if you ever get above sea level.

#sam has adhd #jellydishes

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nsharks · 1 year

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bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part nine —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 3.2k tags: death. blood. zombies of course. reader menstruates. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: no comment

The beam gave a nasty cut to your hand.

Tetanus, blood, infections— more threats.

You sit on a rock by the river to fix it up. Before you can dab on the hydrogen peroxide from your new med kit, Blue insists on doing it for you— soft fingertips against your broken skin. She is by far a gentler nurse than her father. You focus on her pink cheeks and scrunched nose as she concentrates. It helps you ignore the sting.

"You scared the shit out of me for a second there, Twix.”

"Sorry. I guess I need to work on my balance."

She gives a stilted laugh. The gauze comes next, just a thin layer since the bleeding has already stopped.

"Thanks for asking him to help me," you add in a whisper. You smile. "I don't think I've ever had a friend save my life so many times."

Blue cuts the gauze and begins tying it off. "I didn't actually have to ask him this time, you know. Like I said, he doesn’t hate you.”

You glance to where Ghost has taken the short break to lean against a tree and drink some water, pale jaw and pink lips exposed. An actual human hides under all that gear and horrifying mask. It annoys you that he doesn't just take it off.

You look back at her, eyes rolling. “You're lying."

She closes the med kit and shrugs. “Friends don't lie."

The afternoon sun bleeds white light over your cheeks as the three of you keep walking. Just meters away from the river, Ghost points out a small cabin. One that hunters used back in the day, you bet. He says it could be a good place to stay for the night. The scent of the rushing water nearby should do some to mask your human scent.

Rolling hills take place of the trees. To the west, you can see the faint outline of mountains dipped in white snow. Well, as much of mountains as you can find in England. They are not nearly as tall as the ones your parents used to take you skiing to in France.

You grow quiet and let Blue do all the talking. Maybe you are embarrassed after almost falling into the river.

Just when she asks - How much further? - something strange pops up in the distance. White medical tents— well, you assume they were once white. They are now torn and grey, with some blue crates beneath them. Confusion swells in your chest and you can't help but speak up.

"Why is this all here?" you ask, your boots stepping over some stray medical tools. Scalpels, tweezers, and syringes. Pressed into the rich earth like fossils. You would pick them up if they weren't rusted past the point of being useful.

"I don't know," Blue answers. "Ghost?"

"Emergency medical camp the military set up," he says.

"After shit happened?" she asks.

He gives a curt nod as he looks around at the remnants. "Those that were left were tryin' to help survivors in the first few days. Didn't last long, though."

"Is that what your friends were doing after you ditched them?"

"Told you, kid. They weren't my friends."

"Alright, teammates. Whatever. Were they helping with injured people here?" she asks curiously.

"A few of them were.”

Blue looks at you. "Twix, did I ever tell you about that?"

"Um. About what?"

"Well, Ghost was supposed to be working when shit happened," she raises her brows and juts a thumb at him. "But he snuck away from his post to get all our stuff and come find me and my mum."

You swallow at the mention of her mom and avoid looking at Ghost. "Snuck away?"

"Yeah," she nods, "It's called dessert."

"Desertion," he gruffly corrects her.

"What?" you ask.

"He abandoned his assignment," she explains. "But he always says he would do it again if he had to. Anyway, he used to talk to his teammates on his radio to see how they were and stuff— what was happening. But then they got too far away for it to work."

Of course Ghost had a radio.

Paul had one, too. You can remember huddling around that radio like it was a mouthpiece for some god. The static grew choppier and choppier over the first few days. The channels dwindled. Eventually, it stopped working altogether and you didn't learn much about what happened in the outside world. You did learn that London was one of the quickest cities to succumb to the infection. Then, Paris, Bangkok, and Chicago.

Everywhere.

You process the new information as you keep walking through the tents, peering into some opened crates to see if anything is left— nothing is.

Now you know Ghost left his post when he found out about the virus. He stocked up on supplies and then got Blue and her mom. By the way Blue mentions her, it must be an old loss. How long did her mother survive with them, then? Did she use to live in the cabin with them?

You don’t know why your stomach grows tight, but the questions in your brain fade once the military base comes into view.

"Finally," Blue sighs rather dramatically.

A high, chain-link fence surrounds the place. There are a few buildings and some abandoned vehicles that look like jeeps. The fence has multiple gaps cut into it so climbing is unnecessary. Ghost leads the way. You continue sniffing the air. With your bandaged hand, you keep your bow poised and subconsciously walk closer to their footsteps.

Ghost takes you to the main building in the center. The British flag flutters beside it on a pole, faded and as meaningless as the one sewn on Ghost’s bicep.

"Are we going through the barracks again this time?" Blue perks up.

"We have to go through 'em to get to the armory,” he says.

"Cool. There might be some good shit left behind."

There isn't much good shit, actually.

You don't know what the other military base they went to was like, but this one is unsettling and seems to be ransacked. Sunlight pours in through the shattered windows. Scattered papers and strewn bones decorate the tile floors. Thick cobwebs hang in the corners.

As you walk through the hallway of old dorms, Blue and Ghost stop looking in them after the first four turn out to contain only tipped-over cots, walls smeared with old blood, and even a few scampering vermin that make her yelp and grab hold of Ghost's arm.

He grows stiffer than usual. You don’t have to pry off the skull mask to know what he is thinking. Ghost is not the only person who thought of coming here. If these rooms are mostly empty, then what is left in the armory?

Still, you check out a few more of them on your own as they walk up ahead. You rummage through closets and drawers. You find three pairs of men's socks. More useful than one might think.

In one room, you kneel down by the unkempt cot to dig a black backpack out from under it. You can’t believe that Ghost, as big as he is, ever slept on these things. The backpack’s zipper catches as you try to open it, the metal teeth rusted, so you cut a hole in the fabric with your knife. Inside, you find another military-grade knife to add to your arsenal and some wrapped ready-to-eats.

When you check the closet, the sight of a full skeleton causes you to jump back in a startled step, a few rats running out between your boots.

"Oh, fuck," you mutter, noticing a bullet hole in the skull. A handgun lies beside the body, but you discover the magazine to be empty. Whatever bullet it once had was likely spent on this person's suicide. You stick it in your bag, anyway. A preserved uniform hangs loose on the bones. There is a mouth-sized tear in the forearm of the right sleeve, fitting for a bite. In the breast pocket, a silver chain spills out. Curiously, you grab it. A dog tag with an engraved name catches the light. John MacTavish. You run a thumb over the letters.

“Sorry, John.”

You decide to respectfully put it back in the pocket, and head out, satisfied enough with your modest finds. It’s not like you own as much as Ghost does. You leave the room and run to catch back up with them.

"You okay? Find anything?" Blue asks.

"Not much," you quietly admit. "A knife and some new socks."

"Finally. Your old ones are starting to stink," she remarks with a playful smirk.

You scrunch your nose at her, making a face. “Gee, thanks."

She returns the teasing gesture just before Ghost’s arm ushers her behind him.

The moment he does, your guard rises back up. You slap an arrow onto your bow. You smell them before you see them. Four - no, five - drag out of opened doorways up ahead along with a cacophony of whistled moans. Most are still dressed in the same military uniforms as the skeleton you found. One isn't wearing anything at all. It’s disgusting.

Ghost doesn't bother to let Blue practice this time.

He shoots the faster, fresher one first as it runs up to them. For the slower ones, he saves his ammo and opts for the axe. The sight of him effortlessly striking their skulls is almost enough to distract you. Almost. Your fingers release the string and send a headshot to the last one. It is a perfect shot. An arrow straight through the milky-white eye. One of your best.

You meet his eyes just as he slips the axe back to his waist, shooting him a raised brow. The two of you hold an awkwardly long stare-off. Though you loathe to admit it, you hope for some type of approval - for once - but all he gives is a short nod.

Blue retrieves the arrow for you and you tuck it back into your quiver.

"Great aim, Twix," she quips. "Where did you learn how to use your bow?"

"My old friend taught me a bit," you say as the three of you step over the fallen corpses.

"What was his name again?"

"Paul."

"Oh, right." She pauses, and then: "Were you having sex with him?"

"Jesus Christ, kid," Ghost says.

"What?" She peers up at him.

Before he can say anything else, you answer with a light flush crawling up your neck, “No, I wasn’t. He was just my friend.”

The three of you make it to the armory.

The aluminum door is already parted open. Ghost clicks on a flashlight and gives the room a quick sweep of fluorescent light before entering.

A number of pried-open crates and olive-green cabinets litter the inside. Drawers hang open like a tornado ripped through. A few stray rifles lay scattered on the floor. Ghost picks up each one and checks for cartridges. Empty. Each rifle is thrown back on the floor with more force than the previous. He needs more ammo, not more guns.

Whatever was in this armory is gone. This truth hangs heavy in the air. The mood shifts. Blue doesn’t talk. Billows of growing frustration roll off Ghost's body as he continues to search through every crevice and every drawer for almost an hour.

You know what he is feeling, even if he half-expected this.

It is a feeling that made you cry in the empty pharmacy. For Ghost, it ends up driving a clenched fist into one of the cabinets, dented metal left in its wake. He swears explosively. Another shudder runs through your spine, stealing your breath, but it feels far different from the one his soft voice invited.

"Is there... is there anywhere else we can check, Dad?" Blue speaks up softly. “Maybe in all those cars outside?”

He takes a moment to breathe before answering. "We don't have time to check ‘em all.”

“Well, maybe we could come back in the morning and look a bit more?”

“Maybe,” he says, but you read the tone in his voice. It is unlikely there is ammo left in the vehicles, and even if there is, it is definitely not as much as he was hoping to have found in here.

Before leaving, he stuffs one of the rifles in his backpack. An uncomfortable silence consumes the journey back through the hall.

You make it outside again. The afternoon has aged. You need to get back to that hunting cabin by the river before the threat of dark.

Ghost guides you back towards the fence.

You hear Blue's soft humming. The flap of the old flag. Your own steady heartbeat.

And then, out of nowhere, he stops and grabs Blue's arm to bring her to a halt beside him. He looks around. Confused, you scan the view up ahead of you, but all that is there are a few of those military jeeps and the fence you entered through. You sniff the air. It doesn't smell particularly awful.

Then, the cause for Ghost's unease arrives loud in your ears.

A single gunshot sounds from a direction you can't discern. Your heart stutters. The suddenness freezes you for a moment. In your peripheral, you think you catch a brush of movement in some bushes to your right.

Ghost quickly pulls Blue behind one of the vehicles for cover. Only when you feel the rush of another bullet whizzing past your shoulder do your legs finally move— so fast that your feet catch on the ground and you stumble down beside them. Your knees dig into the earth as you land on your hands, but you quickly lift up and press your shoulder against the side of the car.

You choke. "Ghost… people."

People are fucking shooting at us, is what you mean to say. Panic steals your voice.

Who? How many?

Another bullet ricochets off the other side of the car, clanking against the metal. And then another. Glass shatters.

Ghost doesn't respond to you. Underneath the loud sounds, a soft voice whimpers. You finally look to where Blue is propped up against the large tire, Ghost kneeling at her front. His hand is tightly clamped over the side of her right thigh, and it is now that you notice the blood soaking through her jeans and his glove.

Blue's blood.

Crimson and glistening.

She whimpers again and her fingers twist the fabric of his coat.

"Dad, it— it feels like it's burning," she cries out, her cheeks turning wet from a sudden onslaught of tears.

"Fuck. I know, baby. I know."

She flinches when another gunshot rings out. "W-What do we do?"

You try to form a proper thought— try to make sense of everything. Before you can, Ghost grabs your hand, firmly replacing his hold on her wound with yours. The warm liquid immediately drenches your palm and you swallow, pressing as hard as you can, attempting to pack it crudely.

He speaks decisively. "Stay here with her. Wrap it up.”

"Ghost, you don't know how many fucking people there are," you say, panic turning your voice into something unrecognizable as you place your other hand on his arm. The muscles tense and leap.

“I didn't fucking ask you. I am telling you. Now do it."

He doesn’t give you the opportunity to protest again, but you wouldn’t even if he did because you fully realize that this is the best course of action. He needs to get rid of them. You need to tend to her wound. A strangled cry leaves Blue's lips when he departs. You coax her with soft hushes.

"It’s okay. He'll be right back.”

Urgently, you sling the bag off your shoulder and take out your own med kit. You don’t think twice about it. Not for a second. Not when all you can think about is making sure her soft, blue eyes stay open. When you move your hand from her thigh, the sight worries and relieves you at the same time.

You don't know much about bullet wounds, but you know where the femoral artery runs, and by the looks of it, it was missed. Still, a nice chunk of her flesh has been torn, revealing obliterated muscle. You don't see any bone or bits of metal, but it is hard to see much of anything with all the blood.

With fingers that shake, you use the same gauze she nursed your hand with to begin tightly dressing her thigh. As you do, your eyes flash up and around in a feeble search for where Ghost could be, but you can’t see him from behind the vehicle.

"Is it bad?" she asks, voice laced with a tremor. When your gaze returns to her, you notice that pale lips replace her usual rosy-pink ones. Her forehead is sheened with sweat.

"It looks worse than it is," you say.

"Are you... are you telling me the truth?"

"I am. Promise," you whisper. "Friends don't lie, right?"

Sporadic gunfire continues to pierce your ears. It sounds more distant now. You have no idea if it belongs to Ghost or whoever these people are. You push the uncertainties away, assuring yourself that he can handle however many of them there are, and focus on tying off the gauze, desperate to keep her blood in.

Blue suddenly blurts out, “Twix.”

You look up and meet her eyes. They are pointed at something behind you.

#simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #zombies

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trulyhblue · 4 months

Text

Way To My Heart

Jessie Fleming x Reader

warnings: period/menstrual pains, nausea, period guilt?? (idk how u would put it), fluff, hurt/comfort, coarse language.

thank you for the inspo!!! @jessiebronze2 <3

A/N — not all periods are the same!! Also, bit of a short one today

_________________________

You couldn't remember the last time you had comfortably moved without feeling the notion of your stomach twisting in the most ridiculing pain.

You always struggled with your period. It was something you had never seemed to get used to as the years went on. No amount of medication could soothe the pain that you felt. Nothing could cure the cramps, the migraines, and everything in between.

It was days of endless, excruciating torture that nothing could eradicate.

Except for your girlfriend.

You and Jessie met at UCLA, where you were studying for your degree, while she multitasked the confronting challenge of being a student-athlete. Everyone could see the talent the Canadian possessed from a mile away, and you were lucky enough to witness her growth throughout the years that she had prospered. While you weren't a football fan growing up, the fondness you felt for the girl must've coerced you to find some enjoyment in the game — though you must admit, the most rewarding part of watching the sport was actually watching your ridiculously hot girlfriend.

Jessie had felt reluctant to leave for training that morning. The early morning chill made a perfect excuse for your girlfriend to cuddle up to your side. There were many instances when Jessie would find herself begrudgingly peeling away from your sleepy figure with a scowl on her face. Training was hard work, full of sweat and grind. She loved it, of course, but she often had trouble shaking the image of you in bed, snuggled into a mound of blankets and pillows instead of her.

The Canadian was the same this morning, except she noticed a subtle change in the furrow of your eyebrows. The crease was pained. It was deep with exhaustion, and your body was curled up into a ball, feigning your figure into the smallest confinement it could muster. Beads of sweat peaked at your hairline, your skin a few hues paler than normal.

Jessie wisped the hairs that had fallen in your sleep away from your face, opening the windows in hopes that fresh air would calm your heated cheeks. At first, she thought you had a fever, or maybe even a cold. Both of you adapted to the London whether easy enough, save for the few times when a virus would spread through the city — that was where neither of you could fight it off. As hesitated by her closest, contemplating whether to call in and say she was unable to attend.

She watched as you tossed and turned, pulling on her training gear in an endeavour to fix her conscience off of you. She knew that if you found out she cancelled training for you, it’d only make your mood worse. You were as stubborn as each other. It was when you stirred from your sleep, feeling the drop of your stomach hurl your eyes open, that Jessie climbed over the duvet to you.

“Are you okay?” She asked, combing your hair softly. You clutched your stomach upon instinct, pulling taunt on the sheets beneath you.

“I'm on it.”

It took her less than a second to comprehend what you meant. Her eyes widened, unbeknownst to you, and shielded the bright light that streamed through the curtains away from you.

“Oh, baby,” she muttered, running her hand down your arm. “What can I do?” She shuffled to your side, maneuvering your body onto her chest, sighing at the way your body complied with her movements like putty.

“Just this is okay,” you replied solemnly, closing your eyes. Jessie made sure to keep her breathing balanced, using as much concentration as possible to keep her body still. The two of you stayed like that for a while, until you moved your head up with a wince, noticing the Chelsea logo adorned on your girlfriend's shorts.

“You need to go, Jess.”

The look on Jessie’s face told you all you needed to know. She must've forgotten all about training, bound by the comfort of your body pressing into her own, and pursed her lips together to show her contention to the statement.

You huffed, lifting your body to move back to your side of the bed. “C’mon Jessie Baby, you’ll be la—”

Your balance was shaky, your arms lacking the strength to hold you up for long. Jessie pulled you back into her chest, wrapping her arms over you, her hands resting on your arse and thighs.

“You're sick,” she stated, swaying you back and forth. The movement was comforting enough for the aches in your body. “I can stay, y’know. They let us stay.”

“Don't lie, Fleming, I swear to God.” You retorted, using all your strength to push yourself back against the sheets. The woman looked at you with the utmost concern. Her eyes were beady and broad, empathy scattered across the constellation of freckles dotted across her cheeks.

“You are going to training, Jess.”

Jess took her time in replying, hoping the silence would make you rethink your decision. She would love nothing more than to shower you with praise and affection. She’d make you breakfast without you getting out of bed, then run you a bath so that your muscles would ease from the heat.

She’d bring you whatever you wanted whether that was chocolate, ice cream, cuddles, kisses — anything. In times like this, she was completely at your will. But on the other hand, she knew you had made up your mind. Jessie loved football, you thought. You weren't going to make her stay home for you, especially when you were experienced with this sort of pain prior to now.

So that's how you were left to yourself for most of the day.

Jessie left reluctantly after ten minutes getting the rest of her things. She made sure to bring you in some food and multiple heat packs before she ran out the door, already inevitably late. You stayed in bed for the most part, finding yourself huddled into a ball with your phone in front of you. After a while, a recurring, dull discomfort flared in your head, and you weren't able to scroll aimlessly on social media due to the light sending hurt across your face.

Jessie sent you hourly questions, asking if you were okay or if you were feeling any better. She was talking to Niamh about her worry for you when Emma sent the Canadian around the field for being late. Niamh told her the best thing for you was Jessie herself, which unfortunately sent a new wave of guilt through the woman as she moved through drills.

By a little after noon, you were feeling hungry, but your body was not equipped to get itself out of bed in search of anything to soothe your hunger. Instead, you drank the rest of the water next to your bed, the thought of Jessie being home soon sending you into a comforting sleep.

It didn't last long though. You sent upwards, a wave of nausea overtaking your senses. You had only just made it to the toilet in time, sitting in the bathroom, by the toilet, in silence.

You were dazed, fatigued, and hungry — not a good mix for a woman. You wanted to be productive — the apartment was in ruins, and there was so much you could be doing instead of lazing about on the floor of your bathroom feeling sorry for yourself. You hated that Jessie would come home from a rough day at training to a messy house and the burden of taking care of you.

The thought almost made you laugh — you would've if your body would've allowed it — Jessie would be appalled if she heard those words come out of your mouth. The woman was endlessly caring, sympathetic and kind. She always made sure you were okay, even if she was having issues of her own. Your relationship was a saving grace for both of you. Together, you built each other up in all different ways. You moulded as a couple but also as friends. You laughed, played and talked like you had known each other forever, even if you had only met her in college. You complimented each other in ways no one else could. If she had heard you call yourself a burden, you’d be in for it.

Jessie loved you in ways you couldn't comprehend. Turns out, you felt the same for her.

You were too stuck in your own thoughts to hear the front door open, or the way your girlfriend announced her arrival. You stirred by the toilet, only looking up when the bathroom door swung open, revealing your girlfriend in all her glory, holding a handful of flowers and chocolate.

“Oh, baby,” Immediately, she placed all the things down, kneeling by your side to scoop you up into a hug. “You’re okay. I'm so sorry you're feeling like this.”

You weren't crying, but the overwhelming sensation of Jessie with you was overstimulating. You weren't usually this sentimental, but the way Jessie picked you up, placing you gently on the bed with a wet cloth over your head. She slipped off your shirt and replaced it with a new one of her own. You listened to her with your eyes shut, hearing she hurried shuffle across the room.

When she met you with cuddles, you knew she had changed from the sweatpants and jumper she had replaced her training kit for. You engulfed her scent, letting it soothe the dryness in your throat.

The two of you were slowly breathing in each other’e ambience when Jessie finally spoke, her whisper sending shivers down you ear.

“I love you so much, Y/N.” Her breath fanned over your neck. “You're my favourite person in the whole world.”

_____________________________

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enkvyu · 8 months

Text

"good morning."

"what."

your breath condenses as you exhale in soften shock, the presence of your boyfriend waiting by your bedroom door at a time when the moon still shone simply perplexing to you. gojo smiles, kindly, patiently, as you sniffle and force the gears in your head to turn.

finally, you shuffle up and sit upright in bed. "what are you doing here?" you croak, throat protesting from the lack of use.

"i came as fast as i could when you told me you were sick."

"it's almost three in the morning."

"that's why i said good morning."

your body takes a screenshot.

gojo laughs in a single breath and pushes himself off the doorframe, untucking his hands from behind his back.

he isn't in his usual jujutsu uniform you realise, as he steps into a spot where the moonlight shines through your window and spills onto the carpet. instead of his uniform, he's wearing a tight black shirt that's riddled with cuts and it's styled with an outrageous amount of scars on his face.

you can't help it, worry forces you up.

gojo catches you in his arms as you attempt to get out of bed, the rush of motion causing your head to spin but you don't care, you couldn't possibly. you trace a scar by his lips with your thumb.

"what happened to you?"

his lips quirk upward and you catch the movement with the tip of your finger. "do you think i look tougher with the scars?"

"what do i think? are you serious? you look like you’re on your deathbed, what happened?" your voice rises and he shushes you gently.

"okay, okay, i'm sorry. don't be mad, please?"

"why are you covered in scars?" you say instead.

"i got into a fight."

there's another scar across his cheek and you trace it. "with who?"

gojo tilts his head towards your hand so that your palm ends up caressing his cheek. "no one important especially because, you know, he's dead now."

"and you're definitely okay?"

he nods into your hand. "i think the one who isn't okay, is you."

you sniffle. "i took medicine already, i'll be fine. but you, god gojo, where do i even start?"

"you can start by getting over your fever."

your boyfriend tries to wiggle out of your hold but you only clench tighter, intent on keeping him close by. "are you sure you're okay?"

the smile he gives you is pure sweetness. he leans forward to kiss your cheek and you feel his grin even then. "of course. i’m more than okay, you’ll never guess who i just won against."

there's still doubt in your gaze when he pulls back and he laughs, breath hitting your face.

"i already went and got checked up by a doctor that i really trust." he adds.

it’s hard to not believe him when he looks at you like this, so you relent, sitting back. “shouldn't you be sleeping and resting up, then?”

gojo takes something out from the bag you didn't know he had been carrying, and places it on your bedside table. "shouldn't you? how could i sleep well knowing you were probably suffocating from all that snot in your nose?"

you scrunch up your face and glance quickly at the pile of used tissues on the table that he had to brush aside. "i was just about to blow my nose actually." your argue sounds weak even to your own ears.

he hums like he believes you. "right. and when was the last time you took any fever medication?"

"i think i went to bed at around eight?"

he tsks. "you're long overdue for something."

you recall his earlier words. “so, who was the guy you just beat?”

his eyes glint in the light. “guess.”

you groan. “i don’t know, was it the guy you were talking about a few weeks ago?”

“sukuna?”

“why are you asking me like i know?”

gojo makes a face at you. “but yeah, it was him. i beat him real good too.”

you’ve never really believed in gojo’s outlandish tales, of scary monsters and magic people, but sometimes your boyfriend will come home with injuries just as mindboggling, and you must admit you’d believe him a little then.

still, you can’t hide the taunting smile that passes through. “yeah babe, you really showed him.”

he sticks out his tongue and unpacks the bag he brought.

you watch as he walks in and out your room, holding nothing in his hands one second and appearing with a thermos later. he pours steaming water into a mug and places that down next to the bottle of medicine. it's the liquid type, and you wonder if it became a habit to buy it over tablets and pills, from raising megumi and tsukimi.

"babe, i don't want you to stay up just for me." your blocked nose causes the b's to come out as m's. “especially if you’re injured.”

"i'm your boyfriend, this is what i'm meant to do." he says. “and i’m fine, seriously.”

"i'm pretty sure this is a job for my parents, not you."

"i'm trying to be romantic." gojo sighs, measuring out the bright red liquid into a medicine cup. "but of course, you have to be incredibly snarky, even more so now that you're sick."

you rub your nose. "careful, i'm extremely emotional right now. you could easily make me cry."

he spares you a quick glance. "you'll live. here, take this."

gojo hands you the medicine cup and nudges forward the mug of warm water. looking up, he eyes you expectantly.

you meet his gaze hesitantly. "does this... taste gross?"

there's a silence until gojo starts laughing. "are you a child? i don't even think you could taste it even if you tried."

"i'm literally a patient, don't laugh at me."

"just drink the syrup."

"in shoujo mangas, isn't this when you're meant to be nicer to me?" you mumble underneath your breath, though he catches it anyway.

in the silence that ensues, you begin mentally prepping yourself for the unnaturally sweet taste of raspberry medicine, the kind that has always reminded you of childhood sickness. back then, you were lucky to have your family hovering over you with a wet towel and a warm hand.

just as you go in for a sip, gojo suddenly speaks.

"want me to make this more shoujo-esque, then?"

you blink at him. "huh?" you ask intelligently.

under the moon, you can barely make out the soft smirk on his face and the look in his eyes that you know all too well. it's a feature of his from when the two of you were still in highschool, and though this kind of cheekiness has faded away with time, you still recognise it.

it's the look he gives you when he's up to nothing good.

something in the air changes, and your fever can’t completely explain the sudden heat.

gojo leans over, carefully taking the cup from your hands. making eye contact, he tips the red liquid into his mouth, careful not to spill any. you gape at him, captured in his gaze, as he lifts your chin with a finger and presses his lips on yours.

he swallows the gasp that tumbles out from your mouth, flooding your senses with raspberry, though not the kind that reminds you of sickness. you can only think of his hand that creeps up to cup your cheek, the other tucking hair away from your face. he coaxes your mouth open with his tongue and forces you to drink.

when you’ve gulped it all down, his hands leave your side. he tries to lean away but you follow after, deepening the kiss.

gojo's fingers curl into your bedsheets and you feel his weight dip into the mattress as as he uses his knee to lean forward. you feel yourself fall backwards but he catches the small of your back with a hand and a chuckle.

eventually, he pulls away for air and though you need it just as bad, your lips trail after his.

eyes meet and spark in the dim lit room.

"was that still gross?" he asks, and it takes you a while to realise he was talking about the taste of the medicine.

you swipe your tongue against your bottom lip to relive the flavour, and his eyes follow the motion.

"no." you murmur. "actually, i don't remember. why don't we do it again so i can find out?"

gojo grins, using the hand on your back to press you against him, the other resting on the wall behind you. "only once more."

just like he promised, his lips fall back on yours and you sigh into the contact.

the night ends in raspberry sweetness, but not the kind that is unpleasant.

if you saw this somewhere else, no you didn't <3

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo fluff #gojo imagine #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo #gojo... if he Won #gojo if he was alive sobs

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daemonmage · 1 month

Text

I keep thinking about this AU where Bruce just stays in college and becomes a doctor but still gets dragged into the superhero world.

Ok so Bruce is a doctor and is known for never turning down a patient because he’s still Bruce and he just doesn’t want anyone to die. He still lives in Gotham which is still a horrible place. He still tries to help Gotham by donating and creating his Wayne foundation but it’s hard because the inherent corruption in Gotham hinders anything he does this way.

The mob is still super active in Gotham and a lot of Batman’s rogues still happen because a lot of his rogues just happen with or without Batman. Poison Ivy still becomes an ecoterrorist. Penguin still becomes a powerful mob boss. Mad Hatter is still just the worst. Tommy probably still tries to kill Bruce. Just so many of Gotham’s rogues still exist, except there is no hero to stop them in Gotham. People try, but Gotham is never kind to any hero. Bruce is immensely frustrated by all this but he can’t really do anything. Hell sometimes Lesly’s clinic (cause I feel like he would work there) gets harassed and extorted to help heal mob members and crime wars. He hates this a lot but he’s trapped. He doesn’t have Batman training or gear, the best he can do is help where he can.

However there are still other heroes in this world and Superman is literally just a quick flight away. The JL forms without a Batman and they see Gotham as a powder keg. So they try to help when they can and sometimes they get injured. It comes to a head when a Metropolis (Lex Luthor specifically) and some Gotham rogues team up to get rid of the main hero pain in their necks. Lex creates kryptonite bullets and disperses them to the Gotham rogues to use. Lex sees this as a win because he can get Superman killed without doing much and the Gotham rogues see this as a win cause they have a big weapon against Superman.

So Superman gets shot at with kryptonite bullets. They aren’t the best so they hurt him but only one really makes it through and hits his skin. He has to call in back up and the JL comes to help. I can image Wonder Woman or Flash getting there first. They have no idea what to do because holy shit Superman was shot. That shouldn’t happen! But they’ve heard of this doctor in Gotham that’s supposed to be really good. Maybe Oliver or Dinah suggest Bruce idk. So they take Superman to Dr. Bruce Wayne.

Dr. Bruce Wayne is at his manor with Alfred and a young Dick Grayson (because I firmly believe Bruce would still adopt the kids) and then there is a knock on the door. Alfred goes to answer and in barges the Justice League with a bleeding Superman. Bruce is immediately on his feet barking orders to the JL to get equipment he can use and telling Dick and Alfred to stay back. He doesn’t know what’s going on or how freaking Superman is bleeding out in front of him but he doesn’t care. Bruce realizes quickly that the bullet is cause Clark more pain so it can’t be a leave the bullet in there scenario. He gets the bullet out and asks the JL how to help Clark heal. They say sunlight helps but this is Gotham! It’s polluted and over cast all the time, he won’t be able to get enough sunlight. Bruce remembers a sunlamp they have from a science experiment for Dick. He tells Dick to go get it and they pray that it works. It does by some miracle, though it’s no substitute for actual sunlight.

The League is grateful for Bruce and Clark is also immensely grateful cause holy shit he got shot. The Justice League has to now figure out how these bullets got out in the first place and well Bruce can’t help but be nosy so he mentions that a few of his patients, the mob ones, let it slip that the higher ups got into contact with someone in metropolis and Bruce knows Lex hates Superman. So he helps them out a bit too.

And after that any time they need help with some medical issue they go to super doctor Bruce. He’s also still Bruce and can’t ignore his detective brain so he helps them with mysteries too from time to time. Idk I feel like this still needs more fleshing out but I think it could be funny. Or sad. Or both.

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sickeninglyshoujo · 3 months

Note

Idk if you do requests or suggestions n stuff like that, so feel free to ignore this, but how do you think Simon would feel about a significant other who got caught in an explosion or something that badly scared/disfigured half her face?

She’s not insecure enough to hide her face because of it, but she gets irritable when people stare, and will will sometimes make self deprecating jokes about being an, “eyesore” and how she, “ain’t exactly a beauty anymore”

a/n: this is actually the first time anyones requested anything from me and it made me so happy omg

masterlist here

buy me a ko-fi

warnings: mentions of injury, blood, scars, a dash of smut

word count: 1.4k

The scarring that covered a little under half of your face rarely bothered you. The occasional tightness or twinges of pain with the weather changes was the worst of it and nothing that couldn’t be remedied with a thin coating of bio oil and a gentle massage.

The appearance of the scarring didn’t bother you either, compared to the angry red skin that had first grown back after the explosion.

One misplaced charge by a newbie to blow open a door had sent you sprawled on your ass, your pride hurting. You’d hardly noticed the pain until you’d seen Johnny white as a sheet when he kneels down over you, “Don’ worry lass, ‘ve gotcha.”

“Johnny?” You ask, a little out of sorts from the shockwave of the charge.

“Lass, ‘ve gotcha!” He affirmed, stripping your helmet and his tac gear, before his thin cotton vest was pressed over your face.

“Ah know, lass, best ah can do now.”

“Can’t see, Johnny…”

“Hush, lass, gotta keep you covered. Yer in a state… Bleedin’ through already.”

Johnny kept heavy pressure on your face, barking out orders at the others on how to complete the mission, all the while holding his vest pressed tightly, so tightly onto your face.

“S-soap, i’ hurts,” you moaned.

“Hush, lass, we’ll get out soon,” His hands disappeared from your face and you were being hauled up into his arms, “Gotta finish the mission then we’ll get you to a medic, promise.”

Ghost is in the medical wing before your wounds have even been cleaned, “Where’s the fucking shithead who placed the charge!”

You blink, swiping at some of the blood covering your face.

“The rookie’s still in debrief, Ghost, she only came here because she needed medical,” Soap says.

“Get that little asshole in here, he’ll need medical by the time I’m done with him.”

The healing had been slow and painful as your nerves knit themselves back together.

“You don’ have to worry about getting revenge on the rookie, lass,” Johnny said one day as he visited you in the medical wing, “Ghost has been at the poor dog’s heels, not giving him a moment’s rest. Think he’s about to keel over and die from the amount of suicides hes been given.”

Ghost sleeps in the armchair next to your bed.

Ghost helps to remove the stitches after you insisted on not returning to the hospital.

Ghost is the one who helps to massage the medicated creams on while you grit your teeth at the bone deep pain that radiates.

Ghost is the one ready to bite off heads when people so much as let their eyes linger on the raised and angry skin.

“Don’t worry about it, Simon, I really don’t mind the looks much. People are just wondering what happened,” The mission had been need-to-know and even the details of your injury weren’t allowed to leave confidential briefings.

Your opinion changes as your scars settle into a raised and mottled mauve, pockmarks and dents covering half of your face, the stares on base continue.

“What, you’ve never seen an eyesore before? I think you’d be used to looking at one in the mirror every morning with a face like that,” You snapped at a new recruit who had completely stopped in his tracks, mouth opened in shock at your appearance, “Meet me in the gym tomorrow at oh-six-hundred. You’re going to learn to respect your superiors' battle wounds the hard way,” You snarled out at him.

Off base, the stares are worse so you begin to limit your time on leave.

You grit your teeth and set your face in a hard line in public, schooling your expression so that people don’t notice the way that their wide-eyed glances hit you like punches.

You don’t notice how fewer stare when Ghost is around, he’ll glare them down over your head and make them scurry away before their eyes even reach you.

You don’t notice the way Ghost’s eyes darken in the rec room when you make a joke to the lads about being “damaged goods” and “Frankenstein” even if your eyes are filled with tears of laughter as you cackle at your own jokes.

“Don’ like hearing you talk like that,” Simon corners you after you leave the rec room to refill your drink.

“Jesus Christ! Simon! You nearly gave me a heart attack!” You clutch your chest where your racing heart resided, “Give a girl some warning before I attach a bell to you.”

He didn’t speak for a beat, “I don’t want to hear you calling yourself ‘damaged goods’ anymore, love.”

“Just speaking the truth, Si,” You gestured at your face, the still painful and shiny skin, “You can’t tell me you haven’t thought it too? I know I wasn’t winning beauty contests before, but now I would probably be better as a scare actor.”

“Tha’s not true.”

“You don’t have to be nice to me just because I’m your girlfriend!”

“If I was bein’ nice I’d tell you tha’ you were the scariest,” Simon begins, still kissing down the line of scarred flesh, now reaching your chest, free of scars.

“You’re so pretty,” Simon murmurs against the line where healthy flesh met mottled scarring, “Want you to say it back to me, love. Need to hear you say it.”

The healthy skin of your face began to flush, nearly matching your scars in color, “Si-”

“I need you to know how pretty you are to me, before and now,” His kisses continue tracing your healed wounds, “Never seen a prettier bird.”

His hands trace your hip bones, settling at their crest, “Before I could only think how soft you were, that I had to protect you on missions. Nearly got my head blown off more than once. Now all I can see is how strong you are,” His hands begin to trail lower, petting over your stomach and then lower still.

“There she is,” He coos when you jump as his fingers make contact, “Now tell me how pretty you are for me doll, wanna hear you say it before I make you cry it f’ me.”

He makes you cry that night.

He switches from nipple to nipple, “Say it, lovie,” He tells you as he pauses to thumb at your nipple, giving his mouth a break.

“‘M pretty,” You whimper out.

“Again,” he says, kissing down your stomach, “Give yourself another compliment, sweet girl.”

“Si!”

“I’ll help you pretty girl,” He coos at you, in between mouthing at your hip bones, “You’re strong, now say it.

“I-I’m strong,” Now his mouth travels lower still, you wriggle trying to rush him into going faster. He can tell your game and deliberately pulls his mouth off, “You’re impatient too, lovie, but I’ll forgive it and give you what you need if you give me another compliment.”

“‘M not an eyesore!”

“That’s right, you’re beautiful, lovie,” He finally lowers himself to give tiny licks at your clit sending you jerking up into his mouth.

“Everytime you say those things about yourself it drives me mad that you don’t see what I do. Even with your scars you’re still beautiful and sexy and knowing you’re all mine makes me hard as a fucking rock.”

You whimper under him, trying to grind down onto is tongue to get more, more, more.

“So pretty for me, pretty face, pretty body, pretty cunt,” Simon murmurs into you, pulling his mouth away just long enough to watch his fingers tease along your hole before slipping one inside, “Givin’ me the prettiest little moans when I touch…here,” He crooked his fingers inside of you and made you jerk under him, crying out.

“The scars just make you prettier, dove,” Simon says, “Shows me you’re real and can take anything the world can give you. That you can’t be taken from me.”

His words fizzle into your brain as you grind down onto his finger everytime it thrusts into you, “Si, more,” You pant out, “Need more.”

“Gimme another one, pretty girl.”

“‘M brave,” You can barely get the words out, torn between trying to whimper out praise to yourself to try and get Simon to do more or to beg him for it instead.

“Good girl, you’re listening so well,” He slid another finger inside of you, “You’re so brave sweet girl,” He kissed your thigh.

#simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #cod x reader #cod fanfiction #grave writes

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diaryofanidiot · 10 months

Text

The Experiments

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem! Reader

Chapter list: Prologue, 1, 2, <3> , 4, 5

Cw: Swearing; torture; blood; medical experiments; panic attacks; malnourishment

Summary: For over a year, Y/N was held in a soviet experimentation facility. Forced to fight and claw her way to live, she managed to stay alive. When the 141 rescues her, they get way more intel than bargained for.

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Chapter Three

Sweat made the hospital gown irritatingly stick to my skin as I tried to get comfortable in the cot. They had left me restrained during the night, making it harder to sleep as I looked restlessly around the medical bay.

The occasional night shift nurse or guard would pass by, but other than that, I received no reprive from the torment that was my own mind.

Ghost was no longer nearby on what I assumed had been a guard duty of sorts. He must've left during the measly few hours of sleep that I had managed. With a huff, I tapped my finger to the call button and waited.

Within the minute, a nurse appeared with a friendly smile. For the night shift, she still certainly kept her bedside manner in check.

She brought over a chart with various illustrations of what I could possibly need, and I pointed to the bathroom. The kind nurse smiled with an "of course." and went to retrieve a guard to undo my restraints and help me into my wheelchair.

I don't know when I began scheming. All I knew was that if I didn't get out of this confined space and into some fresh air, I might actually snap. Sure, Soap or maybe even Gaz, if he had truly forgiven me for the hand incident, might be kind enough to take me for some in the morning.

Despite that fact that slipped my brain, my entire extended time of washing my hands was filled with thoughts of escape.

As the guard wheeled me back, I managed to slip my hand into his jacket pocket and nab the key undetected. I don't think he expected it with the friendly smile I had sacrificed to him.

Once I was back in my cot and the guard fastened my restraints, I feigned soreness in my dominant wrist.

"Too tight?" He asked me. I gave him a pitiful look before I saw the gears crank in his brain. "I suppose keeping this one loose won't do any harm. Just don't snitch. If you even can." He snickered and put a playful finger to his lips as he allowed me more wiggle room with that arm. He was kind. I hated to pull the wool over his eyes.

Once I was left alone to rest once more, I couldn't help the slight smirk on my face despite the nerves in my stomach as I maneuvered the key to the lock. It took a while of fumbling, but soon it went in, and I was able to nudge it until it clicked open.

My eyes shot up and looked around, checking my surroundings before unlocking my other hand and then my ankles. I leaned over on my cot to pull my wheelchair next to the bed. Now for the difficult part.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed while using my arms to keep balance as I lowered myself into the chair. It was excruciating on my body, but I had already decided that the ends justified the means.

Once I was seated comfortable, I glanced at the IV in my arm. There was no way I could take the bulky stand holding the drip bag with me, so I did what any not so sane person would've done and removed the needle on my own. I already had multiple infected wounds. What was the risk of one more?

Determination flooded my bones as I peered around to make sure the coast was clear. Despite my inner fire I couldn't help but jump at every sound while I maneuvered the unfamiliar place.

When I finally reached the steel door entrance of the medical building, I released a breath I didn't realize I was holding and struggled to open the door; while simultaneously fitting my wheel chair through.

It didn't matter in the end as the door opened by a force not of my own. My gaze shot upward to see an all too familiar mask staring down at me, the night sky not even providing enough light to see his eyes through the skull.

"What do you think you're doing?"

He understood my motives. I didn't know why at this exact moment. Yet, here we were. He matched my pace as he allowed me to wheel my way around the compound and revel in the fresh air.

I occasionally peeked a glance at him. He seemed so stoic but the kindness in the action showed me he was a bit more than that.

"Don't do that." He broke the silence. "I can see the damn gratitude in your face. You're still getting reprimanded when we're done here."

I broke my eyes away suddenly. He could try to play the mean guy all he wanted, but this was the biggest act of kindness I had received in so long. He would get my gratitude whether he liked it or not.

The moon was a small crescent tonight, and a cool breeze blew past occasionally. Crickets chirped, and the occasional glow of a firefly caught my attention. Just the sight if it made everything that I went through. No. That I survived feel worth it.

I had been advised to wait to speak during my physical therapy sessions but I had to communicate. Even just a little.

"You-" I coughed as I got too eager to speak. His eyes were on me now as we paused our stroll. "Saved me." I managed. He handed me a water and I sipped it gratefully.

"Didn't even know you were there. Was just doing my job." He insisted matter-of-factly. "You're welcome, though. If that's what you really want. Nothing is owed."

I couldn't help but roll my eyes once he looked away and continued our walk. Didn't he realize I owed everything to him and his team? Eventually, his hand grabbed the back of my wheelchair, halting my movements.

"We need to get you back where you belong. Cmon." He looked at me expectantly. I got the feeling that if i didn't wheel myself back that he would do it for me. With a look of dejection, I let him walk me back to that horrible place known as the medbay.

"Don't look so sad. I was told you'll only be there for a few weeks." He looked forward as he spoke. "After that, you'll only need to go in for a few checkups."

I had more questions but no way to speak them. It was frustrating, to say the least, but I couldn't help myself from trusting him.

Ghost was right. After the first two weeks, many of my injuries had healed substantially. The infections were now gone, and the sores on my neck were toward the end stages of healing.

The time spent there was agonizing, switching between physical therapy, speech therapy, and the constant check-in from the doctors and nurses.

Soap visited when Ghost couldn't watch over me. His company was nice enough to help pass the time. He was more chatty than the latter which I appreciated. Even Gaz began to visit again. He had truly forgiven me, which I couldn't lie that I had my doubts of, and his hand had healed up.

There was the occasional day or two when none of the trio would visit me. I had been told they were still cleaning up messes near the place I was rescued. Part of me wondered if they were searching for others like me. Other bioengineered weapons that is.

But my favorite time of day was the pre "lights out" walks that Ghost would occasionally take me on before retiring for the night. While he didn't speak much, he seemed to understand that they helped substantially. I liked to think that he enjoyed them as well. He certainly at least seemed less tense.

That is, until my voice began to come back to me. It was scratchy at first and hurt my throat for a bit, but soon, something phenomenal happened. I recognized it. I finally had my own voice back.

I might've abused the happiness it gave me by never shutting up...

"You really like the sound of your own voice, don't ya?" Gaz interrupted. I paused before realizing I was rambling to him.

"...am I really talking that much?"

"Well," He smiled in amusement. "I just spent the last Twenty minutes sitting here listening to you go on about the things you've observed during your stay in the medbay."

I looked away, apologizing. He laughed and shook his head.

"Nah, you're getting discharged today. You have a right to be excited."

"Just glad you guys got back in time." I smiled. The rest of the 141 walked in shortly after.

"(Y/n)!" Soap called, a giant grin on his face. Ghost and Price trailed close behind. "How ya feeling, lass?"

He placed his hand on my head, ruffling my hair. "You ready to go?"

"Yes. Please." I said, my tone filled with relief. Gaz handed me my crutches, which I had upgraded to a few days ago.

Once I was discharged and the proper paperwork was filed, I was led to a new building. One with proper rooms and facilities.

"You understand, (y/n), now that your voice is back, We are going to need you to answer some questions?" Price asked. I wasn't as close to him as I was to the other's, considering he didn't visit nearly as often. He was kind to me, though.

I nodded. "I'll do what I can. If there are others like me out there... I want to do what I can to help."

The Captain smiled at me with a hint of admiration. "Atta girl. Here you are."

They had led me to a room. It was mostly bare aside from some essential furniture. Like an actual bed, a desk, a dresser, and a trunk.

It mightve been bare... but oh how I missed privacy.

"There's some clothes in the dresser. May not be your style, but it's what's on hand." Soap spoke, pointing toward it before facing me. "Better than that hospital gown, I assume?"

I nodded eagerly before feeling a firm hand pat my back. Ghost.

"Get settled in. I'll come get you in a short while and you can give us some answers."

I watched as they took their leave, closing the door behind them. I was practically giddy at the newfound freedom as I limped over to the dresser and opened it. Plain black shirts and cargo pants were folded military style.

Part of me wondered who prepped it for me. No matter. Getting dressed on my own was an entirely new hurdle that my physical therapist hadn't addressed yet, but with the help of the bed to sit on, I managed.

I set my crutches aside and flopped back onto the mattress. Finally, my ears were greeted with... nothing. No beeping monitors, no footsteps that raised my anxiety, not the mumbled voices of nurses and doctors. My nose was given the same reprive. No smell of hand sanitizer or cleaning products. Surprisingly, less sterile smelled... better.

I don't know how long I had stayed there with my eyes closed. It felt good not to be so overwhelmed.

All good things must come to an end.

A knock at my door and the clicking of the latch made my eyes open. Ghost, despite being so large, moved quietly. I never heard him approaching.

"Ready to give us some answers?"

A/n: Once again, thank you all for the love this fic has received. All your comments and reviews have done nothing but make me smile <3 I hope you enjoy this chapter. I'm gonna be making a separate post for taglist add requests soon. I'll link it to the fic once it's up as it's getting a bit chaotic 😅 if I missed you, then feel free to ask again. I've gotten a lot of replies asking to be added

Taglist: @warenai @linoskitten11 @jamesrifftapes @justmare @hk-4ever @thriving-n-jiving @katelouis98 @tayaisback @josieguts @btszn @lemmyyy0606 @msecho19 @cory-viv @cybercl0ne @randomhumans-blog @vinithechocolatevampire @embermdk @itsryuken @neothewitch @undercover-smutlover @noeltako @y2cade @ghostindeath @soundsfunbutno @untoldshortsofthefandoms @emily-roberts @x4vern1a @theimaginaryheir @bitchoftoji @stunkbiggu @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @theredviolets @v1naco @berryjuicyy @serenitysmind @mundane-frogola @sushiumex @thorninspaceandtime @tooruen @hotchlover

#cod mw2 #cod mwii #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #captain john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick

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daddy-dotcom · 10 months

Text

The Visit

Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: Things aren’t looking good for Spencer after his visit to Mexico. So you decide to prepare for the worst, and you knew getting married was the only surefire way to stay connected while he was locked up.

Rating: M

Words: 5,333

Warnings: Language, typical canon violence, smut (fingering, p in v, breeding kink if you squint, unprotected sex)

*Disclaimer: Major inaccuracies for how the American prison system works lol*

TL;DR: Spencer and Reader get married so that they can have conjugal visits while he's in prison.

__________________________________________

I couldn’t bear to see him like this. Even worse, I couldnt bear to not be able to hold him and tell him everything was okay. Seeing him behind bars, alone, was enough to make me fight back tears. I’ve seen him hurt before, but this was different. It was almost as if I were staring at the ghost of Spencer Reid. I knew going to Mexico to get his mother’s medication was risky, but I had no idea that he’d end up in this much trouble. I should have stopped him. I should have gone with him. But no matter how guilty I was feeling, the damage was already done. With no concrete evidence that he was framed, it looked like Spencer was most likely going to be found guilty for murder. The love of my life was going to prison and I was completely helpless in the situation. At least I thought I was. . .until an idea struck me. An insane idea, and somewhat of a long shot, but an idea nonetheless, some small way to help Spencer keep his sanity while he was locked up. I wasn’t sure if he would go for it, but I had to try.

“hey, Spence,” I said with my face pressed against the cool metal of the bars.

“hi, (Y/N)” he said with the faintest hint of a smile on his lips.

“you’re looking more like yourself, baby. And they’re letting you come home with us on the jet.”

He slowly nodded his head in agreement, unsure of what else to say. For a man who typically had so much to say, it was eerie to be in such a silent room.

It’s now or never.

“So Spence, you know I was thinking, in case the…the unthinkable happens, and you aren’t acquitted…” I was fighting back the tears, trying to get my idea across,

“…maybe we should…I think it might be a good idea if we…get married?”

He immediately looked up to meet my gaze, looking more alive than he has the entire time we’ve been in Mexico.

“Married?” he said softly.

“Well it would only be so I can visit you, Spence. I mean like visit you visit you, without all the guards watching us and in a place where I can actually hold you and spend more time with you. Hell, I can’t even hug you for more than a couple seconds during a regular visit”

I could see the gears turning in his mind, something I’ve seen a million times, but I couldn’t tell if he was actually considering my offer.

“It’s been a year Spence, it’s not like we haven’t talked about it.”

It’s true. We’ve been dating for over a year now, and we’ve both made it clear that we’d like to marry each other some day. But we never imagined it would be this soon and under these circumstances.

Spencer got up from the bench he’d been sitting on and came over to hold my hand through the bars.

“Even if I weren’t facing prison time…it would be an absolute honor to marry you, (Y/N)”

All of the tension in my body melted away now that I knew he was on board with my proposition. I gave him a warm smile as he gently cupped my face in his hands. He planted a soft kiss on my forehead and held onto my hand before getting down on one knee.

“If we’re going to do this, I’d at least like to propose to you properly,” he said, with as much of a smile as he could muster.

“(YFN/YLN), will you marry me?” he asked.

The dam finally broke and I couldn’t fight back the tears any longer. They began to stream down my face as I let out a firm and resounding “Yes.”

______________________________

I was practically squirming in my seat on the plane ride home. It was almost impossible to keep this secret and it took everything I had not to blurt out our plan. I knew that I had to tell them soon, since we were going to need their help to make this happen. With a deep breath, I pulled Spencer up from our seats and marched over to the rest of the team.

“Guys, Spencer and I have an announcement to make,”

“Oh my god you’re not pregnant, are you?” said JJ.

“No! No, it’s not that,” I replied, I hesitated before dropping the bomb.

“Spencer and I are getting married.”

Prentiss and JJ exchanged a confused look while Alvez’s mouth hung open in shock. Rossi, however, seemed to know exactly what was going on.

“Oh I get it, you two want to get married so that (Y/N) can request ‘family visits.’” The implications of putting the word ‘family visits’ in airquotes was not lost on me. “You all might of heard of what they used to call them back in the day: conjugal visits.”

“Actually the practice conjugal visits have evolved into a more family oriented experience. Modern family visits usually last the weekend and include children and other family members besides just a spouse.”

“Glad to see you’re almost back to normal, kid” quipped Rossi.

“Well if we’re going to do this, we’re going to need some help. Prentiss, do you have anyone that can meet us at Quantico and marry us on such short notice?” I asked.

“I’m already making the call.”

“Does anyone else think this is just a little bit crazy? There’s a good chance that Spence won’t even go to prison at all,” JJ said.

Alvez snapped out of his daze and interjected.

“I agree, but if Reid and (Y/N) get to spend some alone-time together in the event that he does go, I don’t see the harm. I mean come on, Rossi’s been married like what, five times?”

“Hey, it’s only been three times,” Rossi responded.

“Look, JJ, you would do it for Will, wouldn’t you?”

She paused for a minute, pondering my question.

With a sympathetic look, JJ responded

“of course I would.”

_________________________________

As soon as we landed, we were greeted by Garcia and the court officiant who Prentiss had called on the plane. Garcia nearly tackled us coming out of the elevator, completely overjoyed to see Spencer home in one piece.

“Oh I’m so glad you’re all home safe!” she said squeezing us in a tight embrace.“But I can’t believe I had to find out about your engagement via a text from Alvez!”

“Sorry Penn, it was super last minute,” I said with a shrug.

“I brought you some things while you were on the plane ride home. (Y/N), for you I got a white dress, sorry I had to guess on the size, and Reid I asked your mom’s nurse if it was okay to grab a clean suit from your apartment.”

“Oh Penn, you didn’t have to do all this. Where did you even find a dress on such short notice?”

“Emily’s not the only one with connections sweet cheeks,” she said with a wink.

“Thank you so much, really Penn I appreciate it.”

“No need to thank me, now you and boy-wonder go get dressed so we can get you hitched.”

I took the bag from Penelope and inspected its contents once inside the bathroom. It was a simple but gorgeous white gown. It came down to about my calves, and it had white cap sleeves with a sweetheart neckline.

Classy. The woman has good taste.

I took a deep breath before exiting the stall, and I was greeted by Penelope, Emily, and JJ standing by the sink.

They all turned their heads towards me and gasped before looking me up and down.

“You look absolutely stunning,” said Emily.

“Spence is definitely gonna cry when he sees how gorgeous you look,” added JJ.

The tears had already started streaming down Penelope’s face as she walked over to me and placed one of her bracelets on my wrist.

“There, now you have your something blue,” she said with teary eyes. “You make the most beautiful bride (Y/N)”

“I’d love to stay in here and continue this little bachelorette party but our court official is waiting out there to marry our two lovebirds,” said Emily.

With one final look in the mirror, I took a deep breath and headed out the door, on my way to officially become Mrs. Spencer Reid. The reality of marriage hadn't hit me until just now. Who can blame me? I'd only become someone's fiancé about 5 hours ago. My palms began to sweat as my priorities shifted towards my impending marriage. Even if I wasn't ready, it was my idea in the first place and I intended to keep my end of the bargain. I, however, was more worried about Spencer. What if he was having second thoughts? I barely brought the idea up to him a few hours ago, and he was coming off of drugs in a Mexican jail cell when he agreed. Just as I was begging to spiral, a hand grazed the side of my waist and Spencer appeared. He cleaned up surprisingly well given the circumstances, looking incredibly handsome in his suit.

"Nervous?" he asked. As a profiler and a genius, there was no way I was going to be able to conceal my nerves from him.

"Spence, don't you know you're not supposed to see me in my dress before the ceremony?" I joked.

"(Y/N), you know I don't believe in superstitions," he said wryly.

"But yes, I am little nervous, mostly because I was afraid you might be having second thoughts."

He smiled warmly, the same way he had done when he agreed to marry me earlier in the day.

"Living in Vegas, and working with Rossi, I've known quite a bit of people who've gotten married on a whim. While it might be a little sooner than we thought, it's giving me a chance to hold you close in case I..." his voice began to crack and I could see his eyes welling up, "...in case I get taken into custody. But trust me, (Y/N), there was never a doubt in my mind about marrying you, especially now that I'm seeing how beautiful you look in a wedding dress."

I was tearing up too, at this point, for about the fifth time today. I took both of his hands in mine and simply said "I love you Spence,"

"I love you too, (Y/N)."

____________________________________________

We walked hand in hand into the briefing room where everyone was waiting anxiously for us and Spencer and I took our place across from each other in front of the court official. We joined hands once more and I could see Penelope shoot me a thumbs while Alvez gave Spence a reassuring pat on the back. The official began to speak which caused my heart to practically beat out of my chest.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here tonight to join this man and this woman in matrimony."

He turns toward Spencer before speaking again.

“Spencer, do you take this woman to be your wife, to live together in matrimony, to love her, to honor her, to comfort her, and to keep her in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do” he said while maintaining my gaze. I could see tears start to form in the corners of his eyes, causing my eyes to well up too. But I couldn’t cry, because if I started now, I wouldn’t be able to stop.

“(Y/N), do you take this man to be your husband, to live together in matrimony, to love him, to honor him, to comfort him, and to keep him in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?"

“I do,” I manage to say with a lump forming in my throat.

The court official turns back to Spencer and asks him to repeat after him.

"I, Spencer Reid, take you (Y/N), to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer,” I could hear his voice start to crack as he fought back more tears, “in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part."

He said this with such conviction that there was no doubt in my mind that I wanted to marry this man. I’d never seen his eyes so full of love before. It was those kind eyes looking back at me that turned one of the worst days into the happiest day of my life. Now, it was my turn to recite my vows and officially become Mrs. Reid.

“I, (YFN/YLN), take you, Spencer Reid, to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part."

It took everything in my power not to become a blubbering mess during my vows. Penelope, however, had no problem letting the tears flow freely down her rosy pink cheeks.

"By virtue of the authority vested in me under the laws of the District of Columbia, I now pronounce you husband and wife."

The court official gave a small smile before turning to Spencer and saying “you may kiss the bride."

Spencer wasted no time moving his hands to sit comfortably on my hips and I pulled his face in close for a kiss. This was something we’d done a million times before, but never for an audience. As soon as his lips touched mine, however, it felt as if we were the only two people in the room. All the exhaustion, pain, and suffering from the events of Mexico seemed to melt away as we kissed. He continued to press his lips more forcefully against mine and I could feel the slightest brush of his tongue before a voice spoke up from the crowd.

“Alright you two save it for the honeymoon,” Rossi joked.

We slowly pulled away and both our our cheeks began to blush like teenagers who’d just been caught by their parents. One by one, our team members came over to congratulate us and Penelope and JJ wanted a million pictures. We spent the rest of our night talking, laughing, and even dancing with our team members, just happy to find joy in this moment of darkness. Little did we know, Mexico was only the beginning of our troubles.

________________________________

Our wedding celebrations were cut short with the announcement that the FBI would not be legally representing Spencer since he broke protocol and didn’t inform them of his trip to Mexico. Once he went to trial, we still had no concrete evidence that he was framed, and his DNA was found on the murder weapon. Our worst nightmare had finally come true. Spencer was taken into custody and and whisked away to prison. A small part of me was grateful that I was now legally his wife, but I still wished that it didn’t have to happen under these circumstances. The day he was taken to prison, I immediately applied to be granted family visits and I begged Prentiss and Alvez to call in every favor they could to get moved up the waitlist. It was going to take a couple of months for Spencer to prove he was behaving in prison, but I could still visit him regularly before then. A couple of weeks after he was taken into custody, he was finally allowed to have visitors, and the team all unanimously agreed that I should be his first one. I wasn’t granted a family visit just yet, but I needed to see his face and finally be able to talk to him.

As I walked into the Millburn Correctional Facility, I was searched, went through a metal detector, and searched again before I was led into a room filled with a long partition and chairs on either side. I found a seat in the corner that had no one on either side of me and waited for Spencer to arrive. I nervously tapped my finger on the table as I anxiously waited to see my husband for the first time since he was taken to prison. I turned my head to see a tall, lanky figure in a white t-shirt and blue pants with a matching blue button up walking towards me. I could see his eyes light up when he spotted me and I could feel my entire being do the same.

“Hi baby,” I said, just happy to finally see him.

“Hi my love,” he replied with a ghost of a smile creeping up on his lips. I could tell he was slightly thinner and probably not sleeping well. However, his casual outfit combined with his shaggy hair and the growing stubble on his face somehow made him even more attractive.

“You look good baby, you holding up okay so far?”

“I'm doing okay, given the circumstances. How's my mom? Is she doing alright?"

"She's doing fine actually, Cassie said that she was having a really good day yesterday."

"Where did you, uh, tell her I was?"

"Uh, the beach," I told him with a chuckle, "well she asked if that's where you were and it seemed to make her happy so..."

"Good."

There was a pause and I couldn't tear my eyes away from his gaze. He wasn't breaking eye contact either and I could feel the love behind his stare.

"I, uh, I'm really happy to see you," he said, "I kind of wish you hadn't come, it's uh, not the best idea."

His words hurt slightly, but I knew the state that his mind was in. He didn't want to become a target and he definitely didn't want me to see him like this.

"Sorry Spence, but you're stuck with me," I said with a smile, "you got stuck with me the day you agreed to be my husband. And the last time I saw you, we promised for better or for worse. Besides, this is just the beginning, I've already applied for family visit privileges and we should be getting a date any day now. You don't know how badly I wish I could just hug you, Spence."

I saw him look down, I'm assuming in an attempt to fight back tears, before he spoke again.

"Thank you, (Y/N). I'm so grateful everyday that you're now my wife. But if you're here, that means you're not out working on a case, and I don't want to be a burden."

"That's nonsense Spence, you could never be a burden to me."

"Tell me about the case then, it will help get my mind off... all this."

I proceeded to give him the details of our latest case and I assured him that the rest of the team would be coming by to check in on him and visit him as well. It pained me that I couldn't hug or kiss him goodbye, but I held out hope that it wouldn't be long before I finally could.

While our team members were busy taking turns visiting Spencer in prison, I decided to start writing him letters. Most of them consisted of me catching him up on cases and my personal life, or lack thereof, while others were love letters that expressed just how much I truly missed him. Even though Spencer Reid is a certified genius and an excellent agent, at the end of the day he was still just a man and I knew that the stress that came with being in prison combined with not being able to touch me everyday was likely driving him insane. Luckily, our prayers had been answered and all of the favors from Prentiss and Alvez came through. I finally received a date for my family visit with Spencer, which would be three weeks from now. In the meantime, I began penning a letter to Spencer to tell him the good news. But this wouldn't be one of our typical letters; this letter was going to be much dirtier in nature. I had to admit that I too was starting to feel the effects from the lack of physical contact. So in my letter, I was going to tell him exactly what I wanted to do with him at our "family visit."

_______________________________

The day had finally arrived. Not only was I going to be able to see my husband, I was going to be able to hug him, touch him, hold him, and kiss him…among other things. In all honesty, I was just excited to see him with some semblance of normalcy. I had been researching spousal visits for the past three weeks, and the general consensus was that all of these women were dressing to impress. So I put on my nicest skirt, tight-fitting one that I had previously purchased with the intention of wearing to work but it was slightly too short for the office, and a floral blouse with spaghetti straps that was just low-cut enough to see the top of my cleavage. I paired the outfit with nude stilettos and fixed up my hair and makeup as nicely as I could. While my outfit certainly didn’t leave everything to the imagination, I still had to maintain a certain level of modesty. After all, I was still a federal agent.

The search process for spousal visits was much more intense, so much so that I couldn’t even bring my phone into the room with me. I was, however, allowed to bring books and a chess set for Spencer. I made my way through a longer hallway than the one I had gone through the last time, which led out to a courtyard where a row of temporary buildings sat. I was then escorted into one of the 4 rooms in the building and I was instructed to wait for the guards to bring Spencer in. I sat with my legs crossed on the bed in the middle of the room, which was unsurprisingly bare. The room resembled a somewhat nice motel room, with a kitchenette in one corner, a couch in the other, and a separate bathroom. The only sounds I could hear in the room were the ticking of the clock on the wall and the pounding of my heart in my chest. I wasn't nervous to see my husband, it was actually just the opposite. I was positively inpatient at the thought of finally being able to make physical contact with the love of my life. In an effort to distract myself, I poked around the bedside table, knowing damn well what I was going to find. There were more innocent items in the drawer, like soap and toothpaste, and right next to it were lubricant and condoms. We won't be needing those, I thought to myself with a smirk forming at the corner of my lips. I was startled by a knock at the door and quickly shut the door. I quickly adjusted my top and fixed my hair before replying.

"Come in!"

The door slowly swung open to reveal a handcuff-free Spencer standing in the doorway. He stood frozen in place, looking at me in disbelief that I was actually here. I stood up from my spot on the bed and ran over to give him the biggest hug. I squeezed my arms around his torso and buried my face in his chest. We stood like this for a moment, in the doorway, just familiarizing ourselves with each other once again.

"You don't know how long I've been waiting to do that, Spence."

I finally lifted my head up to get a good look at him while snaking my hands up to cup is face.

"Trust me, I've probably been more desperate to hug you than you have,"

"Oh really?" I asked with raised eyebrows, "you know this isn't a competition right?"

"Oh, I know. But if it was, I would win," he said, with the slightest hint of a playful smirk.

I took Spencer's hand in mine and pulled him over to my spot where I was sitting when he arrived. Our hands stayed connected as we sat side by side on the edge of the bed. While I was admittedly aroused at the thought of finally being able to make love again, all of those thoughts melted away when I finally saw him. Truthfully, I was just happy to spend some quality time with him and give him a break from this awful situation.

"How have you been since the last time I saw you, love?"

"I've been doing okay, mostly trying to keep my head down. I guess you could say I made a friend, though. His name is Calvin Shaw-"

"The agent who killed his informant?!" I exclaimed.

"Well yes, but he's the only one who knows I'm a federal agent and he's been pretty generous. Getting me moved to my own cell, giving me books and playing chess with me."

I gently placed a kiss on his forehead and began to stroke his beautiful veiny hand with my thumb.

"I'm just happy you're not completely alone in there baby"

"I've managed to make some connections, but what's been keeping me going is the thought of seeing you. I've actually been looking forward to this since the last time we spoke. . . and I haven't been able to stop thinking about that letter you sent me."

A wicked smile crept onto my lips as I realized which letter exactly he was referring to.

"Oh that letter! I'm glad you enjoyed it baby, I meant every word. I've been missing you in more ways than one. . ." I said, moving my free hand to his thigh. He inhaled deeply at my touch and his gaze was locked on mine.

"Well you don't have to miss me anymore, love, I'm right here. If we're being honest, I don't think I'll be able to focus on our conversation until I've had my way with you," he said, moving one hand to slide his fingers into my hair. I melted into his touch then I leaned forward to whisper in his ear.

"You can have me, baby, any way you want," I replied, trying my best to look up at him with doe eyes.

He forcefully leaned in to place his lips on mine, and now both of his hands were tugging at my hair. This kiss was passionate, but in a way we've never experienced before. Since we've met, we've never spent more than a few days apart. This kiss was different, it was filled with longing and desperation. Months of going without physical contact has finally led to this moment. The moment when dam finally breaks and the sexual tension that's been building in our written correspondence comes to the surface.

One hand stayed pulling my hair while the other made its way to my breast. Equally touch starved, I moved my hand up his thigh to palm the now evident bulge forming in his pants. He hissed in response and I used then opportunity to force my tongue further into his mouth. He began to suck on it and I moaned into him at the feeling. He abruptly moved from my mouth and started working down towards my neck."

"You know," he said, breathlessly, between kisses "after you sent me that letter, I couldn't help myself. I'm lucky I have my own cell, I had to get some relief or else I would've gone insane."

"You're not the only one baby, " I replied in a daze as he continued tome further down my neck, "I would touch myself at night wishing it was your fingers inside of me."

He grunted at my words and buried his face in my breasts.

"You wore this top just for me didn't you?"

"Mhm, just for you."

"I think it's time we see what's underneath," he said as he pulled the shirt swiftly over my head. My lips crashed back into his and I made quick work of undoing the buttons on his shirt. I wasn't used to seeing Spencer in a white t-shirt, so I soaked up the image as best I could before pulling his shirt off and discarding it on the floor.

"You said you missed my fingers, baby?" I sighed a resounding "yes" before he moved his hands up my skirt, barely brushing his fingertips against my panties. I moaned at the contact, and I felt him smirk against my lips before pushing my panties aside and inserting a digit into my wet folds.

"Fuck, Spencer" I groaned as his long fingers stretched inside me.

"You're so tight, love. You really did miss me stretching you out, didn't you?"

"Yes!" I yelled and he began to pump his fingers in and out.

The room filled with the sounds of our moans and Spencer pumping in and out of me. I could feel a familiar pressure tightening in my abdomen, but I needed more of him. I knew he needed me too because I could see his erection straining through his pants. It's almost as if he read my mind because he removed his fingers and placed them in my mouth.

"Fuck, I need you so badly, (Y/N)," he said as I sucked on his fingers.

Not bothering to take off my skirt, I laid back on the bed as he pushed up the fabric and pulled off my panties. He undid his own pants and threw them haphazardly onto the floor along with his underwear. He brushed his fingers along my now exposed cunt, gathering my arousal on his fingertips.

"You're so wet for me baby, it's driving me insane."

He slid his hard length along my pussy, which earned a moan from the both of us before he pushed the tip into me.

"Oh my god, Spence," I whined. He was stretching me out so well since I haven't had him inside me in weeks.

"Baby you're so tight," he said, letting his mouth hang open in pleasure.

"Please, Spence. . .fuck me," I pleaded. He wasted no time and began to give me deep strokes. I moaned at every thrust, which only motivated him to thrust harder and deeper. His pace became relentless as the tip of his length was now hitting my cervix.

"Fuck, Spencer, come for me. I want you to fill me up, baby."

"Anything for you, love," he said, giving me everything he has.

"I want your babies Spencer, please!" I screamed, knowing full well that I was on the pill and that wasn't going to happen. . . yet.

That was all it took for him to spill his load inside of me. We both became moaning messes as he came. Once he was finished, he rolled off of me and ran to the bathroom to help me clean up. I went to pee, and when I returned, Spencer laid his head on my chest and we sat, cuddled in silence, until nightfall. Under the cover of darkness, I could hear quiet sobs coming from Spencer and I felt little drops of tears on my breasts.

"Baby are you okay? What's wrong my love?" I said, raking my hands through his soft wavy locks.

"I don't want to go back in there," he said, like a child, in barely more than a whisper.

"I wish I could stay here with you indefinitely. I wish I never had to sleep apart from you again. I was trying to be strong for you, (Y/N), but it's so much worse than I imagined."

I didn't press him for details, but I couldn't help but begin to cry in sympathy.

"Listen to me, Spence. I can't even being to understand what you're going through, but you are the strongest person I know. I also know that you have a team of people behind you who love you and will stop at nothing to prove you're innocent. Just remember that every time you're lonely or scared, baby. And we'll keep visiting you and sending you letters and books, anything we can do to keep your mind busy."

"Thank you, my love," he said, slowly rising up to plant a kiss on my lips.

"For better or for worse remember?"

"For better or for worse."

He spent the rest of the night lying on my chest as I stroked his hair and lulled him to sleep, avoiding the dread of being separated in the morning for as long as we could.

_________________________________________

AN: Finally finished this fic omg it was a long time coming. But I've been busy in medical assisting school and this one required a lot more research than my previous works lol. But finally happy with the result and please show it some love. Thanks to all my moots for believing in this :)

Taglist:

@reidscaffeine @swaggysagiewagie@v-i-o-l-e-t@louderfortheback

@sadroses98@lauravegann @coldoaftoadzipper-blog@avis-writeshq@inkwriter122 @bitchysweetskitty @cryingoverfelix@whyisitdifferent@namjoonspinkytoenail@thatsonezesty13 @singinghamtaro-blog@abbeyskeff@cassie444

#criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid x reader #mgg #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #spencer reid fic #mattew gray gubler #spencer reid smut #criminal minds smut

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dandylovesturtles · 3 months

Text

we're stressed but we remain silly (actually this is super angsty lol)

more Sidelined + Firefight (Firelined???) propaganda for the @tmntaucompetition

Sorry I keep stealing your boys @remedyturtles

Spoilers for chapter 15 of Firefight, cw: for heavy injuries + blood, no actual recounting of how they got the injuries in this fic, though

Please consider voting for us! Thanks!

-----

In the time it takes Donnie and Leo to get medical supplies, it's been decided that they'll be teaming up with the Firefight guys.

The situation has also, somehow, managed to deteriorate.

If Leo thought these guys looked like death warmed over before, now they just look like plain old death. The other Donnie is littered with bloody injuries and his leg is bent in ways it really should not be. And the other Leo...

Leo shudders at the cracks in his shell. He's not sure he wants to know what kind of monster could do that.

The Leo is chirping periodically - help help scared - and the Donnie answers back by tapping on his shell. Leo knows enough now to recognize it as Morse code; trying to calm him, coax him into coming out. It doesn't seem to be working too well.

"...I think we should have brought more medical supplies," says his own Donnie, yanking Leo out of his reverie. "This may not be enough."

"I don't even know where to start," Leo confesses softly. Really, they need to see a doctor, but Leo has no idea where to find one. Maybe one of the older turtles here has more medical experience than they do? But he has no idea who to ask...

"We'll just... do the best we can," says Donnie, and he sounds determined. Leo finally tears his eyes away from their deathly still mirrored versions, the Leo cradled close in the Donnie's arms, to look at his own twin. He's got his jaw set and teeth clenched, like he does when he's gearing up for something particularly unpleasant, and Leo isn't going to let him face it alone.

"Alright." Leo starts laying out their supplies on the bleachers, sorting it for easy grabbing. "Let's see what we can do."

-----

When he tries to take the other Leo away, the other Donnie bites him.

Really, he should have been prepared for that.

It's only hard enough to graze the skin on his arm, but Leo still hisses when it happens. The other Donnie's eyes fly to his face, then widen and let go, which is good, because Leo knows what could have happened if he bit down harder.

He looks horribly guilty, his eyes flying between the Leo in his lap and Leo's own face. His eyes are glassy and he may not be able to fully distinguish between them. So now he thinks he bit the brother who is still chirping periodically - help help scared - and boy does Leo feel like a tool.

He holds up his hands in surrender, rushing to reassure him. "It's okay, that was my bad. I could have telegraphed that way better."

"Excellent work, Leon," chides his own twin, who looks thoroughly unimpressed. He immediately grabs Leo's arm in one hand, then reaches for the disinfectant with another. "We're supposed to be treating their injuries, not yours."

"It's fine, it's just a scrape!" he says, but doesn't actually do anything to stop Donnie from cleaning it. His immune system has been pretty much useless since the armor, and mouths are nasty.

Besides, the gentle attention Donnie is giving his wound, despite his harsh tone, seems to be doing something for the other Donnie. He doesn't loosen his grip on his twin, but something unspools in his posture as he watches, attentive, as the wound is cleansed and covered. Like it's finally clicking for him that they're here to help. That things are... well, better than they were.

Leo gives him his biggest, most reassuring grin, and says, "Yeah, see? We're gonna get you guys all patched up."

Donnie finishes his work, then pulls on a pair of gloves, thankfully already modified for three-fingered hands. He holds out a pair for Leo. "Are your hands steady?"

It's not at all an unfair question. Leo nods. "Yeah. For now, anyway."

Donnie nods back, letting the gloves fall into Leo's palms. "I'll start work with Leo, you take Donnie. Start with the lacerations on his back. I... don't think we can do much for his leg."

"Right."

Donnie steps over and settles down on the bleacher next to the pair, body angled towards them. He holds out his hands for his counterpart to see.

"Hello, Donatello," he says. "Can I start treating your Nardo? I'll keep him right here - you can maintain physical contact if you want."

The other Donnie hesitates. He hasn't spoken since they arrived, his only active communication the continuous taps against his own Leo's shell. It's not surprising - there's no way this situation isn't overwhelming. But it's making this whole process a bit difficult.

Donnie's never let difficulties slow him down, though.

"I swear," he says, clear and steady, "I'll treat him like my own Leo."

The other Donnie looks down at the bloody shell in his lap. Then he looks at Leo, who gives another smile and a little wave from his wheelchair.

Again, it seems to be clicking, and slowly, very slowly, the other Donnie unwraps from around his precious bundle, and lets him go.

His chirps get more rapid when that happens, and the other Donnie's taps get more rapid. They're close enough that he can keep a hand on his Leo's shell easily, can keep up the Morse code, keep telling him that he's safe. It means Leo's going to have an awkward angle to get to the other Donnie's own injuries, but that's alright. He's gotten good at reaching things that aren't convenient.

He wheels himself as close as he can get, then leans over the arm of his chair and gets to work.

It has to hurt, but the other Donnie stays stalwart, all his focus on reassuring his twin, barely twitching as Leo cleans and bandages the wounds. So Leo works in silence, lets him tap away. He knows enough to recognize it, but not enough to know what he's saying. Still, he can take a good guess.

Eventually, Donnie has done all he can to the other Leo, and Leo himself is flagging. His hands had been steady when he started, but this kind of work wears him out quickly - his hand muscles are cramping, and his wrists are sore. Donnie catches on, because he always does, and announces that they'll trade places without leaving room for argument.

So after a little maneuvering, Leo has his counterpart in his lap, while his twin works on cleaning the other Donnie's arms and legs as best he can. The taps are still going, and the chirps still come, here and there.

Leo can't do much to help now, so he tries to help. Tries to think of what would make him feel better, if they were switched.

He looks over at the other Donnie, battered and bruised and bloody, his leg twisted and his breaths wheezing.

And the next time the other Leo chirps, he says, "It's okay. Donnie's safe."

And he says it again, and again, and again, each time he hears the chirp, until-

"You're safe, too, Leo."

He looks up, at his twin, whose hands have stalled in their ministrations. He's looking at the shell in Leo's lap, but for a brief moment his eyes flick up, and they lock, and there's something meaningful there that Leo has to rush to catch.

"You're safe, too."

Leo watches Donnie, for the first time he notices the shake in his twin's hands. And it occurs to him, if it hurts him to see a Donnie in this state, like he's never seen before, then for his twin to see a Leo in this state, when he has-

He takes a shaky breath. The chirp comes again, and this time he says, "Yeah. You're safe. Donnie's safe. It's okay. No monsters here."

They keep it up until Raph and Mikey come back with the chairs and the food and blankets, the ones Leo drapes over his legs to keep them warm. By that point, they've done about all they can, and with some maneuvering they get the other Donnie in the transport chair, and pass his twin back to him, safe in his lap.

He still hasn't made any move to come out, but no one tries to force him.

"Let's ask the staff if there's anywhere these guys can lay down," suggests Raph, and they all nod in agreement to that. The bleachers are not comfortable enough for naps, especially not in the state these guys are in.

"Do you need me to push you, Nardo?" asks Donnie. "You said your wrists were hurting."

"They're fine," he protests, giving his hands a shake. "Don't..."

The word "worry" dies when his counterpart chirps again, and he catches Donnie's flinch when it happens.

"...Well," Leo says, "I guess I could stand to take a break."

His twin looks relieved. Leo's glad one Donnie does, at least.

Donnie grabs the handles of his chair; Raph takes the handles of their teammates'. And with that, they're off.

#rottmnt #tmnt au competition #sidelined au #firefight au #rise leo #rise donnie #disaster twins #I'm so tired but I hope this was clear enough lol #I could have written this with Raph and Mikey instead but noooo I had to do it the hard way #dandy fanfiction

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