#best aid for weight loss | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pricegouge · 1 month

Note

horny knee-tattoo offerring...

ive had insomnia all this week and its super frustrating, bc you're tired but cant turn your brain off enough to sleep and its hard to physically tire yourself out at 4am yknow? maybe reader's 141 boy (any or all of em, its ur world babe) wakes up in the middle of the night and sees how frustrated and miserable their partner is, tossing and turning, doomscrolling, counting down the dwindling hours till their work alarm is due to go off, and they take it upon themself to fuck their partner to sleep. not just one round, no, orgasm after orgasm, squirting over the sheets, crying from tired frustration and then relief, till they fall asleep stuffed full around a cock. their boy(s) carefully get them all cleaned up and tucked back in the sheets dead asleep <3

i hope ur tattoo goes well! whatcha gettin 👀

Hii 💛

I went with Price cause I'm a simp

(also I'm getting Mothra)

cw: reader has a pussy which is referred to with fem terms, but no gendered pronouns for them. daddy kink (sorry). squirting. implied (non negotiated) somno. John's POV.

He's not expecting the glow of artificial light permeating the room when he opens his eyes in the dead of night, though by now he supposes he really should be.

You've been struggling to sleep for weeks now, the unhelpful sleep aids and your own frustration creating a bad feedback loop which left you tossing and turning into the early hours of morning when you would usually slink off downstairs to try your luck on the couch, leaving your side of the bed cold and empty.

It simply wouldn't do.

"Trouble sleeping, sweetheart?" His voice is rough with his own grogginess, sawing through the still of the night with enough force make you jolt, nerves shot with exhaustion.

"Yeah. Am I keeping you awake?"

He grabs after you when you begin to shift out of bed without even waiting for an answer. "Not at all. You stay right here." He pulls you closer to him, illustrating exactly what he means by tucking you in against his chest, his hand heavy where it cradles your skull. You sigh as if in contentment, but your body remains stiff and tense against him. "Anything I can do to help?"

"No," you grumble, just as much upset about it as he is. "Thanks though."

"Thoughts racing or just not tired?"

You shrug, shoulder jostling the arm he has slung over you. Your voice is watery when you respond. "Little bit of both I guess."

"Hey," John starts, immediately alert, pulling you impossibly closer. "What's wrong?"

You bury a sniffle in his chest, tension shifting rapidly to obvious frustration. "Nothing," you whine, obviously lying. "I'm just so fucking tired but it's like I'm not tired at all, you know? Like my brain's just decided we don't need it anymore even though body feels like a Furby with the battery running out, right? But there's nothing I can do; no matter what I try I'm still stuck laying here - wide the fuck awake and -!"

"Okay," John starts, easing you back onto the bed before you start rambling about more obscure nineties toys he's barely ever heard of. "Okay, let's just -." He pauses, at a loss, but then he looks down at you in the dim light of your forgotten phone and he sees your puffy face, the tear streaks, your hair a mess, tangled in sheets from all your tossing and your turning and he knows immediately how best to help you.

"I know something we can try, sweetheart."

"You do?" As if in contrast to your confused tone, your hands grip his forearms instinctively, eyes wide and hopeful as he lowered himself down over you, weight near crushing. He doesn't bother responding beyond a pleased rumble when your hands slip up over his biceps, kissing your fingertips when they curl over his shoulders. You're still so tense beneath him, but he's sleep-soft and heavy enough to smother you, thinks he can overwhelm you easy enough. Just has to ply you the right way.

The kisses your eyelids first, lips tracing the etch marks of your tears. He kisses the corner of your mouth, pulling back teasingly when he feels your lips part under his.

"John," you whine, and he can't help the huff of laughter which collects between you, humid and dense on your skin.

"Need me?"

"Yes."

He loves how eager you can get, the way you pull him down until he lays flat on top of you, the way you accept his tongue with a pleased groan. Your legs fall open beneath him and he grinds against you lazily, a tight contrast to your neediness, though he indulges you with the deep kisses he knows you crave.

When his lips trail down your neck, you thread your finger through his short cropped hair, your nails scratching against the tightness of his scalp and it eases that last little bit of lingering tension in him, makes him sink that last little bit into you. He's heavy, languid, forcing you to still yourself and meet his pace, rewarding you with a particularly dirty grind when you do.

He trails kisses down your chest, stopping to teethe lightly on your nipple as he slips down the bed. You jolt, undoing all his work, but he just chuckles, content to unwind you again and again if needed.

You're slick enough for a finger when he gets your bottoms off, but he makes you wait for that too, licks over your lips with fat, teasing stripes that have your legs falling open around him, blooming like a flower in invitation. He still doesn't give in, ignoring your clit in favor of pressing his teeth oh so gently into your fat mound and rubbing his beard into your soft inner thigh. It'll leave a rash, he knows, get you all huffy about it in the morning.

He'll kiss it better then, too.

"John, please," you whine and he smirks, pressed close enough to the crease of your thigh you can probably feel his incisors against your hip flexor.

"What was that?"

A pause. He can practically hear your breath catch in your throat.

"Need daddy to help?"

"Please," you sob, frustration bubbling up again.

"Shh," he breathes, lets his breath fan across your exposed clit when he thumbs the hood back. He should make you ask properly, but he hasn't forgotten this is about you. "I got you, sweetheart."

For all his patience before, John dives into your cunt like his last bloody meal. He's sloppy, spit and slick collecting on his chin as he licks into you, breath hot and humid, leaving him in heavy pants that have him groaning with your taste. You fingers find his hair again, pull him and he obliges happily, showing your cute little clit the love it needs as he finally sinks two fingers into you, moaning at the way you clench around him. He's efficient, a man with a purpose, and he makes you cum within minutes, your breathy whines sounding suspiciously like a low chant of 'daddy.'

You moan when he kisses you after, no finesse. Just a hot slide of slick tongues where he shares your taste with you, keeping you distracted as he lines himself up.

It's never an easy task. John's a big man, his cock nothing but proportional. It never matters how many times he has you, or how pliant he get you beneath him, the first press into you is always slow, measured in your breaths which he uses to his advantage.

His words are soothing in your ear, lips pressed flush against your temple as he tells you how good you are for him, how much he loves the feel of you stretched tight around him. You hand clutches at him blindly, distracting. He threads his fingers with your own and pins it by your head.

When his hips fall flush with yours he gives you a minute, stroking your hair and kissing away the tears that have sprung up again. "Poor pet," he murmurs, petting your cheek. "Daddy'll make it better. Promise."

You nod, perhaps a bit stupidly, and John kisses you as he begins to move again.

You're easy beneath him. Pliant, like he was looking for all along. He wrings the first orgasm out of you easily enough and knows he could probably call it a night, knows you'd sleep well enough by the satisfied look on your face.

He doesn't want 'well enough.' He wants to put you under on his cock alone, drill it into your head that he can give you anything you fucking need.

"What do you say to daddy when he fucks you that good, sweetheart?" His voice surprises him, borderline cruel.

"Th-thank you, daddy."

He hums, rolls his hips into you experimentally. "Want one more?"

He doesn't wait for an answer.

With your legs hooked over his shoulders, John shifts his weight to fuck down into you, his sheer mass keeping you spread and pinned like a butterfly beneath him. Your breath stutters, fingers across his chest, shoulders, biceps. Anywhere you can dig in, find purchase - mark him back.

He knows he's got you dead to rights when your moan turns deep, unaffected. "Fuck, daddy," you groan and John bites back a dark chuckle.

"That it, sweetheart? Right there?"

You nod tightly, cords in your neck nearly visibly with how tight you've already been drawn.

"You gonna cum for me again?"

"Yeah, daddy, please -!"

"Dirty slut, cumming already," he tuts, but he pistons into you exactly the way he knows you need, his own groan caught like gravel in his throat when your cunt starts milking him and you mewl like you're in heat.

He's not nice about it; doesn't even let you wind down completely before his thumb finds your clit, drawing a tight circle across your sensitive little nub while he rocks the head of his cock against that spongey spot deep within you that damn near makes you hiccup in pleasure each time. It's no different now, your breath stuttering out in while you tense and shake beneath him. John waits until you're arched beneath him, clenched so tight around the base of his cock he couldn't cum even if he wanted to -

And then he presses his palm down flat and hard on your mound and you cum so hard it soaks his belly, dripping down to the sheets and collecting in the creases of both your joints.

"Fuckin' hell," he growls, planting one fist on the bed by your hip to support himself as he watches you drift back to earth.

You're fucked out and dazed, already drifting off when John rolls you onto your belly to straddle your hips. "Feeling better, sweetheart?" he rumbles, lowering himself to settle snugly over your back, keep you enveloped in his safe, sturdy weight.

"Yes, daddy," you mumble into the pillow and John presses a whiskery, satisfied smile against your temple. He slips back into you with so little resistance you barely even seem to notice.

"Just needed me, didn't you honey? Get some sleep now, yeah? I'll give you some sweet dreams."

#asks #this was SO self-indulgent whoops #price x reader

186 notes · View notes

themindofachronicdaydreamer · 2 months

Text

Daydreaming

fluffff plot: Satoru Gojo doesn't ever depend on anyone but himself, but waking up next to you is starting to make him feel a little... in love? content: it is like brain rotting fluff. waking up together, reminiscing the love story, mentions of Geto, reader referred to as his pretty girl, yayyyy word count: 1.5k satoru gojo x reader note: a bit of a drabble i cooked up rly quickly but honestly i love it so much I love gojo happy in love. kind of inspired by daydreaming by harry styles if you wanna listen to that!! <3 love u

Satoru Gojo has never been one to depend on others.

His entire life, he has been put on a pedestal by the entire Jujutsu society. He has the weight of the world on his shoulders, solely due to qualities he was born with. He has always been expected to never depend on anyone as the world relies on him and his abilities. How weak would he be if the so-called "Strongest Sorcerer" ever needed any aid? So many eyes watch his every room that if he shows any sense of weakness, the existence of the world as humanity knows it may be at stake. He has learned through his training, through his old best friend Suguru Geto, through all of the losses, through every battle, through every decision he has ever made - he learned he was the only one he could truly depend on.

Gojo wants to help others - that's why he became a teacher. So others can grow strong, and they can save each other and themselves. To make up for his weakness getting the best of him; because he depended on his best friend, and it got the best of him. The next generation will at least be protected in a way his never was, and they will never have to feel the pressure Gojo finds himself under.

That's where you come in.

Golden sunlight gently embraces your features, emphasizing your beauty in such a vulnerable state. Your mouth is slightly agape, breathing quiet and evenly paced. You are at peace, dreaming sweet dreams about kittens pitter-pattering through the most gorgeous meadow with you.

Laying beside you and holding you in his arms now as he has been all night, Gojo admires you and the way the sun dances across your face and highlights how perfect you are. He watches the way your pretty eyelashes flutter every now and then, how your delicate fingers lay against your white bedsheets, how your messy hair sprawls across your pillowcase in a way that frames you to perfection. Your cheek is a little squished against the pillow, making your face look all cute and his stomach fills with butterflies, flying at high speeds and knocking into everything in their way.

Gojo can only think one thing as he watches you sleep: you are so beautiful.

You were in the same class as Gojo, only in Kyoto. While you weren't from one of the three great sorcerer clans of the jujutsu world, your lineage was decently known and well respected. When the two of you met, he thought you were cute, of course, but you were best friends with Utahime and she absolutely hated Gojo. At the time, he had no interest in anything other than meaningless flings and sex, anyway - which, from the rumors he'd heard around that that was not your thing (rumors being what he'd been told after bothering Shoko every single day with questions about you and what you are interested in, just because he wanted to hook up and not at all because you were the most beautiful person his six eyes had ever had the blessing to land upon and he never thought love at first sight was real until the moment he first saw you). Something about you had him holding back because deep down, he knew if he stepped too close to you, he would be completely sucked in, vacuumed sealed in your presence in an blink, and unable to control or stop it.

A couple years after being alumni from Jujutsu Tech, you ended up in the same place as each other - teachers at Tokyo's Jujutsu High. You moved after some conversations with Yaga who believed you were the perfect fit for a teacher at his school. You agreed, much to Gakuganji's dismay (though, you never liked the old man, so you were happy to be away from him finally). Gojo, still grieving his and Geto's friendship, tried his hardest to stay away from you at first. He resolved to put every ounce of his cursed energy into becoming stronger and saving as many as he could. He couldn't have any distractions, and he had been doing well with his plan ever since Shinjuku.

But once you were there, he was swept off of his feet almost instantly. He couldn't even try to stop it, because as strong as he was, he was weak at his knees just from looking at you. He knew you were special, but his eyes would never tell him exactly why, and he had to find out for himself or he would - as he had convinced himself - die.

He was over the moon for you. He tried to keep his distance, but how was he supposed to control himself when you kept talking to him at work, asking questions and requesting his help? At some point, he had found he memorized the crinkle in your eye when you smile, the way your cursed energy blended with his, and the curve of your upper lip that had always looked so delicious that he predicted it would be the best sweet he'd ever taste (which he eventually was able to confirm).

After very obviously swooning over you for about a year, Gojo found the courage to ask you to dinner, to which you asked why it took him so long to ask, and then you said yes to the date after that, and to the one after that, and to the one after that, and so on.

Which brings him to today - several dinner dates and a few coffee dates and one willyoupleasepleasepleasebemygirlfriend later. It's still early in the relationship, the time where it's all so fresh and new, and you are trying to figure out each other. At this point, you have practically moved into Gojo's home, with the excuse that it was closer to the school and on the way, so why not stay there all the time and bring all of your belongings with you - even your cat?

Satoru Gojo stares at you and starts to think that maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't be able to live without waking up to this everyday.

Maybe he could let himself depend on this. On you.

Maybe this is what love feels like.

The realization reverberates in his mind as he takes a deep breath, trying to ground himself as he feels like he's dreaming alongside you. Your eyes crack open, growing more conscious as well as increasingly aware of your boyfriend's intense stare. You turn to look at him, confirming your suspicions, then cover your face to block his view.

"Hi, baby," Satoru quietly speaks, smile on his face spreading from the how adorable you are. "Sleep well?"

You smile at the softness of his voice - one that he only uses with you. "Woke up to you staring at me, creep," you tease. Satoru lets out a breathy laugh, watching as you reveal your face to him again. He reaches a hand to move a strand of hair blocking your eyes, allowing himself a clearer view of you.

"Sorry, you're just so pretty. I can't help myself, my pretty, pretty girl. 'm so lucky," Satoru coos. He tucks the strand behind your ear, bringing his hand down to your cheek. He leans your head toward his and places a gentle kiss to your forehead, a silent way of telling you he loves you.

Eventually, he'll find lots of ways to tell you he loves you without even speaking the words. Eventually, he will shower you with everything you could ever want, buy you sweets on missions, open doors for you, keep you safe, everything he can do to show how he feels about you to the world. Eventually, he will tell you those three dangerous words - and right now he is thinking of some extravagant ways to - but now is not the time.

Right now, he needs to savor this and savor you. Stressing about the so-called "L-Bomb" can be done later. Right now, he just wants you.

"Toru," you chastise, dragging on the end of the nickname only you can call him. It's a teasing scold, one full of sarcasm and sleepiness, and it made Toru's smile widen even more. He stares at you, his eyes uncovered and taking all of you in, no barrier between the two of you. No blindfold on, no sunglasses on; he lets you see all of him without filter, something so few are every granted permission to have a peek at.

You stare right back, somehow even more lost in his eyes than he is in yours. They truly are mesmerizing. They draw you in and have since the moment you first shared a glance with them - if someone told you his eyes had some magic love potion with no antidote, you would believe them. You lean up, landing a quick peck on his lips, and smile up at your boyfriend.

Yeah, he could get used to this.

The Satoru Gojo never needs to depend on anyone for anything, but sometimes, Your Toru just needs you. His pretty girl.

thank you for readdinnggggg i hope you like!

#gojo satoru #jjk #jujutsu gojo #fanfic #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #gojo #gojo saturo #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #gojo fluff

156 notes · View notes

ghoulsbounty · 4 months

Text

From a Previous Life (Pt 3)

Cooper Howard (The Ghoul) x Preg!Reader

Summary: You rush to the Ghoul's aid, but find that hospitality doesn't come cheap in the wasteland.

Warnings: Emotional hurt/comfort, pregnancy, talk of cannibalism, mention of child loss, canon-typical violence, blood, angst, grief, yearning, rejection.

Word Count: 8.8K

A/N: This is late! I'm sorry this wasn't finished last week, but it took me a while to get the ending to a place where I was happy with it. Part 4 coming up next! I'd love to know what you think 💌

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

In the weeks that followed, a palpable tension thickened the air, suffusing every moment with a sense of unease. The Ghoul, ever cautious and seemingly intent on minimizing any unnecessary interaction, forwent sleep altogether. Instead, he adopted the role of a silent sentinel, perched upon whatever seating deemed acceptable as he watched over the entryways of your temporary shelters. There he would remain, a solitary figure in the dim moonlight filtering through shattered windows, his hat pulled low over his ghoulish features, shrouding them in shadow.

As you lay awake, restless and watchful, your gaze was repeatedly drawn to him, silently pleading for him to abandon his post and join you in the refuge of your shared space. Still, he remained steadfast, his bed beside you still empty and unused by your departure the following morning.

During the days, you travelled in silence under the relentless glare of the blistering sun, each step bringing you closer to your elusive destination. You would pause occasionally, your keen eyes scanning the barren landscape for any sign of abandoned treasures that could be sold for a fine price. Each discovery was accompanied by a hopeful glance towards your companion, a silent plea for approval. More often than not, his response was a grunt or a dismissive shrug, leaving you to carry the weight of your excitement and disappointment alone.

He had truly reverted back to the aloof and distant man he had been before that fleeting moment of connection shared around the crackling fire—the night he had gifted you the Pip-Boy. It had felt like a heavy reminder of the vast divide between you, a symbol of the distance that must remain for your child's safety.

The internal struggle waged within you relentlessly, tearing at the fabric of your resolve as you walked alongside him. On one hand, the instinct to protect your child, to prioritize their safety above all else, pulsed through your veins like a guiding light. But on the other hand, an undeniable longing stirred within you, a selfish desire to throw caution to the wind and reach out for him, to seek the comfort of the companionship you had felt briefly.

You remembered the warmth of his arms briefly wrapped around you, the intimacy of talking freely together like you had done that night by the fire. The memory tugged at your heartstrings, igniting a fierce longing that threatened to overwhelm your senses. And despite your best efforts to bridge the conversational gap, to break through the walls he had erected around himself, he remained stubbornly distant.

The silence between you grew more pronounced with each passing day, a distinct barrier that seemed to stretch endlessly between you. You couldn't help but feel a sense of resignation settle over you. Some divides were simply too vast to bridge, and perhaps, you thought with a heavy heart, yours and the Ghoul's were among them.

It wasn't until one particularly hot mid-afternoon as you battled against a relentless radscorpion that had sprung at you from beneath an overturned refrigerator in that evenings shelter, the Ghoul's patience reached its limit. With a single, precise shot from his magnum, he dispatched the giant arachnid before turning to you with a sour expression.

"Outside," his voice commanded, firm and unwavering.

You followed behind him obediently, watching in silence as he collected the empty Nuka-Cola bottles scattered on the porch and lined them up along the railing. Once satisfied with his work, he turned to you and nodded, signalling you to follow him. Together, you descended the steps and moved further away until you reached a spot that provided a clear shot at the makeshift targets.

You eyed him cautiously, uncertainty gnawing at the edges of your resolve as you waited for his next instruction. But when his gaze settled expectantly on the gun holstered at your hip, you knew what you were to do. With quick hands, you fumbled to unholster the weapon, your fingers closing around its familiar grip as you prepared to face the challenge that lay ahead.

Despite the sweltering heat and the sweat that trickled down your brow, you squared your shoulders and raised your weapon, determined to prove yourself to the Ghoul—to show him that you were capable of holding your own beside him. And as you took aim at the makeshift targets, a sense of determination surged through you. Today, you vowed, would be the day you proved yourself worthy of his respect.

Pulling back the hammer, you let out a shaky breath as you pinched the trigger. The shot rang out, reverberating through your body like a thunderclap as you felt the recoil jolt through your arms. Taking a step back to steady yourself, you lowered the gun and peered ahead at the targets, your heart sinking as you realized that all five bottles remained stubbornly intact, mocking you from their perch.

A sense of annoyance bubbled up inside you, mingling with the disappointment that weighed heavy in the pit of your stomach. You heard the Ghoul sigh from his spot to your right, where he leaned against a a utility pole with his arms crossed.

"Again," he said, his voice carrying a hint of exasperation. "And keep your eyes open this time."

His words jolted you out of your reverie, pulling you back to the present moment with a sharp clarity. Despite the simmering frustration within you, you nodded in acknowledgment, steeling yourself for another attempt with the gun raised.

"Feet further apart," he instructed, his tone firm and authoritative. Taking a deep breath, you squared your shoulders and adjusted your stance, grit crunching beneath your boot. You heard him tut, then suddenly felt him beside you. His heavy boot kicked at the inside of your own, widening your stance even further. His gloved hands pressed against your shoulder with a firm tap, guiding you into position before withdrawing just as quickly. "Again."

As the Ghoul moved back to his post, you steadied the gun out before you, pushing down the giddiness that surged through you like a current. It was an unexpected sensation, sparked by the lingering heat left behind by his brief touch—the first physical contact he had initiated since your embrace around the fire. You took aim at the first bottle, and with the memory of his guidance in your mind, you pulled the trigger.

The shot rang out, its echo reverberating through the desolate wasteland. A split second later, the sharp noise of the bottle smashing reached your ears, the shattered pieces scattering across the ground like sparkling jewels.

"Yes!" you exclaimed triumphantly, a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins as you raised your arms above your head in victory. Turning to your mentor with a wide grin, you hoped for words of praise, but you were instead met with a stoic nod of approval, his expression unreadable as he regarded you with a steady gaze. Disappointment panged in your chest, a fleeting moment of deflation amidst the rush of triumph.

"Four more, then you can celebrate," he gestured towards the remaining targets and you eyed him with defeat as your arms dropped to your side.

Eyebrows furrowed in determination, you rolled you neck as you prepared yourself. A brief glimmer of pride flickered in his eyes as he watched you turn back towards your targets with a raised weapon.

"Four more, then you cook dinner," you countered and he laughed quietly, a short huff of air out his nose that was barely perceptible.

As the afternoon wore on, you focused all your concentration on the task at hand, determined to prove yourself capable not just to the Ghoul but to yourself. With each bullet that flew past its target, the Ghoul's sighs of irritation echoed in the stifling air.

He had retreated to the scant shade offered by a nearby fence, his slumped posture a testament to the oppressive heat that hung heavy in the air. From his vantage point, he observed your progress with a stoic demeanour, offering little in the way of encouragement as you struggled to find your mark. Still, you refused to be deterred by his silence, channelling your frustration and determination into each shot. With each miss, you adjusted your stance, honing your focus. Finally, the satisfying sound of shattering glass filled the air as the last bottle exploded into a thousand pieces, scattering across the ground.

Pride swelled within you as you looked down at your gun, a tool that had once seemed so foreign and intimidating. In that moment, a sense of awe washed over you as you realized just how far you had come from the life you had once known. The image of yourself as a wife, a homemaker, seemed like a distant memory, a remnant of a time before the world had been plunged into chaos.

As you stood there, gun in hand, dirt under your nails, and a sense of purpose burning within your soul, you couldn't help but wonder how absurd your former self would find this scene. The thought of her reaction brought a smile to your lips, a bittersweet reminder of the person you had once been, and the person you were becoming.

A slow clap from behind you drew your attention, and you turned to see your partner walking towards you, his lips pulled into a wry smile. "Well, as long as no one moves, you might just cut it."

Despite his teasing, you welcomed the familiar banter, a reminder of the rapport that had developed between you before it's abrupt end. With a smile, you looked him over, a wave of gratitude washing over you. "Thank you, for this," you said, gesturing with the gun towards the broken glass. "I feel like The Man From Deadhorse."

With a playful grin, you raised your gun towards the Ghoul, a glint of mischief in your eyes. "I hope you like the taste of lead, you commie son of a bitch."

The sudden shift in atmosphere caught you off guard, the playful jest dying on your lips as the Ghoul's demeanour transformed with alarming speed. Before you could react, he closed the distance between you with swift, purposeful strides, his grisly features contorted with rage.

In the blink of an eye, he knocked the gun from your hand, the dull thud as it buried into the sand was loud in the tense quiet. Your heart pounded in your chest as you watched in stunned silence, your wide eyes snapping back to him when he seized your arms in a vice-like grip.

"You don't play like that, you hear?" he scolded, his voice low and harsh, the intensity of his gaze drilling into you like a laser. His leather-clad fingers dug into your flesh, leaving behind faint impressions as he held you firmly in place.

With a shaky nod, you swallowed hard, your voice barely a whisper as you replied, "I hear you." The tension hung thick in the air between you. "It was from a movie, I didn't mean nothing by it."

As he regarded you, the intensity of his grip slowly eased, his features softening marginally as he released you from his grasp. Though his anger still simmered beneath the surface, there was a hint of remorse in his eyes, a silent apology for his outburst. "This ain't no movie, darlin'."

"I know that," you said wistfully.

"Then act like it," he grunted, a wheezing cough escaping him before turning away. "Let's get moving," he muttered, his voice tinged with resignation as he retrieved the gun from the sand and handed it back to you.

You holstered your gun, a sense of caution settling over you as you eyed him warily, your footsteps echoing softly against the gravel path as you followed him back to your shelter. He stopped abruptly a few steps ahead, his posture rigid as he doubled over, sputtering into his closed fist.

Instinctively, you moved toward him, concern etched into your features, but you halted in your tracks at the sight of his outstretched hand. "Get back," he rasped, his voice strained, a clear warning in his tone.

You watched with growing unease as he struggled to regain his composure, each laboured breath sounding like a heavy weight upon his chest. The deep, chest-rattling wheeze that emanated from him sent a shiver down your spine, but despite the urge to rush to his aid, you knew better than to defy his command. With a reluctant step backward, you maintained a cautious distance, your eyes never leaving him as you waited anxiously for the bout of coughing to pass.

The coughing had started a few days prior, coming sporadically but with increasing frequency, especially when the Ghoul worked himself up. At first, you had dismissed it as the inevitable toll of his years spent wandering through dust and dirt, but as the days passed and you witnessed the panic in his eyes one evening while he counted his stock of liquid-filled vials, you knew it was something more. The sight of his trembling hands, the frantic glint in his tired eyes, sent a chill down your spine,

You didn't fully understand the significance of the vials, only that they were his medicine—but for what ailment, you couldn't be certain. You had assumed it was for pain, a necessary relief for someone who had endured the relentless exposure to radiation for so long. You knew better than to ask him about it directly. Even in moments of calm, when the worry over his dwindling supply wasn't etched into his furrowed brow, you knew that prying into something so personal would be met with resistance.

The Ghoul staggered back to the shelter and you followed behind him with growing concern, your heart pounding in your chest. You watched in silence as he grasped the stair rails for support, his normally steady gait now faltering. It was a sight you had never witnessed before—him weakened and vulnerable—and fear shot through you like a bolt of lightning, unwelcome thoughts of what this could mean racing through your mind.

You quickly put the invasive thoughts aside, hurrying to join him inside where you found him hunched over his saddlebag. His movements were frenzied as he loaded a vial into the inhaler that distributed the medicine. With a deep, shaky breath, he puffed the inhaler, the sound echoing loudly in the confined space. Minutes stretched into eternity as he fought to regain control of his breathing, his chest heaving with each ragged inhale.

You held your breath in anticipation, watching as his chest heaved and then settled, but your frown deepened when a groan escaped him. He threw himself back against the wall, his movements laboured and unsteady. His arms hung limp at his sides, the inhaler discarded and forgotten on the ground beside him. His hat slipped from his head, tumbling to the dirtied tiles below, leaving his bald head glistening with perspiration, the droplets of sweat trickling down his tired face.

It was a sobering sight, one that filled you with a sense of helplessness as you stood before him, unsure of what to do to alleviate his suffering.

"Told you to stay away," he breathed, his voice weary as he met your gaze, exhaustion evident in his eyes. "I'm fine," he muttered, though the strain in his voice betrayed his words. "Just need to close my eyes."

As his eyes fluttered shut, you moved to his saddlebag with haste, your heart pounding in your chest as you searched desperately for another vial to bring him back to you. But as your trembling hands sifted through the contents, your heart sank like a stone—empty. He had been rationing his vials for days now, telling you there was a place up ahead to get more, but that you weren't to come with him. Another one of his solo trips.

With a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, you realized that he was going nowhere in this condition. His shallow breathing reduced you to panic as you fumbled at the inside of his heavy duster, your hands shaking with urgency. Ignoring the incessant clicking of the dosimeter, you pulled out a weathered map that he had drawn up at the beginning of your journey, showing you just how far you had to go until you'd find the haven and the stops that you'd make between.

Your gaze swept over the roughly sketched lines and symbols, tracing the route ahead with a growing sense of urgency. Finally, your eyes landed on a cluster of squares topped with triangles, situated close to the location you recognized as your shelter on the map. Beside them, a lone letter "V" was scrawled, signalling the area designated for his next collection of vials. The distance seemed manageable, just a half-day's journey at most—perhaps even less if you pushed yourself.

The prospect of venturing out alone was daunting, yet despite the risk of leaving him vulnerable, of being scolded for leaving upon your return, you knew there was no alternative. He relied on those vials, and you relied on him.

With a heavy heart, you removed his gun from its holster, carefully positioning his gloved hand around its grip before settling it on his lap. Adjusting his hat back on his head to shroud his closed eyes, you hoped that any passing traveller might be deterred by the implication of a formidable foe awaiting their approach.

Taking a deep breath, you glanced back at your companion one last time, the weight of your decision settling heavily upon you. With a silent prayer for his safety, you asked him to wish you luck before turning away and setting off towards your new destination, determined to retrieve the vials and save the Ghoul.

The two-story house stood large and imposing before you, the sun beginning to dip below the horizon casting long shadows across the grounds. Its faded white paint was peeling, revealing the weather-beaten wood beneath, and its roof sagged precariously as if it could collapse at any moment. The yard, overgrown with tall grass and weeds, was littered with the carcasses of rusty, broken-down vehicles and an assortment of discarded debris, each piece a story of neglect and abandonment.

Stepping onto the sprawling porch, the creak of the wooden boards seemed to echo through the still air as you steadied your nerves. You rapped your knuckles against the front door that hung slightly ajar.

"Whaddya want?" a disgruntled voice hollered from inside, and you stepped back as the door was torn open to reveal a man, his greying hair unkempt and greasy, clinging to his weathered face that was etched with deep lines and one large, pink scar from eye to jaw. "Well, what is it?"

Clearing your throat to dispel the tension, you attempted a friendly smile as you greeted him. "Hello, I'm hoping you can help me," you began, holding the unfolded map up to show him. With a pointed finger, you indicated the spot marked by the Ghoul with a "V." "I'm looking for vials, is this where I can get them?"

He peered closer to the map, beady eyes squinting as he considered it. With a dirty hand, he rubbed at the white stubble of his chin as he hummed, his gaze flicking over you quickly before straightening. "Vials, you say? You're in luck," he gave you a toothy smile, displaying his blackened teeth.

Despite the turn in your stomach, you breathed a sigh of relief. Tucking the map away in the side of your bag, you smiled gratefully. "You have no idea how glad I am to hear you say that," you laughed.

"Well, don't dilly-dally on my porch all night, girl," he said, ushering you inside.

Stepping into the dimly lit home, you were hit by the musty scent of decay and mould. The house was cluttered, filled with stacks of old newspapers, broken furniture, and various knickknacks. The man led you through a narrow hallway into a small room that served as both a living space and a workshop. A cluttered table sat against one wall, covered in tools, scraps of metal, and various mechanical parts.

"Sit," he ordered, pointing to a rickety chair near the table. "I'll see what I got."

You sat down cautiously, the chair creaking under your weight. The man rummaged through a pile of junk on a nearby shelf, muttering to himself as he searched. After a few tense moments, he produced a small wooden box and placed it on the table in front of you.

"Here they are," he said, his tone gruff. "How many you need?"

You glanced at box, your heart pounding with a mix of relief and anxiety. "I need as many as you can spare. How much for all of them?"

The man scratched his head, considering your request. "Caps, or trade?" he asked, eyeing your bag.

"I have caps," you replied, reaching into your bag and pulling out a small pouch. You poured the caps onto the table, counting them quickly. "Is this enough?"

He scooped up the caps, weighing them in his hand before shaking his head. "Not hardly," he said, pocketing them as he stared down at you expectantly. You quickly fumbled in your bag, trying to find something to offer. "How about that there contraption?"

Your eyes followed his to the Pip-Boy on your wrist. What would the Ghoul say if you returned without it? He had insisted you keep it on, gifting it to you as a means of gaining some semblance of control that you desperately wanted. Granted it had recently become an unwanted reminder that loneliness would be your only companion until you met your baby, but he wouldn't want you to trade it. Yet he wasn't here, and you were in desperate need of those vials.

"Please, anything else," you pleaded, one last ditch attempt at negotiation as you rifled through the contents of your bag. "I have scrap, copper, toothpaste, you can even have my gun," you continued, listing your items in a desperate ramble before throwing your gun onto the table beside you.

The man's narrow gaze swept over the array of items you had laid out, his expression a mask of disdain. Without hesitation, he seized your bag and upended its contents onto the worn tabletop. With a rough hand, he sifted through the items, emitting grunts of disapproval as he scrutinized each one.

"No, no good," he muttered, crossing his arms in a gesture of finality. "That thing's worth more than all that junk combined." His lip curled in distaste as he indicated the Pip-Boy resting on your wrist. "It's the gadget or no deal."

Desperation gnawed at you. You needed those vials; the Ghoul's life depended on it. Leaving empty-handed wasn't an option. Fighting back tears, you took a deep breath and looked up at the man, striving to keep your voice steady. "Fine, it's a deal," you conceded, fingers trembling as you unclasped the precious device from your wrist, placing it reluctantly into his filthy palms.

His cracked lips curled into a predatory grin as he regarded his newfound treasure. With a casual shove, he pushed the box of vials across the table towards you. Eagerly, you reached for it, anticipation tingling in your fingertips. But as you pried open the lid, hope turned to bitter disappointment at the sight within.

"There are only three vials here," you stated, disbelief colouring your voice. "We agreed on the Pip-Boy for everything you've got."

A mirthless chuckle escaped the man's throat as he he leaned back against the table, a smug gleam in his eyes. "There it is," he declared, gesturing towards the meagre contents of the box in your hands. "Lesson learned, darlin'. Always check the goods before sealing the deal."

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment and frustration, cursing yourself inwardly for falling prey to such a blatant deception. Anger surged within you, fuelled by both the injustice of the situation and the man's smug satisfaction.

"That's not fair!" Your voice rose, laced with indignation, drawing a startled expression from the man across the table.

"Now listen here, you little-"

"What's all this hoo-ha about?" a woman's voice interrupted him as she entered the room. She was about the same age as the man, greying and wrinkled, but whereas his face was stern, hers warmed when she saw you. Her hands went to the apron tied around her thin waist, wiping at the dirty fabric as she spoke. "Well, who do we have here?"

The man released an exasperated sigh, his patience wearing thin. "Just a fool not knowing when a deal is done," he muttered, flinging your empty bag in your direction. "Collect your shit and hit the road."

Before you could react, her hand shot out with startling speed, connecting with the back of his head with a resounding smack. He recoiled, irritation contorting his features as he rubbed the offended spot.

"Goddamn, woman!" he exclaimed, shooting her a venomous glare. "She got the chems, I held up my end of the bargain."

Her eyebrows arched inquisitively as she scrutinized you. "And what might someone like you want with those?"

"My friend, he's unwell," you explained, rising from your seat to begin to deposit your items back in the bag.

"So, he sent you to fetch them," she deduced.

You nodded, choosing your words carefully as you gauged the situation. Despite her apparent kindness, you sensed it wise to withhold certain details of your predicament. "Something along those lines," you replied cautiously, then pointed to the three vials. "I just hoped there were more."

"There are more," she said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument as she delivered a swift reprimand to the man beside her. "Edwin, why are you lying to this poor girl?"

Edwin, still nursing a sore spot on his head from her earlier blow, shot her a disgruntled look. "Can't a man try and make a profit in this economy?"

Ignoring his protest, she turned her attention back to you, a friendly smile gracing her features. "My husband will whip up as many vials as you need, don't you fret," she assured, her reassurance a comforting balm to your frayed nerves. Casting a disapproving glance at Edwin as he started to object once more, she added, "And to make amends for his rudeness, I'll whip you up a plate."

You breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you so much, but I really must hurry these back to my friend," you insisted.

"Of course you must," she affirmed, her eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled again. "Edwin will go fetch you some from the cellar. We can't keep such valuable stock out in the open, you understand." Her explanation was delivered with a nod of assurance, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Edwin grumbled, leaving the room presumably to fetch the vials.

"Why don't you and me wait for him in the dinin' room," she suggested, her voice carrying a hint of Southern charm from the old world. "You ain't tasted nothin' till you tried my brahmin roast."

Your protests dissolved into silence as she gently guided you into the room from whence she appeared. A grand wooden dining table commanded the centre of the space, its unpolished surface bearing the scars of time and use. Two weathered candelabras sat empty upon the worn tabletop framing an intricately designed vase that stood proudly in the centre, its once-vibrant bouquet now reduced to a collection of decaying flowers, a red hue faded to a sombre brown. Despite its faded grandeur, there was a certain charm to the room, a nostalgic reminder of simpler times.

Memories of your past life flooded your mind. You remembered the stressful joy of hosting gatherings, the meticulous attention to detail as you fretted over the correct placement of place mats and whether the centrepiece was in keeping with the latest trends from the home magazines you avidly read. Glenn, ever the laid-back husband, would often be found nestled in his recliner, savouring a glass of whiskey as the radio drowned out your worries. He only intervened when you were on the verge of tears, calling for Patti to come and mend his frantic wife.

As you took in the scene before you, a pang of nostalgia tugged at your heartstrings, a bittersweet reminder of a life left behind in the wake of the bombs. In this dilapidated dining room, this family had somehow managed to create a semblance of normalcy amongst the disorder. You only hoped to do the same for your own child.

"I'll have Junior walk you back to your friend," she announced, her voice carrying a gentle authority as she guided you to a seat amidst the array of mismatched chairs. "He's a good boy, you won't come into any trouble out there with him by your side."

With a tender smile, she disappeared through a swinging door, leaving you to ponder her offer in the dimly lit room. However, your contemplation was interrupted by an unpleasant odour that wafted through the doorway, assaulting your senses with its acrid essence. The stench caused your stomach to churn uneasily, and you couldn't help but wrinkle your nose in distaste.

As she returned with two steaming plates balanced delicately in her hands, the offensive smell accompanied her, its presence overwhelming. Recoiling slightly, you fought to suppress the urge to gag and wondered how the woman wasn't doing the same.

Setting one plate down before you with practiced grace, she deftly produced a worn napkin from her apron, gently draping it across your lap with an air of hospitality. Expressing your gratitude, you watched warily as she took her seat opposite you, her eyes bright with anticipation.

Since your escape from the vault, you hadn't consumed anything that hadn't been prepared by your own hands or originated from a tin can. While her gesture was undoubtedly kind, you couldn't shake the apprehension that gnawed at you, fuelled by the putrid scent emanating from the meat on your plate.

You hesitantly prodded at the dish, watching as the jellied fat quivered around the thick bone it encased. A wave of revulsion washed over you, and opting instead to sample a carrot, you found it had been thoroughly drenched in the juices and carried the same off-putting aroma as the dubious meat.

Swallowing heavily, you mustered an encouraging smile for the woman across from you as she observed your reaction, her gaze expectant. Despite the foul taste in your mouth, you smiled in appreciation, hoping that it was enough to mask your unease.

"It's delicious," you fibbed, delicately patting the corners of your mouth with the napkin. You eyed the door you had entered through. "Will your husband be joining us soon?"

You didn't want to push, but the urgency of your situation weighed heavily on your mind. Every moment spent away from the Ghoul felt like an eternity, and the thought of his deteriorating condition filled you with a sense of dread. You could have left with those three vials, but what guarantee did you have that they would be enough?

You knew nothing about his condition, nor did you possess the knowledge to provide any meaningful assistance. All you could do was return with as many vials as you could carry, hoping that the sheer quantity would be enough to appease him and alleviate any resentment he might harbour towards you for leaving.

"It's a big cellar," she offered in explanation, her tone carrying a hint of apology for her husband's delay. A heavy sigh escaped her lips, her gaze unwaveringly fixed on you. "Gets a mite lonesome in this old house."

You offered her a sympathetic smile, sensing a shared understanding of loneliness in her words. "And Junior, is he your son?" you asked.

"One of 'em," she replied with a wistful smile, her gaze drifting momentarily into the distance. "The only one left. Tall as a redwood and about as sharp as one too, bless his heart." There was a fondness in her tone, a mother's unconditional love for her child evident in every word. "But us mothers, we love 'em all the same, don't we?" she added with a gentle chuckle, her eyes flicking to your pregnant belly before returning to meet yours with a glimmer of joy.

Your eyes widened in astonishment at her revelation, and a surge of vulnerability and protectiveness welled within you, prompting your hands to instinctively cradle your bump. You had grown noticeably, your pregnancy now too pronounced to conceal any longer, compelling you to discard your vault suit in favour of garments salvaged from an old dresser. Amidst the solitude of your journey with the Ghoul, encounters with others had been rare, limited to a handful of oblivious traders who had failed to notice your condition. This unexpected revelation felt like a breach of privacy, like divulging a secret that had been shared exclusively between you and your companion.

"Of course," you replied cautiously, sensing the weight of her words.

"I'd move mountains for my boy, just to ensure he's fed and breathing. In this world, that's about all a mother can aspire to," she murmured, eyes glistening with the threat of tears. "It's a pitiful state when a mother can't even provide that much for her own kin."

Your heart constricted with anguish, fears surging to the forefront as you contemplated the prospect of being unable to provide even the most basic necessities for your unborn child. The notion of welcoming a helpless infant into a world of scarcity and violence filled you with terror. You had been hesitant to confront the reality of impending motherhood, unsure of how you would navigate the responsibilities that lay ahead. Despite clinging to the hope that sanctuary awaited you at the haven, you couldn't shake the nagging doubt that lingered in the recesses of your mind.

As you looked into her sad eyes, a pang of empathy tugged at your heartstrings. This poor woman had endured unimaginable loss, yet here she was, seemingly trying to cling to a semblance of normality by creating a home for her remaining family in the wasteland. It was a fragile existence, one that could be snatched away at any moment, and as her resilience struck a chord within you, you wondered: Could this be your future as well? The thought lingered in the depths of your mind, weighing heavy on your chest.

"Don't feel sorry for me, darlin', I got my time with my boys," she assured you, reaching across the table to rest her hand gently on yours.

You smiled sadly as you regarded her. "I can't even imagine what you've been through," you admitted, your voice laced with genuine sympathy.

"No, I suppose you can't," she replied softly, her hand withdrawing from yours as she settled back in her chair. There was a moment of quiet contemplation before she spoke again, her words carrying the weight of hard-earned wisdom. "I've come to realize in this world that it's not about what's been done to us, but what we are willing to do."

You nodded in agreement. You had been thrust into this harsh reality, subjected to the horrors of the vaults and the betrayal of those who promised salvation. Yet, despite the trials and tribulations you had faced, you had fought tooth and nail to survive, to carve out a place for yourself in this dangerous new world. And now, with the imminent arrival of your child, that determination burned even brighter within you.

"Are you willing to do anything for your baby?" she asked, her voice soft yet resolute. Without hesitation, you nodded, unwavering resolve in your eyes.

Her gaze dropped to the table momentarily, lost in thought, before lifting once more to meet yours. "So am I," she declared softly, an edge in her voice that belied her gentle demeanour.

With a swift motion, she brought her index and middle finger to her lips, emitting a sharp whistle that pierced through the stillness of the old house. Your brows furrowed, trying to make sense of her action before Edwin shuffled into the room, trailed by a looming figure whose long hair obscured the majority of his face. "Christ, Mag, I thought we'd be waiting all night," the older man grumbled. "Junior, grab the girl."

You turned your gaze back to Mag, the panic rising within you like a tidal wave, but as your eyes searched for reassurance in hers, you found only avoidance. Her gaze remained fixed on the table, refusing to meet yours, her expression inscrutable.

Junior closed the distance with two swift strides, his towering frame engulfing you as he efficiently yanked you from your seat, flinging you onto your back on the table with a brutal force that stole the air from your lungs. The table's decorations rattled to the ground, mingling with the scattered food in a cacophonous crash.

As Mag's now stern voice echoed through the room, a cold shiver ran down your spine. "Don't leave any marks, Junior," she scolded, authority in her tone. Her son nodded in obedience.

Your hands trembled as you instinctively reached for your holster, only to curse under your breath when you found it empty. The realization hit you like a sledgehammer— you had handed your gun to Edwin during the negotiations, a decision that now seemed foolish in hindsight. Defenceless, vulnerable, and at the mercy of forces beyond your control. Like a cruel nightmare, you were back where you had started.

"Can't sell meat that's all bruised up," Mag's words lingered in the air as she left the room and your eyes widened in terror as the door swung to a shut. You scrambled to rise from the table, but Junior pushed you back down, though this time with less force.

"Please, you don't have to do this," you begged, tears welling in your eyes.

"She's not for selling, she's for eating," Edwin interjected callously, disregarding your pleas as he seized your ankles. Junior seized your wrists in an iron grip and pinned them above your head, stretching you out before them.

"Says who, you old coot?" Mag challenged, reappearing with a hefty butcher knife gripped firmly in her hand. The awful smell filled the room again, and you felt bile rise in your throat.

"Says me, the one who got her inside in the first place," he retorted, grunting as you struggled against his grip. "Besides, I'm sick of that rancid meat. He's been festering in there for weeks." He nodded toward the door where the putrid smell was emitting from.

His words sent a chill down your spine as you glanced at the mess of food scattered across the floor. Your eyes honed in on the repulsive meat that now lay splayed on the grubby carpet amongst the ceramic shards of the plates. Brahmin meat, she had told you, but now you realized it was another poor soul who had crossed this family's path.

Perhaps you were naïve to not consider the act of cannibalism in this dire new reality, but your mind reeled at the images of teeth ripping through bloody flesh.

"Please, why are you doing this?" you cried, tears hot on your cheeks as panic consumed you, each futile struggle met with unyielding strength from Edwin and Junior. Mag moved to your side.

"We've had this conversation, darlin', you know why," Mag whispered, her face looming mere inches from yours. The warmth that once suffused her features had now drained away, replaced by a chilling resolve as she gazed down at you. "Motherhood demands sacrifice, and this is the sacrifice I'm willing to make."

Her gaze shifted to your belly, assessing it before turning to address the old man. "We'll keep her for meat and sell the babe for a hefty sum," she declared, eliciting a triumphant whoop from him. As her hand tenderly caressed your sweat-dampened hair, a shiver ran down your spine at the realization of your fate. "I want you to know that I mean you no ill will," she murmured, her voice a soothing contrast to the horror of her words. "But my boy has to eat."

The gentle touch of her hand offered little comfort as you recoiled from her touch. When you shook your head in a futile attempt to rid yourself of her grasp, she stepped back, her voice hardening once more.

"I wish I could promise this won't hurt, but there's only one way this baby's comin' out," she stated matter-of-factly, her words ringing with finality as the weight of your impending ordeal settled like lead in the pit of your stomach.

As the blade hovered menacingly above you, your mind raced with desperate thoughts. You couldn't shake the image of the Ghoul alone, abandoned where you'd left him while you embarked on this ill-fated rescue mission. What if he awoke to find you gone, vanished without a trace? Would he think you'd left him, angry over what had transpired between you both? Or perhaps that you'd waited until his weakest moment to finally run from him. The mere notion tore at your heartstrings.

You needed him to know the truth, to understand that your departure was in aide to help him not abandon him. You couldn't die knowing that he may think so badly of you, even though you weren't sure why it mattered so much. He'd been difficult and stubborn, scolded you and made you cry, but there was a yearning that you felt for him beyond your own understanding. With every fibre of your being, you silently pleaded for a chance to return to his side, to make things right and ensure that he could never doubt your devotion.

But you were trapped, with nowhere to run and no escape from the horrors unfolding before you. The full stretch of your body left your bare stomach uncomfortably exposed to the imminent danger. The cold, unforgiving blade of the knife traced a path across the swell of your belly, its touch sending shivers of dread coursing through your veins. Though the first cut was not deep, the sting of pain accompanied by the trickle of blood down your side served as a grim reminder of the perilous situation you had walked yourself and your unborn child into.

Since escaping the clutches of the vault, you hadn't dared to picture your future, quickly learning that the dangers of the wasteland were capable of shattering your reality with ruthless brutality from one moment to the next. Yet, amidst the chaos and uncertainty, one thing had remained constant: your unwavering determination to protect and nurture the life growing within you.

From the moment you heard the doctor confirm your pregnancy, a flicker of hope ignited within you. Despite the deceit of your husband, the looming threat of war, and every obstacle that stood in your path, you had clung to the unwavering belief that you were destined for motherhood. It was a truth that resonated deep within your heart, but you felt it slowly being swallowed by the hollow ache of despair and regret.

With a heavy heart weighing down every fibre of your being, you closed your eyes, bracing yourself for what was to come. In that harrowing moment, a chilling realization swept over you like a tidal wave: if you were to remain conscious through these next moments, you would meet your baby. You were so far from carrying to full-term, but why would Mag go to such lengths unless she was confident that your baby would survive. Afterall, a living baby must be worth a fortune in the wasteland. A commodity, as the Ghoul had described you.

Then, the thought pierced your soul: your baby would enter the world alone, without you, unaware of what transpired or why you weren't there beside them. Growing up to think that their mother never loved them. You couldn't let it happen.

With your last shred of resolve shattered, a primal scream tore from your throat.

A distant crash from another room shattered the tense atmosphere, bringing the woman's relentless pursuit with the knife to an abrupt halt. All three members of the family turned their heads towards the doorway, their eyes widening in shock as it was obliterated before them. A deafening cacophony of splintering wood filled the air as a single bullet burst through, sending wooden fragments flying in all directions.

Instinctively, you turned your head away, seeking whatever meagre protection you could get. In the midst of the commotion, Edwin's agonized holler pierced the air, his body recoiling as the bullet sliced through his neck. With a forceful impact, he was thrown back against the kitchen doorway, his form crumpling to the ground with a heavy thud that reverberated throughout the room.

Junior's anguished wails pierced your eardrums. Despite his distress, his vice-like grip remained unyielding, keeping you firmly in place even as he grappled with the shock of his father's demise.

Meanwhile, Mag offered only a fleeting acknowledgment to the lifeless form of her husband before her attention snapped back to the now-open doorway. There, a figure emerged, a silhouette framed by the shattered remnants of the entrance. With each step, the sound of spurred boots rang out like a beacon of hope.

As the Ghoul's hulking frame filled the doorway, a wave of relief washed over you. He appeared worlds apart from the unconscious man you had left behind in search of aid, and as you took in his daunting appearance, you noticed the inhaler clutched in his hand, an almost empty vial inserted inside.

Locking eyes with him across the room, you watched as his weary gaze swept over the scene before him: you, splayed out and held down on the table, a small cut marring your belly, tears streaking your face.

In that fleeting moment, his expression darkened with a silent fury. With swift and merciless precision, he raised his magnum, his aim unwavering as he first targeted Junior. In an instant, the sound of gunfire shot through the room, a single slug piercing through Junior's skull, extinguishing his cries in a heartbeat.

Mag's horrified gaze barely had time to register the terror before her own fate was sealed. She turned to the Ghoul with venom in her eyes. "Coop—"

With ruthless efficiency, another bullet tore through her chest, sending her crumpling to the floor beside her fallen son. In the span of mere seconds, the room fell almost silent, the only sound being the Ghoul's heavy breaths as he surveyed the aftermath of his swift justice.

A low groan echoed across the room, drawing the Ghoul's attention to the source of the sound. Without hesitation, he fired off two more shots into Edwin's chest, putting an end to his suffering. As the final ring of gunfire faded, the Ghoul lowered his gun, his gaze fixated on you once more. His eyes, dark and brooding, seemed to bore into your very soul, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable in their intense scrutiny.

With trembling hands, you pushed yourself up to sit on the table, the weight of so many emotions swirling within you like a windstorm raging inside your chest. Fear, relief, guilt, and gratitude warred for dominance, each vying for your attention as you struggled to make sense of the harrowing ordeal that had unfolded before you. In that moment of uncertainty, you found yourself paralyzed by indecision, unsure of how to proceed as you watched the Ghoul, awaiting his instruction.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, he holstered his gun and tucked the inhaler back inside his coat, the look of anguish etched upon his scarred face. With a silent understanding passing between you, he beckoned you to him with a curl of his fingers, a wordless invitation for comfort that you never thought possible from him. Your body moved on instinct, propelled forward by a force beyond conscious thought, as you leaped from the table and into the safety of his waiting arms. In that moment, all pretence of strength crumbled away, leaving you clinging to him with a desperation that bordered on frantic.

You held onto him so tightly that you could almost feel the air being squeezed from your lungs. As his muscular arms enveloped you and your unborn child, a floodgate of emotion burst open within you, unleashing an outburst of tears that wracked your body with their intensity.

"I never left you," you whispered through each sob, your voice hoarse from screaming, the words spilling out in a plea for understanding. "I swear, I was coming back."

His touch was tender as he stroked your hair, his breath warm against your ear as he comforted your trembling form. "Nobody would blame you if you hadn't," he murmured softly, then cleared his throat. "I told you, you weren't to come here."

"I had to save you," you insisted, your voice shaking but resolute.

"Sure did a fine job," he said, glancing around the room at the carnage. "Looked like you had everything under control."

His teasing stung, and you pulled away from him, hurt flashing in your eyes as you stood your ground. "You were unconscious. If I hadn't come, you would have—" your voice cracked, unable to finish the thought.

"I'm still here, aren't I?" he interrupted, irritation thick in his voice. "Good thing too, because I wasn't aware just how dumb you could be."

"I didn't know if you'd make it," you shot back, your voice a raw blend of frustration and fear. "I had to do something, I couldn't lose you."

For a brief moment, his eyes softened, a flicker of understanding passing between you. But it was quickly replaced by steely conviction. He pointed a gloved finger at your belly, his tone firm yet edged with concern. "I shouldn't be your concern right now."

You cradled your bump protectively, looking up at him with glistening eyes. "And yet here we are."

He was silent for a moment, his hand dropping back to his side as he regarded you with a mix of frustration and helplessness. "What am I going to do with you?" he muttered, more to himself than to you.

You didn't answer him. Instead, you moved back into his chest, seeking the comfort you'd felt moments before. His arms wrapped around you instinctively, the tension in his muscles softening as he held you close.

"This can't keep happening," he said after moments of silence passed between you, his words hammering at your heart. You couldn't tell if he was referring to the intimacy of your embrace or your reckless brush with death once again. Regardless, you tightened your grip on him.

"Just a little longer," you whispered, your voice barely audible. He sighed in resignation as he gently disentangled your arms from his waist, pushing you back to look into your eyes. His hand slipped into the pocket of his coat, and he retrieved the device that would sever any remaining physical connection between you.

You had barely had time to enjoy the unbridled freedom of those moments in his embrace, the silence broken only by the rhythmic beating of his heart against your cheek rather than the disturbing clicking. But now, as your eyes fell on the Pip-Boy, you realized you weren't ready to relinquish that freedom, despite the protection it promised.

"I told you not to take it off," he chided. When you started to explain yourself, he cut you off. "I don't care, just put it back on."

You shook your head, your eyes locking with his, defiance met with disappointment. "Don't make me do it," he pleaded earnestly, his voice softening, laden with a desperation you hadn't heard from him before.

"I have a choice, and so do you," you told him, your voice steady but your heart pounding.

He smiled sadly, a bittersweet expression that deepened the ache in your chest. "I wish that were true," he replied, pulling your hand gently and fastening the Pip-Boy around your wrist. The device closed with a sickening clink, severing the fragile connection between you. You held his gaze, chin high, though you wanted to curl into yourself.

"I wonder if it really is me you're protecting with this thing," you said, your voice trembling with rage and sorrow, your hand still enclosed in his as the clicking commenced. "I'm not so sure anymore."

His gaze dropped as he took a deep breath, bracing himself before looking back at you with a rueful smile. "Me neither, vaultie," he admitted, his voice a whisper of regret. He dropped your hand and turned to leave the room. "Maybe it's better that way."

He disappeared through the open doorway, leaving you alone with the heavy silence and the cold weight of the Pip-Boy on your wrist. The freedom of touch you had tasted moments ago now felt like a distant memory, replaced by the stark reality that, regardless of anything else, the Ghoul was determined to keep you at a distance.

Taglist: @cheshirecat484 @lothiriel9 @ancientbeing10 @sillysimping @maeplaysbass @moon-trash1507 @spookyoat @rebelmarylou @writtenbyhollywood

#cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul x you #fallout #fallout prime #fallout fanfiction #cooper howard #the ghoul #fallout x reader

318 notes · View notes

starryevermore · 3 months

Text

the house of snow (24) ✧ coriolanus snow

the house of snow ✧ a royal coryo au | pinterest board| ao3

pairing: king!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

series summary: the king of panem is in search of a bride. and, for reasons you can never understand, coriolanus snow has set his sights on you. it would never be a happy marriage, you’re sure of that. but none of that matters, because when snow decides he wants something, he will do everything in his power to ensure it is his.

chapter summary: coriolanus becomes obsessive.

word count: 1,033

series warnings?: 18+ MINORS DNI, royal au, regency au, arranged marriage, rivals to lovers, obsessive!coryo, jealous!coryo, protective!coryo, eventual smut, eventual pregnancy, more tags to be added later

chapter warnings?: a little angsty, pet name (petal), not proofread

There was seldom a day that Coriolanus didn’t go to consult your physician. He was supposed he was lucky that the physician was being quite handsomely, and the fact that he was King, because any ordinary man would have been turned away long ago with the frequency of Coriolanus’s visits. He couldn’t help himself. HIs stomach had been twisted into knots since your condition became known, and it had only grown worse since you had asked to give birth to the babe at the Snow family cottage. Coriolanus required near-constant reassurances that you, and the babe, would be well.

You must have thought that Coriolanus was married to the physician himself with how often he frequented the physician’s chambers.

Coriolanus regretted how little time he was able to spend with you as a result. That never stopped him, however, from his obsessive tendency. He refused to let anything happen to you. Coriolanus would not be able to live with himself if he could have done something to prevent the loss of you and failed. If the visits were the only thing he could do, if the only aid he could provide was consulting the best physician in all of Panem, he would do it every hour if he could.

Still yet, his heart ached at the distance between you and him. You did not come to the office much anymore. The morning sickness had wrecked you for many weeks and, by the time it finally subsided, you were so tired that you would rather sit curled up by your favorite window in the library than begin to think about the political obligations the Crown placed upon you. The most Coriolanus saw of you was during meal times and when you both would retire to your shared chambers.

It was not enough.

He wished he could burrow himself under your skin. He wished he could take the burden of pregnancy from you and give it to someone else. He wished he could stop himself from spiraling at the mere thought of not having you by his side. Did you know how mad you drove him? Did you have even the faintest idea what he was willing to do for you? You knew his love, but did you know how deep the well went? Coriolanus had not known love before you, and he would not know it after you.

“You will be well,” he whispered.

You slept against his chest, arms wrapped around him. There would not be many more nights like this in the coming months as your bump grew with your babe. So he took the time to cherish it now, memorizing the feeling of your weight on top of him. How your soft snores blew air against his chest. The rise and fall of your body at each breath you took. Oh, he took special care to memorize that. You may have promised to let him be the one to go first, but you and he both knew there was no way to guarantee that. And if he did lose you in a few months time, he wanted to remember what it was like when you still breathed.

“I will not allow harm to fall your way.” Coriolanus carded his fingers through your hair, scratched his nails against your scalp. A satisfied noise escaped your lips. “I would take all your pain if you would let me.”

The weight of the bed shifted slightly as Coriolanus the Cat jumped onto the bed. He moved up the mattress and settled on the pillow closest to you. Coriolanus looked at the furry beast, who only offered a quiet mew before focusing its entire attention on you. At least the cat understood.

“Our son would, too,” Coriolanus continued. “We love you so much. Remember that if Lady Death comes to take you away. Remember what you would leave behind.”

Coriolanus the Cat mew’d in agreement.

“I love you, petal.”

As Coriolanus fell asleep, he dreamed of a day where the babe was born, safely bundled up in your arms. You were the picture of perfect health, as was the babe. He dreamt of a sweet girl, who had your beauty and your wits. He would spoil her as much as he did you. His princess and his Queen, perfectly safe in his arms.

By the time morning came, he was filled with renewed vigor to ensure such dreams would become reality. The sun had only just began to rise, and you were still fast asleep, but neither stopped him from slipping out of bed. Coriolanus dressed himself as quickly and as quietly as he could manage without waking you. Before he left, he pressed a kiss to your forehead. If he would not be there when you woke, at least you would still feel his love.

The physician was already awake when Coriolanus knocked on his door. The man barely regarded him as he opened the door.

“I have come to update you on my wife’s condition,” Coriolanus said.

The physician eyed him warily. “Your Majesty, I have told you, I do not require these daily updates, nor do I require multiple ones a day. You may rest assured that my scheduled appointments with Her Majesty will suffice.”

Coriolanus straightened, his eyes narrowing at the man. “Is it a crime to wish my wife have a safe pregnancy?”

“Of course not, Your Majesty.”

“Good. Then we shall continue as we have been.”

A sigh loosed from the physician’s lips.

“What?” Coriolanus demanded. Ire rose up in his chest, strangling his heart. Did the physician know something he didn’t? Was the physician aware that this was all a lost cause? Was he only humoring a man sick with love?

“I am a physician, Your Majesty, not a miracle worker. I have learned and I have trained to do my work. But if death comes to take my patient, there is only so much I can do. No matter how many updates you wish to give me, no matter how carefully I monitor Her Majesty’s condition, if it is her time to go, I cannot always prevent it.”

Coriolanus grabbed the doorknob and slammed the door shut.

#the house of snow: a royal coryo au #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow x fem!reader #coriolanus snow x female reader #coriolanus snow x y/n #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow fan fiction #coriolanus snow fan fic #coriolanus snow fanfic #coriolanus snow fic #starrywrites #starryevermore

121 notes · View notes

sanjisboyfie · 7 months

Text

๑ mummified [name] (29)

one piece x male reader

oh, the boy's a slag,

the best you've ever had

『 prev 』

nami covered her mouth at the sight.

it was truly gruesome. how did [name] end up in such a severely worse state than both sanji and usopp, even though they suffered the same attack? nami didn’t have any idea why, nor did she find herself caring for a reason.

not when she was reminded of how [name] was no longer breathing.

she turned him onto his back, grimacing at the sound the blood mad underneath the movement of his body. she took a couple of deep breaths before performing basic cpr.

“come on! [name], you can’t die here!” she shouted, frantically repeating the compressions with a steady rhythm. her arms were straight, in proper positioning, and she huffed with the motion of her body weight pressing down onto the area above [name]’s heart. “wake up!!!”

she debated on whether or not to give the breaths to [name] before shaking her head and committing herself to the routine. if it was life or death, then giving two breaths of air mouth to mouth wasn’t even a big deal. she wouldn’t hesitate if it meant the difference of [name] dying or living.

but just as she tilted his head back, to open his airway, there was a cough of blood that erupted from his mouth. she flinched away immediately to avoid the liquid splattering on her and also in shock. she looked at [name]’s chest and realized it was moving, very, very slowly, but it was moving.

“[name]!!!” she shouted, turning him to his side so that the blood could escape his mouth, instead of suffocating his airway. in a panic, she slapped his back a couple of times to urge the liquid to come out — not really thinking the action through in terms of bodily harm. but she didn’t have time to seriously evaluate her actions, not when she was just so frantic in seeing [name] stay alive.

he continued coughing out blood, the liquid dribbling out of his mouth and forming a puddle near his cheek. nami felt tears spring to her eyes as she saw how weak and fragile he really was.

his eyes were barely open, his jaw ajar, and his body was twitching every now and then.

“so much…blood,” nami breathed out, looking at the expanse of [name]’s body and her eyes becoming dull at the sight and reality. [name] had lost too much blood for it to be normal, for him to even be alive.

but she wasn’t going to question how he survived, she would just do everything in her power to ensure he stayed alive. she stood upright and was about to run to grab chopper’s spare bandages, gritting her teeth as she willed her legs to run forward.

but now, her and the weird knight had to be dealing with these two random circular people that had invaded their ship. they were spewing some irrelevant information about how usopp and sanji killed their brother, but nami could care less.

when they both started throttling her crew’s body around, she felt nothing but anger surge in her core.

“don’t touch them!!” she shouted, taking apart her clima tact and shooting two bars of it forward, the blue weapon forming an “x” shape as it was thrown towards the duo. “they’re already unconscious! can’t you see?! he’s going to die of blood loss, stop it!!!”

the two people obviously didn’t care for her pleading, which only made her more aggravated.

the weird knight and her made quick work in dealing with the two, nami filled with a new sense of urgency when she saw how beaten up and bloodied [name] really was. her eyes almost welled with tears, but she blinked them away and forced herself to focus on attacking.

after a joint effort in defeating the two, the ship and crew were finally safe again. nami threw off the gauntlet she was forced to use, rushing over to [name]’s side and holding her hand over his heart. a wave of relief came over her when she felt it was still beating.

“i need to do first aid quickly,” she reminded herself, running to grab the bandages from chopper’s quarters and then coming back onto the deck and hastily treating [name].

she apologized briefly to the unconscious sanji and usopp, but considering that they were not in as terrible condition as [name], she didn’t feel all that bad treating [name] first.

“old man!! where do you think you’re going?!” she shouted from [name]’s side, seeing that the old man was now adorning his metallic fear. “you can’t just leave us here?!”

“i apologize, but i must follow where enel went,” gan fall spoke, eyeing the injured [name] with immense pity, “please, treat him quickly and the other two so that you all can make it out of here alive,”

before nami could further argue with him, the sky night and his bird took off. she grit her teeth in annoyance, angrily wrapping the bandages around [name]’s bloodied form.

just as she thought she was at least half way done in treating him, there was a sudden blast of music that was heard from behind merry.

she fully expected to see some sort of enemy attacking them once again, but insteaad was confused when she saw a little ship being steered by conis and her father.

“nami-san! heso!” conis greeted, making nami tilt her head in confusion.

pagaya parked the vehicle behind merry and the two climbed aboard, a new face in tow.

“this is aisa-san, we had agreed to-”

“stay away blue sea people! i am a warrior of shandora and i will eliminate you!!”

pagaya’s explanation of who the girl was was cut off by the child herself, who was waving around a “weapon” in nami’s face. the woman could only look at her with an unimpressed expression, push her aside by using her elbow to get her out of the way, and looking up at conis.

“help me treat them, all of them are in really bad shape, but [name], i think he’s in the worst conditon,” conis and her father looked at the man in shock. the tall man that was comfortably eating at their home only hours before was now boiled down to a completely bloodied mess.

conis jumped to action, retrieving her first aid bag from their own personal ship and then immediately getting to work on treating him. nami assisted her, wiping [name] down clean of any blood and then immediately plastering a healing balm over his wounds.

the most obvious signs of damage were near his face, such as his eyes and ears, as well as his chest. conis worked as calmly as she could whilst nami kept a hardened expression the entire time she was treating [name].

‘if you even think about dying, [name], i’ll make sure to give you an earful in hell! there’s no way you’re dying today!’ the navigator thought to herself, watching conis’ finger expertly navigate the roll of bandage around [name]’s body.

“he should be completely covered now,” conis sighed after a strenous couple of minutes of work.

[name] was dressed head to toe in bandages. his eyes, nose, and mouth were the only uncovered parts of his face since he, obviously, needed to see and breathe. nami had covered him up with his shorts, but didn’t bother with his shirt since she didn’t want to move him around all that much.

“the healing balm underneath the bandages act as a cooling agent as well as an antibacterial, so it should target the possible burns he might have suffered from enel’s attack as well as fight infection,” conis informed nami, who only nodded her head in understanding. the skypiean noticed the other woman’s worried gaze lingering on [name], so she offered her comfort by rubbing up and down her back, “i will treat the other two, please stay by his side to keep him company.”

nami nodded, muttering a thank you, and positioned herself to be as close as possible to [name]’s resting body. her hand rested on top of his chest, right above his heart and it was a comfort to feel the faint beating against her own skin.

“i hope the others are doing alright,” she said to herself, looking down at [name]’s body with deep regret evident on her face. “seriously, you’re always getting into life threatening danger…for what, you idiot?”

she grit her teeth in annoyance, thinking back to alabasta. they were lucky to have vivi and chopper both on the scene to treat him quickly. and nami feels thankful to have conis help her out with the first aid. but her worry and anxiety over his wellbeing still hadn’t been quenched at all. without chopper here to treat him, he may as well be closer to being a dead man than walking this off like he did in alabasta.

when caused [name] to wake from his knocked out state was the giant beam of lightening that had shot straight down from the sky. he coughed blood up as the electricity hit the island beside them, making the water underneath merry rock back and forth.

he stabilized his breathing before taking in his surroundings. they were below deck of merry and beside him, usopp and sanji were bandaged up to treat their own wounds. and that was when he noticed he was wrapped head to toe in white bandages, some parts of the white surface blotted with red blood.

he groaned, feeling fatigue and pain wash over his entire body. of course, the god had to have the ability linked to electricity, he cursed in his head. he rolled over, trying to urge his legs in stepping forward. it took a couple of tries, like a baby deer walking for the first time, but then he was finally able to make it to the door.

when he slammed it open, the first thing he heard were the cries of someone. he searched the deck and saw a familiar head of blonde hair and a pair of white wings on their back. he walked forward, eyes softening as he saw that she was the source of crying.

seeing as he was unable to speak properly, the bandages around his face secured rather tight, all he could do was kneel down beside her and offer him his arms.

”[name]?” she breathed out in shock, surprised to see that he was even conscious so soon. when she saw the gesture he was offering, his arms spread open and his torso awaiting, she bit her lip and tried to muffle her cries. she collapsed into his arms, crying into the bandages around his chest as he hugged her tight.

she had just witnessed her father die, all thanks to enel and his lightening powers. she feels nothing but grief and anger. how could enel do this to her father? and while [name] didn’t even know the gravity of their current situation, he held her for as long as she needed with a stoic expression underneath his bandaged face.

“[name]! enel is going to-” she cut herself off, not wanting the same fate of her father to befall [name] and herself, “no, i can’t! i have to go, [name], i can’t explain further.”

[name] blinked at her sudden change in demeanor, tilting his head to the side in confusion. seeing the fire in her eyes and hearing her determination, though, he let her go and stood upright.

”for our safety, i can’t say what i have heard, but please tend the other two while i relay the message to the people. i can’t allow for this to happen without warning the others!” whatever “this” was, [name] didn’t know, but he didn’t bother trying to stop her.

instead, he only attempted a smile and threw her a thumbs up.

conis faltered at the sight, rushing forward and hugging him with the lightest touch and then backing away, “thank you for understanding! i really wish i didn’t have to leave the three of you without aid, but i must! i’m sorry! [name], please be safe!”

he waved her comment off, rolling his eyes at her apology, and shooing her away. she weakly laughed at his behavior, running off the deck of the ship and onto the miniature boat that she and her father had brought.

the only plan of action was to bring merry to the original meeting point. unfortunately, he would just have to hope that he was steering merry in the right direction. after getting everything in order, he walked to the room where sanji and usopp were resting and went to take care of them.

the two rags that were resting on their heads was set on the rim of the pail of water, so he first went to set them back in place. after wringing the water out, he placed the two rags on their foreheads. he continued to silently work in making sure they were comfortable, covering them with the thick blankets and fluffing their pillow.

in the midst of him treating them, sanji began muttering in his sleep. he wasn’t really listening, blocking out the noise and just focusing on how to speed up their healing process.

as he was redoing the bandages around sanji’s arms, though, the blonde unconsciously grabbed his own and pathetically called out, “nami-san~” to which [name] very abruptly dropped sanji’s hand with a grimace.

the action made sanji’s eyes open and when he saw the mummified version of [name] staring at him, he scurried away and wrapped himself in the blanket for protection, “no way i just held your hand!” he shouted, pointing a finger at [name].

seeing as he was bandaged up and unable to talk, [name] just went to flip him off before turning around and tending to usopp.

“where is nami-san?!” sanji cried out, rocking back and forth like a baby throwing a tantrum, “oh, i hope she is safe!”

as he was crying those mock tears, [name] stood up and went to throw out the old bandages. the movement made sanji look up from his wallowing and observe [name]’s form. he was moving well, all things considered, but he noticed that his actions were sluggish and lazy. as if he barely had enough energy to even be moving.

then sanji remembered everything up until this point. [name] was having really bad reactions prior to the god even showing up, overheating and sweating bullets. then he was attacked head on by the supposed god, making everything else that happened after become unknown.

using context clues, he could assume the condition [name] was in was also due to the god striking him. sanji grit his teeth, looking at the man’s bandaged body and recognizing the fact that the blame could be put onto him. he ran a hand through his blonde hair, looking aside as he mentally beat himself up.

[name] is so injured because of me, he thought to himself, and now nami-san is nowhere to be seen! i’ve failed as a crewmate and as a man! his thoughts were going rampant, ranting on and on about nami’s safety.

then he was knocked on the head by [name]’s knuckle. he was going to shout at him for being annoying, but when he looked up and noticed that every inch of [name]’s body was covered with bandages, he bit his tongue.

“we better wake up usopp,” sanji commanded, standing up and putting the cigarette back into his mouth, “we have to go and save nami-san,” then he shoved [name]’s shoulder with a glare, “you’re in no condition to do anything, though, so just stick behind with merry,”

[name] immediately refused, shoving sanji’s shoulder with an equal amount of force. sanji shook his head, “i won’t let you come, you’d only slow us down. be more considerate on this mission and stay back!”

if [name] could speak, he’d definitely curse sanji out, the blonde knew that. the glare he was sporting spoke for itself. but the chef really didn’t want [name] joining them.

they had to run across the island’s terrain, get to a high vantage point, somehow get on board of the massive flying ship that was above their heads and then probably fight the god that was behind this entire mess. [name] would only get hurt even more.

”you’ll just get even more hurt and slow us down,” sanji said, walking away and not leaving [name] anymore room to argue — as if the man could in the first place.

[name] felt furious at sanji for underestimating him so much. he already knew that there was no way that he was going to stay back while usopp and sanji got to face enel. over his dead body would he let those two go into such an intense fight alone.

but all he could do was simmer in his anger in silence, wincing as he crossed his arms over his chest in said anger.

“usopp, let’s go! we have nami-san to rescue!” sanji shouted, tugging usopp to the railing, “[name], don’t even think about-”

“too late,” usopp drawled out, seeing that the h/c haired man had already jumped off of the railing and onto the island before either of them could react.

“shit for brains, get back here!” sanji shouted, jumping ahead too and running to be side by side with [name], “go back to the ship, i won’t repeat myself!”

[name] flipped him off and continued running ahead.

“you’re only going to slow us down!” sanji argued, but his words were easily proven false as [name] was running the fastest among the three. usopp was running a couple of feet behind.

“sanji, are we seriously going up there?!” usopp cried out, legs wobbly as he tried catching up with the two.

“yeah, after i kick this asshole back to merry!”

[name] suddenly halted in his running, catching sanji in his arms and bracing for impact when usopp ran into his torso as well. with an iron strong grip, he had his arms wrapped around sanji and usopp’s waist and were carrying them at his waist height �� as if they were rag dolls.

“put me down, shit for brains!”

“ah, how relaxing this is, to just rest in [name]’s arms like this~”

usopp and sanji had two very different reactions, obviously.

and [name] furrowed his brows in concentration, getting into position as if he were about to start running. but what shocked the two in his arms was that instead of him running, it appeared as if he was flying through the air.

they were still on the ground, the two confirmed that when they looked down and saw the grass so close to [name]’s feet. so he wasn’t actually flying, but the speed in which he was “running”, it was as if he was soaring through the air.

and before they knew it, they were standing on a rock that was a couple meters tall and gave them more leverage in reaching the gigantic ship that nami was apparently harbored on. after she was kidnapped by enel. all according to sanji’s theory.

[name] set usopp and sanji down, giving them a couple of seconds to get used to their lack of motion. using soru when it’s just your body in transport is fine, the body has been trained for it. but when you used soru with other in tow, it was hard to estimate how their bodies would react to the action.

sanji was reacting better than usopp, simply putting a hand on his chest to calm his heart and stabilize his breathing. the sniper, on the other hand, was off to the side puking his guts out.

[name] walked over when he was finished and roughly hit the belt that was around usopp’s waist. sanji perked up, seemingly ready to get their rescue mission into play, and joined [name]’s side. and speaking for him, he exclaimed, “usopp, get ready, we’re gonna use that stupid rope thing you have to get up there!”

“what?! why me?!” usopp cried out, not liking the way the two were ganging up on him. he couldn’t even rely on [name] to cower behind because the man himself looked rather unbothered by his fear.

“that rope of yours can reach up there! shoot it up and i’ll kick it in the direction of the ship to make sure it latches on! from there, we’ll climb it and save nami-san!”

usopp’s knees shook where he stood and he was about to beg [name] to let him not participate, but the male was still glaring at the belt around his waist with determination.

there was no way [name] would listen to his pleas now, usopp thought with a stream of tears going down his face.

“if this ends up ending terribly, i won’t be responsible!” is the last thing usopp shouts before releasing the hooked rope from his belt. it’s trajectory is set towards sanji, who kicks it at the last second to send it flying towards the ship.

when the hook at the end finally latched onto the ship, sanji and [name] threw themselves onto the rope while usopp just waited for it to take him off of the ground. now all that was left was to climb.

[name] grit his teeth at the immense pain he was going through. the closer they got to the deck of the massive ship flying through the sky, the more pain he was in. regardless of the fact, though, he continued on climbing and toughed out the pain.

when they finally were able to get onto some surface of rest, sanji was more amped up to save nami than he was before. he ran ahead, shouting about how they had to split up and use this time as resourcefully as they could. before he disappeared from their line of sight, though, he shouted once more, “and [name], don’t be a fucking idiot! it’s not just your life on the line, it’s usopp’s too!!”

“who said i can’t fend for myself?!” usopp cried out in offense, making [name] turn to him with an unimpressed look on his face.

obviously, [name] couldn’t verbalize anything so all he did was roughly tug usopp in a random direction and hope that that was the path that led them to enel. usopp continued crying out for him to stop, not wanting to actually fight the god, but he had no choice when it was [name] pulling him along.

[name] was bulldozing through wooden doors with not a care in the world, eager to find nami and get everyone to safety. he could see that with each door and wall that he smashed to pieces, she was getting closer. it only encouraged him to move faster.

usopp was tightly gripping his slingshot in anticipation, keen on how the farther they were traveling in on the ship, the louder the sounds of fighting were. nami was probably in a lot of trouble and that was what encouraged the sniper to move onward with [name] with some sense of courage.

but when the door [name] slammed open and revealed the actual god, usopp felt nothing but fear. he looked to [name] to gauge his reaction, but when he looked to where he was supposed to be standing, he was no longer there. and when usopp turned his head back into the direction of enel, he almost pissed himself when he saw the god was looking directly at him.

“special attack : exploding star!” he shouted with a mixture of courage and fear. when he opened his eyes, he saw that the god was glaring right back at him. where the hell did [name] go?! usopp screamed in his head, looking at the god and feeling himself tremble, “i-i’m sorry,”

the god didn’t look impressed.

”oi! nami, is sanji here yet?!”

“sanji? he’s here?!” nami exclaimed in shock. she was wondering if her eyes were deceiving her before or if it really was [name] that she saw standing beside usopp earlier. but, considering he was now missing, it must’ve been a trick of the light. that or she was going crazy.

“what do you mean he’s not here yet?! plus that asshole abandoned me! what are we going to do?!” usopp shouted in worry, running out of the way of one of enel’s attacks and tumbling towards nami.

“what do you mean?! you’re the one that’s supposed to be saving me?!”

“what?! no way, you save me!”

“screw that, save me!!”

the two bantered back and forth until enel shot another electric beam towards them. they dispersed and dodged the attack, crying to their heart’s content when they realized they were so close to getting hit.

“what the hell?! where’s [name] when you need him?!”

“savior [name]! save us!!!” usopp shouted, but when he saw zero movement from their surrounding area of the said man, he kicked his feet into the ground, “you asshole! how could you abandon us?!”

“you mean he was really here?!” nami shouted in confusion, “he’s in no condition to even be moving, what the hell were you guys thinking bringing him up here?!”

“he insisted, we can’t stop him! that’s like trying to stop a hungry luffy from eating all the food we have — it’s impossible! im-poss-ible!!” usopp drawled out, a shriek escaping his lips as he dodged another attack. “but that doesn’t matter, he’s left us here for some reason! so now, we have to be the ones to take care of this situation!”

nami grit her teeth, “he’s gonna die if he fights enel! i’m serious, usopp, where did he go?!”

“how the hell am i supposed to know?! i’m the one telling you he ran away!”

“that’s bullshit, [name] wouldn’t run away!” nami defended, looking around and clenching her fists in frustration, “[name]! come here right now, or else we’re leaving you here!”

“you have an escape plan?!” usopp asked with stars in his eyes, eager to get out of the immediate line of danger.

“the waver — if we time our jumping right, we could land in the cloud island below and be saved by the clouds! that’s our only shot of getting out of here alive!”

“roger, i’ll distract him and you make sure it’s ready!”

the two nodded in understanding, running in separate directions to get their plan in motion. usopp’s plan to distract god enel didn’t work that well considering he only just put a target on himself and made enel focus on him entirely.

usopp thought that he was going to be done for, kneeling before enel with a firghtened look on his face. the god didn’t even flinch as he charged up an attack that would surely knock him out.

just as the beam was going to be shot out straight onto usopp’s torso, there was a squelching sound that echoed through the ship. it was quieter than the electricity bumbling on the end of enel’s fingertips, but usopp had heard it.

and enel was the one that felt it.

he looked down and saw the tip of a dagger sticking through his abdomen. the electricity he had charged up immediately died down and he coughed out blood, nothing but surprise painting his features.

“and who do you think you’re going to attack, god?”

usopp almost cried out to rejoice if he wasn’t scared out of his mind. that was [name]’s voice, no doubt. but the image of him was truly terrifying.

his shadow almost seemed bigger than it usually was, the way he was intimidatingly hovering behind enel. he was carrying a large bag behind him, making his figure seem even larger. the bandages that were tightly wound around every crevice of his body were now painted more red than white. the ones that were around his face were ripped off, revealing portions of his features. but most importantly, his mouth was unrestricted and his smirking canines were on display for them to see.

[name] was standing behind enel, a dagger in his clenched fist and buried deep into enel’s lower stomach. with a scowl on his face, he twisted the dagger and pushed it in deeper into his flesh.

“hey, i’m asking you a question, it’d be polite of you to answer,” he taunted, his knee nudging the back of enel’s and forcing him to kneel, “huh, never thought a god would look so befitting in this position. it’s kind of fuelling my ego. having a big, mighty man such as yourself kneeling before me,”

enel grit his teeth, a million questions running through his mind. how did such a feeble weapon manage to pierce his skin? that wasn’t supposed to be possible. it should’ve went straight through.

“i’m your god, now, enel,” [name] grinned, pulling the dagger out with a satisfied look on his face with the way the blood splattered across the deck, “say your prayers and i might be merciful,”

—

[ .ᐟ ] mc getting saved by the power of medical knowlede iktr but also if u think about it, it's the mosy realistic thung that could've happened thats all im gonna say

—

『 prev 』 ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🌊 ꒱ 『 next 』

taglist (lmk if u want to be tagged ! <3 ) : pls do lmk if i left u out i havent done this in a long while so the chances are high i am at fault !!

@skullr0se, @strawberrii-tea, @triangulartriangles, @anotherlovefool, @sinmp, @3v37773, @taru-nami, @disc0dild0s, @boredwithlifeatthispoint, @kaulitzer, @notplutos, @cheetosins @whotdefak @lcst-at-5ea @zforgottensniper @lunarapple @softi-911 @softhanyu

#≡;- ꒰ ° keep safe series ꒱#ks #one piece x male reader #one piece x reader #x male reader #x reader #male reader #one piece male reader #one piece imagines #male reader imagines #anime male reader #one piece fanfiction #one piece fanfic #male reader fanfic #male reader fanfiction

121 notes · View notes

ranaissingle · 7 months

Text

Whispers and Melodies

(Rhysand X Reader)

Summary: She has heard a deep melodic voice speaking to her from a far away place for decades. Anything from snippets of a longer conversation to roars that shook the very earth she walked on.

Rating: T (for now)

A cup of tea sat cooling on the window sill of a small cottage on the outskirts of the Day Court. The quaint home overlooked a large river delta with roiling waters whose waves flowed into an ocean only a stone's throw away. Inside the cottage sat a girl gazing into the night sky while she forgot all of the day's troubles.

The healer had spent the entire day tending to patients from the village near her cottage. It was a quaint town whose community was close-knit and small. It had taken the townspeople a while to grow accustomed to me but as the years had come and gone, they had opened up to each other. Her skills as a healer also aided in this endeavor. But despite how much she enjoyed her dealings with the townspeople, her favorite part of her job was the research that it allowed. At the end of a hard day of treating her patients, she could lock herself up in her office and lose herself in the formulas and ratios she tested in her compounds.

Y/N padded over to her small kitchen, mug in hand, and placed it into her sink before walking toward her research room and locking the door behind her.

She always thought of her research room as a safe haven. The vials full of various substances that she had been testing littered her desk along with her carefully taken notes about the contents and phase changes of each substance on her log book. Her most recent project had been to synthesize some type of blood clotting or replenishing potion that would allow her to administer it to a patient who was more likely to die of blood loss before she even had the chance to solve any of their injuries. A potion like this would allow her ample time to stitch up any wound or brew some other cure for poisons and the like.

Her current issue consisted of not being able to stabilize the potion for long-term storage. The fennel root and crushed carrowfish shell she’d added seemed to be slowly decomposing each other which made the potion essentially useless after more than 4 days of storage. The trials she was running right now attempted to add some honey which slowed the reaction process as well as introduced some antimicrobial properties to the potion.

Y/N quickly jotted down the physical changes in appearance and consistency of each of the test tubes with varying amounts of honey. Each testing glass contained more honey than the last. Whichever combination yielded the best preservation and overall effectiveness is the ratio that she would begin perfecting.

Y/N stayed in her laboratory until she felt her eyes begin to strain and her feet start to ache. She carefully placed all of her measuring tools and weights back onto her working table before she exited the room and made her way to the front door of her cottage. She undid all 3 locks and tugged the large oak door open with both her hands.

In the distance, she saw a figure. A male it seemed; lying on the ground as the ocean lapped at his skin and crusted it in dried salt. The setting sun gleamed against him and warmed his pale skin in a sheen of gold that she thought suited him much more than the sickly pallor he seemed to have. Most people tended to steer clear of her section of the beach out of some deeply engrained paranoia of outsiders. But this male seemed to have missed that particular message.

Rhysand had known he had been fooled the moment he stepped into the ballroom on that fateful day. Amaranth had promised a ball in celebration of the many alliances she had made as well as an apology to those she had wronged. Rhysand had gone to the ball purely for formalities' sake. He had always loathed these types of false pretenses that the upper echelon of fae had always insisted on perpetuating. Nonetheless, he had dragged himself out of his court that afternoon and appeared at this ball. His own cowardice to refuse Amarantha’s invitation had resulted in 50 years of extortion, rape, and violence that despite his centuries of experience, he could not seem to shake the black cloud that it had cast over him.

Feyre being his mate was not something he had seen coming nor was it something he wanted. Tamlin would treat her well, she cared for all of his people and he would care for Feyre Rhys was sure. Despite his freedom, Rhysand could not bring himself to go to his home in Velaris. His family was likely waiting for him to return but they would all know exactly what had happened to him as soon as he stepped in the door. He did not wish to deal with their horrified faces and pitying looks once they found out. So instead, he wandered.

He wandered around lands both Night Court and Day. He walked and flew so far that he ended up somewhere on a coastline. Rhys has no idea where he had landed but he didn't seem to care that he was likely lost. So as the sun set, he continued a slow walk along the cliffside coast and eventually down onto the sandy beaches. The sun sunk further into the horizon leaving only the gleaming light of a cottage in the far-off distance. As Rhys drew closer, he noticed a crop garden with some vegetables and herbs growing on the plot off to the side of the house and a water well located up a hill. Rhysand was tired. He was tired of walking, of flying, of breathing even. He just wanted to rest. He wanted to sleep on a soft bed and not have to think about anything at all, not be worried that one wrong move would result in the death of everyone he had ever loved. So he made his way closer to the cottage before sitting on the wet sand closest to the water and stretching out his long legs. The water lapped at his feet and calves, almost as if it was slowly pulling away all the tension that wound itself in his legs. He stared out at the ocean for what seemed like an eternity. Rhysand got lost in the repetitive movements of the water and the slowly setting sun in the distance casting beautiful colors on the waters and sand.

When he eventually woke up from what felt like an eternity of slumber, he was not nestled in the sand as he had expected. Instead, he was cushioned underneath with quilts and pillows, and on top of him lay thick blankets to combat the morning chill that often accompanied this time of the year. The room itself looked lived in, to say the least. Canvas’ and embroidery projects were pinned to the wall in various positions. Everything from people to landscaping were inscribed into the wall. Pages that appeared to be ripped out of books with certain lines underlined also adorned the cedarwood walls. The entire room smelled of something woody and calm that Rhysand couldn't quite a place. He stretched up from his lying position and slowly removed the layers of quilts and blankets from him. His legs felt sore and ached from the hours of walking he had done the day before. He tried to stretch his wing muscles but they also ached from their overuse. He hadn't flown in decades, yet he had taken to the sky’s as soon as he could as if he had never left the great blue expanse. He now felt his lack of practice as he tried to rotate his shoulders and ease the aches that had rooted themselves in his back.

A shuffle from outside the door had Rhysand snapping his neck towards the door. He slowly lifted himself off the bed, careful to make sure none of the wooden beams snapped. He paced towards the door and stuck his ear against the wood grain to listen for any further movements. He was listening to the slicing of metal that would indicate a weapon the characteristic heavy footfalls that usually indicated a warrior of some capacity. Instead, he heard sharp cutting noises blunted by a wooden board, the shuffle of lithe feet, and the soft humming of a female.

Hello everyone! It has been too long! So many things have happened in the last months and I can't wait to get back into the groove of posting multiple-part stories.

116 notes · View notes

the-sound-of-her-wings · 1 year

Text

don't stop trying to find me here amidst the chaos

❀ Premise: You get injured on the job and Kaz loses his mind about it. When you are on the mend, both of you learn what it means to start on a journey towards healing ❀ Word Count: 2,338 ❀ Content Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Gore, Blood, & Violence, Kaz beats someone to death with his gloved hands, Infection of A Wound, Hurt/Comfort

It was supposed to be an easy job. Break in, forge some documents, destroy some others, and you're done. It was a trap, but everyone knew that going into it.

Still, you weren’t expecting this much effort to go into killing the crows. You’ve been trying to stay out of the line of fire, aiding the various crows when they call out for help. You’re on your way to helping Inej heal a minor wound when it happens.

You feel the knife before you see it. Of course, target the healer you think to yourself, trying to wrestle your attacker off you before they're able to rip the knife back out of your body. You fail, like you thought you would. A bullet whizzes past your head, hitting your attacker in the head, and killing them instantly.

"You're bleeding?" Jesper yells, as if he's never seen you injured before.

"That tends to happen when you get stabbed!" You yell back.

Another bullet flies past you.

You place your hand over your wound, trying to heal yourself enough to remain useful. Instead, your hand pulls away from your hip covered in blood.

"I need to leave." You say, flashing your bloody hand.

"Y/N! This way, quickly!" Nina yells from behind Jesper.

You stumble forward, trying to keep yourself from falling over. The pain isn't too much, but the blood loss… somebody has to stop the blood loss.

"I've got you," Kaz says, appearing on the side opposite the wound, seemingly out of nowhere.

"Thanks, Kaz" You state.

"There's a safe house nearby," He reassures.

"I know. I've healed you there many times before." You reply.

You make it out of the building, but not before losing at least three pints of blood. You’ve got a headache, and your dizzy, and you’ll probably pass out in a very short amount of time.

“Where did Nina go?” You ask, starting to slow down a little.

“Making sure the safehouse is still safe.” He says.

“Oh. How’d she get that far ahead of us?” You question.

“She’s not bleeding out,” Kaz states.

“Sorry for bleeding out on you,” You say, words starting to slur. You aren’t sure how you’re still walking. “I’ll keep my blood in my body next time.”

“We’re almost there,” Kaz replies, barely managing to stay upright himself, as most of your weight leans against him.

“Quickly!” Nina shouts, urging the both of you into the safe house.

“I think I need to lie down.” You say, slowly collapsing to the floor. Blissful unconsciousness greets you shortly after.

“Brekker, help me get her to the table,” Nina commands.

Kaz is no longer consciously aware of what’s happening around him. He’s able to follow most of Nina’s directions, but he’s not physically there. He’s retreated into his mind, where the emotions begin to fester.

The inside of Kaz’s mind is a series of mazes, locked doors, dead ends, and brick walls. They are defenses he built for himself, to protect him whenever something terrible happened. The more trauma he endured, the more complicated it became for him to express his emotions. And then, one day, the only emotions that he would allow to emerge from his skull were anger and rage.

He looms over your unconscious body, eyes sharp as knives, covered in your blood. If he ever finds the man who did this…

“BREKKER!” Nina shouts, snapping him out of his disassociation. She’s kneeling by your unconscious body, trying her best to seal your wound while being flooded with Kaz’s emotions. “You aren’t helping.” She runs her hand through her hair, frantic. “If you don’t calm down I’m going to have to kick you out of this room. Do you understand?” Your wound is beginning to unseal itself as she loses concentration.

Kaz swallows his emotions, pushing them back into the pit they had suddenly erupted from. “Yes,”

“Good. Now let me focus,” Returning to your wound, she’s able more or less seal it- at least enough that the bleeding stops completely.

Were he a different man, he may have kept vigil over you for the days that followed. Watched over your unconscious body, thinking of all the things he wanted to say to you when you woke up. To apologize for having fell for an obvious trap. Were he another man, he may have dabbed at your head with a cool towel, trying to quell the fever that arose. Held your hand. Prayed for your return. But Kaz was not another man.

He was the Bastard of the Barrel. Dirty Hands. And he was going to kill every single person who had anything to do with that cursed job. At least, he would have, had the other Crows not been there to ground him in reality.

Kaz leaves the safe house, heading straight back into the fight. To be honest, he’s not in much better shape than you, but the adrenaline keeps him upright and the rage keeps him deadly. A bullet lands in a pillar beside him, but he ignores it.

Inej approaches him while he is still beating up the man’s corpse. Everyone who tried to kill them is dead.

He feels a fist land on his back and turns around to meet its owner. And then the rage takes over. Have you ever wondered how many times you have to hit someone before they're dead?

Kaz knows the answer, but he passed that number a very long time ago.

“Kaz,” She says, quietly. She places a hand on his shoulder, but he continues.

“I think he’s dead,” Jesper deadpans.

Slowly, the punches start to slow down, until he finally stops. He stands up, shakily, absolutely covered in blood from head to toe. He is still too angry to notice that he’d been crying. Jesper and Inej notice, but say nothing.

“Let’s go,” Inej says, handing Kaz his cane.

Nina is sitting with a cup of tea when they arrive back at the safe house, staring deeply into the cup.

“How is she?” Jesper asks.

“She’ll live, most likely,” Nina replies, glancing towards the group. Her eyes narrow as she sees Kaz covered in more blood than he left with. “It’ll be a while before she recovers.”

“We should plan our next move,�� Kaz states, though he really means he should plan their next move. Which is revenge, of course.

“It should start with changing your clothes.” Nina retorts.

Kaz gives Nina a look.

“Don’t you look at me like that when I just saved the person you love,” Nina hisses, letting go of her cup of tea and slapping her hands against the table. It rattles, splashing some of the tea. “You know she wouldn’t want to see you like this,” She mutters, returning to her tea.

“I think washing up’s a good idea. Anybody disagree?” Jesper asks the room of severally traumatized people trying desperately to not let their emotions take over.

He does not get a response. Instead, the crows each find themselves going separate ways within the house, giving each other time to process what has just occurred.

XXXXX

“Kaz?” You ask, barely making out his figure in the dark room.

“I’ll go get Nina-” He says, standing up.

“No- stay. Please.” You plead.

He sits back down in the chair at the far end of the room.

“Come closer,” You beckon.

He moves to the chair beside your bed- the one the others had been taking turns using. The one Jesper sat in, recounting his day, pretending like you were awake. The one Nina sat in while she re-examined her work, taking the bandages on and off a wound that shouldn’t still be leaking. The one Inej sat in, drip-feeding you water so you didn’t dehydrate while you slept. Each of them had their own little task, their thing they did to make them feel like they were helping you heal.

Kaz just stared at you from afar, terrified. He knows what dead people look like- what they feel like- and for a while, you didn’t look much better than them. Tonight is the first time he’s ever sat in this chair. The first time he’s felt safe enough to do so since you got stabbed.

“Can you check the wound?” You ask. “I’m not strong enough to take off the bandages…”

“Are you sure you don’t want Nina?” He replies, already slowly peeling the covers off your body.

“So she can make it worse? No. I don’t need Nina for this.” You respond.

Hearing you quip again makes him feel better. The fact he has to touch your skin to take the bandages off, however, is a different kind of battle. The gloves are there as protection, as they always are, but he worries they aren’t enough.

“Kaz” You breathe.

“Y/N?”

“Deep breaths. In for five, hold for three, out for five.” You coach.

He nods. In for five, hold for three, out for five.

The first layer of bandage is off, still a pristine white.

In for five, hold for three, out for five.

A light pink and yellow mixture lightly coats this layer.

In for five, hold for three, out-

“Kaz? What is it?” You ask.

He could vomit- he might, even. This last layer of bandages is almost soaked, with a yellowish outline surrounding a red center.

“I knew I had an infection,” You say with a weak sigh.

He looks away as he peels this last layer off, trying to pretend he didn’t see it at all. Your skin is raw, irritated, and angry. It hasn’t gotten enough air.

“Is there puss?” You ask.

“Yes,” Kaz replies, trying to look anywhere but at the wound.

“Of course. Go get Inej. We’re going to need someone with a strong stomach.”

He nods and gets up to leave.

“And do me a favor- wash your gloves. There should be another pair in the cupboard.” You call after him.

As he comes out of the room, the rest of the crows are waiting.

“She’s awake,” Kaz states, holding the bandages in his hands.

“What did she say?” Jesper asks.

“She needs someone with a strong stomach.” He looks at Inej and cocks his head back toward the door.

“Infection,” Nina states, her lips quirking upward in disappointment.

“You did the best you could,” Jesper tries to reassure. “It was enough to keep her alive.”

“That remains to be seen,” Nina says.

Inej spends the next few minutes making trips in and out of your bedroom, carrying in clean bandages, carrying out bloody clothing, carrying in clean water, carrying out a bucket of- well. Finally, she exits the room for the final time, carrying more used bandages.

“How is she?” Kaz asks.

“Better. She was able to clean up the infection, but it will take her a few days before she gains enough strength to heal her wound completely.” Inej states.

“Did she say anything else?” Nina questions.

“I’m sure you’ll get an earful later, Zenik.” Jesper teases.

“She wanted to see Kaz,” Inej responds. “If you’ve changed your gloves.” She adds.

Kaz nods and enters the room after Inej leaves.

“Hi,” You say, sleepily. Cleaning up the infection took a lot out of you.

“Hi,” He mirrors, sitting in the chair next to your bed.

“Can you give me some water?” You ask.

He nods, bringing the glass up to your lips. You take slow, long sips, trying not to upset your stomach. When you stop taking sips, he pulls the glass away from your mouth.

“How long do you think you’ll need to recover?” He questions.

You laugh, and then you wince, because you really shouldn’t be laughing right now. “About a week. They missed my vital organs. Why do you ask?”

“I need to know how long my healer will be out of commission,” He responds like all you are to him is a means to an end. You would have believed that, once.

“You’ve been crying,” You point out. You don’t point out the new dark circles under his eyes, or how he looks paler than you’ve ever seen him.

“I’ve been sick,” He says, deflecting.

“I will be okay, Kaz. I promise,” You say, wanting to caress his hand. You aren’t strong enough to do it, and the gloves would prevent him from feeling your touch anyway. If he would even allow you to touch his gloved hand.

“Nothing like that will ever happen again,” He says, through gritted teeth.

“You can’t promise that. Not in this line of work.” You reply, searching for answers in his eyes.

“It won’t happen again.” He repeats, and you see the cracks starting to form. “I- I can’t let… I need.. I…you,” He stammers, trying not to cry.

“I’m alive. I’m here.” You say, “Touch me. I’m here,”

Kaz’s breath is shaky as he reaches for your exposed arm. He traces up and down your arm with a gloved finger in slow, repetitive motions.

“That’s it. Now breathe,” You instruct.

His breath slowly begins to stabilize as he breathes in while his finger moves down your arm and out while it moves up. Eventually, he’s calm again, and he works up the courage to lay his hand on top of yours.

“I will heal,” You state. “So- so will you. It’s not going to be easy, and it’s going to take a long time, but… we’ll heal.”

You don’t expect he’ll ever be able to touch someone without that protective barrier- that’s more a part of him now than it is something that needs to be fixed.

“You should rest,” You tell him.

“So should you,” He retorts.

“If you aren’t going to leave, at least take a blanket,” You state, wanting to hit him with a pillow.

It doesn’t take long for both of you to fall asleep. You, safe in your warm bed, healing from a wound that you just received. Him, asleep in a chair, just starting to heal from a childhood full of trauma.

#kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker x y/n #kaz brekker x gn!reader #aspiring thanatologist writes #title is pulled from the lyrics of orpheus by sara bareilles

788 notes · View notes

the-goya-jerker · 5 months

Note

portrait of ross in la?

Oh, I do not feel comfortable rating this one or searching for any eroticism in it.

This is a piece of art inspired by the death of Ross Laycock, the lover of artist Felix Gonzalez Torres, during the AIDS crisis.

Ideally this piece is 175lbs of candy (corresponding to an average body weight of an adult man). Throughout the day, pieces are taken and taken. Like Ross, it wastes away, and viewers are left with the anticipation of loss.

This piece genuinely makes me feel like my heart has been ripped from my chest. I want to wail with grief when I think about it too long.

Instead of a review, I humbly offer up, for your elucidation and viewing pleasure, relevant works.

Check out the others works of Felix Gonzalez Torres, they're very moving.

Electric Fan (Feel It Motherfuckers): Only Unclaimed Item from the Stephen Earabino Estate by John S. Boskovich, a thematically similar piece of art. It also brings me to tears when I see it.

Let the Record Show by Sarah Schulman, which is based on...

The ACT UP Oral History Project, a project that seeks to preserve the history of the AIDS Coalition to Unleash Power and their activism through the AIDS Crisis.

United in Anger a film by Jim Hubbard, a documentary on ACT UP

If plays or films are more your style, I recommend Angels in America by Tony Kushner. My favorite version is the 2003 TV series from HBO. It stars Justin Kirk, and it is genuinely uplifting and gut wrenching all at once.

If anyone else has pieces of art they suggest, please, feel free to reblog with them! I think art is one of the best ways sometimes to engage with historical atrocities like this. Whether that art is fictionalized or factual, it connects us like nothing else.

Let yourself learn about this and let yourself feel things about this.

#AIDS crisis #tagging that for people's filters because i understand this is a fraught subject for so many #Unreviewed #Felix Gonzalez Torres #art review

106 notes · View notes

crguang · 3 months

Note

Hello! May I have some fluffy yukong x reader with prompt 92 "My heart isn’t beating faster, my heart isn’t beating faster, I swear it isn’t, get ahold of yourself." I just miss the wife.......so much.......

im so happy this was requested man, yukong's one of my favorite characters of the game, i love her so much. i know that she's a serious woman and all but the thought of her being so unused to romantic affection that she turns into a school girl with a crush is just too cuteee

The days have been shorter for Yukong lately. Her memories have been forgiving, leaving behind a lingering sense of nostalgia that doesn’t pain her as much anymore instead of the constricting weight rooting her feet to the ground that makes her feel helpless. When she stands under the glaring sun, she’s in a cockpit again, enjoying the stars’ warmth from the quietude of space. She’s able to enjoy the feeling rather than have it be twisted by wistfulness, and the same can be said about the comfort of the nebulas. She often leaves the Palace of Astrum on her work breaks to immerse herself in them, her chin tilted to the heavens. While she will always long for the clouds, as they are part of her soul, most of her regrets seem to have melted. Her limbs are lighter, her breaths come easier. After Qingni enrolled as a fighter pilot, the burden of upholding Caiyi’s last wish was removed and, though she doesn’t see her daughter as often these days, less of her time is spent arguing with her about her ambitions. Yukong would gladly take the distance over Qingni’s puffed cheeks and furrowed brows if it meant bettering their relationship. Work also feels less stressful recently, she still has a mountain of duties to take care of each day and she can’t wait to retire, but the hours go by faster. The only issue is her productivity, it seems to have slowed in a noticeable manner over the past few months. She… is aware of the root of the problem, but hasn’t found a solution for her distracted mind yet.

Her head has joined her heart among the clouds and you are to blame. You, a known figure in the business world, who came to Starskiff Haven three months ago seeking to work with the Sky-Faring Commission. The small team of men and women you brought with you to aid you in this endeavor didn’t make a lasting impression on her, but you did. You discussed your proposal over friendly tea, just the both of you, to facilitate the conversation, and Yukong feels ridiculous admitting it but she has thought of you ever since. Your brilliant ideas, your ability to compromise in a way that minimizes losses for both parties, the insight you apply to most situations (your earnest smile, expressive eyes, the wind in your hair)— she’s noticed it all. It’s not unusual for her to gauge the people she’s doing business with, she owes it to the commission to make sure it thrives. It is surprising, however, how inspired she felt after your meeting. You have an air of assurance about you that makes others see you as trustworthy, an asset that will insure the best outcome for your partners.

A couple months later, and Yukong knows you’re not all show. You’ve kept good on your promises, sometimes exceeding what she previously negotiated for even without the insurance of turning a profit. Your business prowess is to be admired, for sure, but it’s not what she thinks about whenever she’s working through a pile of documents. The two of you have had several meetings following that first one, both with others present and alone, both of professional and casual nature. Her mind often wanders to the way you take your tea, excessively sweet, and how your hands move as you talk like instruments accompanying the melody of your voice. She can’t help but dwell on your enthusiasm as you converse with her, no matter the topic, it makes her feel listened to, like whatever she’s saying is relevant in your eyes. She can hear your laughter clearly, it’s high and closer to an amused giggle, and it always reveals your upper teeth. The sound replays in her mind like a broken record she’s not interested in replacing. Her pulse picks up a pace, her teeth sink into the interior of her lip, she can’t see the document she’s supposed to be revising—

Yukong looks up from her desk to see you having a discussion with one of her employees. The hand over your mouth fails to conceal your laughter while her secretary leans over her desk with a cheeky smile. She realizes that she was lost in thought just now, and that she wasn’t truly imagining the sound of your laugh, you’re actually here. She feels a touch less embarrassed. She looks back at the papers in front of her, tries to get back to work because your presence shouldn’t impede her job, but it’s useless. The pen in her hand is immobile, her ears twitch, straining to hear what has you so amused despite you being all the way to the front desk, and she’s annoyed by her own behavior. Seriously, what is she, a school girl? She’s way too old to be getting distracted by someone this young.

She hears you coming before you even plant yourself in front of her desk. She raises her eyes to meet your warm gaze and the sight of your happy smile directly influences her heartbeat.

“Good afternoon, Helm Master.”

Her title, Helm Master, sounds different in your mouth. She hears it every day but with you, it feels more like an endearing nickname than the proper way to address her.

“Good afternoon,” she replies, putting down her pen. “Are you here for something in particular?”

“Yes, in fact. This is around the time you take your daily break, right?”

Yukong blinks. She turns to glance at the clock on the wall to her right, then back at you. It’s almost 2 PM, so you’re correct.

“It is. How do you know?”

You hold your hands behind your back and shrug with a smile. “Xikui told me. You have a very flirty secretary.”

Yukong chuckles softly. “I know. But she does her job well, so unless I hear any complaints, I don’t interfere in those kinds of things.”

“Oh, no, she’s very respectful, if only… a bit forward.”

Her mind goes back to the way you were laughing earlier and she can’t help wondering if you enjoyed the attention.

…Not that it’s any of her business.

“Anyway,” you clear your throat and change the subject, “I was in the neighborhood and thought it’d be nice to come and say hi. You’re always cooped up in this room… Now that I know you’re about to go on a break, maybe we could talk for a little while?”

“Oh.” Your consideration takes her by surprise. She has no reason to refuse your offer, nor does she want to. Something crawls in her stomach at the idea of you thinking of her as you go about your day, and she ignores it. “Yes, of course.”

You watch her close a couple of colorful folders and place them back on different piles. “Xikui says you like looking at the clouds. The sky is beautiful today, we should go do that.”

Xikui talks a bit too much about things she’s not paid for, it seems. Yukong stands from her chair, grateful for the opportunity to stretch her legs. She never really got used to sitting around all day after being so active on the daily, which is why she cherishes the walks she takes around that time a lot. You follow next to her, a pep in your step, as she leads you out in the open and in front of the Palace of Astrum where she gets a wonderful view of the Jade Wheel in all its grandiosity. The familiar spot instantly puts her at ease and she briefly breathes in the fresh air with closed eyes. She’s meant to be outside, in open air with the breeze in her hair and on her cheeks. She takes her work seriously, though, so she’s content with simply allowing herself these moments of reprieve from the confines of the Palace.

Her eyes blink open to find you looking at her. You’re leaning on the railing, chin in the palm of your hand, and staring at her with something unknown to her. There’s that smile at the corner of your lips like you’re aware of something she isn’t, yet she can’t find it in herself to be guarded.

“What is it?” She asks.

“The sun rays are beautiful on you.”

You avert your gaze immediately after replying, eyebrow twitching, as if the words slipped out of your mouth before you could revise them. Yukong’s lips part in surprise at the unexpected compliment. She hears her heartbeat in her ears, unable to tear her eyes from your sheepish expression. The chatter of passersby and the general commotion are muted, she can only register the drumming of her heart— dum, dum, dum; your easy words freeze her where she stands and she becomes only refrain and replay. Though it’s been a while since she’s heard such genuine praise from another, she’s not the type to get embarrassed by simple flirting— are you… flirting?— being complimented by you somehow feels like she’s a young girl again, chasing after her best friend. She must look ridiculous after a moment passes and she still hasn’t said a word, but her mouth is dry and she finds herself not knowing how to respond, all her practiced diplomacy rendered useless.

You seem to regain your composure because you meet her eyes once more and try to suppress a smile. “Ah, Helm Master, you’re blushing.”

Her fingertips rest on her cheek, feeling its warmth, and Yukong has to take a moment to clear her throat and busy her hands, finally looking past you at the far-away Jade Wheel instead. She cannot have been this flustered, and by just you saying she looks good in the sun, no less. She won’t accept it, how easily you turn back time and make her feel like she's someone who gets crushes. The mere notion is absurd. She has decades on you. You’re teasing her and she is absolutely not getting red in the face.

My heart isn’t beating faster, my heart isn’t beating faster, I swear it isn’t—

“—Get a hold of yourself.”

She only realizes that she said the last part out loud when you blink and regret bends your lips downward.

“Oh, I’m– I’m sorry,” you straighten up, glancing away from her for a few seconds.

“No, I…” Yukong takes a shuddering breath and brings a hand to cover her eyes. “I apologize. That wasn’t directed at you.”

“You don’t have to reassure me, if you’re uncomfortable you should let me know. I won’t take offense.”

“I am not uncomfortable. You surprised me, that's all.”

She hopes you can sense the sincerity in her tone. The last thing she wants is for things to grow awkward between you, you still have to work together after this and she hates the thought of you believing she doesn’t enjoy your company. Sure that her blood is no longer stored in the apple of her cheeks, she turns to face you again. You nod slowly and decide to let the matter go. Silence settles between you. You stare up at the nebulas she knows so well and her gaze is on the creases around your eyes, the lashes brushing your cheeks with every blink, the smooth curves of your lips. The minutes fly by, she ends up staying outside with you longer than the 30 minutes of reprieve she allows herself each day. When you bid her goodbye with a wave and a gentle smile, she’s lighter on her feet. The days have been shorter for her lately because your face lingers in her mind and her internal clock is attuned only to your proximity. One day, Yukong will admit that she’s falling in love for the second time in her life. Today, she’ll absentmindedly scribble your name in the top corner of a sheet she’ll discard right afterwards.

#sat’s follower event #yukong x reader #hsr yukong

86 notes · View notes

lundenloves · 9 months

Text

“ 𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐍’𝐒 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐃𝐄𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐘𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 “

⤷ this was written in around 40 minutes flat. i love you all, thank you for being here to support my ramblings.

masterlist | taglist | request info

His first deployment. Nothing short of devastating, a ruinous experience not meant for the likes of an eighteen year old. Shoved between a divergence of broken and bruised ageing men that forced a squint from younger eyes. The smell of drink and gunpowder mixed, sat shoulder to shoulder with bloodied uniforms and pairing eyes that sunk to the floor as if by force. “How is it?” A splutter of conversation was hosted through cigarette ends, two older men sat adjacent from one another in the truck. Simon paid an ear.

“The same.” He answered, sitting back and leaving a weighted sigh. “Bad.”

The thump of an impatient fist against his thigh was one Simon had sidewardly eyed, painfully aware of his own crisp green camo. Against its purpose, it did little to blend him in. Each pocket was still with tact stitching, sleeves unworn by others’ demise and his teenage build was a patent sign of his rank. “Lost a dozen or so.”

Unscarred hands white knuckled a rifle, jaw tightening through the ins and outs of that sole conversation beside him. The truck battered against divots in the sand they drove through, his stomach churning with each time pressure had been applied to the breaks. “Bravo?”

“Bravo.” Spare ash from their smoking had tumbled over Simon’s boot, his eyes pointedly watching the grey flake and disappear. “Lost their sniper, stupid sods.” A brief pause for what was assumed to be an inhale, desert now surrounding every side of the four by four, not one clue was to be had of their exact location. “Y’wouldn’t put a young lad on his own up on ninety-two would you? Fuck sake.”

Young eyes reverted toward his gun, heavy and worn with scratched handwriting across the barrel. The day was a fleet. Two lives had been lost that morning, two men to his left on that last drive. Two neat bullets placed into chests that pried the last drop of life they had clasped so desperately to on that desert floor.

Simon watched them die from his dugout. A pit in the sand created by waves of wind, the seniors beside him wrapped a sole knuckle on his helmet in empathy. “Don’t let it stick with you, son.” Seven words that had shaped a military mindset from the beginning.

His eye twitched from the loss of life, watching the last breath leave a soul before going limp. The youthful silence was noted by the men alongside him, apparent trauma was something that hadn’t slipped yet only turned into a weapon the older he grew.

Trauma was key.

Trauma was valued.

Because what was a soldier without trauma? How could bullets take another life without the aid of anger. Not only had two men lost theirs, Simon had also taken his first. A fumbled mess at best, the worst way to go without dignity at the wrath of an eighteen year old child. His ungloved hands fingered at the trigger, equivalent to flooring a pedal in a car his knuckles turned white with the grip and his eyes involuntarily squeezed shut.

His arms had dropped to his sides after the fact, blood spats across his face from a point blank effort that had left a traumatic scene. His kill wasn’t nearly as neat and kind, though heavy and messy. The weight stuck with him, taking five paces backward to the colleague behind him who was only a year older at the time. “It’ll get better.”

And those three words paired with the prior seven had merged to find a mantra. Somewhere hidden between desolation and adrenaline had he finally understood the Who Dares Wins motto of the SAS, nevermind the surface level of Be The Best — an army effort that ironically felt below of his own expectation of himself. Who Dares Wins felt right. It felt deeper and solid, something that resonated and rumbled within his chest.

But for years, Be The Best was the phrase he aimed to please. His first deployment was a testament to that, eyes wide and glassed on the ride back to base that was missing two men save for their dogtags and guns. His hands shook uncontrollably as did his leg that trembled without conscious effort, he felt sick to the stomach and the blood on his uniform now felt like the rest of his life.

He noticed how no one spoke.

How hands aggressively rubbed at faces and boots were kicked up on the two ghost seats adjacent. The quiet wasn’t necessarily due to respect of fallen men but fatigue. Sleep never came for weeks and the start of a nightmarish routine had only just begun, this was living hell but it felt right.

It felt deserved.

The red water that had pooled by his feet that night in the shower wasn’t something he could ever wash off and anxiety had peaked.

By his first deployment, every corner he looked around was now subject to threat. Every fast movement was met with panic and his eyes had went longer without blinking. Hand pats on the shoulder were now cause for fright and the deafening blasts of machine guns made home in his house. Hell, they’d taken a room.

He became completely closed.

No one got in.

No one got out.

simon 'ghost' riley taglist: @vamppxncess @crowbars @tallrock35 @fluffmonster @islanderr @blueoorchid @lea3773 @rayhawk05 @han11dh @melovetitties @fallonx @rvjaa @fuckmelifesucks @bhayatsara @local-spidey @konigsblog @penutjuice @babychoi03 @sheluvzeren @sparklingtragedy @maviee @wiserebelpartypie @daddylorianisastateofmind @bhayatsara @writingmysanity @johfaam0 @idkbbyx3 @gressseyy @shibble @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @hotgirlsshareaccounts @simpxinnie @cliosunshine @bloobewy @lazybutsmexy @iluvoaldmen @yyiikes @tieflingteatime @cosmoscoffee @lilvampirina @cinnabeanz @spencerreidisbae123 @paperbag-prncss @cookiecutta @sluttyforsimon @loveangelic @friendly-neighborhood-lich-queen @hayleybarnesx @reignthereigner

MY FUCKING TAGS BROKE

#simon ghost riley #cod mwii #cod mw2 #cod mw fanfiction #simon riley #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader

122 notes · View notes

that-one-anxious-mango · 9 months

Text

You Understand.

Summary: You feel you must be honest with Austin about something before either of you venture further.

Contents: Fluff Ofc! Mentions of virginity and loss of virginity. Overall just a good ole' fashion comfort fic (our favorite).

Pairing: Austin Butler x Black Reader

A/N: Hi! Long time no see! I'm very happy to be posting the first installment of the new year, and I am very excited for what it brings for all of us. I hope you enjoy.

P.S: Everyone PLEASE feel free to comment, I absolutely love reading them and it helps to motivate me to keep going with the series. Also don't shy, re-blog, like, and share if you care! Much love! * hugs*

----

“ I can’t believe you don’t like cotton candy. This almost feels like a crime.” Austin goofed, pointing to the small thing of strawberry cotton candy in his hand.

You snorted, “ I can’t believe you do. It’s all nice and dandy until it deflates or melts on your fingers. After that it’s gross.”

" Plus, I prefer a nice fat funnel cake with all the fixings." You added.

“ You call it gross, and I call it the natural sacrifices one has to make for their favorite fair food. “ He wiggled his eyebrows and took a bite of the sugary confection.

You giggled at how cute he looked and even managed to take out your phone with your free hand to snap a picture of the happy cotton candy boy.

The two of you continued to laugh and joke along the Santa Monica Pier until you came to a comfortable pause of silence.

That’s when your heart sank at the realization that this was the perfect time to tell him what had been on your mind and heart the last couple of days. You’d even consulted your friends beforehand to make sure the time was right. Once they agreed you knew exactly what had to be done.

So right here, right now, you were going to rip the band-aid clean off in hopes it wouldn’t bleed.

“ So….” You swung his hand in yours, “ I hate to put some weight on the mood since I know we’re having such a good time.” You started.

“ Yeah..” Austin replied, tossing his now empty cotton candy paper in a nearby trash.

“ And I can say that these last couple weeks with you have been great, honestly. But I feel like before we continue whatever this is that we’re doing, I need to let you know something because I don’t wanna lead you on.” You said, twisting at the bracelets on your wrist.

“ Uh huh.” He encouraged me, beginning to feel a bit nervous now.

“ As you recall, the other night when you came over to return my copy of The Policeman, upon your departure during our goodbyes things got a little spicy an- “

Austin immediately went to into apology, “Again, I’m really sorry about that I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything I jus-”

Quickly you held a hand up to stop him, “ Please. It’s okay. You apologized more than enough the other night. Just wait a second and hear me out, okay. “

He nodded.

“ As I was saying. Things got a little steamy. Let me just mention again that nothing happened that I didn’t want to. But the thing is….”

You paused gathering your words right in your brain…

“ I guess I’m trying to figure out a way to say this without sounding completely vulgar.” You rub your now sun-kissed arm as if you're trying to brush the nerves out of your body.

Austin’s eyebrows rose in surprise, “ Oh. Uh, well. I mean..just say it. Honesty is the best policy and I’m sure I can handle it.”

“ Yeah? “

“ Yeah.” He quickly replied, curious to see what you’d spun in your mind so obscene that you felt like you couldn’t speak.

You cleared your throat, “Okay. Fine. Here it goes..”

“ With the way that you kissed me that night with your lips, clung your hands onto the edges of my hips, and the sounds I had to suppress from the deepest part of my being when your hand accidentally brushed against my…lower half. I had half the mind to offer for you to stay the night at my place just so that we could “ accidentally” keep touching each other in many, many different places all night. “ You divulged.

At your confession Austin's eyebrows shot up and he could feel his body begin to heat the same way it did that spoken of night, you could tell this by the soft peony color that collected on the surface of his cheeks and the way he looked away to watch the wheel turn on the Ferris wheel.

You did your best to hide the shy twisted grin on your lips that came from knowing that you’d made him blush.

When he turned back you could see the cheesiest smile play on his lips , “ I see. Well thank you for your honesty..it’s much appreciated.”

“ You’re welcome.” You gulped, “ So, with that being said I want you to know that while I’m not opposed to us taking our-”

“ Relationship.” Austin offered up.

It was your turn to raise your eyebrows at him. You hadn’t expected him to so casually throw out the R in this conversation. But remembering the words of your friends ringing in your mind you decided to play it cool and test the waters, “ Right. Well, let me just say that no one has asked me to be their girlfriend yet so….”

“ I’m working on it. “ He said, you noticed the small bit to his lips and willed yourself to try and keep your mind focused.

“ We’ll see.” You casually replied before continuing with your intended statement, “ But something you should know is….”

You found the words getting stuck in your throat, but when you looked his gentle smile you found the courage to keep going.

“ You should know that I am a virgin.” You confessed, “ And it is by choice.”

“ AND, before you say anything. NO! It’s not because I couldn’t have had sex with someone or because people weren’t interested. Or because something’s wrong with me. But because I believe that sex is an intimate exchange of love between two people and I want my first time to be with someone I love and I know is in love with me.” You affirmed.

“ If that’s something that bothers you or you think it’s weird or whatever, then this is where we should just call this now so we can both leave this…thing…while still being friends.” You finished, looking out toward the pier in an act to distract yourself from how hard you could feel your heart beating in your chest.

It was silent for a moment after you finished, and with each passing moment you were preparing yourself for the age old speech every man gave when he couldn’t get what he wanted from a woman.

It’s not you, it’s me.

When really they wanted to say: “ It’s not me, it’s you and the fact you won’t put out.”

Eventually his voice broke out among the chatters of people and whirl of the wind, “ Well, again. Thank you for being honest with me. I really do appreciate it.” Austin began.

“ No problem.” You nodded, arms folded across your chest, as you still tried your best to hide your absolutely nerve ridden body.

“ As far as your…confession goes, I want you to know that you being a-

“ Virgin.” You quickly interjected, “ I’m a virgin.”

A laugh was stifled from Austin, “ Yes, a virgin. You being a virgin doesn’t bother me any at all.”

You quickly quirked an eyebrow at him, “ Really? “

“ Truly.” He smiled, “ Your choice that you’ve made for your body is entirely your own. And I respect and admire your decision.”

“ Admire? “

That’s a first.

“ Yeah. I admire your reasoning behind your choice. Especially since I felt like when it was my time I didn’t exactly lose mine the way one should have. I was younger and shy. Felt the peer pressure from some people my age, so I just went ahead and did it to say I did it.” He opened up.

You were stunned a bit at his honesty. No guy you’d ever come across had opened up to you like this, especially about something so intimate. All it did was make you grow more curious to continue exploring just what kind of species of man you were dealing with.

You shook your head, “ God, I’m so sorry that happened to you. I can tell you from experience I know what that’s like and it’s hard.”

Growing up around the people you did, all through middle school and high school you were ridiculed about being a “ prude “ or a “ prissy princess who thinks she’s better than everyone “ all because you kept your virginity to yourself.

He smiled, “ Thank you. But don’t go feeling too bad. I eventually had the chance to actually make love to someone and have it mean something. Which is all I can ever wish for you and anyone else.”

You nodded, “ Right. Well thanks for being so cool about it. Lord knows you’re the first guy this conversation has ever actually gone pleasant with. I appreciate your understanding.”

Austin didn’t hesitate, “ Of course. You gotta know that I’m not in this for something as simple as sex. As people we both could walk out into the world and find that anywhere.”

“ I’m here because as cliche as it may sound, I’ve never met anyone like you before. And I really enjoy spending time with you and picking your brain. And if one day AFTER I ask you officially to be my girlfriend, you decide you wanna take things up a notch that's fine. If not, that's fine too because that's not the most important thing going on here.” He reached out to regrasp your hand in his and give it a tight squeeze.

You look over directly at him to hold the gaze from his eyes and couldn’t help but catch that familiar feeling that made you all warm and gooey.

It was then you could confirm that you REALLY liked him, like truly were infatuated with the man before you.

“ Well, I guess we’ll just have to see what happens, huh? “ You said.

“ I guess.” Austin smiled.

“ Good.” You whispered.

“ Great.” He replied, making you both bust into a fit of giggles.

“ Since we have that settled. “ Austin abruptly stopped in front of the ring toss stand, “ I believe I promised you, young lady. A stuffed cow, and I see the most handsome one hanging from this booth.” He pointed to the adorable white and blue spotted cow plush hanging from the stall.

You couldn’t stop the shrill that invaded your voice, “ Oh My Gosh! Austin, he's adorable.”

“ I know. He’ll look even cuter in your arms. C’mon honey let’s go.” He happily ushered the two of you over to the booth and into your future together.

#daysofourlove #austin butler x reader #austin butler x black reader #austin butler fanfic #austin butler imagine #themangowrites #austin butler

91 notes · View notes