#crawls on the ground an d dies

[g0dlyunsub]

on your own. | part two

part one | part two

you’re strapped to an explosive and left with three minutes to convince spencer to leave you.

pairing :: spencer x fem bau!reader

contents :: general cm themes, mentions/depictions of stalking, kidnapping, death, drug injections (dilaudid), explosives, angst angst angst so much angst

word count :: 3.3k

author’s note :: it's out!! reader is so mean to spencer in the beginning, but it's all an act, i promise :( please read part one if you haven’t already, and let me know what you think!

accompanying song :: as the world caves in by matt maltese

taglist :: @myuhh8, @pleasantwitchgarden, @babyspiderling, @kitty-kei, @delusional-4-fake-people, @usuallyunlikelyfox, @themindofmoe

can you hate someone for what they have done, but still love them for whom they had been? – jodi picoult, nineteen minutes

his voice instantly fills the deep chasm in your heart.

the woman you were – a soul eager to give and receive love – died a year ago. lynne davis replaced your smile with the expression of a self-loathing woman, fed you with humiliation instead of warmth, and made you forget the taste of human companionship. you watched yourself fall apart more and more with each passing day and you never grieved your own loss, for you didn’t have the time.

so when spencer finds you in your wrecked state, slick strands of hair sticking to your forehead and the cuts on your face begging for urgent attention with their swelling undertones of red, you instantly put your head down. hearing your name stings your skin with humiliation and trepidation.

you curse under your breath. your cap wasn’t on your head anymore, so there was no shadow under which you could hide your eyes. there was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide, nowhere to fake. you were like a deer caught in his headlights, or like a rabbit caught in his bear trap, the shame swallowing you whole. maybe this was all karma coming to bite you in the back, its teeth sinking into your flesh so you would go cold in front of the one you once loved so selflessly.

still looking at the rocky asphalt floor, you contemplate whether you should make a run for it. for some reason, being chased down to the ground sounds more welcoming than being chased down with his words. you already knew a confession wouldn’t make up for your treason. so you turn and walk with heavy steps, steps weighed down with fear.

but spencer wasn’t willing to sit in silence for eternity. he felt a burning sensation crawl through his skin. all these months he was mourning your loss with the regret of washing the same hands that touched you. he relived your absence every day like a haunting crime, cursing his photographic memory for detailing every inch of your face as he ripped through your flesh in his imagination. he was hungry for answers.

his wide strides follow yours as the splitting sounds of the asphalt crunching under his shoes echo in your eardrums. each step pulls at the strings of your heart like a violent demand. crunch. say you’re sorry. crunch. say you’re sorry. crunch. say you’re sorry.

“y/n, wait.” 

you don’t stop. the air hits your tongue like bitter regret and sour ignorance.

“please!” 

the desperation in his voice knocks the wind out of you. hesitantly, you turn around.

you know he can smell the blood on you, the dirt rubbed into your wounds, and the grime stuck to your sweat. you clench your fist. you’ve seen this ending in your dreams so many times, where he lashes out at you with his boiling rage, and you listen because that’s the only justice you deserve. but you didn’t expect it to come so soon.

“you… you’re okay,” he says with a feathery voice, and his softness feels unintentionally cruel. why is he talking to you like that?

and why is he looking at you like that? you don’t deserve to be looked at with his puppy eyes, glossy with concern for you. 

why isn’t he yelling at you like a man seeking revenge, or glaring at you with monstrous rage?

your tone, by contrast, is icy and dark. “yeah, i… i am. you didn’t have to come looking for me.” 

“your stalker. what happened to him?” he ignores your statement and his cavernous eyes dig deeper into your gaze.

so he knew. you suck in a breath slowly as you grit your teeth.

“he’s down. i got him in the leg.”

a minute into a conversation that’s overdue by a year, and you’re already lying. but you’re so preoccupied with the thoughts of getting out of this helpless situation, you don’t realize how you’re putting down your defense.

he narrows his eyes as he studies your face. you hate when he does this, because you don’t know the thoughts he’s stirring in his head. 

after a second, he pipes up with a desperate roughness in his voice. “we need to get you to the hospital, i-i’ll let them know right now. let us help you.”

the urge to yell out no dances on your lips dangerously. you will not bring the others into this, especially not the rest of the bau. sensing the danger of his implication, you realize it’s now or never.

“there’s no need. i’m fine. i… really need to get going now.” 

you wish to say goodbye, just this once, but the hesitation that’s latched onto you since last year isn’t so easy to get rid of.

he scoffs and you think you see his hazel eyes flash with a speck of red. “yeah, just go and leave me, it’s not like you’ve done this before, right?”

your toes curl and dig into the foam of your shoes. his stare bores straight into your soul.

he doesn't give you a chance to reply. “all of our lives were in your hands. you didn’t think we had the right to know?”

his question sweeps your breath away. you wish he never asked. emotion cascades over you like a crumbling rock, and you can practically hear his rage gnawing at whatever patience was left in his body. 

“i just… i was never meant to make it this far,” you whisper quietly, so faintly you ponder for a brief moment if your voice is even audible. a penitent expression paints your face as you look away.

your response is the last straw.

spencer decides to wear you down to oblivion.

“you were never meant to make it this far? i didn’t leave my room for three weeks. for three weeks, y/n, i had to find a reason to stay alive!”

his icy tone impales your heart, and it’s a thousand times more painful than the needle your stalker pricked you with. but he doesn’t stop there.

“i’ll be honest with you because you can’t. i hated myself, y/n! did anything we ever talk about leave any impression on you? because the day you walked out of my life, just like my dad did, it really made me think that maybe everyone i loved was out to ruin me!” he throws fiery jabs with his words, each hitting harder than before.

with a crack in his voice, he adds, “i thought it was something i did that made you turn against me.”

a whimper threatens to leave your mouth. 

a choking cry sounds as he spills more heart-wrenching words. “i couldn’t pinpoint what it was, so i… i injected myself again so i could feel something. so i could feel sorry. it’s nothing you would care about, though.” he wipes his nose with the back of his sleeve, his chest heaving with shuddering exhales. 

you feel so stupid, so cruel, so god damned fucking stupid. his words tear your gut like it's a punching bag, knocking you down and throwing you around until you’re bruised to the bone. even the sun turns its warmth away from you, shunning you by making you face the shade. you stand like a lifeless doll, feeling your jaw clench as you bite down on the inside of your cheeks because the agony is too much to bear. 

for a year, you had to withhold yourself from running back to the office, to collapse into spencer’s arms. now that you were face-to-face with him, you couldn’t even look him in the eye to say you missed him.

“you’re right. i’m sorry that i couldn’t care. i don’t trust you, reid.” 

you shock yourself with the words that come out of your own mouth, and it feels like your body’s being controlled by someone else. the worst part, it’s not that he wouldn’t understand if you tried to explain. rather, it’s that you simply don’t have the time to explain. you couldn’t afford to toy with the idea of death when it was grabbing you right by the feet. 

“you’re lying.” his quiet voice ruffles the hairs on your neck, and you can almost feel the ghost of his hands brush your face. 

you certainly are. your shaking shoulders, your reddening cheeks, your watering eyes. your twitching lips, your sniffling nose, your sweating upper lip. the forced prolonged eye contact. after a year of not seeing each other, you wish he would’ve forgotten the behavioral markers that were your dead giveaway. but you couldn’t fool anyone with an eidetic memory.

with the outward shame crawling to your cheeks with a burning flame, your hands instinctively reach to touch the back of your neck. you stop when you feel a wire peeking from under your jacket collar.

shit.

“what is that?” spencer’s voice quavers with disturbed curiosity as he lowers his head to get a better view of your clothed neck.

you try to mask the wire by turning to the side ever so slightly, but spencer never fails to let a single detail slip past his attention. he’s already making steps towards you, and you take several of your own backwards, waving your hands.

“stop. don’t come any closer. don’t!” you yell, frantically shaking your head as you hold your arms up to try and bar him from coming any closer.

but he doesn’t listen.

he grabs both of your hands with one of his, overtaking your arms with such force you worry that he’s going to tear your limbs out, and unzips your jacket.

the last of your hope splinters like a glass vial.

a tear slides from your bottom eyelid, and you watch helplessly as it drops and trickles down along the vein of his arm. you hang your head low, afraid to look into his eyes.

but you’re forced to anyway, because the timer for the bomb on your chest activates with a beep, startling the both of you.

2:59.

“fuck. y/n, you…” the harshness of his voice scathes your already-wounded heart.

you shake your head, the darkness closing in as you fight to keep a steady breath.

“i need you to leave right now, spencer reid,” you beg with the words of a desperate plea.

“no,” he responds sternly, a glare splitting your walls with such anger you clamp your mouth shut. 

he forces the jacket off of you and turns you around to get a better view of the electrical components. he reaches for his phone, but you grasp his arm before he can call for a bomb squad.

“don’t bother. we don’t have time.”

and your cover’s blown. the moment you say we, you know you’ve made a fatal blunder. if you really didn’t care, you would’ve let him dial the number.

he knows you care deep down, despite your abrasive words. 

“four wires, red, white, blue, and yellow,” he begins, and you know your denouement is set in stone. 

2:40. 

“if we cut the wire or fuse connecting the trigger and the explosives then we’ll have a chance at disarming the bomb. we still need to account for the possibility of a secondary trigger or the existence of several detonators, as well as if there’s a trigger mechanism that monitors when they’re being cut.” you can’t tell if he’s trying to comfort you while he starts his inchoate examination or if he’s trying to comfort himself. maybe it’s both.

“spencer, i’m begging you, please. go,” you say as you try to move away again, but he backs you up against the brick wall of the alleyway. he grips you even tighter, nails digging into your skin. it hurts like scalding pain.

you’re dying for him to stop trying. 

the kid inside of you cries a bitter symphony of hot, painful thoughts. you don’t want to die, not when you have decades ahead of you to redeem yourself. but you reason that you don’t deserve a good ending, and that spencer is the only one that should come out of this alive. 

but then again, survivor’s guilt is a dastardly power.

2:15. 

“spencer, please. it’s my last wish.”

he looks at you for a brief moment, locking his gaze with yours. he’s so close to you yet feels so far. 

“l-look. i need you to let me concentrate,” spencer says shakingly, lightly tracing his fingers along the blasting cap. your breath hitches in the back of your throat, and you forget how to exhale.

1:59. 

sweat trickles from your forehead, and you don’t dare move to wipe it. you hear his elevated breaths and watch as a concentrated expression overtakes his face. 

you close your eyes.

you hear the bickering chirps of the birds in the distance, the sounds of construction as steel clashes against steel, and the faint laughter of women ringing out like freedom.

it’s a beautiful rhapsody to listen to when you’re dying in the subtlety.

1:30. 

you open your eyes. in a stupor of fatigue, you decide to apologize.

“i’m so sorry, spence, i’m so sorry.”

it feels pathetic to say it now.

“i’m such a coward,” you cry, and you carry the blame with your fingers as you try to release his grip on your arm one last time.

1:15. 

“d-don’t. say. that.” the tears are now streaking down spencer’s face, merging at his chin and dropping like raindrops to the floor.

“you need to leave,” you croak out, biting back a bitter sob as he tries to look at the device harnessed around your chest again.

“please,” you try once more.

“i’m never leaving you.” his hushed voice cracks and slaps against your eardrums like whiplash.

0:59. 

“i never stopped trying to reach for you, y/n.” he breaks the brief silence like waves crashing against the coastline.

“you didn't say goodbye and a part of me thought you were coming back,” he continues, and you break down, the words gutting you like a brutal kick to your stomach. the waves relentlessly lap, rumbling deep in your shredded horizon. 

“i… encountered your article in the news journal by chance,” he reveals, and your heart plummets even further.

of course. how naive of you. how could you forget that he was subscribed to every news journal, when you knew he read the news columns and the advertisements every day? you should've known you would fall straight into his hands.

“all of the linguistic features screamed that it was you. you… never moved up to new york.”

a hiccup leaves your chest between gasps.

“i confirmed it was you by asking garcia to cross-check every writers’ name and id in the database.” his knuckles are white, and the vapor from his breath fogs the silver metal of the device.

“i went to every managing editor’s residence to ask if they knew anything about you,” he huffs and you hear a click as the glass shard he’s using as a makeshift knife saws through something. you don’t look down.

0:20. 

“i eventually came across the right person, because she gave me your email address. i sent you that email 48 days ago regarding your article, the hygiene hypothesis as an explanation for the increased rates of allergic disorders.”

“that– that was you?” a breathless whisper escapes your lips as disbelief tangles your thoughts.

you remember the email as clear as day. it was the only email that complimented your style of writing among the crowded stash of spam mails, and you starred it so you could look back at it any time. to think that spencer would never reach out to you online because he hated electronic correspondence made you completely overlook the option in the first place.

but did it matter? knowing this or knowing that couldn’t change your fate — and because you couldn’t even convince the man you abandoned a year ago to leave you, you were bringing him down with you.

0:10. 

you sigh.

what a shameful ending, to seal your fate in the arms of someone who never deserved to share your pain. what a terrible ending, to have just three minutes to let the world know your time is up. and what a regrettable ending, because even after losing everything you ever had, your stalker’s still forcing you to reap what you sowed.

if it makes you feel better, spencer, i've lived with regret every day since i left you.

if it makes you feel better, spencer, maybe in an alternate universe you and i never met. 

if it makes you feel better, spencer, you won’t ever see me again.

they’re all fragments of an apology left unsaid.

“why did you go through all of this… after everything?” you ask.

you don't expect an answer.

you let your hand fall to the ground because you don’t deserve to hold his.

0:03. 

0:02. 

0:01. 

——

“because i needed to hear you say it to my face,” a shaking voice pulses from your right ear. 

it sounds too real to assume that you’re in heaven.

you open your eyes. spencer’s eyes are already fixed onto yours, radiant under the sun's golden rays. they're almost blinding.

you look down at the timer.

it’s frozen at 0:01.

a quivering exhale leaves your mouth, and you let out a painfully scratchy sob. spencer’s hands lie pressed against the wall right above your shoulders, and his hot breath fans over your neck as he leans over you. his mop of hair lightly brushes against your skin, and goosebumps scale down your body as you catch your breath.

you then feel him tear the explosive vest away from your body, the sounds of velcro crisp against the still air. 

you don’t even ask how he did it. he’s alive, you’re alive, and that’s the only thing that matters.

a million thoughts buzz in your head, and you don’t know what to say, so you just breathe out his name with panting breaths. 

“you didn’t have a choice.” spencer gives you a sorrowful smile, and his words seem to absolve you of all of your mistakes.

with an angelic stare, he takes in the sight of you. every tear, every eyelash damp with your sweat, every crack in your dried lips.

“please don’t ever leave again, y/n. i don’t want to lose you.” he says beseechingly, his face peppered with glimmering tears. the sentence burns your tenderest flesh.

“i won’t, i promise,” you whisper hoarsely, and the two of you fall to the ground slowly, taking in each other’s hold for the first time in a long time.

as you hear the sirens sound in the distance, you let yourself succumb to spencer’s grasp and whisper a hundred thank you's against his chest. 

how beautiful, the way your heart beats in unison with his as he murmurs words of abounding love and warmth, the way his arms press against your convulsing muscles to summon comfort, and the way you don’t even have to say a word for him to understand.

because in every universe, spencer will fight everything and everyone to extinguish death from your sight, even when you have nothing to return. 

[hearteyedfeelings]

That CON VER SA TION WOWEEEE. So so needed and for so so long. Just gonna type my inital thoughts cause I want to and why not.

Laudna. Dear Laudna, oh you poor loveable naive dummy. (Said with so much love). She grew up alone. Yes she had her parents and maybe the odd friend here or there but she grew up alone. And then she died in the most horrific way, alone. She woke up alone. She then spent 30 years of her life alone- but this time even more so with her own killer in her head feeding her.

And then she met Imogen, beautiful capable Imogen. A light in her lonely life, the first real light. Now she’s seen Imogen grow in power, in confidence. And she feels like her loneliness, her insecurity, her own head is bringing the love of her life down. She thinks she’s keeping her from flying but she doesn’t realize she’s keeping her from flying too high.

Imogen has been on step away from falling in with Predathos since she first felt the pull. The only thing, just like the words out of Imogen’s lips, the only thing that’s keeping her grounded is Laudna. Imogen’s heart is out walking around as a dead but not so dead woman with a rat bird as a familiar. Without her she’s, well we saw, she’s desperate. Willing to bargain with the her love’s killer to get her back. She’s sleeping with her dead body and ready to fight the Lord and Lady of Whitestone, the city of Whitestone. She tore down a city block, she exhalted, she crawled into hell after her. Laudna is Imogen’s tether, her red thread wrapped around her wrist, without her there isn’t.

Without Imogen- Laudna doesn’t have her light, her anchor keeping her from falling back into the dark.

Without Laudna Imogen flies too high never to be seen again.

They’re co-dependent. They’re ready to destroy the world to get the other back. They never want to leave one another. They want to protect each other above all else- the gods, Predathos, Exandria be damned.

They’re also scared.

Laudna is scared she’s holding Imogen down.

Imogen is scared Laudna will leave her and fall away.

They’re ride or die in the worst and best ways. I’m so curious to see how their story goes. I’d like to believe they have a happy ending though. Maybe. Probably not, but hey it’s good to have some hope and crazier things have happened eh? It’s D&D after all.

[grandlinedreams]

| i'm sorry lmao i cried writing this

[Heads up!: mention of blood, death, not really a good time]

Dying hurts.

Are you dying? You didn't think it'd hurt so bad. You can't even tell where the worst of it is coming from, only that it radiates from every pore. 

Your footsteps are unsteady, a staggered pace that breaks when you trip over a rock. Without the strength to correct your balance, you topple to the ground.

Something warm seeps from your stomach. It leaks from your mouth too, making your mouth taste of copper. You cough, and red spatters the ground. 

I think I'm dying. Somehow, you roll onto your back, press a hand to your abdomen. Your fingers meet jagged skin and raw muscle beneath, coming back wet with bright red. Not good. 

You stare at the robin's egg blue sky, cloudless ㅡ somewhere around here is the ship you should be on. You need to make it back, they're going to worry if you don't. You can't make them worry like that.

I need to get up. You can't move, blinking slowly. A bird calls to another as it wheels overhead, wings outstretched. You need to get up.

It hurts to breathe now. It burns in your lungs, rattles in your throat. You know how the fish Sanji caught the other day feels now ㅡ wide eyed, gaping soundlessly. 

The others are going to worry. Your eyes close. I'll just rest a second. Then I'll get up.

ㅡ 

"Are you gonna get up or not?"

Your eyelids twitch at the sound of a familiar voice, the chorus of birdsong above, the warmth of the sun on your face. Someone nudges your side with their foot. 

"Come on," the same voice coaxes gently, "get up." 

Your eyes open, locking with a set of familiar brown ones. Too familiar ㅡ especially with the curls of dark hair above, the spatter of freckles below.

"Am I dead?" 

Ace blinks before he grins, head tipping with a laugh that makes your chest squeeze. "No," he answers, extending a hand down to help yank you to your feet. "Not yet, anyways."

Dusting yourself off, it takes a second for Ace's words to click. "Wait. What do you mean yet?" 

Ace eyes you in a way that makes your skin crawl ㅡ somewhere between knowing and hesitant, and all together melancholy. "Come on," he says, "we should talk about this."

Ace, for all the ways he should not be here in front of you, is as solid as you are when you reach for his hand again. Nevermind the fact he'd helped you up ㅡ the warmth of his palm is a welcome comfort, picks at the scabbed over ache you've been nursing for over two years. 

He died. You know that, much as it still rips you apart to think about it ㅡ Portgas D. Ace is very much dead.

So if he's here, what does that make you?

ㅡ 

"You're not dead," Ace says, watching you over the wild tumble of flames that make up the fire he's made. Above, the sky has bled to a milky dusk, the downward creep of the sun making you shiver. "Not yet."

"You said that before," you say, eyeing him with no small amount of confusion. "Then where am I? Why…how are you here?"

There it is again, that sad look. He knows something you don't ㅡ and it bothers you. "Just spit it out, Ace."

"You're not dead," he repeats, "but you are dying." 

You blink. "Very funny," you say, even though there's not a shred of amusement in Ace's eyes or his expression. "If I'm dying, how am I here? Where ㅡ where are we?"

"Think of it as the in-between of life and death," he says. "A rest stop of sorts." 

You stare at the fire, reach your hands out to it and savor the warmth of it. "And you…?"

Ace's eyes gleam in the firelight. "I'm here to guide you," he answers. "You'll need to decide whether you want to stay or go, [Name]."

ㅡ

You aren't a stranger to death. You've seen it before, been the dealer of it ㅡ and had your own close calls.

But never like this. 

"It's a lot to take in," Ace soothes, fingers drifting through your hair like they used to, and you hum. "Trust me, I didn't think we were going to meet again like this."

You tuck your knees tighter to you. You don't need to ask if Ace saw something like this. His death was fast ㅡ and your chest aches as emotion rises, makes you tremble with it. "I missed you," you start, voice wobbling. "I've never stopped missing you."

"I know."

"You left me," you choke, "you and Pops left…everyone left me." 

Ace reaches for you, gathers you into his lap, lets you bury your face into his neck as he presses his own into yours. "I know," he breathes, "I'm so sorry."

You sob. It's loud and with abandon, the way you'd wanted to two years ago but couldn't ㅡ you'd been left to be strong instead of grieve, to pick up the pieces when all you wanted to do was fall apart. 

Ace holds you, rubs your back as you hiccup and choke, take shuddering breaths. He whispers apology after apology into your skin, presses kisses the way he hasn't been able to in two years. 

You cling to him like a lifeline, desperate fingers curling against his back. "I don't want to go," you mumble, and he doesn't have to ask what you mean.

He kisses your cheek, tries not to think of the other things he knows ㅡ the desperate hands trying to keep you tethered to the land of the living, pleading with you to stay. Begging, because you're part of another family now, and they need you. 

He holds you to him, clings the way you do to him as he closes his eyes. "I know," he says, "I don't want you to either." 

ㅡ 

Ace can't let himself be selfish. He's aware of that, that he can't demand that you stay or go, that it has to be your decision. He's only here to guide you, be a comfort for as long as you need him. 

But it's hard to keep that in mind when it feels like this is just as it should be ㅡ you and him, as if nothing has changed. As if he hasn't been dead for two years, and you aren't about to join him.

He should tell you to fight. Tell you that there are people who still need you there, that somebody needs to look after Luffy. His crewmates are there, of course, but you're his last connection to Ace. 

He's heard you every now and then when he's been allowed to peek in, the stories you tell Luffy when things are quieter, when you can tell Ace's absence is weighing on him. 

He should tell you that knowing his brother as he does, you've become a sibling to him ㅡ and now you're setting him up for loss all over again. And it's not fair.

But you need to make a decision. Tip the scales one way or the other instead of teetering in the middle. 

"How long has it been in…" You hesitate. "You know."

Here ㅡ limbo, as Ace called it ㅡ you get the feeling time creeps by slower. You've only been here a day, but what about where your actual body is?

Ace seats himself next to you, watching as you kick your legs over the edge of the outcropping, the trickle of pebbles that tumbles down. "A couple of days." 

"Mm." You flop backwards, arms eagle spread as you stare up at the sky. "What happens if I decide to live?"

Ace copies you, finds your hand to intertwine your fingers. "Then you disappear from here. You go back." They need you.

"And if I die? What happens?" Your head turns, eyes locking with Ace's.

His fingers curl around yours. "Then you stay here with me." He pauses. "Well, not here, but…yeah. You come with me." I need you. 

You sigh. You should want to live. You should want to fight tooth and nail to get back where you should belong.

But you're so tired. And you've missed Ace ㅡ missed him every day since you lost him. You watch another bird circle overhead, the spread of sleek feathers. 

"I think I know what I want," you say softly. It makes your stomach twist, your chest ache ㅡ but you're making the right decision, you think. You hope. Your fingers curl around Ace's. "I want to stay." 

A lifetime ago, you told Ace he looks prettiest when he smiles. And he's smiling now, even if it's ultimately a little sad, because he knows what you mean by that. 

He sits up and pulls you with him, lets you climb into his lap before he locks his arms around you. You lean back, and he kisses your cheek. "I don't want to be alone," you mumble, and Ace tightens his grip on you.

"You won't be. I promise."

[cottonkendi]

Gremlin

MASTERLIST

Caelus x Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Genre: Fluff, Crack

Warning: trashcan, Caelus is a gremlin with some issues…

Synopsis: Welt and Himeko put you in charge of watching over Caelus, the express’ new member a.k.a. Your nightly adventure in Belobog

The constant knocking on your door brings you out of your precious sleep as you start to try and crawl out of bed in order to open your door, but the weight on your limbs after your last expedition with Dan Heng and March makes it almost impossible to move your limbs. 

Groaning, you lay on your floor, defeated, hoping that the person outside your room will get the message that you’ve died or something but alas, instead of them leaving, your door flies open and reveals Caelus in all his gremlin-like glory, a toothy smile on his face when he sees your body sprawled out on the floor, your blanket barely covering your face as you give him a tired wave to which he enthusiastically returns. 

“Yo! Glad you’re awake, Mr. Yang and Miss Himeko wanna talk to you.” Caelus announces as he leans against the doorframe, still watching as you barely roll yourself over so that you’re now curled up into a ball, back facing him as you try and go back to sleep, not even bothering to get back onto your bed. 

Your voice comes out muffled by your blanket as you reply. “Can’t it wait till later?” 

Instead of hearing a reply, you’re instead lifted off the ground and promptly carried out of your room and into the main area of the express. Letting out a sigh, you just let it happen, closing your eyes and making yourself comfortable against his chest as you start to fall back to sleep.

“I apologise for the early call, (Y/N), I know that you must still be tired from your last expedition but Dan Heng said that they won’t be able to complete this expedition in Jarilo-VI without your help.” Welt starts as Caelus puts you down on the floor, trying to steady you as best as he can as you start to sway before leaning against his form, blanket now securely wrapped around your form as you force your eyes open. At the mention of Dan Heng possibly being the culprit for all this, you throw him a quick glare to which he merely looks away from you. 

Rubbing your eyes, you start to stretch, hearing multiple pops from your back and neck which only makes Himeko and Welt wince. “But I thought that the three of them can handle it… at least, that’s what was said in yesterday’s meeting.” 

Nodding her head, Himeko gives you an apologetic smile as she gestures to Dan Heng once more. “Yes but Dan Heng said that he won’t be able to look after both March and Caelus himself.” At the mention of her name, March yells out a protest which goes ignored as you nod at the explanation while you silently observe Caelus making fun of March for being called out by Himeko even though he, too, was called out as well. 

No wonder Dan Heng doesn’t wanna be left alone with those two…

“I guess I can’t exactly refuse… when do we leave?” Exasperatedly, you ask, hoping that you’ll at least have time to wake yourself up but instead, you’re met with a cheeky smile as Himeko calls out to Pom-Pom to prepare the express. 

“Now.”

Your first few hours in Jarilo-VI is quite foggy for all you can remember is trudging in the snow barren path, along with finding some sketchy looking guy named Sampo hiding in the snow, then fighting with the Silvermane Guard’s captain, Gepard, and then after a few more talks here and there which Dan Heng lead, you now find yourself in a pretty comfortable hotel room, your body back on a mattress and your eyes already on their way to closing for the night, ready to go back and catch up on some much needed sleep. 

But alas, sleep is once again taken from you by the same culprit from this morning. 

Pressing your phone against your ear, you mumble a greeting, waiting for Caelus to tell you what he wants once more but all you can hear is a few mumbles before silence takes over. 

After a few more seconds of nothing, you finally decide to hang up, legs thrown over the bed as you begrudgingly make your way out of your room and towards Caelus’ room. Even though you know that Caelus is totally capable of taking care of himself - debatable -, you still can’t help but feel a tiny bit responsible over him since he kinda reminds you of a newborn demon puppy… so rambunctious and clumsy, eagerly experiencing everything like it’s his first time seeing something while at the same time, he’s like a raccoon, burrowing his hands into every trashcan he can find which ends up with a lot of weird stares thrown at you guys by the locals who happens to see his actions. 

Trudging over to his room, you don’t bother to knock, instead, you trot inside and immediately start calling out his name, looking under the bed sheets and the bed itself before you hear a faint knocking coming from inside the closet. 

Your lips form a thin straight line as you stand before the closet, not really wanting to believe that he might be hiding inside but at the same time, it’s really the only logical explanation for why there’s something knocking from the inside. 

Clicking your tongue, you throw open the closet door only to find Caelus looking quite perturbed as sweat gathers up on his forehead with his knees pulled up to his chest, a blank look on his face as he looks up at you, his phone in hand with a message already typed for you. 

Without breaking eye contact, Caelus presses send to which your phone notifies you only a second later. 

Biting your lip at this kinda awkward situation, you carefully pull out your phone and bring out his text which reads:

‘I wanna go out but I don’t wanna go out by myself. 

Come with me hehe’

With your lower lip pulled between your teeth, you slip your phone inside your pocket before taking out a handkerchief as you carefully assist Caelus out of the closet, your fellow trailblazer prompt using you as support as his legs almost buckle under his weight which only makes you worry about just how long he’s been in that closet. 

The two of you begin to walk out of his room, you hand him your handkerchief to which he gladly wipes away his sweat before trying to return the cloth back to you though you try your best to subtly let him keep it, not interested in getting it back any time soon. 

You lead him out into the cold streets, with you pointing out whichever sight might interest him, from the numerous food trucks around the area, or the unique little street pieces that you remember Gepard pointing out earlier today. But instead of hearing any response from your companion, you’re only met with silence and a missing presence from your side. 

Turning around, you immediately spot the man rummaging through a trash can, his hand deep within the tin can that you’re pretty sure is filled with nothing but foreign germs that might just make him sick. Letting out a sigh, you walk over to him, about to tap him on the shoulder but instead, you’re equally shocked when he suddenly yells out in alarm, pulling out his arm before cradling it against his chest, looking up at you with wide eyes as he points an accusing finger at the trash can in front of him. 

“Something bit me! Look! Look!” Showing you his arm that’s littered with dust and other questionable grime, you can clearly see a bite mark on his wrist, the dents of sharp teeth evident on his pale skin. 

Although the two of you are quite accustomed to fighting monsters all across space, you’re not really sure if you can take on whatever is making the trash can shake so rapidly from the inside, so instead, you take his hand in yours and pull him away from the trash can, though you can’t say that he was happy with your decision.

Trying his best to shake you off of him, he continues to hiss and growl towards the trash can that now has a small furry head peeking out from the lid. “I’ll bite you back, you little furball! Let me at ‘em! I’ll bite your little arms too! I’ll bite your fingers!” Caelus shouts towards the trash can, his teeth bared while his other hand flails about. 

By now, the few people littering the streets are starting to take notice of your partner, their eyes holding something akin to fear, probably thinking that he’s got rabies or something. 

Thinking of something quick, you point at a dumpster, calling out to Caelus as you do so. “Look! A dumpster! There must be something really nice instead, go check it out, Caelus!” You try your best to sound as excited as you can which makes his ears perk up, eyes almost turning into stars as he locks on at the dumpster, running towards the dumpster as soon as you let go of him. 

Left behind, you can’t help but let out a loud groan, your hands already searching your pockets for some money so you can buy something to clean off the bite mark on his arm along with something to keep you awake seeing as you don’t think Caelus will be sleeping anytime soon. 

You briefly see Caelus climbing inside the dumpster as you make your way to a food truck, handing the girl some money. “Do you have something strong? Give me that, make it your biggest… and probably something that kids like? Yeah… thanks.” 

Just as you’re waiting for your order, you hear Caelus calling out for you. 

Turning around, you see Caelus emerge from the dumpster, a proud grin on his face as he holds up his hand with something big and suspiciously rodent-like hanging off of him. “Look what I got!” 

A shudder runs down your spine as you realise. “Oh no…”

all rights reserved © cottonkendi, 2023. do not copy or repost any of my works! reblogs/feedbacks are very appreciated~

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Congrats on the followers Skye! :D You said you still had slots open for writing prompts, so can I ask for either something with dad squad, or your au which I forget the name of but Link’s dog’s name is Friend? Maybe some kind of hurt/comfort :)

-Sky Floor

Link knew better than to say things can't get much worse, but the thought tried to cross his mind.

With the amount of times he'd faced his mortality, he'd hardly ever feared death anymore. Sometimes he wondered if it would be a relief to actually die. Not that he'd actively pursue it, of course, but it seemed a passive companion he sometimes longed for and other times pushed away.

But either way - he certainly felt closer to it now than he had for many years.

Gritting his teeth, the former hero dragged himself up by a low reaching tree branch, gripping his sword with all the strength he could muster. The iron knuckle he was fighting marched towards him, enough weight in each step that he could hear its armor clanging across the field. The good thing about these cursed monsters was that they were slow, but after fighting a veritable army of stalfos, lizalfos, wizzrobes, and a boss fight against the corrupted wind dragon, he was reaching the end of his abilities. Honestly, the fact that this behemoth was so slow just made it seem like death was taking its time to claim him. It wasn't as if he could just flee - they were too close to a village, and this thing would kill everyone.

Not that it wouldn't kill them if he died, but... still.

Think, idiot! This isn't the time!

Link managed to roll just as the iron knuckle swung its heavy axe at him, allowing him to get close and chink away at its armor. He got behind it, bashing its helmet with his shield before his leg finally gave out, making him fall to the ground with a grunt.

The iron knuckle turned, its helmet half off, armor damaged, but axe still at the ready.

Link closed his eyes, overwhelmed with pain, bracing for the hit as he feebly held up his shield.

Instead, he heard a snarl and a crash. Opening his eyes, startled, he saw the iron knuckle on its side, having been hit at full speed by Friend, who had torn a path across the field, teeth bared. She gripped wherever her powerful jaw could clamp down, grasping at one of the iron knuckle's arms and tearing it off.

Letting out a relieved breath, he rolled over to get to the enemy and reached weakly for its axe so it couldn't retaliate. Friend beat him to it, ripping off the beast's other arm, growling the entire time as her fur stood on end.

The iron knuckle stopped moving, its armor crumbling to ash and malicious smoke, its helmet remaining.

Link let himself collapse entirely, gasping for air. Friend was in his face in an instant, licking him and whining. He didn't have the energy to reassure her, and she barked at him in protest of it.

Before he could do anything, his sweet companion was nuzzling at his pouch, grabbing it and bringing it to his hand. He smiled tiredly at her, feeling blood seeping out of multiple wounds as she moved to try and nurse them. He hissed when she licked at his leg, but he couldn't shoo her away. Instead, he sifted through his pouch, trying to find anything that could help. He wasn't entirely sure he was stocked up for a fight like this or not.

Eventually, his trembling hand found a cool bottle, and he pulled it out, seeing a red liquid inside. That was promising. He struggled to uncork it, so Friend moved up to him and pulled at the cork with her mouth, letting him get to the contents. After nearly choking down the potion, he let out a sigh of relief, smiling at her. "Thanks, girl."

Friend panted happily, tail wagging as she licked his face once more. Then she nipped gently at his tunic, pulling him along the field as he spluttered. "Friend, what are you—stop it—"

The chonk didn't listen, dragging him as he hissed over every rock and stick he ran over. Eventually he tried to right himself to at least crawl out of the open area, and Friend crawled under him whenever he was about to collapse, supporting him. By the time he reached the edge of the forest he was exhausted, huddling in on himself under a tree. Friend barked at him and then took off running, though he had no idea what she was up to. He glanced around blearily, but he saw no other signs of monsters.

That was good enough for him for now. He closed his eyes, trying to save his energy. He didn't realize he'd fallen asleep until he blinked his eyes open to see that it was dark. And entirely too quiet.

"F-Friend...?" he asked shakily, shivering and trying to sit up.

Where was she? Was she okay? What had happened?

"Oh my gosh, there he is!"

Link squinted, seeing Friend charging towards him with two people following her. They were both immediately recognizable, what with the girl's fancier fashion style and the boy's large stature.

Oh, great.

"'M fine," he immediately insisted. "Taking a nap. Go away."

"You're not fine, look at you!" Princess Zelda argued as she knelt down beside him. "Fancy Hands, pick him up, we have to get him to the village!"

Link glared at Friend while the Gerudo teenager sighed and complied. Traitor.

Friend wagged her tail happily in reply.

"Put. Me. Down." he immediately growled when the other Link tried to haul him over his shoulders.

"Well, you heard him, Princess," the Gerudo quickly said.

"My orders supersede his, pick him up!"

"I will gut you."

"Princess, he doesn't sound like he wants to be carried."

"I don't care what he wants! He's bleeding, he could be delirious!"

"I'm fine."

"He says he's fine."

"I heard him, knucklehead, I don't care!"

Link groaned as his world started spinning. This was getting tedious, and he was in pain. "Just leave me alone."

"Look," the masseur said. "If you don't want to be carried into town, at least let us help you here. I could go back and get supplies from the healer."

Link bit his lip. He didn't like it, but it was a far better option than letting himself be hauled around. "Fine."

The Gerudo nodded, rising, leaving the princess and the pup. Zelda looked him over carefully. "You really did take on that entire army by yourself, didn't you?"

Link stared at her uncertainly.

"That's... incredibly brave of you," Zelda continued. "A mark of a true Hero."

Oh, for Farore's sake. "No. I'm not the Hero."

"Oh, come on!" Zelda argued, putting her hands on her hips. "You definitely are!"

"They owed me money," Link grumbled in reply.

"That's a lie and you know it!"

The argument went back and forth for a few more minutes before Friend finally finished it by laying her entire head over Link's face, silencing him. He tried to protest, his voice muffled in her throat, making the princess laugh and exciting Friend. She licked his face, whining a little, pawing at him.

"I'm okay, Cupcake," he whispered tiredly. The edges of his vision were fading to black. Friend whined again.

"Don't worry, girl," Princess Zelda said gently, petting the dog. "We'll take good care of him."

Link found that he couldn't be annoyed anymore, snuggling close to his sweet dog and falling asleep as they awaited the Gerudo teenager's return.

[crappymixtape]

this is how it ends

You went with everyone to kill Vecna, into the Upside Down, and you knew the risks, but none of you thought it would go this far – will you get to tell Steve how you really feel before it's too late? | (  2.8k, LOTS of angst, trauma, mentions of blood and violence, fluff, friends to lovers, steve x you, steve x reader )

T H I S I S H O W I T E N D S 🎶 prospekt’s march, coldplay

Everyone dies.

You know that. We all know that. But you didn’t think it’d be like this. Didn’t think it would happen so soon. There was still so much to do, but then again maybe you’d done enough.

You’d done what you were supposed to at the Creel house, had lit Vecna’s ass on fire. Nancy dealing him the final blow with her sawed off shot gun, but when you’d all gone down to see, he wasn’t there. The only sign left was a burnt and smoking outline in the lawn and then the ticking had started.

One. Two. Three. Four.

Four chimes. Four deaths.

And then the ground had opened up, torn and ripped and swallowing everything into the burning, hungry, vine-thick gashes.

Not dead.

“We gotta get outta here! Get back to Eddie’s!”

Steve grabbed your hand and pulled you out the front door as soon as the shaking had stopped, racing after Nancy and Robin as they took the stairs by twos. You could hear the howling and baying of dark creatures in the distance as you ran through the Upside Down, lungs sucking in the air that was still thick with ash, suffocating, and all you wanted was out.

When Eddie’s trailer came into view you felt relief starting to wash over you.

Please let us get out.

You don’t know how your legs were still carrying you, but you pushed them even harder.

Please let us get out.

Nancy and Robin got to the door first, fighting against all the wire and mesh to try and get inside. “It’s us, Jesus! Open up!” Robin fisted the fence in her hands and shook it hard.

Afraid of what was trying to get through Dustin and Eddie didn’t open the door right away, but after hearing Robin’s voice they fumbled with the locks and makeshift enclosures finally yanking it open. You could hear them yelling as you and Steve sprinted after them across the road into Eddie’s yard.

“Dustin, Eddie, go! Go!”

“What happened??”

“I dunno, he’s gotta be hurt or something, we lit his ass on fire, but he’s not dead. We gotta get outta here.”

“Max.”

“I know, I know. C’mon, Steve!” Robin practically pleaded out the door at the two of you as you ran up on the trailer.

“Christ, we’re coming! C’mon, babe, you next,” Steve scrambled up the steps and moved to take your hand, but when he turned around you weren’t where you should’ve been at his side. Brows knitting together in confusion, his chest tightened with panic, and then he looked up.

You don’t know how or why it’d happened, but it did. You had been so close. Eddie’s trailer was right there. The gate was right there. All you had to do was crawl through it, but instead you were still out in the ash. Out in the thick, suffocating air with a demobat wrapping its tail around your throat and squeezing so tightly little pinpoints of light pressed against your vision.

You saw the look of horror on Steve’s face as he realized what was happening and the scream that came from him was enough to bring tears to your eyes. Were you going to die? Because that’s how Steve was acting and you weren’t ready to die, you weren’t ready to go. There were things left unsaid and the regret gnawing at the pit of your stomach felt like it was going to swallow you whole.

Steve!

You thought you were yelling, but nothing was coming out. Only strangled words dying in your throat as the demobat squeezed impossibly tighter. It flapped its wings and pulled so hard you felt your feet lift from the ground before everything tipped sideways and you slammed into the rough ground. You were dizzy with the lack of air as you fought against the panic that was now spreading like a fire within you. Fingers scrambling, your hands tried to pull at the bat, nails scraping against the desiccated creature’s skin, but it was useless. It was too tight. Too strong.

Everyone dies.

A soft, dark shroud started to close in at the edges of your vision, wrapping you tightly in its warmth and you felt yourself slowing. Suffocating. Your arms and legs moving like you were stuck in molasses and it felt like eons since you’d taken in a breath. You would’ve killed for one right now, even one filled with ash, but it didn’t come. Blinking slow you watched as forks of red lightning cracked the sky in two above you.

Please let us get out.

But as the demobat tail constricted around your neck again you started to accept the fact that maybe you wouldn’t. Tears streamed down your cheeks. Washing away the soot and dirt and mud that had gathered there. You wondered at the warm feeling spreading through you and the power it had to take away the pain that had been screaming at your neck.

Your eyes were getting heavy, but you didn’t want to close them, not yet. Where was Steve? Even if you weren’t going to make it, please, all you wanted was to hold his hand. See his face. The deep brown of his eyes, long dark lashes as they swept across his cheeks, the secret little constellations of freckles and moles that dotted the line of his jaw and down his neck and shoulders. Your Steve.

I love you, you thought and you wished you could’ve told him, but it was getting harder to keep your eyes open and when they finally closed you didn’t think you would open them again.

“God dammit, die! Fucking die!”

Steve was a mess as he sprinted back across the lawn and into the fray of demobats. He would’ve gotten to you sooner, but the swarm was thick and with Dustin on the other side there were only four of them able to fight now. Swinging his heavy axe through the air he was a blur, cutting down the dark creatures like it was nothing, the thought of losing you pushing him to keep going.

Robin, Nancy and Eddie didn’t hesitate to follow after in a frenzy, helping to keep them off of Steve. Off of you as you squirmed on the ground, but there were a lot and it was taking too long.

“Steve, there’s too many of them!” Nancy yelled, tears welling up in her eyes, but Steve refused to hear what she was trying to tell them.

“I can do it!” he yelled back, cutting through four more in one swing as he saw your eyes flutter closed. “No! Don’t go, not yet, please not yet!”

“Shit, shit, shit. Robin! Nancy!” Eddie followed close behind, trying to give Steve coverage as he reached you. “He’s got it, he’s got it!”

With a guttural sound, almost animalistic, Steve cut down the demobat that was cinched tight around your neck, cleaving it in half, and as its tail went limp he scooped you up into his arms.

“Sweetheart? Baby. Please, baby,” he was begging you, pleading you to stay with him, but you weren’t breathing and he felt tears coming on. “C’mon, stay with me, stay with me,” he sobbed, putting you back on the ground, lifeguard instincts flinging themselves forward as he started CPR.

One, two, three. Breathe.

One, two, three. Breathe.

“Babe, please,” his tears were falling onto your cheeks, your lashes, your nose as he continued compressions, gave you the very life from his lungs.

“Steve, we have to get out of here!” Nancy shot off the last of her shells and threw a look at Robin and Eddie.

Everyone dies.

“Stevie boy, I don’t know how much longer we’re gonna last!” Eddie called out to him, not even trying to cover the desperation in his voice, but he didn’t have to ask again as Steve gathered you up in his arms and lifted you both off the ground.

“I got a heartbeat!” Steve wanted nothing more than to just hold you close to him, to be still for just a minute, but he had to get you out.

“Shit, okay! Let’s go. Go!” Eddie turned and shoved Nancy and Robin back toward the trailer as the bats twisted in a cyclone, preparing their final assault, but somehow it never came.

Whether higher power or miracle, as Robin says, you all made it back through the gate to the other side, but when you all landed it wasn’t the happy reunion you’d imagined.

“We gotta to go to the hospital, Steve. We can’t fix this,” Dustin’s voice sounded far away as Steve heard him talking in the back of Eddie’s van.

“Steve?” this time it was Nancy. Putting a hand on his shoulder she squeezed and took his chin in her other hand, turning his face to look at her, “This is beyond us.”

He wanted to be strong for you, wanted to tell you everything would be alright, but as he watched your chest rising and falling in short, stuttered breaths he knew Nancy was right. Squeezing his eyes shut tight he pulled you into him, wrapped his arms around you and told Eddie to go to the hospital.

Everything was a blur as the van pulled too fast into the ER parking lot. So many people, so many bodies.

“Get this one in right away on a vent! Lacerations on the neck and multiple wounds to the torso!” a team of first responders surrounded Steve as soon as he lifted you from the van, shoving an oxygen mask onto your face.

“Sir, we’ve got it,” one of them said, but he wouldn’t let go.

“Sir, please, we don’t have time for this!” and one of the nurses pulled you from his arms, Robin having to wrap her arms around Steve’s as he tried to grab after you.

“Wait, please! Let me go! Please let me go too!” and Steve fell apart as he watched them carry you into the hospital. There were no gurneys left. The sea of other people that had been hurt in the wake of Vecna’s assault on the earth was overwhelming.

“Steve, you did everything you could,” Robin’s voice cracked as she tried to reassure him and he collapsed into her, sobs wracking his body.

“I’m gonna go ask what room,” Eddie’s voice was thick as he tried to hold back his own cries, trying to find something to keep him going, to keep the adrenaline from leaving, but it was hard. It was too much.

Too much for all of you. The heavy weight you’d carried all this time. The deaths. The horrors. The injuries. The blood the sweat the tears the heartache. All culminated in the ground ripping open and swallowing you into the bowels of hell.

Everyone dies.

“Lucas? Oh my god–”

“Lucas! Is she–”

“Max?? Oh shit, Max!”

And that was it, no one could do it anymore, no one could hold it together. Lucas, bloodied and broken was carrying Max, just like Steve had carried you, and when Steve saw the same pleading look in the younger boy’s eyes he felt everything unravelling.

Please let us get out.

“Multiple broken bones here! Tachy as well! Get her in a room now!” a first responder snatched Max from Lucas as he fell to his knees, sobs shaking him as he buried his face in his hands.

“Max! Max don’t go! Save her, please save her!” Lucas cried out as Nancy rushed forward to envelope him in her arms and she started to cry too. And then Eddie. And Robin. And finally Steve and they all held onto each other like it was all they had left. And it was in a way. But this couldn’t be it. This couldn’t be the end. Not like this.

Beep, beep, beep.

Mechanical sounds cut through the deepest sleep you’d ever had. Was it sleep? Or had you died?

Beep, beep, beep.

Your eyelids felt so heavy and your brows knitted together as you put all your energy into opening them. It took everything you had to do it, but slowly the world swam into focus, unconscious melting away into conscious.

You felt something hooked up to your arm, felt a mask covering your nose and mouth, felt a monitor squeezing your finger. A painting of fruit on the wall. Windows covered with slatted blinds. A clipboard at your feet. The hospital.

“Steve?” came out weak, but you found your voice and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes.

Everyone dies.

But not you. Not like that.

And then a warm, steady hand pressed into yours and the painted fruit disappeared behind the sweetest thing you’d ever laid your tired eyes on. A long sweep of lashes, deep brown eyes, the soft curve of his lips, and my god that smile. Even when it was pushed beyond exhaustion, sad, and weary, it still lit your heart on fire.

“Baby? Jesus, baby you’re awake. I–I thought I’d lost you, I thought I’d lost you,” he buried his head into your side, crying softly in relief, and let your blanket soak up his tears as his hands tightly squeezed yours.

“Can’t get rid of me that easy,” you teased weakly, trying to smile, but your throat tightened with a sob of your own.

Lifting his head he pulled a hand away from yours to gently tuck your flyaways behind your ear. “Shit,” he laughed, voice wobbling as he cried, “You’re telling me.” His brows were knitted together, disbelieving of what he was seeing, fingers tracing the line of your brow, down your cheek, the soft curve of your chin. “You were really gone,” he said barely above a whisper.

Squeezing your eyes closed you felt yourself fighting a losing battle with your own emotions and tears silently fell from between your lashes.

“I tried to say it,” you confessed through your tears, “But I–”

“Oh, sweetheart. Say what?”

Lifting your arms they shook with the effort, but Steve leaned up to hold you fast, hold you steady, and you smiled despite your crying. “I love you, Steve Harrington.”

And god the look on his face then. He bit his lips in between his teeth, fighting back the sob that was pushing its way into his chest, and shook his head. He sucked in a breath and leaned down to press his forehead against yours and whispered, “I love you too.”

“You’re awake??” Dustin’s voice jolted both of your eyes open and Steve sat straight up, hastily wiping his arm across his face at his tears, and fixed the younger boy with a look.

“Christ, Henderson," his voice was crackly from crying, "It’s a hospital. People are healing.” Still Steve. Still the babysitter.

“Max is too!” Dustin didn’t listen and plowed through Steve’s protests, “Holy shit, you had us all worried. Like, really worried.”

“Wait, Max is awake?” Steve didn’t even bother to try and mask the surprise and relief in his voice.

“Yeah, well no, but yes. She’s breathing and vital signs are all perfect, but–“

“But what?” you asked, afraid of the answer.

“She’s in a coma. The doctors don’t know when—if—she’ll wake up.”

Silence gripped the three of you tightly and you felt a knot in your stomach take hold.

“She didn’t have a heartbeat for over a minute,” Dustin said quietly and you looked down at your hands, at Steve’s fingers tangled up with yours and couldn’t help the guilt blooming in your chest.

“But she’s still here, and so are you,” Steve recovered quickly, trying to reassure you, trying to find the light in the dark and you looked up to meet his eyes.

“She’s just next door when you feel up to it,” Dustin said, giving your arm a soft squeeze. “Buddy, if you need anything too let me know,” he clapped his hand to Steve’s shoulder and smiled a small toothy smile before going back out into the hallway, the door closing behind him with a soft click.

You sat in the quiet for a moment, Steve still holding your hands, and everything hit you like a ton of bricks.

Please let us get out.

“Take this thing off,” you grumbled, anger and grief and frustration overwhelming you as you untangled the oxygen mask from your ears, yanking it down over your chin.

“Babe–”

“I’m fine!” your throat tightened, tears welling up against your lashes as you pushed yourself up to sit, taking Steve’s face in your hands. “I love you. I love you, Steve Harrington and I’ll say it until your name doesn’t make sense anymore,” you choked out. And then you pulled him into you and pressed a kiss to his lips, a kiss that said a thousand I love yous, made one hundred promises to never leave again.

“I love you, too” he whispered against you and the way he caught your lips between his said a thousand I love yous, the same silent promises, I'll never leave you again.

Everyone dies.

But not today.

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist

[makingfanfictionstosleep]

My First But Not My Last.

Pairing : Gojo x Femreader, Geto x Femreader

Setting : Started from Pre-Cult Suguru Geto // Some folks will not die // Modified that Kenjaku will not totally take over Geto's subconscious later on // Girl bff Shoko, Mei Mei & Utahime, Strong sorcerer reader // Death, Murder Spree, Romance, Lemons.

Rating : M || m i n o r s d o n o t i n t e r a c t

Part 6 : Nullify

<< Previous ...... Next >>>

Time skip to Pre-Shibuya…

Kokichi Muta had 9 years' worth of cursed energy.

But that doesn't mean he is invincible.

Well, almost, if not for the curtain that fake Geto pulled over the area.

He has options, which include a simple domain to get to him & force him to join the fray or the other thing, which is considered as an emergency plan.

He is not sure how that curse operates. "What was his name again? Was it Mahito?" He considered & weighed his options, but he knew that this chance can't be wasted.

"Plan B it is," he hissed through his gritted teeth, pulled the amulet from his neck & flicked it with cursed-energy.

This was not part of any of Geto's or Mahito's plan.

Definitely not.

You were warped, nope, pulled forcefully from your meeting with Satoru Gojo & the rest of the teachers, alarming them for your sudden disappearance for they know that this only happens when there's an emergency from one of the sorcerers.

The last time this happened was when Suguru Geto appeared on campus grounds.

You were transported in a cramped enclosure, which you realized was some sort of a robot, but then you saw who summoned you and it all clicked.

"What the fucked happened?" You breathed through the space, crawling your way towards the person underneath the upturned chair, "And who the fuck are you?!"

"Mechamaru, no time to explain, we need to get out of here!" Muta exclaimed, "I'll explain as soon as we're out!"

"Fine, but where are--" Your question died down when you saw the face of your pronounced-as-dead-ex, looking at you with the same puzzle & surprised look, "Suguru" You whispered.

"No, that's not Geto & we need to get out before --"

Your reflexes were as good as everyone said it was by being able to block Mahito's attack the split second. Good thing you took notes from your ever so-arrogant lover on 10 reasons he is keeping his infinity on at all times whenever he is out of his house. It hurt you, but you could blast him outside Muta's robot.

"He should be dead! How-what-why? What the fuck?!" You exclaimed at Muta, who was now able to free himself.

"I'll explain later. We need to get out of here sensei!" Muta shouted in panic which brought you back to your senses.

"Fine! Can you stand?" You exclaimed, adrenaline running all over your body, as Muta gained his strength to stand on his two feet, "This will be rough," you warned before throwing a debris through the ceiling, making a hole big enough to fly out.

But before you could even get out of the robot, you noticed that the barrier was gone, which meant that Suguru & Mahito had already left.

"Put me down!" Mahito protested, arms flailing around, "I'm not yet done."

"We are done for now. The school would know that I am here thanks to your carelessness," Geto cursed as he summoned one of his cursed spirits to fly away.

Not seconds later, Satoru Gojo appeared at the forest, followed by a worried Utahime & Meimei.

"What happened here?" Utahime exclaimed while Meimei was looking around, her big axe ready for any fight.

You helped Muta get out of his robot & Gojo rushing to him, his hands wrapped tightly around his neck, "Tell me why I shouldn't kill you right now."

"Satoru! Calm down! Let him explain!" You pulled his arm, but he's not budging, "He summoned me! So there has to be a reason!"

"Residuals," Meimei said, "One from an unregistered curse & the other…"

"Geto," Satoru finished, "But that's not my concern. You put y/n's life in danger. Tell me why I should not kill you right now."

"Satoru, I'm a teacher! It's also my duty to protect the students & the younger ones! I am the only one who can nullify barriers from within, so put the kid down," you said as you nullified his infinity, directly touching his skin hoping that this would calm him down.

Satoru loosened his grip on Muta's neck as placed him on the ground, taking in air as soon as his airway was free.

"We checked your place, you were not there," Utahime said with her hand on her hip, "What's going on Kokichi?"

"Not here," Muta said, "I'll tell you everything, but not here."

"Gojo, take us to my place," Meimei ordered with a smile, "Only you can teleport us there."

"Fine," Satoru answered begrudgingly.

Meimei's place was luxurious and lavish, even more than Satoru's. You have been here on occasion, sometimes when it's girl's night out. Of course, you can't frequent here since it's in Kuala Lumpur, of all places.

"Ui Ui, I'm home," Meimei said as they appeared at her living room, "Can you make us some tea, please?"

A white haired boy greeted them & nodded as he ran off to the kitchen.

"Please make yourself comfortable," Meimei said kindly as she sat down on one of her plush sofa, "Now, care to start from the beginning?"

Kokichi Muta sat down & told them everything. From when he sold information to Geto, the binding vow until the recent event.

"I get your point & your motive, Muta," Utahime said after minutes of silence, "But that doesn't mean I agree with how you planned to execute it. We could have Shoko study you further to regenerate your body."

"We all know that she already tried. One of my puppets had come across this fake Geto & his group of unregistered special-grade curses & I knew that he had plans but I need to know the rest of it. They would probably change some of them, but all I know is that they wanted to revive Sukuna & seal you off, Gojo-sensei." Muta finished.

"But why?" Satoru mumbled, still thrown off by the information of Geto alive when he was so sure that he killed him successfully, against his will of course.

"What's this Prison Realm?" You asked, trying to pry more information since you don't want to dwell on what you have witnessed & rather plan on what's gonna happen.

"It's a cursed object that can seal anything," Utahime answered, "I'm not sure if it's something that you can nullify, Y/N, but you can look into the archive & determine how to unseal it in case their plan to seal Gojo would succeed."

"Of course not," Gojo reacted violently, his fists clenched tightly, "I'll kill them before it happens. Utahime, don't tell them everything. Just tell them that Y/N was summoned because of an unregistered special grade that Muta cannot handle since it's beyond his level."

"And what about his regeneration?" Utahime asked.

"He unknowingly entered a binding vow with the curse which he won by giving out a speck of information about my infinity technique, but nothing that jeopardizes me or anybody," Gojo answered, "He should only get a reprimand or something."

"Not a word of this to anybody, and I mean it Meimei," Gojo glared at the white-haired woman, "Not even money could save us if shit goes down, do you understand?"

"Now, now Satoru. You make me look like a heartless, greedy woman. Of course I care about my friends. My lips are sealed," She smiled sweetly before sipping on her tea, "I promise."

"Did you pick up anything on Mahito's ability?" You asked Muta, but he shook his head much to your dismay, "I only know that he can transfigure anything. He tried it on me, but I always keep my nullification ability on, so I was able to dispel him before he could even touch me, but he could hit really hard. Now I understand Kento's frustration."

That made Satoru look at you with worry on his face, but you assured him with a squeeze on his thigh, "It's nothing I couldn't handle."

Meanwhile…

Geto jumped off the creature, dragging Mahito with him.

He didn't even listen to his whines or rants & just glared at him to shut him up.

What happened today was something his body had never experienced before.

For he was not Geto anymore, he is Kenjaku in Suguru Geto's body.

He had only heard rumors that the soul is still alive somewhere, but never in his entire existence did a vessel once reacted to anybody related to it's past, except today.

His heart raced, palms sweating, body rigid, once this beautiful woman appeared from nowhere. And when their eyes locked, he felt like he'd melt right then & there. But he knew it was not him but the body or rather in Mahito's terms, "The Soul" that was reacting.

Y/N L/N, Suguru Geto's one true love - The One That Got Away.

Things just got interesting. Regardless if the school knows that Suguru Geto is not dead, their plan would still push forward. He'd seal Satoru Gojo, merge Tengen into a human body & force humanity into an evolution of new species.

AN : I had to save him. Huhu. I needed Kokichi Muta to live at least in my AU. No lemons this time cause this story has to progress. Haha. I already made disclaimers so I need to follow through before I get another writer's block.

[thescarletnargacuga]

PLAY PRETEND

A BUNNYDOLL ONESHOT

WARNING: unhinged Ragatha, SO much digital violence, NPCs die

~~~

"CUT!! No, no, NO!! Do it again! Do it right!" An NPC wearing a ball cap labeled "Director" threw a script down on the ground in frustration.

Jax dragged a hand down his face. "We've done this scene 87 times!!"

"And we'll do it 87 more times if you don't do your job and act right!" The NPC gripped the arms of his chair, fit to break. "Go again! Reset!" The movie set came to life with activity. People rushing to reset props and touch up make up on the actors.

"Jax, please, just do what he says." Ragatha pleaded. She was as tired as he was, plus she was standing in bad heels the whole time. At least he got to stay barefoot. "We won't be able to finish the adventure until the movie's finished." She coughed when an NPC powdered her cheeks.

"I agree. This is getting very dull." Kinger said from his position next to them. "Just go with it and it'll be over soon."

"But why did I get this part? Why can't you be the groom??" Jax tugged at the tight tux collar choking him.

"Because I play the part of an ordained minister better." Kinger said matter-of-factly.

"I'm not exactly thrilled about it either, Jax. I'd much rather kiss Kinger. At least he wouldn't complain the whole time." Ragatha sneered.

Kinger had a smile in his eyes. He looked to the maid of honor and best man. "You two holding up okay?"

"My legs are numb." Gangle whimpered. The dress she was forced to wear was heavy on her spindly body.

"I should have stayed at the circus with Zooble." Pomni muttered. At least she got to wear a suit, so she wasn't too uncomfortable.

"Hey! Could we fix the best man's hair?" The director called out. "He looks like he just crawled out of bed!"

"I'm a GIRL!!" Pomni snarled, only to be ignored. Another NPC rushed to her and adjusted her hair.

Jax sighed and pinched the area where the bridge of his nose would be if he had one. "Shut up, you little cross dresser. Yelling at the moron doesn't do anything. Caine made the director a bit too passionate about his movie."

"Tell me about it." Ragatha crossed her arms. "I read the script, we're not even in the final scene! There's a whole other act that centers around our characters fighting a horde of mutant unicorns"

"Say what?" Jax gaped.

"Yeah, once the wedding scene is over, a horde breaks in and we fight. Pomni dies in your arms, Gangle escapes with Kinger but we break into the church's armory and fight them off."

"There's an armory??" Jax grew increasingly interested.

"Yeah? Did you not read the script?"

"Of course not, I have you to do it for me." He grinned. "Do you know where the armory is now?"

"Yeah, it's under the altar behind Kinger." She arched a brow. "Why?"

"Things are about to get interesting. Hey, D-man, we doing this scene or what?"

"If you're finally ready." The director answered incredulously. "From the top! Quiet on set! Camera! Wedding vows take 88 and...action!"

Jax and Ragatha held hands, believably happy looks on their faces. Kinger opened his book that had nothing on it. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join two hearts and souls to be one in the eyes of God." Kinger raised his hands up, light poured in through the stained glass window behind him that had Caine as this movie world's proclaimed religion. Pomni subtly rolled her eyes. "Mr. Smith, would you say your vows?"

Jax cleared his throat. "Maggie, you've been by my side bringing love and laughter into my life when I've needed it most. I feel like I've known you forever. Maybe even in another life. You have a heart of gold that I intend to have and hold forever. I love you."

The director looked at the script. Jax was improving some of his lines. At least the scene was still moving along.

Ragatha was blushing for real and completely forgot her lines. Jax was so convincing when he actually tried. She almost missed her cue and winged it the best she could. "Oh, Jack, my love. You have been my rock. When life was too much, you'd bring me back to earth and tell me...it doesn't matter. You've put things into perspective for me when my mind would run away. You've stood steady fast against the world, no matter what it threw at you. Your bravery is inspiring, I will always love you."

The director checked the script again. "What..?"

Gangle and Pomni looked at each other, but stayed in character.

"The rings." Kinger said and Pomni handed them to Jax. He slid the rose gold ring on Ragatha's finger and said, "With this ring, I ask you, are you ready to kick some [%$!#]?"

"Huh?"

Before the director could yell "cut", Jax kicked the altar over and pulled out the first weapon he could reach. A good old boot-zooka. He aimed it at the director and fired. The director dove out of the way in time for the boot to turn his chair to splinters, and the crew scattered screaming in terror.

"Grab the camera!" Jax ordered as he reloaded.

Kinger slid over as fast as he could and hoisted the cinema camera off its stand.

"Whatever you do, don't stop rolling! We're finishing this movie our way!" Jax fired again at the director, who took it to the face and was thrown through a set wall.

"This is insane!" Pomni grabbed a random weapon, it looked like a weird water gun.

Gangle didn't grab anything, she hid behind Kinger.

Ragatha could hear frantic neighing over the calamity. She saw horses with an inhumane amount of paint and prosthetics plastered onto them tied to a far wall. They were apparently the mutant unicorns they were supposed to fight in the next scene. She dug into the weapons and found a huge butcher's knife. She looked at Jax, who had run out of boots and was grabbing a shotgun.

"For once, I agree with you. Let's get these [%$!#]holes." She wielded her knife and ran to the horses.

Jax grinned so much, his face hurt. "[%$!#] em up!" Security came to control the situation and Jax leveled his gun at the first NPC that tried to rush him. The gun exploded and a roll of dollar bills hit the NPC in the chest, downing him. "Buckshot. Heh, I get it." He racked another bundle and fired.

Ragatha cut the ropes tethering the frightened horses. One by one, they ran in random directions. They galloped off in straight lines and didn't stop for anything in their way; not NPCs, sets, walls, or Pomni.

"Everybody run!! They're mad!!" An NPC, who Ragatha recognized as the one who constantly did her makeup by shoving powder in her face, screamed. "Oh, you haven't seen anything yet." Ragatha threw the knife and it lodged itself in the NPC's head. They fell backwards to the ground. "By the way, your makeup skills are TRASH!"

She never realized just how much rage burned beneath the surface. It felt so good to finally let go, at least in the moment. She'd probably hate herself later, but right now, she didn't care. She yanked her knife out of the unresponsive NPC and looked for her next target. An NPC was baring down on Jax as he was fighting off three others. She ran up and started chopping.

Jax turned to see the absolute ruin Ragatha had left the NPC in. She was huffing, her hair was disheveled, and gripping the knife like an axe. "Anyone every tell you you're gorgeous when you're crazy?"

She tucked her hair behind her ear and smiled at him. "Someone has now." She tore at her wedding dress; losing the sleeves and frills. She ripped the skirt so she could move faster. She blushed when Jax wolf whistled at her.

Pomni whimpered as she shakily held her gun up at some advancing security NPCs. She pulled the trigger and hot glitter glue shot out and covered everyone in front of her. They screamed until the glue hardened, turning them into glittery gooey statues.

"Atta girl, Pomni!" Ragatha encouraged.

Pomni did not share Ragatha's enthusiasm. "ARE WE DONE YET!?"

"Do you see a portal? The movie isn't over! Kinger! Get this in frame!" Jax shot another NPC in the leg.

Ragatha chased another NPC past a supply closet. She stopped in her tracks when the word flammable stuck out in her periphery. The door was locked, so she hacked away at the handle like a madwoman. She opened it to find stacks of crates marked for various pyrotechnics and explosives. She gave a grin that would make Jax proud. "Jackpot."

The director was coming to after being booted through the wall. He groaned and climbed out of the hole in time to see Ragatha come out of the fire closet with an oversized roman candle. She fired at some of the few remaining security. Multicolor balls of sparking fire rained down on her enemies.

The director tried to scramble away but the butt end of a shot gun punted him into the supply closet. He crashed into the crates, one dumping half sticks of dynamite into his lap. He looked up in fear to see Jax looming in the doorway. "You know, without that hat. You're no more distinguishable from the rest. You're nothing but an annoying hack rack." He flicked the hat off the director's head with the barrel of his gun.

"Please...please don't hurt me."

"Oh, I'm not gonna do anything. You see, my bride is a bit pent up. You're all hers." Jax stepped back and dropped his weapon.

As if on cue, Ragatha came over and jumped into Jax's arms.

Jax caught and held her like the battle bride she was.

Ragatha aimed the giant roman candle at the director. "And they lived happily ever after!"

"Mother[%$!#]!" Jax held tight as the roman candle kicked back. It sent three colorful fireballs into the pile of explosive crates, blowing them and director sky high. The explosion blew back Ragatha's hair, silhouetting her against the fiery glow.

Jax couldn't help himself. In the literal heat of the moment, he kissed her. He expected to be punched or berated but...she kissed him back. She dropped her weapon and wrapped her arms around his neck. His grip on her tightened, holding her close until the kiss came to an end. They parted only enough to look each other in the eye.

"You don't have to keep pretending, dollface." The usually degrading nickname held a tone of endearment.

"I think we should both stop pretending." She kissed his cheek. "I think this could work if we let it."

"Yeah....maybe it could."

Kinger cut the camera. With the movie complete, the portal back to the circus opened.

~~~

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed it, please leave a comment or check out my blog for more TADC oneshots!

[vmpiires]

hi!! i just read your intro and first can i just say, ayyyyy brooklyn and congrats on graduating!!!

for my request, it’s for our good boi choso. how would he react to falling in love with someone who previously had a bf who died during shibuya? 👀 (like, this first love but y/n’s second)

𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎

„𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐀𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘”

: ̗̀➛ SENSITIVE CONTENT!!

: ̗̀➛ afab!reader, no nasty stuff. all fluff or the regular stuff. mature themes (attempted su*cide, depression, etc. if these said topics trigger you, please do not continue reading.) not proofread so i apologize in advance for any mistakes if they’re made.

: ̗̀➛ art creds by;; currently unknown. dividers are not mine, if you own these, you may claim them in comments.

: ̗̀➛ WORD COUNT;; 1.7K

* dark mode recommended

* do not copy this plot. i’m perfectly fine with inspirations but give creds. if this plot his stolen in any way, the post will be taken down and you will be blocked.

𝐃𝐀𝐊𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 ✉️🖇️;; hii wtw and thank you. and ykw this a good ass plot. reblog to support meeee and if you want more :D

red arrows ripped through the flesh of the non-sorcerers. their blood splattering all over the ground and whatever wall it could touch. it was hell. the average human wouldn’t even be able to process what it was like to be in the midst of the shibuya incident. and the survivors of shibuya…their stories were different.

a traumatic event. tears were shed as much as blood had been. memories flooded back into the mind of the blinded and they were set free from what they feared, vowing to protect what was valuable to them.

feeling like a monster, they stumble away. how could you hurt what you should’ve protected? the answers were impossible to find. they wanted change. they wanted to be released from such shackles that held them down.

dawn. you’re awake early. you glance around to find your partner but you immediately sigh. the sad feelings starting to rush into your head and you burst into tears. during the shibuya incident, your boyfriend had died. he promised that he’d come home after he ran a few errands but he never returned. that’s when you heard about the deaths. your heart sank and you felt sick. you couldn’t even place a finger on who could’ve done something as cruel as this.

you crawl out of bed and stagger into the bathroom, doing your hygiene. showering, cleaning your teeth, brushing your hair and throwing it into a messy bun. you had errands to run yourself so you’d put on something simple. a white shirt with baby blue hoodie on top with some grey cargos and a pair of high top dunks that matched your hoodie.

you make your way back into the bathroom and gave yourself some eye drops to remove the red from your eyes after crying for hours on end. you then put on some eyeliner. you decided to attempt to make yourself look presentable rather than depressed when you left your cozy apartment.

you’d apply lotion to your face so it wasn’t dry and ashy when the gentle winds that blew outside would pick up hit your face. you even put on lip gloss. you force a smile on your face and remind yourself that everything would be okay.

in town, it’s awkward being outside again. though, it looks like some people have recovered from the incident and healed from their emotional scars, you knew that was impossible for you at the moment. and you knew they were all putting on acts for the public. you wanted to grimace but you didn’t have the time to be angry.

you were walking into you bumped into someone. it was an accident, so you immediately apologized. when you looked up at them, you noticed it was a male who might’ve stood at the height of maybe 5’11 or even 6 feet. you quickly examined him.

‘purple eyes. brown hair…tied back into two fluffy ponytails. a black line across his nose. bored expression. is he sleep deprived? what is all that stuff around his eyes?’ you thought. after the two of you exchanged a couple words apologizing, you quickly scurried off. something about him made you suspicious. it was odd.

choso watched as you walked off, having an odd feeling in his chest. ‘what the hell is this?’ he wanted that feeling to die. to go away. but the longer he watched you leave, it just wouldn’t go. he shoved his hands into his pockets, sinking his bottom lip into his mouth and gently biting down.

pathetic.

he didn’t even know you, yet he was taking some kind of interest in you. you were a human. why should he take an interest in the likes of you? he didn’t know why himself. the half cursed spirit would stop his staring and pull himself back into reality, walking away to process what he had been thinking of.

it was becoming odd now. as the days go by, you seemed to keep seeing the spirit everywhere. even in your dreams. you couldn’t say that you were being followed though. you pinned it in the back of your mind as a coincidence. a coincidence that the random male you bumped into accidentally where everywhere you treaded your feet upon.

what was the next move? confrontation? talking to him? him talking to you? what would you even say to him? nothing? good answer. because that’s exactly what you were gonna do.

you were about to return to your lonely but cozy apartment. you’ve done what you had to do for the day and you were tired, eager to get some sleep even if it was only early in the afternoon.

the light turned white, registering that pedestrians could bypass the crosswalk while cars were forced to stop for you. as you began to walk, you weren’t aware of the car that was still speeding down the street. the second you stepped down onto the asphalt, you were immediately pulled back and the metal body zoomed past you. you were sure that it grazed you just a bit.

you turned and looked up to see that same man again. he was holding your wrist a bit tight but soon enough he let go of you. a breath escaped you as your heart pumped rapidly after almost dying.

“i…thanks,” you say after you were to catch your breath. choso was quiet. he’d shove his hands back into his pocket before mumbling something.

“are you hurt?”

his voice was deep. it was a voice that could shake the ground if he spoke any louder. you just looked at him. you didn’t know what to say. but you couldn’t just leave him there in awkward silence.

“i’m okay…” you mutter, “..thank you again.”

you didn’t know why but your heart was racing. you felt like you’d pass out right there if you didn’t calm down. you weren’t scared of the fact that you were almost killed by a car anymore.

it was him. you couldn’t put your finger on it. he had an effect on you and you didn’t even know his name. what were you thinking? you didn’t know.

“behave…” choso mumbled to himself, holding onto a chess piece, which ended up snapping in half after applying too much pressure against it between his thumb and two fingers. the pieces fell onto the floor and his tired eyes lowered.

“shit…”

you were driving him crazy. keeping him up late. throwing him off of his work. what the hell was so special about you that you were messing him up this badly?

he should’ve been asking himself this when he asked for your phone number when you bumped into each other for the umpteenth time now. you should’ve been asking yourself the same question also. he was in your dreams.

a man you didn’t know was in your dreams. in those dreams, you touched him. kissed him. held him. you never imagined that you’d do such a thing with a mystery man. well, you’ve known him long enough now. you could practically say you were acquaintances. those random coincidences turned into something that happened for months.

maybe you missed your boyfriend. there wasn’t anything wrong with that. you lost the man you loved the most above anyone else. the memories you had with him was colliding with the image of choso in his place.

it made him look perfect to you. choso was something you needed…no. not yet. not ever. you can’t do that. your dreams were setting you up for failure. you didn’t want anyone else but your deceased partner…but you knew he couldn’t come back.

you stared at the text from choso, asking you if you were okay with eyes filled with tears. the salty puddles slid from the corners of your eyes and fell onto your screen. you weren’t okay. you weren’t okay at all. the world was overwhelming you. why was this higher power yelling in your ear telling you to let go and feel the pleasure of another? someone that wasn’t yours.

the dreams. that’s what it was. they were causing you so much pain and you hated it. the voices in your head were telling you so many things that you just wanted it all to go quiet.

the bathtub was full and you say there, fully clothed, letting the water that was slowly stained with your blood consume you. your eyes closed and tears were forming in your eyes. you were feeling so much at once that it hurt.

ding.

an interruption.

your eyes flicker open and your irises travel down to the bathroom door, which was open, showing off your hallway. you climbed out of the bathtub, feeling weak and sore.

the doorbell rang again and it made your eye twitch. you quickly dried yourself off and changed into some new clothes then dragged yourself to the front door. you opened it and saw him again. the two of you made eye contact. you were feeling embarrassed, knowing you were just about to remove yourself from the land of the living a few moments ago.

“you’re bleeding,” choso begins, taking your hand gently and lifting your arm to scan for any more injuries. he seemed concerned, despite his facial expression and his deadpanned tone. you were about to snatch your hand away but you needed this. maybe you did need him.

“what happened?”

“nothing-” you answered, choking back on your words, trying not to cry, “nothing happened, i’m okay. i must’ve accidentally cut myself on something.” you add, trying to smile. but choso wasn’t taking that. he’d pull you into a hug. it made you feel like you had to confess everything to him. your emotions were overriding your original intentions. you felt like you were betraying yourself in some way.

“you’re not okay.” choso said. “tell me.”

his gentle but rough voice broke you. you finally put your arms around the 5’11 male and bursted into tears, confessing everything. shibuya, the fact that you lost your boyfriend, what you felt when you met him, the dreams, what happened moments ago. words spilled out of you like water in a shattered glass.

choso pressed your head against his chest, his hand holding the back of your head as he held you close. he comforted you with his words and soothing voice. he made you think everything would truly be okay.

your throat began to get sore with all your crying and your body felt exhausted. the second your eyes closed, you fell asleep in his arms. he was a bit surprised himself but he continued to hold you. he’d carry you to your couch, gently placing you down so you could sleep and adding a kiss on your cheek.

“dream of nothing but paradise and blue skies...”

𝐄𝐍𝐃.

⋆｡࿇ ·࣭࣪̇˖ 𖦹°༅༚

[alphabetbill]

Macabre [ HEMLOCK GROVE ] - chapter 1

" 𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞, 𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧, 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤, 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐥𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠- 𝐚 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐨𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 "

[ C I C A D A ] hosho mccreesh.

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~ description ~

A werewolf whose only skill is running from his fears, a half-upir with no idea of the true darkness lying inside of him, and a girl found alive in the woods months after her mysterious death.

Some secrets in Hemlock Grove should have just stayed buried. In a town that isn't so sleepy after all, monsters of all kinds are wide awake under the surface, crawling their way up.

~ warnings~

This story will contain mature and heavy themes that may involve potentially explicit content, gore and murder, talk of kidnapping and stalking victims, supernatural/paranormal/religious themes and trauma, any other themes not covered in the general description will probably be tagged here at the start of the chapters that other significant warnings apply to.

A list will be linked here upon completion and upload of each chapter:

Cicada and the Snake

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

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c h a p t e r    o n e .

Peter Rumancek

<<>>

IT WAS WITH A HEAVY HEART SOMEWHERE INSIDE THAT Lance Evergreen would lay his daughter to finally rest, but not heavy enough.

On a muggy October evening, the man would stumble into his house, more of a trailer trash dwelling than anything, and hit the drinks as though he had never left them. Judith had been gone for months, and in his mind, seeing them lower her battered corpse into a hole in the ground where he would never see her again felt almost offensively anti-climactic. He had dreamt of the worst-case scenario over and over again, had imagined how it happened, when and why. How they would find her and what would be left of her.

By the time her body was found dumped in that ditch, in his head, Lance had already seen it all.

He had already mourned. He would never stop.

Peter went to visit him the day after the funeral.

He kicked his way through discarded beer cans and shattered bottles that spilled sticky ichor onto the bare particle board. He thought Uncle Vince was bad, given his lethal alcoholism that had eventually killed him, but this was just sad and Peter was just sad.

He knew Lance as well as he had known Vince, the two men having been close friends. Peter knew that Lance had an ex-wife, Judith's mother, who had shown up for the funeral and left promptly afterwards. Peter hadn't known her all that well from the couple of times he met the woman when he was little, but he had seen the way she clung to her cigarette and never said a word to anyone at the funeral. She used to be a local, but neither his uncle or Lance had brought it up so he had never had a reason to ask why she left. They also had a son who died.

Peter had also known Judith, which only made his heart squeeze more to think about it. He had fond memories of throwing worms at each other, collecting snails as kids, and gathering around Nicolae Rumancek to observe the fairy he had caught in a mason jar. He remembered so clearly how Jude was so adamant that it was in fact not a fairy, but a firefly, and that Peter's grandfather ought to let it go. Now his grandfather was gone, the girl was gone, and all he had left were faded recollections to remember it all by.

The man was already out cold by the time he reached the couch, which had been torn up by a dog- he could tell from the scent. It must have died not too long ago, because the food bowl still sat in the corner of the kitchen, flies buzzing around it. Peter took it upon himself to dispatch the old food with a hollow feeling in his chest and returned to the living room.

It was difficult to see how much this man had changed. Peter had fond memories of Lance giving him shoulder rides and driving around in his car. He remembered his stories, many of which he and Vince made up, and remembered how life-like and exciting he had been. Now all that was left was a husk of the soul of a man- a man with a failed marriage, two dead kids and one dead best friend. Alone in the world to drink and then die.

Peter didn't know what to do to fix his uncle's friend. He didn't know how to help his sad, hulking body off the couch when he had no interest in learning how to move. He didn't know how to console a father whose daughter was gone. But he did know that he wanted to be there for him, and that he wanted to help.

So, he helped. All while the man had drank himself into a stupor, the boy found his way to the kitchen and to the garbage bags beneath the rusted sink with the constant drip. He put the bottles, the cans, the wrappers, and all of the litter that his eye could see into the bag and hauled that bag out to the trash. He came back. He repeated the process.

It should not have been Peter's job to clean up this mess, but for once he didn't mind doing it. It felt almost therapeutic to cleanse the trailer of the mess and the alcohol and the despair he wished Uncle Vince had the chance to. The last thing he did was pry the bottle from his hand and set it away on the kitchen table. 

Then Lance muttered in his sleep. Something something not worth it anymore.

When Peter came home later, he hugged his mother. He loved Lynda and she loved him, but they had never been a family for too much sentimentalism. Tonight was different. He needed that hug. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to never hug her again.

The following day at school felt like walking through a land of zombies. Peter was new to town, having arrived a couple of weeks prior to Judith Evergreen's funeral. He didn't know whether or not it was because of that, that everyone here seemed so lifeless and flat. He didn't think so, because he only found one or two funeral flyers dangling from the noticeboards, all of which had been trampled on or discarded on the floor.

It was the end of the day and Peter was in the middle of picking up one of the memorial notices for her when Roman Godfrey spoke to him for the first time.

"So you knew her," he said. A statement, not a question. His eyes– those eyes– tore right through the flesh and into his soul.

Peter knew at once that the boy was upir. He could sense it from a mile away, from the very first time he had glanced in the rich boy's direction on his first day at school. He could sense it like a serpent shifting beneath Roman's skin in the dark.

Roman was impossibly tall for the age of seventeen and had a face that had been morbidly carved by the holiest of angels. His hair was brown and loose, unlike his crisp blazer or tucked-in shirt and trousers. Peter wondered if the boy could smell his blood.

"Yeah. When I was a kid" he replied, anything to erase the unbearable cloud of tension that was the upir standing behind him.

"Mm. It's weird. I knew her too," Roman said. His voice didn't sound sympathetic, or if it did, it fronted as disjointed and monotone. "You want a lift home?"

It was raining and Peter had no interest in walking until he became a soggy wet dog. So he accepted. 

The car was a vintage cherry red Jaguar, which Roman explained had belonged to his father. Peter wasn't sure what he was meant to do with this information but nonetheless continued to listen. The ride was relatively quiet and the radio hummed in the stretches of silence between admittedly one sided conversations. 

"You're new in town," Roman said, making small talk.

"Are you a Gypsy?" he asked, but surprisingly not in that sneering way most other folk did.

"People at school say you're a werewolf. Is it true?" he questioned, as if Peter hadn't heard the rumours already, much like a subtle interrogation.

All of those things were correct, but Peter scooted around the last question by declaring that he was just an obscenely hairy teenager. 

The car stopped on the side of the road near a slope that rolled down into a clearing, pulling up just in front of a rusted mailbox. 

"You're related to Vince," Roman evaluated, seeming to recognize the dwelling. "He used to work for my mom at one point."

Peter had not known about that, and briefly found himself wondering what exactly his uncle had been doing with Olivia Godfrey. A strange, unnerving woman indeed.

As he thanked the rich boy and got out of the car, retrieving the mailbox, a car drove by.

Peter jolted. 

In the seconds it had taken for the other vehicle to pass, a girl had appeared sitting in the passenger seat of Roman's car, where Peter had only been sitting seconds ago. In the small window of time he caught a glimpse of her, he saw black and blue and gray skin and teary, blood-filled eyes.

He saw Judith Evergreen, and then she disappeared.

"Something wrong?" Roman asked, viridian eyes narrowing. 

After taking a moment to settle himself, unconvincingly the werewolf shook his head. The Upir left, but not without staring at Peter for a little longer than what was considered a normal duration of time to stare at someone. 

He descended the old wooden staircase and into the clearing by the river where his home, previously Vince's, sat overlooking the water. He entered, greeting his mother, and opened the fridge to pop open a beer. 

"So what's up with the Godfreys?" he asked, swigging from the bottle as he went over to plunge into the couch, stretching lazily to reach the remote and flicking on the TV.

"Bad business," Lynda said as she sipped on her cup of tea, already seated on the couch. "You should steer clear of them."

"The boy, Roman. He's an upir. I don't think he knows it himself," he sighed. All he could think about was the sinking feeling he got when he was near him, the feeling of drowning slowly, or being buried alive beneath the burning weight of his stare alone. Despite this, Peter couldn't deny his nagging intrigue. Call it morbid curiosity.

"He dropped you home?"

"He offered. It was raining."

Lynda said nothing in response, but Peter knew what she would have said. 

Be careful with him.

That night Peter sat down on the edge of his bed and found himself staring through his window and out into the woods. In those woods, he thought he saw a girl.

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boring but we're getting there i swear also oh my god i'm actually posting for once????

anyways this is also on wattpad and chapter two will be out very soon :) i'll shut my mouth now.

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Ikemen Villain - Premium

These translations are not intended as a replacement for the game. Please support cybird by buying their stories. SPOILERS under the cut. Expect mistakes.

TW: This chapter contains/mentions violence and death. Please read on with caution.

I followed Alfons and stepped into the dark, dusty room.

(Is Elbert here?)

A figure emerged from the darkness, dimly lit by the twilight.

His golden hair was dazzling even in the darkness, and I knew at first glance that it was him.

Kate: "Elbert?"

Elbert: "Kate?"

Kate: "What on earth are you doing here?"

I was about to walk up to him when I noticed a figure at his feet and gasped.

The person crawling with his head in his hands was...

Kate: "Graham?"

He was wobbling and shaking, not even paying attention to Alfons or me.

Alfons: "This is Elbert's power. Once he stepped on a shadow, it'd bring back the person's saddest memory."

Alfons: "And the more painful the experience, the more effective it is."

Elbert: "..........."

Elbert looked at Graham sadly.

Alfons, on the other hand, was smiling and dropped what looked like a pill into the glass in his hand.

Alfons: "You must be exhausted and in a lot of pain. Here, drink this, and you'll feel better."

Graham picked it up with empty eyes and drank it down.

Graham: "Ugh...ahh..."

Groaning in pain, Graham clutched his chest and fell to the ground.

Kate: "D-Don't tell me..."

As Graham remained motionless, a bad feeling ran through my entire body.

Alfons: "Yes, that's right."

Alfons: "I don't really like the idea of killing him, but it's what Her Majesty has ordered."

Graham's eyes were wide open, and bright red blood trickled down his pale lips.

I was speechless, seeing the reality of evil conquering evil, but something warm suddenly blocked my eyes.

Elbert: "No need to look any further."

Kate: "Elbert..."

When I realized it was his palm, I knew why he locked me inside the room.

(Elbert was trying to keep me away from their sins and to keep me from getting my heart broken.)

Elbert: "Let's get out of here."

Unable to shake off my fear, Elbert took me out into the garden as I wobbled around.

Elbert: "I'm sorry. I didn't intend for you to see that."

Elbert: "You probably know by now that I'm here today on a mission to assassinate him."

Kate: "I knew it."

Graham apparently had been repeatedly assaulting women together with his friends.

He was using money to bribe the police as he verbally intimidated the victims, so they had no choice but to keep their mouths shut.

They also found out that several of them had died as a result of their injuries, and that was the deciding factor in this mission.

Kate: "Why did he do those terrible things?"

Elbert: "They say it's revenge."

Elbert: "He was abused as a child by his mother, and after she died, he got himself involved with an uncouth aristocrat."

Elbert: "There he got a taste for revenge, venting his pent-up anger on noblewomen."

(You can't just hurt someone because you're suffering, but...)

A child who should’ve been protected was hurt and met this end because of his trauma.

(It’s unfortunate that no one saved him before he committed those crimes.)

The root of his sin was probably an unfulfilled emptiness.

(I wonder if this is how Elbert felt as he sadly stared at him.)

Kate: “You’ve been trying to protect me all day, to keep me from becoming Graham’s target, and to keep me from seeing what I saw.”

Kate: “I’m sorry I left on my own.”

Elbert: “You don’t owe me an apology.”

Elbert: “If you know, you’ll be forced to bear some of the guilt, so I figured it’s better if you didn’t know.”

His face was even paler than ever.

(It’s as if he’s about to die from a poison.)

(He is amazingly unsuited for this kind of sin.)

(I wonder if he really wants to be in the crown.)

I couldn’t help but gently hold his hand as my heart throbbed painfully.

Elbert: “Kate?”

Kate: “I’m glad to know.”

Elbert: “Glad?”

Kate: “Because if I didn’t know your sins, I wouldn’t notice your kindness.”

(Even though he looked sad, he never said anything to me.)

(The crimes Graham committed, the fact that he and Alfons killed Graham...)

(He did everything he could to keep me away from all of it.)

Kate: "It's much better than ending the day looking at your sad profile without knowing anything about it."

I smiled, trying to hold back the pain in my chest, hoping to relieve my sadness, even if only a little.

Elbert: "............"

Elbert blinked and touched my cheek with his other hand for a moment.

Elbert: "You still smile even when you're hurting."

(You too.)

His fragile, snow-like smile made my heart clench in my chest.

Suddenly, my thoughts were interrupted by the light chirping of a parakeet.

When I looked over, I saw it flapping its wings adorably.

Kate: “Somehow, I feel like I understand now how the person who put that parakeet on display felt.”

(Even though I feel so down, feeling this creature’s breath soothes my soul.)

Elbert: “Yeah. I don’t really get you.”

Elbert: “I don’t get you, but I feel more dazzled by you now than before.”

Kate: “Me...?”

Returning my gaze from the parakeet, I gulped when I saw Elbert staring at me.

Kate: “U-Um, Elbert?”

Elbert: “What?”

He tightly squeezed my hand.

(----?)

A shiver ran down my spine as a weird feeling of anxiety hit me.

(He was acting somewhat differently from a moment ago.)

The sad look in his deep ocean-colored eyes disappeared, and he was now looking at me with the same obsessive look he had given the parakeet earlier.

Kate: “I-It looks dazzling. Wait, what do you mean?”

Elbert: “It exactly means what it says, Kate.”

His sea-colored eyes slowly approached me, almost as if he wanted to drag me down to the depths of the ocean.

Elbert: “What would it take for me to get a human being?”

Part 1╏Part 2╏Premium End╏Epilogue

[bots-and-cons]

Heya Only! Here's my rq for now! (For Bee, Op, and whoever else you wanna add)

Bots find a young Cybertronian (somewhat younger than Bee,) whose family was killed in the war, who decided to become neutral or a 'Rouge' because of it. They've been alone and in survival mode for so long that they don't know how to act when meeting other Cybertronians, Autobots or not. So they freak out and try to run, but can't bc They're hurt.

Remember to drink water, get something to eat, and your writing is amazing<3

Maybe I’ll eventually do a part 2 to this where the reader wakes up at the autobot base stuff like that. Also thank you, and I hope you remember to eat something and stay hydrated too :D

~Bumblebee~

•Honestly, Bee has not met anyone younger than himself in a long time, because he has been with the team for so long, and he hasn’t met many other cybertronians in general during that time

•You’d crash landed on earth some time ago with a limited energon supply, so you were a bit lost on what to do when you started to run out

•You happened upon an energon mine while traveling around, but of course it was infested with decepticons, who were mining the stuff

•When you got desperate enough, you tried to steal some, but that didn’t end particularly well for you

•You managed to get away but you were hurt and scared and you had no idea what to do next

•A few days later, Bee stumbled upon you while he was scouting around the mine for a mission

•You were in really bad shape and scared out of your mind

•When you saw him approaching you, you assumed he was a decepticon due to the close proximity to the mine where you’d seen them

•You got up, hobbled a few steps and fell down

•You kept trying to crawl away from him, because you were so terrified

•Bee was a bit confused as to why you were so scared of him, but he soon realized you considered him a hostile entity that was out to hurt you

•Bee kept his distance while trying to calm you down and he showed you his autobot insignia

•This didn’t seem to make you any less scared, which also confused him, didn’t you know the autobots were the good guys?

•Eventually you were feeling so weak you couldn’t even crawl away anymore, you just laid on the ground in a fetal position, hoping that if he killed you, it would be quick

•At some point you passed out from the panic and your injuries and Bee called the base to get some help for you

~Optimus Prime~

•Optimus wasn’t particularly thrilled when he found you quivering in a cave in the middle of nowhere

•You looked terrified and there was this odd look in your eyes, like you were sure he was going to hurt you

•Optimus didn’t want to make you feel boxed in, so he sat near the cave entrance so you could see him, but also so you could see outside and leave if you wanted to

•Little did he know, you were barely functional at this point, your body feeling so heavy and in so much pain you didn’t even want to move

•You saw his autobot badge, but that didn’t suddenly make you trust him, it just meant he was just as responsible for the war as the decepticons

•Optimus tried to ask you your name, but you didn’t want to answer him, what good would it do? You were probably going to end up dead anyway

•He just talked to you for a while, he could see you were listening, since you were following him with your optics and you seemed to react very subtly to some of the things he said

•The only thing that seemed to really catch your attention was when he said he was a Prime

•That was the only thing you commented on; “You were supposed to protect us”

•Optimus of course knew he had lost the trust of many after Cybertron fell, but to hear it coming from someone so young, was so different and it made him go quiet for a while

•You eventually started fading in and out of consciousness, and when your optics finally closed, for a moment Optimus thought you had died from your injuries

•This didn’t end up being the case though and he brought you to the base, where Ratchet started patching you up

[happy-hermit]

Stuck on a long car ride and took it as an opportunity to write post-last life scar angst <3 (dedicated to @stiffyck who expressed a need for scar centered angst and I wholeheartedly agree. hope you don’t mind the tag aldkdj)

Anyway hope y’all like it!! :D

Part Two

———

They appear all together when the game ends. They pop in at spawn, a cacophony of noise and apologies and panic, phantom aches from their final deaths shooting through their bodies. Scar can still feel the arrow that had pierced his chest. Wonders if anyone had even noticed, when he died.

He sits up, groaning, eyes automatically falling to his chest, half expecting to see blood. There’s none, of course, and somehow that seems equally as disturbing as the alternative. He’s wearing his Swaggon outfit. It feels a little too cheerful. It feels like it doesn’t belong to him. He’s grown used to the weight of a heavy cloak around his shoulders; he’s off balance without it.

The others are all in front of him, some standing and some still on the ground. None of them look like they know what they’re supposed to be doing, all of them eyeing each other as they attempt to gather their wits. It’s the second time this has happened, for most of them. It doesn’t really make it easier.

Scar pushes himself to his feet after a few seconds of assessing if his legs are able to carry him, and though he stumbles, he doesn’t fall. Good thing, because he’s not sure anyone would catch him if he did.

He’d spawned in on the edge of the group, and he scans the area in front of him to make sure that everyone who was supposed to be on hermitcraft is there — that no one had been left behind. He relaxes a little when he realizes everyone is accounted for. Bdubs and Tango are closest to him, standing a few yards away having some sort of playful argument, Etho standing nearby and watching. He catches Scar’s eye and shrugs a little, like what-can-you-do?

Scar cracks a little smile, and he wants to go over there. He wants to talk to someone. He wants to not be alone.

His feet don’t move. His heart crawls up his throat and curls into a tight ball. His voice wouldn’t work, if he tried to use it.

Farther away, Grian leaps at a disoriented Mumbo and hugs him. He looks like he’s mouthing apologies. Scar knows what Grian looks like when he’s apologizing. He knows what Grian looks like with bloody knuckles and sandy hair. He knows what Grian looks like when he has to kill a friend.

Impulse claps Mumbo on the back, smiling. A few hermits gather around Pearl, checking on her after her first time in the games.

Scar could go over there. He knows they wouldn’t kick him out, knows they would talk to him.

He can’t make himself move. He has grown too used to being alone. He doesn’t know what to do, now that he doesn’t have to be.

(Part of him blames them. None of them had offered companionship before, why should he offer it now?)

(There’s a louder part that blames himself. Maybe if he’d been different. If he’d tried harder. Maybe he had deserved to be lonely. Better alone than a burden.)

Fireworks go off in the distance as the other hermits come to greet them. There will probably be some type of celebration, to catch up and welcome them home. It’ll probably be fun.

Scar is at the edge of the crowd, and he slips away.

———

There are no lights on in the Swaggon when he gets there. Dust particles float lazily in the rays from the setting sun, and his hands are cold. His chest hurts. He’s not sure anymore if it’s residual respawn pain. He just wants someone to touch him, or hug him. He can’t ask.

The ladder creaks as he climbs it, and it’s loud in the suffocating silence. Normally, Scar would be filling it. He’s afraid to try to speak. Afraid of what will happen if he can’t.

His room is exactly how he’d left it. Messy bedsheets, half-pooled on the floor. Partially drawn blueprints on his desk. Top hat sitting on a shelf.

Jellie on the bed. She’s stretching, back arching and already purring. She makes her way to the end of the bed nearest to him, and she meows. Where have you been? I’ve been waiting.

Scar stumbles forward and falls to his knees next to the bed, reaching out. He’s not breathing. He can’t. Jellie gingerly sniffs his hand for a few seconds, and then she rubs against it, meowing again, purring louder.

Scar doesn’t realize he’s crying until a tear drips onto his hand, and then he laughs a little, quiet and sad. Jellie meows again, almost accusing.

“Sorry,” Scar says, and his voice cracks, barely above a whisper. He’s afraid he’ll break more than silence if he talks any louder. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to leave.”

He pets her for a while, long enough that the sun goes down and the stars come out. Long enough that his tears dry on his face and his eyelids droop. It’s quiet. He can hear an owl hooting outside, distantly. He doesn’t really feel like he’s come home at all.

Eventually, he picks up his cat and gets into bed, letting her curl up top of him. Her purring eases the phantom pains in his chest, and he sighs shakily, tension bleeding out of his muscles. His hands are still cold. He falls asleep anyway.

[wannab-urs]

I've Shattered Now

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x f!reader

Summary: Continuation of A Ghost of You (but can be read separately). Dieter dies and you have to learn to live without him. Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: Strictly 18+ | MDNI | Drug abuse, mild violence, yelling, Dieter is not alive, mentions of intentional overdose, grief, so much angst. Dieter and Reader's ages aren't mentioned at all, so dealer's choice on that.

a/n: This was a hard fic for me to write, emotionally, but the words themselves came easy. I'm pulling from a lot of real life shit here. Please enjoy this little piece of my soul. And thank you to @beskarandblasters and @mishasminion360 for encouraging me and reading it over for me.

Series Masterlist | Dieter Bravo Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3 | Kofi

I’ve Shattered Now

The hardwood floor is biting into your hip bones, your knees, your elbows. A sharp, pulsing in your lower back is sending waves of pain down your left leg. The space between your shoulder blades feels as though you have a knife buried to the hilt there. Your head is fuzzy, face swollen with tears and snot and ears full of a never-ending dull buzz. Your face is buried in a tattered green bathrobe that smells like weed, lavender incense, and Dieter.

 It still smells like Dieter. Oh god. Dieter. 

You scrunch the robe in your hands, pulling it impossibly closer to your face, and inhale deeply. Maybe if you breathe it in hard enough his scent will bury itself inside your skin, inside your bloodstream. Maybe it can live in you forever. Maybe he can live in you forever. 

Dieter. Dieter. Dieter. DIETER--”AGGGH”

A horrible, mangled scream rips itself from your throat. You slam your fists into the ground and kick your legs, flailing, yelling, begging. 

“Diiiiieter! Fu-fuck…Dieter!” you scream into the stale air of your apartment. Come back D. Come back….

You force your aching body to its knees, spluttering on your own snot. Half blind with tears, you draw a shaky breath and crawl across your living room floor to kneel beside your couch. You lay your head down on the worn green cushion and nuzzle your cheek into the last place that Dieter had been when he was alive. 

First Day of My Life

It’s a Wednesday, the first time you see Dieter Bravo. You don’t usually go out on Wednesdays, but this didn’t really count as going out. Your friend… kind of… Nissa was having a party to celebrate getting fired from her job. Considering your history with holding down jobs and your tenuous relationship with your current stint as a barista, you felt it fitting to make an appearance. 

Your usual scene — music wafting through the air from a record player carried by soft curls of pot smoke, friends giggling and leaning into each other on couches and floor cushions — this was not. You felt the bass pounding in your chest, vibrating your teeth, before you even reached the door. Inside the apartment, you were greeted with strobe lights… fucking strobe lights… flashing through a thick haze of smoke. There had to be 50 people in this tiny ass apartment. You consider turning around and going the fuck home because, seriously, fuck this shit, but before you can leave someone grabs your wrist. 

A man with wild, curly hair and a patchy beard. He’s wearing sunglasses even though it’s 11 at night and his broad shoulders are draped in a very threadbare t-shirt.

 “Can you help me with something?” he yells over the music. You give him a very confused look. What could you possibly help him with? Why the fuck is he asking you? He doesn’t wait for you to answer before asking “Would you like to have sex with me?” 

That is… not what you were expecting. It’s not wildly out of pocket considering you’ve apparently decided to attend a rave on a Wednesday night, but it’s certainly not what you thought you’d hear two seconds after walking inside. You lean close so he can hear you and shout “Maybe later? I’m not even high.” 

He nods sharply and pulls you by the wrist he’s still grasping firmly toward a doorway across the room. You follow him, bewildered, for a few steps before wrenching your wrist out of his grasp and shouting, “What are you doing? I said no!” 

“You said ‘Maybe later,’ technically. Follow me.” He pulls a baggie from his pocket and waggles it back and forth.

Understanding dawns on your face and you follow him. You step through the doorway with him and find yourself in the bathroom. He drops a pill on the countertop as you push the door closed. In the light of the bathroom you can see that he’s devastatingly gorgeous in a disheveled kind of way. His hair is curly and standing up in every direction. Your eyes travel down his body. He’s wearing pajamas, but his chest and shoulders are broad and look strong. You look back at his face.

“Molly,” he says simply, peering at you over the top of his sunglasses. His eyes are so dark they’re almost black, pupils blown out completely from whatever he’s already taken. There’s a ring of warm brown surrounding the giant pupils and his eyes have a downturned shape… Goddamn this man has actual puppy dog eyes. 

You nod and grab the pill, popping it into your mouth and swallowing it dry. “Thanks,” you say in response. “Do you always start conversations that way? Asking to fuck?” 

“Pretty much.”

“And does that work for you?”

“Sometimes,” he gives you a pointed look over his sunglasses. You roll your eyes at the insinuation it had worked on you. 

“Just because I took your drugs doesn’t mean I’m going to fuck you.” 

“Okay.” He says simply before moving to open the door. You follow him back into the party, taking note of the way your fingers are starting to tingle. 

Some amount of time later— you’ve lost track— your body is pressed against his at the center of the dance floor. Your whole body is thrumming with the music, vibrating with an undercurrent of electricity. The strobe lights illuminate everything in bright flashes. 

Your hands in his hair, tongues tangled together, chests heaving in time with each other. 

His forehead pressed to yours and his hands on your cheeks as you roll your bodies together in time to the music. 

Your hands laced together above your heads, your back pressed to his chest, your ass grinding into his hips. 

He brings his hands to your waist and turns you to face him. You move to kiss him but suddenly he’s holding a joint in the tiny space between your faces. His head flicks in the direction of the bathroom and you’re once again following him to the small room. 

Once inside, you close the door and sink to the floor, leaning your back against the bathtub and stretching your feet out toward the vanity. The man you’ve been dancing with all night perches on the countertop. He doesn’t look fully real right now, sitting above you, the wall light glowing an orangey yellow behind him. 

“You’re pretty.” you breathe up at him.

He chuckles and lights the joint. After 2 deep inhales, he passes the joint down to you. “Dieter,” he says. 

You tell him your name between hits, then pass it back to him. You scoot forward on the bathroom floor and lay your head on his calf. He’s wearing sweatpants, you note. Weirdo. There’s an inexplicable feeling settling in your chest as you kneel at his feet.

“Dieter,” you whisper. “Why does it feel like I’ve known you my whole life?” It’s the molly talking, you’re sure. You’ve barely said anything to each other. But it also felt kind of true. 

“Maybe you have.”

It’s Over Now, I’m Cold, Alone

The ceiling of your apartment is spinning, warping closer and farther away from your face. You are… so fucking high. Is this how D felt? Did he feel like the whole world was threatening to collapse on top of him? You hope he felt like he was floating instead. You hope the voices in his head were finally quiet. You hope he wasn’t scared. 

You take a deep, shaky breath in and hold it for as long as you can. You cough as you breathe out, choking on a sob. 

“Dieter. D. Dieter. Are you there?” He's always here. He’s never not been here with you. “Di-” you sob again, unable to force the words out of your mouth. A few ragged breaths.

“D… I can’t. I can’t do this without you. Come back. Please.” You think you’re praying. You haven’t prayed since you were a child. You hope Dieter hears you. 

You throw your hand out in the direction of the coffee table. Your fingers skim over the surface until they connect with a bottle. You dump the contents into your palm and swallow another pill, hoping it will finally be enough. 

You pull Dieter’s robe tighter around your shoulders, curling into a ball on the couch, and drifting off into a restless sleep.

Paranoid Delusions, They Haunt You

Dieter refused to use wireless earbuds. He wouldn’t put his fingerprint or face into the system, insisting on using a passcode, but he had a phone he used mainly for texting his dealer. He swore up and down that bluetooth fucked with his brainwaves. That putting his biometric information into the phone would lead them right to him. 

Two months after you moved in with him, he tossed his phone out, insisting it was tapped. He hadn’t made too much of a fuss over you keeping yours until now. Now your iPhone was shattered, a blade piercing through it and pinning it to the wall in the kitchen. 

You felt… defeated. You’d spent a lot of money on that thing. You needed it to talk to your friends, who you didn’t see often anymore. You needed it to text your boss and to get your schedule for work. 

Admittedly, you threw a fit. Was it childish? Could you be mad at him when he didn’t know what was real anymore?

It felt justified. He had destroyed your property. It was likely you’d be fired if you didn’t show up for work in the morning or at least tell your boss you’d be skipping your shift. 

But as angry as you were, you knew Dieter needed you. So you took care of him. You always took care of him. This broken man was rocking back and forth on the floor of your shared kitchen, crying and muttering and convinced for all the world that you were going to be taken from him. 

So you wrapped him in your arms and you promised him you’d stay. You helped him shower for the first time in days. You held him in your arms in the bed you shared and you kissed his forehead and whispered reassurances to him all night. 

You’d always been together, really, and you were never going to be apart again. 

Everyone I Know Goes Away, In The End

His funeral is today. You’re sitting in the park near your apartment, the place you and D used to sit for hours. You’ve read countless novels under this tree, his head in your lap as he sketched the people walking by. You’ve fed him french fries like Dionysus eating grapes, licked the salt off his lips. 

You’ve wrapped him in your arms, whispering reassurances in his ear that no one was watching him. No one was going to take him from you. Run your hands through those gorgeous unruly curls and peppered his face with kisses. You’ve read to him. He’d hated Wuthering Heights and he’d loved The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo and he’d asked if you ever read happy books.

You’ve dropped acid and stared up at the sky, finding shapes in the clouds and meaning in the rustling of the leaves. Smoked joint after joint and talked about the stars and where we go when we die and what the point of being alive is and if there’s a god. 

You walk to the coffee shop down the street where you had your first real date. You had agreed to meet him here two days after the rave at Nissa’s house.

You hadn’t remembered giving him your phone number, but you had remembered a godlike figure passing you a joint on the bathroom floor. You had remembered his soft lips pressed behind the shell of your ear as he fucked you against Nissa’s sink, your legs wrapped around his hips, your hands clutching his hair like it was the only thing keeping you tethered to Earth. You had remembered the way he whispered that your souls were intertwined from the start of the universe and it had culminated in you, here, now. Bodies folded together. Breath mingling in a smoke-hazy bathroom.

You slide into your booth. The one you’d sat in for hours, telling him your tragic backstory. A mother who loved herself more than you. A father who loved drugs more than being alive. He had told you his own story. How he’d been in and out of state care facilities, trying to silence the voices he never really stopped hearing. How he tried to drown them out with weed and pills and coke and whiskey. How they were quieter with you, but they never really went away. You barely knew him, really, but you’d spilled some of your darkest secrets to each other mere minutes into your first real conversation. 

You knew then you’d never get the imprint of his heart off of yours. You’d never existed before him and you’d never exist again without him.

You sat there, in the booth you so frequently shared with him, and you stared at the place he should have been. Dieter Bravo did not belong six feet under the ground. He belonged here. With you.

I Will Let You Down

You unlock your apartment door and take a step inside. The scene that greets you is, truly, more than you can fucking handle today. 

The couch, usually seated directly across from the entryway, is flipped upside down. The cushions are scattered across the floor. Your coffee table is leaned against the window. There are papers scattered across the floor, drawings of strangers and landscapes and you litter every surface. A canvas depicting what you’ve called Dieter Devouring his Son has a gash in it. There’s a hole in the wall by the entryway to the kitchen. 

In the center of the chaos is Dieter. He’s sitting on the floor with his back to you. He doesn’t have a shirt on and his feet are bare. He’s muttering to himself, hands tearing at his hair, and rocking slowly back and forth. He doesn’t react at all to you coming in. Your heart leaps into your throat. This is bad. This is bad. You’ve never seen him quite this gone. 

“Dieter?” He keeps rocking at the same steady space, his muttering growing slightly louder. You walk up behind him and reach out, hoping to soothe him with a hand on his back. 

He jumps away from your touch and yells, “Get the FUCK away from me!” You stagger backward, shocked. Breaking down isn’t new, in your experience with Dieter. But yelling at you is. 

“Dieter it’s just me, baby,” you speak just above a whisper, trying to calm him. 

“Get away! Get away. Get away. from. me,” his eyes are wild. Unfocused. He’s not really seeing you, you realize. 

“Dieter. Go to bed. I really don’t have the energy for this right now.” You’d had such a long day at work and now your lover had destroyed your apartment and was acting as if you were out to get him too, joining the rest of the world in the conspiracy to end Dieter Bravo. 

“Fuck you. Get out! Get away from me! Get out Get out Get out Get out.” He stands up and crosses his arms in front of himself, as if to ward you off.

You move to grab his arms, wanting to pin them to his sides and shush him. He shoves you, hard, in the chest and you fall to the floor. “Don’t. Fucking. Touch me!” He bellows at you. 

You look up at him from the floor, tears welling up and pouring down your face. He’s been out of it before, but he’s never hurt you. You scramble off the floor and dart out the door, slamming it behind you, but you don’t make it far. You can’t leave him like this. Not really. So you resolve to sit with your back against the door to your apartment all night.

A few hours later, you’re curled in a ball on the hallway floor, shivering and sore from being on hard concrete for so long, when the door opens. You rush to your feet and back away from the man in the doorway. 

Dieter looks at you with his giant brown puppy dog eyes, face streaked with tears, hair damp from sweat and hanging in his face. His hands are clenching and unclenching over and over as he slowly reaches out to you. “I’m so sorry…” He chokes out, his voice creaking. 

You press your back against the wall, as far away as you can reasonably get without running away completely. “You pushed me, D. And you- you screamed at me. You can’t yell at me, you know that, Dieter, you know that.” 

“I’m so fucking sorry, baby, you have to believe me… I-” he cuts himself off and looks down at the floor, folding his arms up by his head and tugging on his own hair. “I couldn’t tell. I thought it was real. I thought…”

You move toward him, slowly, like you’re approaching a potentially rabid animal. You reach out your hand and he flinches, “Shhh, D. It’s okay. It’s me. I’m here.” You reach both hands up and wrap them around his wrists, stopping his assault on his scalp. You press his hands into your chest and lay your palms over the top of his curled and twitching fingers, rubbing back and forth slowly in an attempt to calm him. 

“Didn’t know it was you… not really,” he mumbles in the direction of the floor. You press a kiss to his sweaty forehead.

“I know, baby. Let’s go inside.”

Wishin' I Were Gone

There was a short period of time last year that Dieter was on meds. Like real ones. Anti-psychotics. For the few months he took those pills, Dieter held down a job and cooked you dinner sometimes and cleaned up after himself. He showered regularly. You discovered that his paintings could be beautiful in a beautiful way and not in a scary way. 

He’d painted you and him, a sort of abstract smudging of oil paint creating the image of his body wrapped around yours. Your hands, arms, legs, completely entangled. The sunlight from your bedroom windows filtering down on your naked bodies and making you glow. The painting sits in the window sill, now. You’re staring at it from your spot on the couch. 

Your back is to the doorway of your bedroom. The room you haven’t entered since he died. The room with a dresser haphazardly stuffed with ratty t-shirts and sweatpants. The room where he stacked baubles and trinkets and rocks and gemstones on every surface. The room with the big bed you’d spent countless hours in with him, kissing and touching and taking and giving. You were usually so wrapped up in him in that bed that the outside world didn’t exist to you. You faded from reality there, with him. Joining him on some plane of existence where you were both safe. You want to go there again. 

You push yourself off the couch and stagger into the bedroom. 

A ray of sunlight is streaming through the window, falling directly on the unmade bed. You collapse into the center and wrap the blanket around you. It doesn’t smell like Dieter. You close your eyes and feel the sun warming your face. You feel yourself sinking deeper into the mattress. Your face is going numb, now. Your lips have lost feeling and it’s hard to open your eyes. You feel like you’re under a weighted blanket. Like you’re underwater and the waves are crashing above your head and you’re just watching. See you on the other side. You drag in one last shaky breath and succumb to the crushing heaviness surrounding you. 

I Miss My Lover

Dieter fucking Bravo was the love of your life. You never believed in soulmates, never believed someone could be made for you, souls two jagged pieces waiting to find each other and be made whole. And maybe you still don’t. Maybe you weren’t right for each other. 

Maybe Dieter was never meant to be here on this earth. Maybe he burned a little too hot and a little too bright to exist any longer than he had. 

Maybe for all your trying to save him, you only succeeded in destroying yourself. 

But, fuck! He wrote you poetry and painted you beautiful pictures and kissed you with his mouth full of french fries. He wrapped you in his arms and sang Etta James in your ear while you made Hamburger Helper. He kissed and held and loved every single part of you, even the jagged edges. 

Dieter Bravo’s soul was intertwined with yours. You think it still is. You think it always will be.

You’ll never be able to see the night sky again without remembering his lips on your neck and his hands on your waist and his voice in your ear telling you that you are more breathtaking than anything in the galaxy. 

You’ll never sit outside and read a novel on a warm spring day without hearing charcoal scratching the surface of a sketchbook. 

Every time you bring a joint to your lips, you are in that bathroom at Nissa’s house, looking up at his hooked nose and dark brown eyes and pouty lips and thinking he can’t be real.

There are some things, people, we come into contact with and they never stop touching you again. The imprint of them is forever pressed into your skin like little fingertip shaped bruises. 

Dieter Bravo grabbed your wrist one night, a few years ago, and he’s never let go since.

---

Series Masterlist

[anonymousfoz]

November 26, 2023

I don't want a lot for Christmas

Her singing echoed through the halls as she wandered, looking for new victims. She broke out of containment a day ago, and the building had been evacuated. I had been stuck on E-hall, and any nearby exit would have meant I had to deal with her. But instead, she came for me. I had a chance. I began crawling through the parts of the building that I remembered. Flashing sirens were my only guiding light through the quiet hallways.

There is just one thing I need, I don't care about the presents underneath the Christmas tree

I had made it to D-hall. The green light masked a horrific scene. Tobias lay dead against the wall, his internal organs ripped out. His blood splattered across the hall as his walkie-talkie remained in his hand. I didn't want to leave his body here, but I had no choice. I slowly grabbed his walkie-talkie and headed for the armory. The armory had two entrances, one to the D-hall and the other that led to C-hall. I slowly crawled inside the armory and slowly closed the door. I didn't close it fully but had jammed something through the handle. If she were to try to break in, I would have time to get to C-hall.

I just want you for my own, More than you could ever know

I heard her high heels clack against the metal floor of D-hall. She was standing over Tobias' body, looking at it. I had only seen her through the security camera. She looked a lot taller than I thought. I could not see what happened next through the small crack of the door, but I could hear bones breaking and meat being cut. It was a brief moment before she left. I wanted to go over and see what had happened, but I had to focus. I need to escape. I grabbed some firepower, flashlights, a few grenades, and a riot shield and headed out. I mounted a flashlight on top of my gun and began quickly going down C-hall and towards A-hall. Freedom was getting closer, but so was she.

Make my wish come true

I began sprinting, she was coming too close, and I would have no position to defend myself. Running west on A-hall heading to B-hall, panic began to fill my mind. A small office room had made for a quick shelter. I hid in the corner with my riot shield in front of me for protection. I had to think of a way out, but if she was following me, I would put others in danger. That thought plagued my mind until I heard her.

All I want for Christmas is you

The glass in the door shattered, and I flinched. The riot shield had protected from the majority of the glass. She knew where I was. I crawled towards the door, waiting for her to open it. The doorknob slowly turned, and she stepped inside. I waited for the right chance and slammed her into the wall with the shield. Her nails slashed into the riot shield with sparks forming, but I had one shot left. She was confused and highly angry when I started shooting. It seemed ineffective as bullets showed to do nothing to her. Before she could do anything else, I ran again, leaving behind the riot shield. I had changed the course from A-hall to E-Hall, the back of the building. Taking the shortcut from C to D, I covered more ground than I expected.

She was gaining speed, and I could hear her slowly getting closer. I turned and grabbed one of my grenades. As she turned, I pulled the pin and ran towards her. She aimed her claws at my stomach, but she was too late as the grenade had exploded. The first layer ceiling collapsed on us, trapping her and buying others more time. I had no idea how I was still alive after taking a grenade to the face. I was stuck, unable to move. This would be where I died. I closed my eyes as the oxygen slowly left my body.

I don't want a lot for Christmas…

[supercriminalbean]

Nightmares

David Rossi x GN!Reader.

Words. 1.4K

Summary: Your boyfriend waking you up from a nightmare.

Warnings: Murder, swearing, blood, crying, fluff, dead bodies. (If ive forgotten something let me know)

The fear kept building up as you ran down the corridor, your breathing becoming heavy as you sprint for your life. He was gaining on you slowly, the impending doom kept approaching and the corridor just seems to be getting longer. The place is freezing cold and bodies seem to be spread out across the hallway, having to jump over the familiar bodies of your team members. 

Their blood covering the walls, the man you have been running from for years getting closer and closer. Your mind is running with fear of the past and logic, you know this isn’t real, you remember going to bed last night then suddenly waking up running down this place. You were stuck once more in this unending nightmare, yet none of you seems to be waking up. 

SLAM! Your body is suddenly being tackled into the wall, the man you hate with every fibre of your body grins down at you keeping your shivering body pinned easily against the wall, a bloody knife firmly in his hand.

“I finally got you my little lamb” His soft chuckles make your skin crawl as he brings the knife up to your neck, slowly tracing down your body. Before he firmly pushes it into your chest, his laugh fills the room as he lets you drop to the floor, the torture finally ending. 

Glancing down at the knife that's firmly in your chest, blood dripping down as you slide on to the ground, losing the energy. 

“(Y/n)?” A soft voice calls for you, one that is unusually full of pain. Your eyes dart to your side. Your heart breaks into a million pieces when you spot Dave laying on the ground, his neck sliced open, a pile of blood pooling. 

“D Dave…”

“Why.. Why did you drag us into this” The anger and hate is all you can see in his eyes.

“I I’m sorry” You cry out as you watch the life drain out of him.

“You should be”

“We all died for you”

“You killed us all”

Your team all stand above you, all of them looking like ghosts, blood covering each and everyone of them, hatred and anger radiating off of them. You can’t help but let the tears spill over as you stare at them, the guilt catching up to you. 

“I'm sorry I’m so sorry” You keep repeating it, as Rossi brings his hand up to cup your cheek, leaving behind his bloody handprint.

~~~

Dave lays there for a few seconds, trying to figure out what the noises he could hear are. That's when they get louder and he has no doubts as to what it is. He quickly turns over, pulling himself closer to you, pulling himself into a sitting position, before rubbing your arm gently. 

“(Y/n), Sweetie, wake up” He speaks softly, hoping you're not too far in dream land, hoping you're close to waking up already. But he gets no response.

“(Y/n), come on sweetie, wake up” Dave calls again with more urgency, a sharper shake to your arm.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry” You cry out, your eyes still firmly shut, still dead asleep. The fear of your dream has a tight hold on you.

“(Y/n), It's Dave I need you to open your eyes for me!” He speaks more sharply, scared about what's going on inside your mind tonight.

“I’m sorry, sorry Dave, please sorry” Your words mumble together as your crying gets harder, shaking as you try to get out of his grip.

“Darling, shh it's okay, I’m right here just wake up” Dave takes a deep breath, as he gives you one final sharp shake. Your eyes fling open with a small scream, your body launching up into a sitting position. Dave’s arms are quick to wrap around your waist, stopping you from falling off.

“Hey.. deep breaths I’m right here you're safe” Dave’s voice is soft, full of love and compassion. A tone that is completely different that the Dave from your dream, he rubs your arm gently as you take deep calming breaths, trying to calm your racing heart. 

“D Dave..” The words get stuck in your throat. Turning to look at him with a terrified look plastered over your face, tears still spilling down your face.

“It's okay darling, I’m right here” He smiles softly, wrapping his arms around your properly before pulling you into his chest, pressing his lips against your forehead, which automatically helps calm you down.

~~~

You two sit there in silence for a moment. Your head resting against his chest, listening peacefully to his heart, taking deep breaths to try and match him. Your mind is still racing from the nightmare, but the longer you sit there listening to Dave’s heartbeat and breathing, feeling his body wrapped around yours, is enough to ground you.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Dave whispers softly, his hand running through your hair. 

“It was the corridor again” Your voice shakes, your mind flashing back to what your nightmare is based off of.

“Oh darling” Dave sighs softly. He had already figured that, it's not the first time you’ve woken up due to that place.

“It was worse this time.. He had k ki” The tears swell in your eyes again as you get flash back the jumping over the teams bodies, to Dave dying in your lap. “He killed the team.. I couldn't stop him.. He killed you” You couldn’t stop the tears from flowing again, that man has already taken so much from you, you can’t allow him to take your lover from you either.

“I'm right here.. The team is safe, everyone is safe” He whispers those words softly, knowing you're holding something back. Placing his hand under your chin so he can gently direct your face upwards to look at him. Catching a glimpse of your tears, he softly wipes them away, feeling his heart break as he sees the broken look on your face.

“Do you want to tell me what's really bothering you?” His stare is enough to make you break open about anything. The soft but protective, caring but stubborn look he has mastered, is enough to make you feel warm and safe inside.

“What if we never find him Dave?” Your words are barely a whisper, the fear of never finding him is one you don’t like to express.

“We will find him” Dave gives you a small smile, he doesn’t truly believe it but he knows he has to.

“It's been four years Dave.. It's not looking hopefully” Sighing softly, as you lean even further into him.

“I know, but you and I both know that the moment we have something, we have the best team and the best hope to bring him down, for good this time” Dave reassures you, kissing your cheek softly, which brings a small smile out of you.

“I know, but I never wanted anyone to have to deal with my dramas” Closing your eyes as your body starts to relax.

“We know, but the team is like a family, like hell are you dealing with any of this by yourself Amore” Dave pulls you down with him, into a more comfortable lying position.

“I know”

~~~

“Do you want to try and get more sleep, It’s not like we have work for a couple days” Dave smiles down at you, watching as you reposition yourself on his chest. Just a couple years ago he would never imagine you would be here with him. 

“No more sleep, but I do not want to get up yet” Smiling softly as his hand goes and replays with your hair. “Seeing as we don’t have work for a couple more days, do you think we can go up to your cabin then, we haven’t been up there in months, an I think getting away for awhile is good”

“That sounds like a great idea Sweetie, we can do that” Dave smiles, seeing as your eyes flicker close. “Maybe we can do some shopping at the town on the way up there first” Dave starts speaking, knowing his voice helps settle you down to sleep after a nightmare. 

“And the weather should be good so we can go swimming while we are up there as well” Dave keeps talking as he watches you fall asleep on his chest.