#it doesn't hurt and there's no blood but I probably need at least a filling

[somethingusefulfromflorida]

[sweetbbarnes]

Can't hurt me

part II [coming soon]

Pairing: Neighbor!BuckyBarnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: You're the one that takes care of Bucky after missions, only this time he asks for a different kind of relief.

Warnings: descriptions of blood and injuries; Bucky being needy and begging; a tiiiiny bit of angst because Bucky doesn't really care about his wellbeing; SMUT, +18 ONLY, MINORS DNI; smut while injured; shower makeout; oral (m and f receiving); cum eating; handjob; fingering; a lot of feelings here; pls let me know if I forgot something

A/N: I'm really sorry about the shitty ending, it took me three days to think about it and I couldn't come up with anything so it is what it is, but I promise I'll make up for it in part two.

If you like this fic, please let me know :)

When the Winter Soldier himself, or the man formerly known as him, moved to the apartment across from yours, you were the only person in the whole building who didn’t ignore his presence. Of course, you and Bucky Barnes weren't best friends. During the first month of his moving in you would merely exchange polite greetings when you crossed paths in the hallway, but at least you didn’t immediately flinch and/or look away as soon as you saw him. Sometimes he even attempted some compliments, as he was still trying to rediscover the charming soldier he once was, but that was it.

At least until the day you came home to discover your supersoldier neighbor sitting in front of his door, drenched in blood and barely clinging to life.

As you approached your apartment door, your heart skipped a beat at the sight that unfolded before you. There, in front of his own door, sat Bucky, his figure hunched over, covered in a chilling crimson. Panic surged through your veins as you rushed to his side, dropping to your knees beside him.

"Hello? Hey, Bucky!" You snapped your fingers in front of his face, desperate to rouse him from his dazed state. But all you received was a feeble murmur in response. Panic washed over you. "Oh shit, you're... Oh, gosh. Fuck."

Frantically, you rummaged through your bag, searching for your phone to call an ambulance. Your trembling fingers made the task of finding it more difficult, but after a moment of frantic searching, you finally located the device. Your hands shook as you dialed the emergency number, your voice trembling with urgency.

"I'm calling an ambulance right now," you reassured Bucky, your voice laced with concern. "We'll get you to the hospital, and everything will be alright. Just hold on."

But you were about to hit the call button, you felt a firm grip on your wrist, cold vibranium fingers encircling you. Startled, you looked at Bucky, confusion etched on your face.

"No hospital," he mumbled, his voice barely audible.

"Barnes, sir? Sergeant-" Unsure of what to call him in this moment, you cleared your throat, trying to find the right words. "You're... you're seriously injured. You need medical help. It's okay, they can-"

"I'm not dying," he interrupted, mustering a firmer tone. "No hospital."

You hesitated, torn between your instinct to seek professional medical assistance and Bucky's adamant refusal. With concern etched on your face, you watched as he took the phone from your hand and gently placed it back into your bag.

"So what do we do then?" you asked, a mix of worry and confusion in your voice. "Have you seen yourself? You're covered in blood-"

"The serum will help," he managed to say, his voice strained. "Just... just let me rest."

You vaguely remembered reading about the super soldier serum and how it enhances healing abilities. While unsure of the extent to which it applied in this situation, you decided to trust him, realizing that he probably knows more of his own condition than you do.

"Alright then," you relented, your voice still filled with concern. "But let's at least get you inside. We'll find a way to make you comfortable. Can you try to get up? I'll help you."

With a mix of determination and concern, you carefully offered Bucky your hand, guiding the barely alive man to your couch.

The next day, Bucky woke up feeling a lot better, and you were glad. After you made him coffee, Bucky addressed the blood-stained couch situation and as much as you assured him you could clean it, he didn’t leave your apartment until you agreed to let him take you to a store so he could buy you a new one. “It’s the least I can do, doll,” he said, and you chuckled at the unusual pet name. With the new couch in the living room, you pestered Bucky until he agreed to inaugurate the furniture with you. So on a Wednesday night, he brought some snacks and you two watched The Hobbit, then proceeded to stay up until early-hours talking because Bucky, as the huge nerd he is, had to point out every single difference he recalled from the book - which he proudly announced he’d read in 1937, when it first came out. You didn’t complain, though, it was kinda nice to see this side of the man you only knew through the news and people’s opinions.

Next you knew, you two were inseparable. You quickly learned that Bucky needs a routine, so Wednesday’s nights became movie nights, and Sunday afternoons became dedicated to reading sessions together, then Tuesday mornings were designated as "breakfast with Bucky" time. Soon, there wasn't a single day when Bucky didn't show up in your living room. Your apartment became his second home. You became his second home - though you didn’t know that.

But of course, Bucky’s life wasn’t simple like that, and as much as he cherished your friendship, there are some things that he can’t control. Oftentimes, Bucky would come home in the same state he was on that first day, and although the sight started to become strangely familiar, it never ceased to break your heart. That’s why every time he showed up battered and bruised, you’d take him in and patch him up. You both know you don’t have to, and Bucky tried to convince you countless times that he just needed to rest, that the serum would do all the work, but you didn’t listen. You clean his wounds and stitch him up because that’s the only way you found to tell him that you care, and Bucky willingly lets you do it because he knows it eases the concern you feel about his dangerous lifestyle. So you’re the one Bucky seeks right after week-long missions or brutal battles, if not to help patch him up then just to let you know that he’s okay.

Tonight is one of those nights. When he knocked on your door at 3 am, the disheartening sight of Bucky, once again drenched in blood, almost made you collapse to your knees and plead for him to stay out of fights, to do something else, to stay in your living room and never leave again. But war is all Bucky knows, and as much as you recognize the unfortunate reality of the situation, you don't want to take away one of the few things that gives him a sense of familiarity in this modern world, so you swallowed the overwhelming urge, like you do every time, and helped him get to your bathroom.

The chamomilla scented steam invades your nostrils as you use the soap to gently wash all the blood away. You feel Bucky’s muscles slowly relaxing under the warm cascade of water, and he lets some relieved sounds escape through his lips. If someone had told you months ago that you would eventually find yourself in this very situation, you would have scoffed in disbelief, yet here you are now. You’re not really sure what you did to earn Bucky's trust to such an extent that he feels comfortable being so vulnerable with you, and the thought brings a dangerous warmth to your chest.

These showers are always innocent. You help Bucky clean the blood, leaving the intimate parts for him to clean, and then you take care of his wounds. It’s tender and respectful. But Bucky is not exactly the ugliest man you’ve seen and, well, you’re only human. Sometimes, it gets hard to ignore those not-so-innocent thoughts your brain insists on having. It makes you feel disgusted with yourself - the man is dripping blood on your bathroom floor and there you are, thinking all those nasty things, wanting to touch him in a way you’re not even sure he wants to be touched by you.

Little do you know, Bucky struggles just as much as you do in managing his own thoughts and feelings. Sometimes, he has to stop you from rubbing your hands too much around his torso, because he’s scared he’s not gonna be able to control himself if you keep going. It’s torture, but at the same time he can’t bring himself to stop coming here every time he gets injured. He could stop. He could stay away for a few more days after missions, just enough time for the serum to do its magic and he doesn’t have to go through this, but he can’t. Because everytime he gets injured, he finds himself looking forward to your touch. He barely cares about the pain anymore, because he knows he’ll get to feel your silky skin against his, even if it’s just for brief moments. So usually, he comes back and lets you do your thing while he makes a hell of an effort not to stare at your peaked nipples through your wet shirt - Bucky doesn’t know if he should be upset or glad that you don’t take your clothes off, because seeing you naked would probable make the task impossible, but it’s not like he doesn’t want to - and holds himself back from returning each and every touch you give him, in a very specific, very not-innocent way. 

Usually. But today is different.

Today, Bucky was reminded that his wounds go way beyond the ones on his skin. Today the soldier needs another kind of care, one that’s a little bit more effective for his pain than bandages and stitches. And, honestly, he’s a bit tired of holding himself back. That’s why, without warning, he wraps his arms around your waist, bringing you a little bit closer so he can rest his head on the top of your shoulder. You don’t move for some time, which makes him doubt his action, but soon he hears your gentle voice.

“We’re almost finished, and then you can rest.” You say, placing your hands and his back to hug him, but not applying pressure on the bruises.

“I need you.” He says, his mouth on your neck sending vibrations through the area and making a shudder travel down your body. “Need you to take care of me.”

“I am taking care of you, Buck.” You manage to say, fighting the urge to glue your body on his. He’s in pain, you have to remind yourself.

But he tilts his head back, cupping your face with his flesh hand so you don’t take your eyes off of him. “Not like this,” he whispers.

For a moment, you simply stay there, suspended in time, lost in the intensity of the moment. His proximity sends a shiver down your spine as you hear Bucky's heartbeat racing, and you're acutely aware of the weight of his gaze on your face. You can see the pain etched in his features, but there's something else there too, something that makes your heart skip a beat. It's a raw, unfiltered emotion that you can't quite put into words, but it's there, simmering just beneath the surface.

The more you look into his eyes, the more you understand. The person in front of you is a broken man, momentarily defeated by the demons that come to haunt him ever so often, and his eyes are begging you to make those demons go away. He’s asking you to give him the only thing that could possibly make him forget this pain that is so much worse than the bloody cuts, to fill his senses with the only sensation stronger than the fear that's been luring behind his eyes ever since he stepped foot in your apartment tonight.

You gently place a hand on his cheek. His body tenses at your touch, and for a moment, you think he might pull away. But then he relaxes, leaning into your hand as if you’re the only thing that can offer him solace right now.

"I don't want to make it worse," you whisper softly, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

"You can't," he whispers back. "Many things... and many people may hurt me, but not you. Never you."

Bucky's words hit you like a ton of bricks, the weight of his complete - almost blind - trust is overwhelming. He had been through so much, faced so many torture and pain, yet here he is, willing to give you all that’s left of his trust.

“Please,” is the only thing he whispers, but it’s enough. Slowly, you raise another hand to his face and bring your lips to his. The kiss is tender, carrying an air of uncertainty, as if exploring uncharted territory. It holds the unmistakable essence of something new and unfamiliar, yet it overflows with raw and intense emotion.

“We still have to finish cleaning you up.” You say, breaking the kiss, and Bucky attaches his mouth to your neck, giving you permission to continue doing your thing.

Bucky gives you small kisses as you continue to cleanse his torso with soap, trying to avoid applying pressure on his still open bruises. You focus on each area with care, gently wiping away any dirt or blood while checking to ensure that he is comfortable throughout the process. As you rub the soap all over his body, Bucky starts caressing your hips, slowly going up and exploring your body like he always wanted to do. He can feel your stomach trembling with his touches and kisses, and it almost makes him go feral.

“Do you like this shirt?” He whispers in your ear.

“Why-” but before you can even think about your question, impatient as always, Bucky tears your old shirt in half, ending the outrageous fabric that was separating him from his greatest desire. You don’t care, though, because Bucky’s clear desperation only turns you on more.

“I’ll buy you another one.” He mumbles, but you’re not sure he’s paying attention to his words.

Continuing your work, you pay special attention to the intricate details of his vibranium arm, taking your time to meticulously clean between the plates from his fingers all the way up to his shoulder - careful not to miss a single spot like you’ve seen him doing multiple times - while Bucky distributes lingered kisses along your jaw down to your neck, until your right nipple is inside his mouth, and you have to hold back a gasp of surprise - but, of course, Bucky’s not having that.

“Wanna hear your noises.” He whispers and lightly passes his teeth through your nipple, getting you to moan out loud this time.

Satisfied, Bucky licks his way back up until your mouth, biting your bottom lip almost too hard and then kissing you passionately soon after. His tongue invades your mouth as he swallows every single one of your breaths. Reluctantly, you break the kiss. You finish the vibranium and go back to the flesh, working on the scarred skin on his shoulder, gently rubbing the soap, then brushing your fingers, and then your lips. The blood is almost entirely gone, leaving behind only the ugly outline of his wounds, which you start kissing lightly, earning a guttural moan out of Bucky’s throat.

Slowly, you slide your soaped hand through his body until you reach his rock hard length, carefully circling your fingers around him. One pump is enough to make Bucky moan loudly.

“Fuck, doll-” but you shush him with a kiss, invading his mouth with your tongue as you pump his dick. Bucky grips your hips like his life depends on it to hold himself back from bending you over and fucking you senseless. No, he wants to enjoy the moment. He wants to learn what you like and let you take care of him how you want.

You continue kissing his cheeks, then his neck until you reach skin around his bruises and then lick the water drops down his torso until you’re on your knees in front of him, staring at his huge length in all its glory while he leans his back against the wall to remain standing.

“Well, I’m glad at least one part of your body was left untouched.” You joke, looking up at him with a playful smile.

Bucky can’t help but chuckle at that, and you notice it’s his first genuine laugh since he arrived home. Good. “Gotta protect what’s yours.”

“Mine?” You ask, just wanting to hear him say that again.

“All yours.” He smirks, completely aware of your intentions.

Before the conversation can go any further, you slide the tip of your tongue through a prominent vein along his cock, and Bucky’s words are lost in his breath. You circle your lips around his pink tip, sucking a little, and the noises he makes are like music to your years.  You proceed to slowly slide your entire tongue through his length one, two, three times, taking your sweet time while Bucky drops his head back and rolls his eyes. He raises his flesh hand to the back of your head and despite the context, his movements on your hair are gentle, like he’s somehow trying to thank you for everything, though he’s too busy moaning to say the words. You see that as an encouragement and take him deep inside your mouth, making up and down movements with your head and sucking as hard as you can while you massage his balls with your fingers. Involuntarily, he starts jerking his hips up into your throat.

“Babe, fuck-” he tries, but gets lost in the feeling when you fasten your movements.

It’s too much. The warmth, the feeling, the softness. Everything is too much, and Bucky is coming inside your mouth before he even realizes it.

“Oh, fuck- Shit, I’m sorry-” Bucky starts apologizing, but he immediately stops, watching in awe as you take a drop of cum that slipped off your mouth with your thumb and sucks it back into your mouth, swallowing everything he gave you.

Bucky helps you get up and kisses you, tasting himself on your tongue. You’re a little surprised when he presses two vibranium fingers in your clit, starting tiny circles. Despite the electric jolt that it sends through your spine, you hold his wrist.

“Bucky, you don’t have to,” you whisper.

“You don’t like it?” He asks against your lips.

“No, I do. It’s just-”

“Then let me make you feel good.”

You moan loudly when he inserts his two fingers inside your aching cunt, the sensation better than anything you could have ever imagined.

“So wet, baby. Is it all for me? Did you like sucking my dick that much?”

You try to say “yes”, but it sounds more like a whimper since Bucky had just found your special spot. Realizing it, he rubs his fingertips over and over again against the spongy area, and your legs start to shake. But as you’re about to warn him that you’re close, he stops.

“Not yet,” he whispers before you can complain, “wanna taste you.”

And that’s how you end up in your bed, lying naked in soaked sheets with Bucky’s face between your thighs, almost screaming as he moves his vibranium fingers in and out while sucking and licking your bundle of nerves. Soon, you feel that familiar heat in your lower belly.

“Bucky, I’m gonna-” you’re interrupted by a moan escaping through your throat.

He only hums in response, sending vibrations through your whole body and bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

Your eyes roll back as the pleasure gets to its peak, and you feel like you’re floating while Bucky happily cleans you up, the sensation of his warm tongue touching every single part of your pussy, inside and out, riding you through your orgasm.

When you come back down from your high, Bucky’s hovering over you, a mixture of lust and gratitude taking his features. He gives you a long chaste kiss.

“Told you, you couldn’t hurt me.”

You smile at his words. “Will you let me stitch you up now?”

“What if we just…” he covers you both with your blanket and hugs you tight, “forget about the stitches?”

“Buck…”

“You know I don’t need ‘em, doll.”

“But-”

He interrupts you with a kiss. Then another. Then one more. “Just today.”

You sigh, defeated, but snuggle up inside his arms.

Bucky gives you a long kiss on the forehead, whispering a very low “thank you” before you both fall asleep.

[nariism]

*ੈ✩ LAST WORDS OF A SHOOTING STAR

pair. itadori yuji x reader

synopsis. in the 3 days following the shibuya incident, itadori yuji emerges as a husk of his former self. with his immediate execution resumed, you both grapple with the feelings you have for each other and come to terms with his impending death.

content. hurt/comfort (lots of comfort, thank art because i was gonna be mean about this and they convinced me not to), slightly canon divergent (taking place between shibuya and the culling games), fluff and minor angst, yuta is the best wingman

wc. ~4.4k

NOVEMBER 1 2018

You imagine that your face was rather ghastly when you received the news.

"Execution?" You repeated, the word tasting bitter on your tongue. No, that was the wrong description. It tasted of death—like iron and the depths of Hell filling your mouth until you were gurgling on it.

Unlike the rest of the Jujutsu Sorcerers from Tokyo, you had been ordered to stay back with Shoko in case of an emergency. You remember your exile from battle had left a similar rotten flavour in your mouth.

You vanished off the face of the earth after the incident was over. Most probably presumed you died in the aftermath. Devoured by a curse, they would say and shake their heads. You were always troublesome. And then they would move on with the rest of the world, all the same.

Lives were only temporary in the world of curses. Focus on who you can save, not who is already gone. They'll only end up a curse in your sleep. What a horrible notion to have.

The truth is that you'd been whisked away with Yuta, who seemed to be scheming a plan of his own. Perhaps as a middle finger to the higher ups he hated so much, or perhaps just for his own selfish reasons. You wouldn't know until he was finished carrying it through—he's too good at keeping secrets.

He wanted your reverse cursed technique, you knew that much for sure, even though he could do it himself. You were useful by his side, fitting into his plot in a way you could not in Shibuya. Feeling some sort of obligation and satisfaction, you followed him like a lost puppy.

And now here you are, seated by a dimming fire in the abandoned part of the city. Yuta was too clever for his own good. You suppose Gojo taught him some things well. This was their plan after all.

Yuji was safe, if only for this moment in time.

"Now with Gojo gone, it would have been easy for the higher ups to send assassins your way."

Ruthless and truthful, you flinch, but Yuji does not. He remains perfectly still in your hold, with your hands rotating his face around to get a better look at his wounds. You pour your cursed energy into him, hoping to breathe life back into his eyes, but they stay dull and empty.

"We'll find a way to stop this," you assure, reaching over to take a sanitizing wipe to clean an open cut. Yuta was too rough on him, but it was at least believable that Yuji was dead. He doesn't even recoil from the alcohol stinging his flesh, too engrossed in his own thoughts.

"Why?" He asks weakly. You gawk at him, but then it melts away into a softness that finally makes him blink up at you. "I'm evil."

"You're not evil, Yuji."

"I am. I killed those people. I did." His voice comes flat and defeated, nothing like the one you used to listen to over dinner while he reenacted shitty western films.

You never realize what you'll miss until it's gone. It's hollow, the ache in your heart.

"You don't understand. How could you? All this blood on my hands—"

"It was Sukuna," you quickly refute.

"And Sukuna only lives because I do!"

His voice raises at you, causing the flames behind you to flicker and crack. It's enough for Yuta to step in, acting as a barrier between your tense bodies. Yuji seems to shrink at this, realizing his emotions have run amok and that he has yelled at you.

You only stare back at him in bewilderment, like a frightened animal. Your upperclassman shakes his head.

"Enough of this. We need to start making plans."

You lay awake that night, alone and anxious. Yuta has taken the first shift of watching and patrolling while the two of you rest, though hesitant to leave you alone. He told you it’s another reason he dragged you along: having three people to rotate shifts instead of just two would be easier on your bodies and minds. The city is not what it used to be, now overrun with curses of all grades.

You reassured him it would be fine, that you would fall asleep quickly and so would Yuji—his body has to run out of steam eventually, right? Oh, what a fool you were.

The tension is so heavy that it's awkward, even though you're sleeping on opposite ends of the tunnel.

"Sleep," you demand as if you were Inumaki, like you have the power to curse him.

His eyes flutter open. Even in the firelight, you don't see any shine in them, seeming as if they had been extinguished of life. "Why don't you?"

"I can't until you do."

"That's stupid," he tells you.

It's not the first time you've argued like this. Back when the world felt right, you would sneak in through his dorm window well into the hours of the night. Platonic, you had convinced yourself. You snuck into his bed seeking companionship as a friend. That's the lie you gorged on.

A piece of you knew, and you're sure he did too, that the way your hands explored his arms was unnatural for two friends, and that friends wouldn't sneak into each other's rooms like this with such severe punishment on the line.

It was safe in his arms, with the dull hum of his television running an old horror film in the background. You didn't have to think about much other than his warmth when you sat between his legs with your back to his chest. Or when his arm was draped over your shoulder and you were pressed into his side—actually, you think you preferred this one though you felt sorry for his sore arm.

You would bicker about dumb, pointless things. Which movie is better, or which character deserved to be mutilated more. It would go on for so long that Megumi would bang his fist on their shared wall to get the two of you to shut up.

There was no curse strong enough to change time itself, so you keep your thoughts and memories to yourself when you respond.

"You'll be too tired to function on your shift," you reason.

"You both will be fine without me." Better off without me, you know he means. You've gotten good at reading between his lines.

You slowly sit up in your sleeping bag, eyes never leaving Yuji. He seems so frail right now, even though he looks more adult than he ever has before.

"Human Earthworm 4 was better than 2," you suddenly say. His eyes peer open again in confusion.

"Huh? 2 was way better."

"I liked the love story in 4," you argue, slowly getting out of your bag to shuffle to his side of the concrete tunnel. He looks at you as if you've said something outlandish, too preoccupied with his thoughts to wonder why you've come so close.

"2 had the best special effects though."

Your body shifts under his blanket.

"But 4 had a happier ending." (As far as 'happy' goes in the Human Earthworm series, at least.)

His arm falls around your waist as it has a hundred times, pulling you into his chest.

"Whatever," he huffs. The next topic comes fast and you're thrown into a full blown conversation with him. If you concentrate enough, you can imagine your bodies being tangled together in his bed, safe and sound.

Concrete and fire and the stench of curses melt away until he's all you can focus on.

"You have weird taste in movies," he concludes with his eyes drifting shut.

NOVEMBER 2 2018

You think you know how to fix broken people until you find that they are more than skin and bones. 

You learn one thing after the Shibuya Incident: there are wounds residing within Yuji just as much as there are marking his flesh.

Yuta, you realize, had left the two of you alone to sleep and has protected you all night. You'll make it up to him, you reason. Yuji deserved to sleep.

When you wake up to his sleeping face, you think his cuts are healing nicely. But then his expression twists up in terror—a nightmare, if he even had enough energy left in him to conjure up dreams. He murmurs in his sleep, shakes his head a few times and thrashes around so much you're surprised you slept through the night by his side.

"Sukuna," he's whispering. Sukuna, Sukuna, Sukuna. King of Curses. The second voice tormenting him that lives in his own brain like a parasite. You bury yourself into his chest and hold him as tight as you can. He relaxes, body releasing its rigid form, but the murmurs continue.

He is shattered beyond repair. No amount of cursed energy could fix that, even if you tried.

You had once watched Yuji electrocute himself trying to set up the janky old television in his dorm room.

He fell back onto the floor with a loud crash, head hitting the wood so hard you thought he might have a concussion. It caused such a racket that Megumi came running into the room asking what happened, demon dog ready behind him in case of an ambush.

You rushed to the floor, discarding all the food you had settled in your lap and crumbled beside him to scoop him into your arms.

"Yuji!" You called him. People rarely used his first name. You felt special, like you knew him better than others did and for some reason that was a privilege. "Are you okay?"

He laughed in your arms, seeming unfazed by the fact that electricity had run through every vein in his body. "I'm fine, see? My finger just slipped."

You and Megumi both sighed in relief, though you always thought it was strange when you reflected on it. Yuji was a funny guy, yes. He was equal parts humour and destruction but not a klutz. Mistakes happen, so you let it slide until now, but some part of you was nagging to ask.

"That day," you start while rolling up your sleeping bag. "You electrocuted yourself. Remember?"

He looks at you funny over his shoulder. Yuta has already started cracking open cans of food for breakfast, embers of your dead fire cracking.

"Hmm, yeah. I remember. Why?"

"I just thought..." you trail off. "Well, Sukuna makes you tough to a lot of things. I'm surprised small electric shocks aren't one of them."

Sukuna. A name you'd been avoiding since this morning. Sickening silence settles between you. It's so heavy that you pause in your cleaning to look at him, brow raised.

"Yeah," he coughs. "Well, maybe I exaggerated."

"Huh?" You sound annoyed now. "You scared us half to death!"

Yuji only falters in his own chores. When he looks at you again, there's a longing in his gaze that you don't know how you could have missed. Or perhaps it was never there until now.

"It was nice to have you fawning over me," he admits.

The day goes on and all you feel is a terrible grief.

You become painfully aware of each millimeter the sun glides across the sky, from one horizon to the other. Time slips through your fingers fast as sand.

Horrifically, you can't find anything to talk about to fill the emptiness—Nobara and Megumi feel off the table considering the extent of their injuries. You don't even dare to breathe Gojo's name, let alone speak of him so boldly as Yuta is.

You're afraid that Yuji will spiral again, confused and unwilling to cooperate with his judgement clouded by loss. It's not your fault, you would say. It is, he would argue. It would do neither of you good, so you idle around while he and Yuta devise plans to tiptoe around the higher ups.

A part of you knows that if either of you told him to submit and die, he would. He's already teetering on the edge of self-destruction.

On the outside, he seems perfectly indifferent. Gaze steady, face stone and unchanging as he speaks. He's doomed, ill-fated, someone full of misfortune. He looks so lonely that the air itself parts for him where he stands.

To shoulder so much responsibility, so much death, maybe he truly is alone. Some fraction of him, at least—a piece of himself only he would ever understand.

Your hand snakes into his without a second thought. You don't know why you did it, nor do you have any reasoning that he doesn't yank away from you. His hand trembles, and it's then that you realize his whole body is wracked with tremors that don't match his distant disposition.

The second thing you learn is this: when Yuji self-destructs, he does it from the inside-out.

Itadori Yuji loves chocolate cake.

He loves all food, really, acting like your friend group's personal food dumpster whenever any of you were full. But chocolate cake you knew he had a sweet tooth for.

You used to bring it with you to his dorm, stopping by the convenience stores on the way home to grab a pre-packaged slice from the fridge for him to eat.

"You're making a mess," you would tell him with a frown, using your thumb to wipe up frosting from the corner of his mouth. You would lick the pad of your finger clean after that, and he would watch almost in a trance.

It's the reason why you stop on one of your patrols, poking through the fridge section of a convenience store. The power has been out for a long time in this part of the city, all the food is already room temperature, but you figure this is fine as long as it smells okay.

The way Yuji's face lights up when he sees you is all it takes for the worry to go away.

It briefly feels as though nothing has ever gone wrong—that after this slice of cake the two of you will tumble back onto his mattress and turn on another showing of Titanic. (He groaned about it once, saying he got KO'd too many times during this film. You only laughed in confusion.)

At the end of the day, you know those days will never come back to you, lost forever in the wind.

Fire dances before you and you watch, enchanted by the flames. You remember last night, how not even the firelight could make Yuji look the same as he did before. You turn your head to look at him, to see if it's any different tonight, just for your cheek to be caught in his palm.

His thumb traces your lip, the way you used to do to him. You recognize the pull of his finger against your flesh, the swipe of it to get frosting off, but he still seems dissatisfied.

"What?" You ask.

"It didn't come off," he mutters, leaning in dangerously close to observe. Heat rises all the way to your cheeks and makes your hairs stand on end. His touch is like molten lava. You wonder if it has something to do with the monster living inside of him.

"I can't see it," you whine without a mirror.

He draws a little closer, until he's inches from your face. "Let me..."

You've suddenly been dropped into cold, unknown waters. This is all unfamiliar. He's rushing this, as if making up for all the time the two of you lost pretending you were only friends. As if he can cram all the things he's wanted to tell you into one night.

Recoiling away, you find yourself hesitating. If he kisses you, this all becomes too real. It's an acknowledgment of his impending death. That the thread of his life is finer and further stretched than yours is.

An unpleasant thought rings through your mind. What if I become a curse on him?

"This only ends badly for us," you whisper, but the conviction is missing from your voice.

He doesn't care. At least, it doesn't look like he does. Who knows what he's thinking right now?

"Who cares?" He says. "We're Jujutsu Sorcerers. Everything bad happens to us no matter what."

You don't have any rebuttal to that, no argument that forms in your mind that could challenge his words. He was right. Only disaster befalls Sorcerers. Disaster and grief.

For a while you had forgotten, living these idyllic months watching the days pass by. You feel like you wasted that precious time worrying about stupid things, like what to have for breakfast or what kind of snacks you should pick up for movie night.

(It ended up being popcorn every time. He liked to piss off Sukuna with it, saying the King of Curses would never get to experience the pleasure of picking out kernels from his teeth. You scoffed but bought it anyway.)

Another thought crosses your mind: Yuji is more fit to be in a rom-com, or a television series where the good guys always win. Not this tragedy. Not this massacre.

You wonder if he's ever felt the same way. If he ever wished he could reach into the sky and turn the sun back to a time before he even knew what a curse was.

If you’d met each other under different circumstances, would this have been a different story? The thought makes your heart ache, a part of you so deep that even if you reached into your chest and plucked it, you'd still wail.

"Can I?" He asks you, eager but quiet. Had this been a few months ago, you imagine that he would have had this spark in his eye. That his lips would be crashing into yours with no inhibition.

But Yuji has always been selfless, you think he always will be. He doesn't want to drag you down if you don't want to—an out, they call it. An escape route just before he careens into a ditch.

Hope has drained from every inch of his expression. This is his loneliness talking.

Despite the dread that licks up your spine, you cup his face. You swear he jolts slightly beneath your touch, as if you've reached out to strike him down. A retribution he believes he deserves.

He kisses you like it's his last day on earth. 

You learn one last thing: Itadori Yuji tastes familiarly of death.

Yuta decides to leave you alone for a second night in a row. His presence is so crushing that you know he's alive, but he stalks off somewhere else, leaving just you and Yuji huddled by the pitiful fire you've built.

He once claimed himself jokingly to be a love expert, and then ran off to Kenya for so long that you lost track of how much time passed. You wish you'd asked him before he left what he meant, but at the time it seemed irrelevant. Insignificant. The name Itadori Yuji had not yet been impressed into your heart like a seal.

You're busy setting up the sleeping bags, this time pushing them flush together. They're so close you can barely see the seam between them. Yuji stands on the other side of the fire, watching.

It reminds him of all the times you'd ever scolded him for not making his bed in the morning. I'm gonna crawl back in tonight anyway, he said. Who cares if it's messy?

Idiot, you would call him. But there was no malice behind it. He treated it like a pet name, a badge of honour to be your idiot.

Life felt so simple back then. He was full of determination and life and stuck to his morals as best he could. When he wavered he would text you to come over so you could fall asleep on his chest and suffocate any other thoughts out of his head.

"I've never felt so powerful before," he admits quietly.  You turn to look at him, curious. "Like I could do anything in the world."

There's a negative connotation to that, you know. He could do anything. The world would crumble at his feet and there he would stand, laughing at it all. It isn't his will, not even slightly, but the demon taking refuge in his body would love to see the blood pool.

"Like I could just... reach out and—"

"Yuji!" You hiss, lurching forward to take his hand into yours and retreat from the flame. The skin is already pink and blistering, scorched by the embers. You twist his wrist around, observing where the fire licked the deepest, and pour your energy into him.

When you look up to see if he's crying, or at least grimacing in pain, you find only his smiling face—warm and adoring. For a second it feels like the world isn't burning around you.

It was nice to have you fawning over me.

You wipe that stupid smirk off his face, leaning in to smear a kiss along the scar on his lip.

"Idiot," you say, and he laughs for the first time in so long that it sounds foreign in your ears.

(He doesn't fall asleep that night. He would rather savour the sound of your soft snores, memorize the form of your body in his hold, and try his hardest to burn this into his brain.

So be it if you come to curse him one day. He would welcome you with open arms.)

NOVEMBER 3 2018

The day comes when Megumi sneaks into your hideout, asking for help.

His sister, he explains. He needs help saving Tsumiki. For some reason, resentment boils in your stomach, but then it's snuffed just as fast.

Two days and two nights you've spent pretending Japan isn't collapsing, content with sitting idly by as curses overran Tokyo. You're sure Megumi thought you to be cowards, that you were all hiding under this bridge to wait out the hellstorm that was raining down on your homes.

It was true to some extent. Once Yuji stepped out into battle again, that was that. You're not sure things would ever be the same again, though you suppose you lost the privilege of routine days ago.

"Let me come too," you urge. Three pairs of eyes land on you.

"No," Yuji pushes. "It's dangerous."

"I can fight!"

"You can't," he pauses, then corrects himself, "You won't."

Awkward silence settles over your encampment. Yuta stirs, standing to hold you steady by the shoulders.

"If we need help... if one of us is hurt, we'll need you unharmed. Do you understand?"

Ah, ever so wise, your upperclassman. So easy to persuade you. There's a reason why he's the chosen one only second to Gojo.

You swallow the bile that fights up your throat. "What if you don't come back?"

Yuji steps in this time, knocking away Yuta to hold you by the face. Get a grip, this means. Pull yourself together, don't you dare fall apart in front of me.

"We will."

You once considered telling him how you felt, letting it eat away at you until Nobara groaned in disgust.

“If Itadori starts dating before I do, I’ll puke.”

You remember that you laughed, thinking she was so dramatic. You loved that about her. “I think you would do worse.”

She glared at you, foot lightly kicking at your shin under the table. Still, she made sure to push equal amounts of rice to your side of the plate. “I might burn a village down,” she huffed, placing her chin on her palm.

“You’re fine. Even if I told him how I feel, I don’t think he’d accept.”

“Huh?” Nobara sounded genuinely confused, raising a brow at you. “What makes you think that?”

You didn't know how to answer that. Maybe you were just afraid that you had misinterpreted everything, that the way he held you was protective in a familial manner and that he would slam his door in your face when you tried.

Looking back on it, you can imagine him in the next room ranting about the same things to Megumi.

“He still has posters of Jennifer Lawrence on his wall,” you argued weakly while shoveling rice into your spoon. She watched you take your bite with her lips parted in disbelief.

You wish you had told him, then. Not that it would have changed where you both ended up.

You watch as they pack up their things.

Megumi's demon dog keeps you quiet company, tail thrashing against the ground as you slick back its fur. They talk around the dying flames, devising plan after plan. None seem safe. None would be.

Yuta and Megumi leave first, taking the lead in front of the pack. His dog melts into the shadows and disappears, leaving you sitting alone.

"I want to take you back, but..." Yuji glances over his shoulder toward his death sentence. "Will you make it okay on your own?"

You get up slowly, as if to draw out the time he stands before you. A thousand questions run through your head: what if you never see him again? What if this kills him, not by body, but by his already damaged soul?

He must sense the racing of your mind, so he leans in to engulf you in his arms. In an instant, memories of those days spent lounging in his bed, shoveling your food onto his plate, and purposefully talking louder to tease Megumi come flooding.

A year you would never forget. You're sure it'll become a curse if you dwell, so you tell him: "I'll make it. You go on, they need you."

I need you, too. Stay. If only it were so simple.

He smiles at you, warm like the sun that's hidden behind the barrier. Itadori Yuji looks like a ghost of his former self, battle-worn and covered in scars where his skin used to be smooth. He kisses you again for good measure, making sure he remembers the way you sigh into his mouth.

When he pulls away, there's life gleaming in his eyes.

"Let's watch Human Earthworm 5 when I come back."

Your thumb brushes the corner of his lip. You open your mouth to speak, to finally tell him the truth after all this time. You'd rather not die regretting you never said it, after all.

But you stop.

"I prefer Titanic," you confess. He shakes his head and kisses your forehead. Then he’s gone, taking all the warmth with him.

You'll make up for lost time one day. It won’t be today. You can tell him all about your feelings when he comes back to you.

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

[sluttywoozi]

Kinktober Day 28: Knotting + Seungkwan

For 🐳

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~2k

Pairing: Seungkwan x Reader | Genre: smut, werewolf

Warnings: knotting, seungkwan is a werewolf but he doesn't like wolf out or anything, fingering (he doesn't have claws don't worry), mention of fisting but it does not i repeat does not happen, piv sex, breeding kink, so much cum, blood mention, biting, marking, cum inflation, i think thats it inbox me if i missed anything

Seungkwan has found himself in a little bit of a… predicament. 

He can tell you want him tonight, your eyes following him as he flits around the house and your small touches lingering, but it’s a full moon, and he doesn’t want to risk you like that. 

Just because he happens to be a child of the moon doesn’t mean he can’t be a gentleman. 

And that’s normally what he is, with you at least. He’s a very gentle man and he handles you like you’re made of glass, though he knows very well that if you were made of glass, you would be bulletproof. 

Partially because that’s just how he feels with you, and perhaps also because he’s terrified of ever losing control. That can be dangerous as a werewolf, can lead to all sorts of horrible outcomes, and the last thing he ever wants to do is hurt you. 

But he also hates to deny you, and this is a fact you know well. 

It’s a fact you don’t hesitate to take advantage of too, and he just knows that tonight, you’ll somehow get what you want. 

Seungkwan will have to hope and pray that he can hold himself back, that he can withstand the insane pleasure of you, that he can keep his knot from swelling and locking you together for who knows how long. 

He’s never popped a knot before, it only happens in the presence of a breedable person and usually, he can control it with you. But there’s something about your behavior today that’s making him hot as hell, and combined with the full moon, he fears tonight will be the night he finally lets you feel it. 

.

You make your move before he’s even settled in bed, straddling him as soon as he’s stretched out and rolling your hips against his, the pressure and heat of you on his cock making his head spin. 

“I know you know what I want,” you whisper, leaning in and sucking kisses along the line of his neck. He can hear your heart pounding, smell the arousal that’s already gathering, practically taste your desire on the air. 

You’re right, Seungkwan knows exactly what you want, and like always, he’ll give it to you. 

“I don’t know if I can hold it back tonight, honey, I might knot you,” he warns, all at once sensing your want rising, bubbling up and over in the form of a loud whine and an involuntary jerk of your hips. 

“I don’t want you to, Kwannie, I want your knot,” you promise, pouting and playing with the ends of his hair like you know he likes. 

He doesn’t need long to contemplate, not with you perched in his lap like this and so wet, he could probably slip inside right now. 

He won’t, knows you’ll need a lot of prep if you’re going to take him without pain tonight, and before you can get too carried away grinding on him, he takes you by the hips and carefully lifts you away from him, setting you on your back in bed. 

He can tell you’re trying not to pout again and he rewards you with a deep, loving kiss, his tongue tracing your bottom lip before delving inside your mouth to glide against yours. You settle down soon, humming into his mouth and hooking a leg around his waist to hold him to you. 

Before he can get too carried away, he pulls back and starts to strip both you and him, your hands clumsy with want where they tug at his clothes. When he has you bare, he has to take a moment to drink in the sight of you, of the moonlight shining down on your soft skin, your curves, your angles. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, his voice gentle and awe-filled, like this is the first time he’s ever seen you before. He senses your rise in temperature, signaling a full body flush, and grins at his effect on you, happy that he’s not the only susceptible one in this relationship. 

Already he can feel his wolf clawing at him, fighting to come to the surface, but he needs to be careful here, needs to make sure there’s no possibility of him hurting you, which means keeping his nails and his teeth human. 

The nail part is especially important as he spreads your legs and drags his fingertips from cunt to clit and back before letting two of them sink inside you. He’ll have to stretch you out well if you’re going to be able to fit his knot, and with how zealous and persistent you are, he has to ensure you don’t hurt yourself trying to fit it. 

So he’ll open you up, scissor his fingers inside of you, push against the tightness of your walls until he can add another, until it slides in nice and easy, like you were just waiting for something to fill you. 

“How is it, baby?” He asks, wanting to check in as he gets you ready. 

“So good, Kwannie. I love your fingers,” you gasp, arching your back and clenching around him as if to prove your point. 

“I know, honey, I know,” he coos as he curls all three fingers inside of you, searching for your g-spot. He grazes it with his fingertips and you buck up, your legs snapping closed until he uses his free hand to push them open again. 

He aims there with every thrust of his hand, grinding right into the rough patch of nerves inside you and smiling as you writhe beneath him. He loves making you feel good, giving you what you want, what you need, your pleasure always becoming his own. 

You’re getting close, he can tell, your pussy fluttering around his fingers and your moans reaching a fever pitch as you buck into his hand, yours wrapped around his wrist to hold him to you like he’d ever pull away. 

Before you cum, he works in his pinky, all four of his fingers filling you up, and tries not to think about tucking his thumb in too, stretching you with his fist. He probably should, as his knot is likely the same size, but fisting you feels like a bit much for tonight, especially when he’s already going to give you his knot. 

Just thinking about it has his cock hardening where it hangs between his legs, has it pulsing and filling with blood as he takes you apart, has his knot throbbing at the base of his cock like it knows what’s in store. 

Before anything else though, he needs to push you over the edge, loosen you up enough that he doesn’t hurt you when he locks you together. 

So he sets his thumb on your clit and presses down, swirling in the way you like and crooking his fingers into your g-spot relentlessly, unerringly. You break before he can take another breath, your sweet moans floating in the air and your body twisting and turning as he carries you through your orgasm, your walls undulating wildly around his fingers and your clit pulsating under his thumb. 

He has a feeling once won’t be enough for you to take his knot comfortably, immediately pushing for another with rough fingers and whispered words. 

“Gonna cum again for me, honey? You need to if you want my knot, okay? It’s too big for your pretty little cunt, you need to be stretched out for it to fit, hm?” 

He knows you love when he talks to you, love his soft voice and dirty words, and it’s obvious in the way you clench around his fingers and fall into another orgasm, this one gentler but still enough for him to hear your heart race in your chest under the sound of your sharp whines. 

“Now, Kwannie? Can I have it now?” You whimper before you’ve even come down, your legs restless and your cunt fluttering. 

“Yeah, baby, you can have it now,” he assures you, slowly withdrawing his fingers and sucking them clean one by one before taking hold of his cock and lining himself up. 

Normally, he can last long enough to feel you cum twice around his dick, but with the light of the moon calling him and the knowledge that he’ll get to knot you for the first time, he fears he’ll barely make it through one. 

He doesn’t think you’ll mind, not after he really fills you up. 

Which will happen far sooner than expected, the searing heat of your pussy pulling him into the depths of pleasure before he can even pull back and thrust into you. 

“Fuck, sorry, baby, m’sorry, it’s happening now, fuck,” he swears, shoving in deep as the base of his cock grows, swelling with cum and just waiting to spill it all inside of you. 

He can feel your walls straining around him, feel the way they shudder and ripple as they fight to accommodate him, and he leans down to lay kisses all over you, soothing you when you start to whimper and shake.

Your entrance stretches around him and he pushes in just a little further, just enough for his knot to pop inside and lock you together as he breaks, spend shooting out of his cock and splattering against your walls while he moans and twitches and loses himself in you. His mind goes somewhere else and his body takes over, his hips bucking against yours in short thrusts, his cock dragging against your walls and his knot plugging you up. 

Fuck, he suddenly wants to bite you so fucking bad. 

So bad his teeth ache with it, so bad he can already picture the indents he’d leave behind, so bad he feels like he’ll die if he doesn’t leave something that will show everyone you’re his. 

“Can I bite you, baby?” He forces out, lucid enough to ask even as he continues to pump cum inside of you, your stomach swelling with the sheer amount of it. 

“Yes!” You gasp, tilting your head back to present your neck to him, which just makes him feel even more feral as he leans down and sinks his teeth into your precious flesh. He does his best not to break the skin but he can feel droplets of your blood painting his tongue, the taste sweet and heady and enough to make his head spin. You whine beneath him, sounding wounded and broken, and the predator in him loves it, but the boyfriend in him is worried. 

He remorsefully detaches himself from your throat, licking over the mark he left behind and making soothing sounds to comfort you, hoping he hasn’t hurt you too badly. 

“How bad is it, honey?” He whispers, petting your hair and gazing into your eyes, his cock still filling you with what seems to be an endless amount of cum. 

“Not bad, it’s not bad, Kwannie. It’s so fucking good,” you cry back, sincerity and promise in your voice even as tears fill your eyes. “I love it, I’m gonna want your knot all the time now.”

“Really? It doesn’t hurt?” He frets as he inspects you for stray scratches and bites, his hands gentle and his cock still hard. 

“No, never felt this full before, it’s everything,” you almost sound dazed, and he feels some of his worries slip away as a content, fucked out smile stretches your kiss-swollen lips. 

Knowing that you feel good is enough for him to relax, to take hold of your legs and hook them around his waist and lean into you, resting his head on your chest. 

“We’ll be here for a while, might as well get comfortable,” he murmurs before his eyes shoot open at the feeling of you clenching around him.

“Or you could fuck me with your knot,” you tease, your fingers sinking into his hair and pulling. 

Seungkwan’s in love with a fucking menace. 

Kinktober Masterlist

[kunikinnie]

Hiii! How are you? Hope you are well! I was searching through Fukuzawa X reader's tag and I saw your headcanons for "accidently hurting their SO" and it was soooo cute!! Are your requests open, by any chance? If they are, is there any chance you could write headcanons with the same prompt, but with Dazai, Chuuya, Akutagawa and Atsushi? If they are not, just know that you are a great writer and I just loved your work!!

a/n: HELLO I'M ALIVE! sorry these SO LONG but here they are :) some of them might be ooc but ahkdjsf also if you're curious i was reading Spinning Gears while writing Aku's so ye

warnings: profanity, mentions of violence, blood, very angsty for some, probably ooc

accidentally hurting their s/o during an argument

featuring: Dazai, Chuuya, Akutagawa, Atsushi x GN!Reader

Dazai Osamu

There was something uncertain that stirred something deep within him - something he couldn't bring himself to face.

It could've been anything: the staleness of the air, the lingering aftertaste of the shitty coffee he had that morning, an intrusive thought he left uncontrolled, the sadness of the setting sun...

Not knowing the source bothered him. It bothered him so much that although words were flying exasperatedly throughout the room, he had regressed into his own mind.

It was the wrong move. He had underestimated how powerful the darkness was, and as it continued to grow like a whirlpool, he was swallowed into an ocean of abandoned thoughts.

He hadn't felt like this in years. Memories and voices from those times reverberated so strongly that nothing from the current moment could touch him. He didn't even have any idea what was happening.

Yet just a single phrase had managed to penetrate, and as soon as it hit it had triggered something despicable.

It was the silence that followed that snapped him out of it, not the stinging sensation at the back of his hand.

You slowly slumped down the wall and onto the floor. Not for a single moment did your stunned expression or blank eyes waver - in your silent tears flowed the last drops of your energy.

"I'm sorry," you whispered. Why were you apologizing? It was he who had done wrong, so why-

"Y/N..." he weakly called out, only to be met with another apology.

"Y/N, I'm sorry..."

He fell down to his knees before tightly embracing your whole body. He apologized once more, yet you didn't even stir. Another attempt amounted to nothing. Desperate to feel something from you, his grasp on you tightened further.

"Y/N, I love you-"

How many times had he said that? Countless times at this point, countless. Each and every one was as genuine as it could get - he hoped you knew that - yet none of them seemed to reach the same level of sincerity and regret to those declarations of those moments.

For all the eloquent speech this man had cultivated over the years, there he was, repeating the same three words over and over again - each iteration once more getting twice as desperate - until finally your hand grasped his shirt.

He could still feel your tears flowing freely, but at least you relaxed somewhat, letting him relax somewhat as well.

"I love you too," you weakly replied. "I love you so much... idiot..."

No words were exchanged after that; perhaps none were needed, or rather none existed that could fill in that need. The whole night he never let you go - not even once - as you two reconciled in each other's presence in silence.

Nakahara Chuuya

It's no secret that Chuuya's temper was more volatile than his favorite wine. Depite that, however, he doesn't let his emotions get the better him. Otherwise, he wouldn't have made it this far in the mafia hierarchy.

Today was different. The stressful events of the week left him with hardly any room to breathe, and an argument at home was the last thing he needed.

"Can't you handle that shit yourself, Y/N?!"

He knew that you knew that there were times, such as now, when he should not be approached. So why were you here, being more insistent than ever?

The tone of your voice was already rubbing off of him, and you just had to-

"Fucking hell-"

Without thinking, he kicked the chair beside him. The poor thing managed to take most of his anger, but a piece of debris had unfortunately broken off and flew, hitting you squarely on the face.

It was in such unbelievably perfect timing that Chuuya thought at first his mind had come this stupid situation until he heard your scoff clearly.

"What the-"

Before you could process what had happened, he ran to you and grabbed you into a tight embrace.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N."

You just stood there, still confused. Your forehead stung a bit, but it was nothing compared to the warmth you were enveloped in all of the sudden. You had expected a raging anger and frustration from Chuuya but it just... disappeared.

"Shit- I really didn't mean to, Y/N. I'm sorry-"

Were you relieved to hear that from him? Sure, a bit. But what about the fury that was all-consuming just a while ago? What were you to do with that?

Your silent rumination only unsettled him more. If he clueless as to what you were thinking, he would be just as lost as with what to do.

"Let's go over it again, okay? I'm not going to get mad this time."

More than the chair, it was his words that he flung at you that upset him the most now that he was sober from his emotions.

"I swear I won't get mad. So talk to me. Please. Y/N-"

He was vigorously but gently shaking your shoulder all the while, hoping to get something from you.

And he finally did - but a loud laugh was not what he expected.

"This is so stupid."

It was his turn to be confused. Yes, it was stupid - stupid of him to have done any of that - but he had no idea what you meant by that.

You wrapped your arms around him and buried your head in his neck. "I mean - a flying piece of broken chair? Really?"

"I'm sorry, Y/N-"

"I'm also sorry," you finally said calmly. "I knew you've been stressed recently, but I-"

"It's still my fault. It ain't your fault."

"No. It's mine."

"The heck are you saying?"

You stared at him again, pouting this time yet barely able to contain your laughter.

"Tsk. We are not going to fight over this," he answered playfully.

As quickly as the tension built so did it dissipate - a feature of most of your quarrels that the two of you were grateful to have.

You embraced him tightly once more. "I'm so lucky to have you, Chuuya."

Although you couldn't see his face, you could feel his smile spread. "Same here."

"I love you, Chuuya."

He loosened his grip on you before kissing you on the forehead. "I love you too."

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke

You both knew this would happen eventually. Yet that didn't make things any easier when it did.

The rage had blinded him instantly; he didn't even realize it happen. Within a split second there was a reddish-black flash and a small familiar gasp.

The scent of blood triggered such a vivid vision for him. You had fallen to the floor soundlessly, and there you were lying lifelessly. It was a vision he'd seen many times before - in lucid moments, in delirium, oftentimes in his sleep.

It couldn't be real this time... could it? By instinct, he covered his right eye with his hand. There he still saw the same bloody scene, while on the left eye he saw that there was nothing in front of him: no pool of blood and no motionless corpse. But as what always happened when he tried to disillusion himself, a headache then formed.

Only letting himself relax a bit, Akutagawa began to slowly look for you. He was sure there was blood spilled - although his eyes failed him, his nose never did. The same goes for all his other senses, it seemed, and so he let those four lead them to you.

He landed in front of a mahogany door. The sobbing and shuffling were unmistakable to him despite the thickness of the wood muffling the sounds significantly. He carefully approached and knocked on it lightly before calling out your name.

"Y/N...?"

The whimpering did not stop in the slightest, shaking him further. What if you weren't actually there and his hearing became unreliable as well?

"Y/N, please answer. I need to know you're there..."

His eyes saw fresh blood ooze out of the gap between the door and the floor. No. There was nothing there; his nose and fingers confirmed it. Shit. His delusions were getting worse even if both of his eyes were closed.

"Y/N, please... forgive me-"

There was no way you could, he thought. You shouldn't, you wouldn't, and if it was true that he had hurt you let alone kill you, then he wouldn't forgive himself either.

The gentle creak of the door jolted him despite how soft and slow you opened the door. He was met by a disheveled and tear-stricken you, blood slowly dripping down from your left arm. So many words flashed by in his vision but the only one that came out of his lips was your name.

"Y/N..."

His hand slowly reached for you - although where it aimed to touch it had no idea - as he waited for any sign from you to stop. You seemed fine with it, and his fingers ended up softly landing on the wound. It was just a graze, fortunately, however the bleeding was still continuous.

He unleashed Rashoumon to wrap and put pressure on the wound. "We should get you to a hospital," he said in a low and gentle voice.

You two wordlessly walked to the nearest clinic, almost wordlessly had your wound treated, and just as silently went back home. The entire time his still persistent headache throbbed along with the worries of what exactly it was you were thinking then. How could you still be okay with this? Or were you already planning to leave him then and there? If that was the best for you, then he had no choice than to accept it.

"Ryuu..." It was so affectionate that he thought he was delusional again. "How's your headache?"

His eyes widened at your words. How did you notice that? "It's not so terrible," he replied weakly. Really, it should be him asking how you were.

"That's good."

Before you entered your own room, he pulled on your other arm (gently) to explain himself. His delusions have been getting worse, that's why his instincts targeted you in his anger. That's what happened, wasn't it? But making such excuses was for weak men, and weak as he may be he couldn't bring himself to waste your sanity any further. He decided to apologize, but he ended up staring intensely into your eyes the entire time.

"It's alright. It's really alright."

"It isn't," he quickly asserted. "And it won't happen again."

Your smile, although weak from that night's endeavors, seemed genuine enough to him. It truly must have been real with the way it somehow subsided his headache. Still, it wasn't enough to wipe away the guilt.

And so he had decided to sleep on the couch: a preemptive measure and act of penance. But it wasn't like he could actually sleep after what happened. Most likely he would've spent the entire night reflecting on the incident and on ways to make it up to you.

"What are you doing?" There was a mix of curiosity, confusion, and amusement in your voice. "I've been waiting for you."

Without waiting for him to reply, you pulled on his arm and dragged him to bed. Your arms then wrapped themselves tightly on his waist.

"...isn't it dangerous? I might hurt you again." He was referring to his dreams affecting his physical sleeping, but his mind had pinned a larger meaning to it.

"You might," you answered nonchalantly. "But knowing you, it would never be intentional."

The gentle weight of your head on his chest had always soothed him. "You trust me too much."

"I do. It's because I love you too much, you know?"

You heard a small scoff, but even if you couldn't see his face you knew it accompanied a small smile.

"I don't know how rough you're having it right now, but please know that my love for you is real... just as I know your love for me is real."

Oh, if only you knew how much those words mattered to him- no. It would be too much.

"I love you, Y/N," he whispered as he embraced you tighter.

"I love you too." You then snuggled deeper into his chest. "Good night, Ryuu. Sweet dreams."

Nakajima Atsushi

Atsushi was always afraid that he'd hurt you some way or the other, and so he was always extremely careful with anything that involved you. Even in arguments he did his best to collect himself (not that he got THAT angry anyway - most of the time he just becomes sad) and not break down in front of you spontaneously.

That's why he wasn't sure why he got so worked up this time. Perhaps everything has just been overwhelming recently and you getting angry at him was simply the final straw. Was he truly such a failure at everything to everyone?!

He was grasping a glass of milk to drink and calm himself when the frustration rushed through his blood. His grip tightened and shattered the glass, spilling liquid, shards, and blood everywhere.

Of course, you somehow quickly remained level-headed and tried to attend to his injury.

"Wait let me see your-"

As soon as your hand grazed his, he swatted it away with great force. Leave me alone, it screamed, and you heard the message loud and clear. Too clear, perhaps, since you took a few steps back to counter the impact.

Your silent and intense stare was what brought him out of it. Just the idea of hitting you, let alone that powerfully, was just so unimaginable to him that he began to break down.

It must've been the tiger's uncontrollable strength again - it's always been that. Whenever he loses control himself it's that wild beast that takes over, causing Atsushi to commit acts of savergy.

But there was no ability at that moment. There was no tiger. There was nothing to blame it on, except himself. By instinct, he retreated to himself and fell to the floor, staring at nothing in particular.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N, I didn't know what I was thinking-"

His stammering and shivering were so intense - it was unlike anything you've seen before. Apology after apology came, but did the complete opposite of relieving you.

You slowly approached him, wondering if you should try and touch him again. Usually your gentle shoulder rubs were enough to calm him down.

"Atsushi...?"

More than being hurt once again, you were more afraid that he'd regressed into that place again.

You tried to snap him out of it slowly: gently talking to him, reassuring him, trying to convince him that you weren't going anywhere despite what happened and will happen.

And by some miracle it worked. His tear-stricken eyes met yours, and the softness in them finally returned.

"Are you okay?" You asked once more.

"Y-yeah, I'm fi- No, wait. Are you okay?"

His hand instinctively shot up to check your hand and arm, but it stopped right before it grazed your skin. What the heck was thinking, trying to grab you right after that?

"Oh, don't worry too much. I'm fine. There's no wound and it probably won't bruise."

Atsushi wanted to breathe easily after hearing you say that but there was more to the question that needed answering. Thankfully, you caught on quickly.

"I swear, I'm fine." You smiled at him again and gently pat his head. "You've apologized enough. So let's just clean up this mess, okay?"

Before you could even attempt to stand up, he practically grabbed you and squeezed your whole being as he buried his head in your neck.

"Thank you, Y/N." He whispered before hugging you even tighter. "I love you so, so much. I promise I'll do better next time."

You returned the gesture. Awgh. How much your heart swelled despite what happened. "I love you too, Atsushi."

Taglist: @stygianoir, @irethepotato, @kisara-16reblogs, @thatdazaikin, @dazaee, @menshusband, @celestair, @bloobewy, @kunikida-simp

[kisses-for-you]

Preference: They accidentally hurt you

Titans Characters X Fem!Reader

Characters: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Gar Logan, Conner Kent, Kory Anders, Donna Troy & Hank Hall.

Dick Grayson:

You and Dick had gotten into an argument and it was getting heated. He was risking the team's life by making stupid and reckless decisions, or at least that's what they were in your opinion.

Without thinking, you yell, "You don't have to risk everyone's lives just because Jason died and you think it's your fault!"

SLAP!

Dick's hand makes contact with your face as he slaps you in a fit of rage. The room seems to freeze as Dick's eyes widen with horror at the realisation of what he's just done. Your hand instinctively reaches to your cheek, the hurt in your eyes making your boyfriend feel even more guilty.

Dick immediately recoils, his expression shifting from anger to deep regret. "Fuck. Y/N, I... I didn't mean to," he stammers, his voice filled with remorse. He takes a step back, grappling with the weight of his actions. His eyes search yours, pleading for forgiveness, but the pain in your gaze is palpable.

Dick takes a hesitant step forward. "I didn't mean to hurt you. Y/N, I'm so fucking sorry," he murmurs, regret etched across his face. He reaches out to cup your cheek, however, fear grips you, and you instinctively shrink back, avoiding his touch.

"I need some space," you finally manage to say, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and sadness. He nods solemnly, understanding he fucked up badly.

-

Jason Todd:

You and Jason were training and since you were still fairly new to the team, you thought it'd be nice to train with Jason as you're the closest with him.

You're meant to block his hits but as the bo staff heads your way, you hesitate for some reason and react too late, resulting in Jason accidentally hurting you as the staff strikes you. It's just a small mistake and it doesn't hurt too badly but he immediately rushes to your side.

"Shit. Babe, are you okay?" His concerned expression mirrors his regret. You give him a small, reassuring smile, saying, "Yeah, I'm fine. It's probably just a small bruise anyway. Let's just get back to training."

He shakes his head, still looking guilty even though it wasn't his fault. "No, let's just finish here. You shouldn't keep training if you're hurt. We can always train tomorrow," Jason insists, genuine concern in his eyes. You know there's no point in arguing with him, so you just sigh and nod.

-

Gar Logan:

You and Gar were alone in the Titans Tower, where Gar was struggling to stay in his human form. He was incredibly upset (you didn't know why) and his intense emotions were causing him to shapeshift into an animal, which he was trying to prevent.

"Y/N.. You need to.. go," he whispers, his voice strained as he tries to fight against the transformation. Concern etched across your face, you refuse to leave his side. You assure him, "Gar, I'm not leaving you alone like this."

You try to reach out to touch his trembling hand, but before you can make contact, Gar involuntarily shifts into a green tiger. In his tiger form, Gar loses control and accidentally swipes at you with his claws. The scratch isn't too deep, but it's enough to draw blood and sting, causing you to step back in shock. Gar, now more distressed, manages to regain control, turning back into his human form as he apologizes frantically.

"Fuck, Y/N, I'm so sorry. I- I lost control. I didn't mean to hurt you," he stammered, rushing to your side, panic etched across his face.

You assess the scratch on your arm, trying to downplay the pain, not wanting to make him feel worse. "Gar, it's okay. It wasn't your fault. Besides, it doesn't even hurt that bad."

Gar, tormented by guilt, searches for a first aid kit in the Tower. As he tends to your wound, you insist that it wasn't his fault, attempting to calm him in his distressed state. While Gar is patching up your wound, you notice a mixture of guilt and fear in his eyes. You gently take his hand and reassure him, "Gar, accidents happen. Don't blame yourself." Despite your comforting words, Gar remains visibly distraught, haunted by the fear of potentially causing you harm again.

-

Conner Kent:

Conner had just returned from a mission with the Titans. He looked exhausted but relieved as he walked through the door. You greeted him with a warm smile, knowing how tiring his superhero responsibilities could be.

As Conner hugged you, his thoughts wandered to what happened during the mission. He started to get lost in his thoughts, and his strength momentarily slipped out of his control. He squeezed you too tightly, causing you to wince as the force of the hug became too much. You were left in a little pain, and probably with a bruise. Conner looked concerned as you pulled away, realising what he had just done.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N. I don't know what happened. I started thinking about the mission and then I just..." Conner rambled, trying to explain and apologize to you. But you interrupted him and said, "Conner, it's okay. I know you didn't mean to. Don't worry about it." No matter how much you try to reassure Conner, however, he still feels guilty and blames himself for hurting you, even if it was accidental.

For the next couple of weeks, he's extra careful around you and way more gentle. He also tries to find ways to make it up to you; he doesn't need to though because you know he didn't mean to do what he did.

-

Hank Hall:

You and Hank had been watching a football match on TV together, enjoying the rare day off. As Hank headed to the kitchen to grab you both a drink and some snacks, an idea sparked in your mind. You decided you were going to scare him; it was a fairly innocent idea.

Within a couple of seconds, you start to tiptoe after him, planning to playfully surprise him. You just wanted to see his reaction so you could make fun of him if he screamed like a girl (you never know, he might). As you reach the kitchen door, you take a deep breath, preparing to unleash your surprise.

However, as you sneak up behind him and scream, Hank's reflexes kick in. In an instant, he spins around, his combat instincts taking over. Before either of you can even realise what's happening, his hand shoots out and strikes you right in the face. A gasp escapes your lips as you feel the sudden impact.

Time seems to freeze for a moment as you both register what just happened. Hank's eyes widen in shock and horror as he sees you wince from the unintentional blow. Concern fills Hank's eyes as he drops whatever he is holding in his hands, rushing to your side. "Oh fuck, babe, I'm so sorry! Are you okay?" he blurts out, panic evident in his voice.

You hold your nose, pretty sure you have a nosebleed. "I'm... okay." As the initial shock wears off, you can't help but let out a nervous laugh. "At least now we know that your instincts are top-notch," you quip, trying to lighten the mood despite the pain you're feeling. You move your hand away from your face, revealing a trickle of blood from your nose. Hank winces, guilt written all over his face.

He quickly grabs a tissue from the nearby counter, handing it to you with a mix of concern and remorse in his eyes. "I didn't mean to... I just thought..." Hank stammers, struggling to find the right words to express his regret. You take the tissue and give him a reassuring smile, realizing it was just an unfortunate accident.

"It's okay, Hank. It was my idea to scare you like that so if anything, it's my fault," you say, dabbing at your nose. Despite the pain, you can't help but appreciate the genuine worry in his eyes.

-

Kory Anders:

You and the Titans were preparing for another battle against an intimidating villain who was threatening the city of San Francisco. You were standing by Kory's side, your heart pounding with a mix of fear and excitement. Tonight, the stakes were higher than ever before. The villain, known as Mother Mayhem, was ready to unleash chaos upon the city. Kory's eyes were glowing with determination as she walked towards the impending threat. You followed closely, aware of the danger that awaited you.

As the confrontation continues, Mother Mayhem launches a devastating attack that catches both you and Kory off guard. In a moment of panic, Kory's powers surge uncontrollably, and a burst of energy erupts from her, unintentionally striking you. The impact sends you flying to the ground and pain radiates through your body.

Kory's eyes widen in horror as she realises what just happened. She rushes to your side, leaving the rest of the Titans to deal with the threat. Her concern is evident in every step. "I-I'm so sorry," she stammered, kneeling beside you. "I didn't mean to hurt you." Despite the pain, you manage a weak smile, reaching out to reassure her. "It's okay, Kory. Accidents happen. Besides, we have a more important matter at hand," you say, referring to the villain you're currently fighting.

"I promise, I'll control my powers better next time," she vows, gently cradling you in her arms. She then stops to think, unsure of whether you should get back to the fight in your condition. "Are you sure you want to fight? I don't think that's the best idea for you right now, Y/N."

You nod, determination flickering in your eyes despite the pain. "I'll be fine, Kory. Just a little shaken, but I can still help. We need to stop her before things get worse." Reluctantly, Kory lets you go, her worry etched across her face. She stands up, taking a moment to make sure you're stable before rejoining the battle. 

-

Donna Troy:

You and Donna were strolling through through the dimly lit alleyways of the city. As you turned a corner, a group of menacing thugs emerged from the shadows, surrounding you both. Donna's grip on your hand tightened instinctively as she stepped forward, ready to defend you from the impending threat.

Donna's eyes narrow, her instincts kicking in. She swiftly reaches for her lasso, the golden glow illuminating the dark alley. But you find yourself in the line of fire without even noticing. A sudden movement from one of the thugs causes you to stumble, and in an attempt to protect you, Donna swings her lasso with lightning speed. However, the unexpected jolt of the situation results in her accidentally striking you instead of the intended target.

Time seems to slow as the golden rope wraps around you, the energy coursing through your body. A surge of pain shoots through your veins, and you gasp as the unexpected impact takes you by surprise. Donna's eyes widen in horror as she realises her mistake, immediately releasing the lasso. The thugs seem to take this as a chance to run and escape. Stunned and in pain, you stagger backwards, clutching the area where the lasso struck you. Donna rushes to your side, her concern evident in her eyes. "Fuck. Y/N, I'm so sorry," she murmurs, her voice filled with regret.

As Donna checks on you, you assure her that you're okay, though the pain still lingers. The two of you decide to go back to her apartment to assess the situation and tend to your injuries. Donna's guilt is palpable, but you understand it was an accident in the heat of the moment. Together, you make your way back, Donna keeping a protective arm around you.

-

[i984]

Mattress Laid, No Questions Asked

|Pairing|: Wednesday Addams x gender neutral reader

|Warnings|: Ooc! Wednesday Addams, Hurt/Comfort, Wednesday also has shower thoughts, Wednesday panics romantically throughout the fic, two idiots so deeply into each other they just can't tell, there's only one bed trope but not really.

|Summary|: Wednesday needs a little caring after the final battle with Joseph Crackstone.

|A/n|: My hunched back says the 12 hours is not worth the end product.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

"Sit down."

"I don't want to."

You look over her messy braids and the monochrome school uniform, now stained red. Her fingers are slightly jittering, though you're not sure if the Addams girl realizes it. The night has finally taken a toll on her.

"Please?" You give her your best assuring smile, sitting on the stool next to your bed, patting the comfy duvet.

Wednesday clenches her jaw.

She took a step forward.

You nod at her before reaching under your bedside table. It's a good thing Enid urged you to keep a medicine kit in the room. You make a mental note to thank the werewolf next time.

Standing up from your seat, you walk to the dorm's bathroom to get some warm water. "I'll be back in a minute," you half-shouted, hoping the girl hasn't already left your room.

Wednesday is already rigidly seated when you come back. Walking across the room, you carefully put the water-filled bucket beside your stool, clean cloth in your other hand. You inspect her face. It seems that the blood has stopped dripping. The dried-up red would need a little cleaning, though.

"I'm gonna tend the wound on your face first. Is that okay?"

"I can do it myself."

"I know," you swiftly put on your gloves, grabbing a gauze pad and dipping it in saline solution, "but let me do this for you."

"The wound has closed," Wednesday notices the slight raise of your eyebrow. "Don't ask me how."

"Fine. I won't," you put back the gauze pad and the bottle of saline solution on a tray. Grabbing the abandoned cloth, you dip it into the bucket beside you, wringing the excess water. "But at least let me clean it."

Wednesday gives you a dissatisfied look. Her hand reluctantly comes up to lift her bangs off her face. You offer her a small smile as a thank you.

Standing in front of the ravenette, you bend slightly, hands gently dabbing the skin with care. There wasn't a wound, just like what Wednesday said. Only crusts of blood indicate where the injury was previously nestled.

You breathe shallowly, as little as possible. With Wednesday's face so close to yours, her stare that flickers to your lips doesn't go unnoticed. You train your gaze to her cheeks, forehead, and chin, anywhere but her sunken eyes. The dirty spot on her skin has transferred to the almost-dry cloth, and you pull away carefully.

The clean water now has the slightest tinge of crimson as you dip the towel into the bucket once again. Wednesday furrows her brow as you give her a once-over. Suddenly, she becomes hyper-aware of the uniform that sticks obnoxiously to her skin and the tie that chokes her neck snugly.

"I got it," your hands come up to loosen the fabric delicately, pulling the neckwear off the raven. "You should probably change. I'll help you."

Wednesday's face remains stoic, and when you see no sign of opposition, you remove the blazer off her shoulder, pulling the sleeves slowly to avoid injuring her. Inspecting the torn shirt covered in blood, you run your fingers along the fabric, touching the smooth stained skin.

Wednesday gulps in your wake, but when she feels your breath fanning what little bit of flesh she has exposed, her breathing hitched; an almost gasp escapes her lips.

You stop your movement.

"Shit— Did I hurt you?" you scan over Wednesday's face, expecting a wince of some sort. Instead, you found a frown that had deepened, and her eyes focused on the ground. She looks almost embarrassed.

"I'm sorry, I'll grab you some clean clothes," you quickly get your hand off her shoulder and walk to your wardrobe. Wednesday's eyes feel heavy on your back, examining your move. You ignore the pounding on your chest and rummage the space until you find your old black t-shirt and sweatpants.

"Will these do?" You stride over to her, raising the clothes over your body.

"They would have to."

You hand her the garments before lifting the bucket, leading her towards the bathroom. "You can change inside. There are some clean towels if you wanna take a shower. There should still be warm water, so take your time."

Wednesday steps inside the bathroom, and her hand hovers above the doorknob. She's hesitating.

"I'll be here," you assure softly.

There's a slight nod, and the sight of her is soon replaced with the wooden door.

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Warm water hits her back, and Wednesday feels the tension in her muscle loosen. Scarlet drips to the floor, and the water turns a few shades darker. The sight of blood wasn't unfamiliar, even if it was hers. But tonight, Wednesday scrubbed the dried liquid off her skin hurriedly, touching the spot where her gut had been stabbed, then magically healed. The ravenette lets her mind wanders over the events that have led her to this moment.

Enid had retired to bed before her; loud snores were evidence of her fatigue. Taking on a Hyde with her wolf form, especially when it's only her first time, must've exhausted the blonde.

Wednesday was exhausted herself. But she couldn't fall asleep.

Her bed creaked as she tossed and turned, huffing loudly as the image of Joseph Crackstone flashed through her brain. His wicked voice and disgusting breath, as well as his crooked descendant—the poor excuse of a teacher—boiled Wednesday's blood.

Then there was Tyler. The boy she had trusted and felt enough for. Yet he dared betray her trust, lied to her, turned against her, and attacked her best friend. Wednesday wonders if she can trust anybody close to her anymore.

At least the whole school was saved. And you.

Wednesday runs her fingers through her hair, smoothing the waves her braids had created. The water is colder now, and she lets it wash over her face and freeze her scalp. The sensation calms her, and she lets her hand trail to her shoulder. The wound wasn't there. It seemed that all her injuries from the night had disappeared.

Her hand stays there, eyes closing to remember your touch. Wednesday feels her heart slowly picking up pace, and it dawns on her with a realization. She's alive. You're alive. And she can't deny her heart swells disgustingly with gladness and relief.

Because you're alive, you caught her restless feet wandering through empty corridors. It was an activity the two of you shared. She had found you walking around the school grounds aimlessly on her way to the nightshade library. Wednesday would stalk you every night after that—only to find you repeatedly standing in the middle of the quad—before resuming her investigation.

She never thought you had realized her presence; until tonight.

Wednesday heard you call out her name softly, and she stepped aside from the pillar that hid her figure. Your eyes were tender as you walked over to her with an unreadable look before locking your arms around her and squeezing her body tightly.

Wednesday didn't pull back or bury her head in the crook of your neck. Instead, she stood there, frozen, almost scared of breaking the moment. She thanked the stars that there was nobody around. There was only silence, and it was comforting and engulfing.

When you stepped back and led her to your room, she followed.

Wednesday wonders why it was so easy for her to trust someone, to trust you, especially after such a night.

The answer stares back at her, a distorted image reflected on the clear water flooding your bathroom floor.

Her hand reaches the tap and turns the water off.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You had settled into your pajama. It's much more comfortable than the uniform, after all. Inspecting the mattress on the floor beside your bed, you hum in satisfaction. That should do for the night.

Sitting down, you stare at your bathroom door. The sound of running water had ceased minutes ago, yet Wednesday hadn't come out yet. She's making you worry, and it takes everything in you not to burst through the door and make sure she's okay.

That's until you hear her call your name.

You rush to the door, stopping in front of it before clearing your throat. "Everything good? Do you need anything?"

Wednesday doesn't answer.

Instead, you hear a thud, as if someone has just dropped their entire weight on the floor. Your hands come to turn and push the doorknob frantically, panic setting in as the wood refuses to move. "Wednesday, what happened—"

"Stop."

You halt your movement.

The ravenette must be sitting against the door. That's why you can't get it opened. You mentally cursed at yourself for not figuring that out sooner. You exhaled in relief before sitting against your side of the door.

"You good there?"

There's silence again, and you willed yourself to calm down. The faint smell of your soap tickles your nose, and you wonder if the scent is not to Wednesday's liking. Maybe that's why she called.

"Sorry for the strawberry soap," you let your head fall back, "Yoko gifted me that for my birthday last year, and I'm only using it now."

"That isn't a problem," Wednesday croaks.

"Then what is?"

Moments of quietness are exchanged. You feel your body tensing with each passing second, your heart hammering mercilessly against your ribs. There's no reason as to why your head seems to cloud at the absence of her words; it almost feels entirely stupid. But you stay silent, patiently waiting for her answer.

"Will you—" Wednesday's voice cracks, words faltering in a way you've never heard her before. "Will you stay for me?"

You can practically picture the impossible sight of her quivering lips and her furrowed brows, a single tear rolling down her cheek. She sounds afraid—as if she fears you telling her no.

"I'll stay with you, Wednesday," you rise to your feet urgently, hands coming to brush the wood. "For you, always."

The girl finally comes into your sight, the door opening fully. Wednesday chews her lower lips, eyes welling with tears. She rips her gaze from yours to the floor, nose sniffling as she chokes the sob threatening to escape her throat.

You pull her into a tight embrace, snaking your hands around her petite body; your breath is taken not from the squeeze but from the realization that Wednesday's arms are finally around yours, holding you so desperately, not giving you a chance to pull away.

You rub circles to her lower back, your other hand stroking her hair softly. You hope your body can take her stress and pain away; to make her feel safe and taken care of. You hope she understands how your throbbing heart is telling her you love her.

Wednesday's presence is all-encompassing, and you let her melt into you for as long as the moment allows it. When her dark brown eyes finally meet yours, there's an unspoken gratitude, a softness to her stare you wish to capture forever.

Her red, puffy eyelids seem to tug at your heartstrings, and you feel like saying something stupid only to clear the heavy air. "What do you think of my pajamas?"

Wednesday momentarily looks at you up and down, a grim look growing on her face.

"It's pink."

"Yes, your favorite color, right?"

"I'd die before letting myself transform into that state of mind."

You snort. "That didn't answer my question, genius."

"It's horrendous," Wednesday crosses her arms.

"You don't look so bad yourself," you grin at the sight of the Addams girl in your clothing before walking towards the mattress, the ravenette following you closely behind. "You can sleep on the bed. I want you to be as comfortable as possible."

Wednesday eyes you closely as you lay down, your hands fumbling with the blanket before settling in your position. She looks over to your bed. It does look comfy, though quite wide; she can't believe it's for one person. Suddenly the white bedding seems quite lonely.

"Do you feel like sleeping at all?"

Wednesday huffs as she grabs a pillow on your bed and steps to the edge of your mattress before carefully laying herself on the empty spot beside you. She can practically feel your teasing grin even with her back turned against you, her mind urging her to get up and walk out of your room to save herself from more embarrassment.

Instead, she feels the fabric of your duvet covering her, and Wednesday stills in place.

"Don't hog the blanket, okay? It'll get colder, and I'd prefer we both make it out tonight without freezing to death."

Wednesday turns to you before grabbing your hand and pulling it with her as she crosses her arm over her body—her signature corpse-like sleeping position.

"Now we both will freeze slower."

"Yeah, but I'm gonna get whiplash before it gets to that."

You turn your body to Wednesday, and you can see her face adopting a tranquil look; eyes closed with her hair splayed across the pillow like an angel. She smells like strawberries, and you can't fight the dopey smile tugging the edge of your lips.

It dawns on you that you had assumed she'd spend the night with you. And fortunately, she is doing just that.

Your heart clenches deliciously.

"Goodnight, Wens," you lace your fingers with hers, eyes closing as sleep overcomes you.

"May you have terrible dreams," Wednesday squeezes your hand, "because you forgot to turn off the lights."

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

A/n2: I love how I can just blame reader for all the plot holes I overlooked. To the anon that requested this weeks ago, I hope you enjoy!

Check pinned post for tag list.

[20thcenturyfoxx]

OKAY OKAY RIGHT SO.

We pretty much agree that slime = guts n gore so if you don't wanna read that again skip, I just need to tell *someone* or I'll explode.

•

Since we saw the screen glitch out at when ranboo was cutting Charlie open in Ep2 the goo changed to red which pretty much implied it was blood and actual guts. (Also in Ep3 you can just see it on the screens at the end...)

Whenever the glitch happens, ranboo is broken from the "trance" or at least realises something is wrong, but even for the watchers, it becomes clear like a "filter" is being removed

So I just really love the implication of Charlie being covered in blood instead of slime in Ep1 and basically his whole house.

The ghouls, him hurling bits and pieces of flesh and blood at ranboo in the fighting scene ...

It also makes sense for him to have zombie-like creatures on his side, which would explain where he would get his "goo" from

He just possesses a bunch of dead bodies he can reincarnate? And there we go, that's how Frank came to be.

Anywho:

While Charlie probably made that disgusted face while eating the slime is because it tasted gross which made him break character for a moment, but for character's sake:

What if he actually tasted the blood? Like a hint of metallic or ended up biting on an eyeball or whatever.

Which, also, you know how he glitches out and keeps repeating that "slime I mean slime I mean slime-" line? What if he was about to say blood but the production ended up playing it off as a bit so the show doesn't get ruined? Imagine realising something is wrong for a split second, you're literally covered in BLOOD. But you can't do anything but get pulled back into a trance?

If we assume the little pieces in the slime bowl are flesh and guts,

What if this was LITERALLY an intestine?

The idea of Charlie in actuality taking a bite out of someone's digestive tract churns my stomach a little bit.

Sneeg having blood dumped on him is also a bit ...

Small Sneeg theory:

What if he was trapped in the cage because he didn't cooperate BECAUSE he wasn't fully controlled yet? And they just locked him up to once again, play it off like an intended act?

So when he was covered in slime, he was fully in their control.

He wasn't completely free, yes, since he couldn't see the cameras, the fact the house is a stage etc, but he seemed like he knew something was up, especially from him being confused of Ranboo acting so NPC like.

Yes, it also could just have been a character/personality type deal but I still like this.

So, somehow the slime has controlling powers too? No idea how that works though.

Smaller implications are also Ranboo just carrying a rag covered in blood with him

Or that goo chest you can see in the background being filled to the brim with blood

Or that the slime dimension is actually a body horror esque dimension of walls made from flesh and organs! That one can pretty much just be effects in the "real" world as the studio makes everything look like slime and theyre just at a green screen or whatnot (still, kinda cool)

•

I'd love if people added more little bits like these that I might have missed, btw (: this thing is really making my brain hurt, but in a good way.

[herrmannhalsteadproduction]

That Herrmann/Halstead DNA (Chapter Four)

Summary: This is Part Twenty-One of my series A Herrmann/Halstead Production. It is an AU where Christopher Herrmann's mom had an affair with Pat Halstead resulting in a baby. The series follows this OC character (Rebecca "Bex" Herrmann) as she grows up and gets to know her brothers and the various Chicago teams. It is very much an AU, just to underscore that. It doesn't follow the same timeline and characters will follow different paths.

Click here for the Series Rundown where you can find the links to read all of the previous installments (which I highly recommend you do so that this one makes sense.)

Rating: Mature

Relationships: Christopher Herrmann & Original Female Character, Jay Halstead & Original Female Character, Will Halstead & Original Female Character, Jay Halstead & Will Halstead, Greg 'Mouse' Gerwitz/Original Female Character, Will Halstead/Connor Rhodes, Assorted OC Couples

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Assault, Stabbing, Gunshot Wounds, Blood and Injury, Whump, Trauma, Eventual Hopeful Ending

A/N: I received my degree from the medical school of Television Drama which means while things might not (*cough* will not *cough*) be accurate, they will be exciting. *jazz hands*

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chris

Knowing his family, Chris wasn’t surprised to see all of 51 was crammed into the waiting room when he walked back in.

Not surprised, no, but still touched. The tight band that had been squeezing his heart ever since Boden took him aside to break the news about Bex eased the slightest bit.

His family was good people.

“Hey, guys,” he said. Every head had turned his way when he appeared, faces filled with worry. Jay gave him a little nod before heading straight over to Mouse which was fair enough. Chris would take filling in the 51 crew over the conversation the two of them were about to have.

“How is she?” Dawson asked as she hopped out of her seat to give him a hug.

“She’s, uh—she’s pretty banged up,” he said, directing his words at the whole group. “Not sure of the extent of things yet, but Will’s taken her for some scans so we should know more soon.”

“And Emery?” Shay asked quietly. She was seated between Severide and Bex’s friend, Sam, who looked about as rough as Jay did.

“Haven’t heard anything yet,” Chris said, wishing like hell he had some kind of good news to share.

“Kira and Malia are on their way,” Sam piped up, voice rough. “Kira—she’s one of Emery’s emergency contacts so she’ll probably be able to get more information.”

Okay. One good bit of news.

“Does Emery have any family we can call?” Otis asked him and Sam shook his head with a frown.

“She’s just got us,” he said, staring down at his hands with red eyes. Shay reached over to rub his back and he leaned into her touch with a small sigh. “Bex is listed as her other emergency contact…”

And she wasn’t in any shape to help.

There wasn’t much else to say beyond that. All they could do was wait.

Dawson gave Chris another quick squeeze before returning to her spot. He felt too revved up to sit so he made his way over to the quiet corner of the room where Boden had stationed himself.

“Thanks for being here, Chief,” Chris said, leaning against the wall beside him. “Sure you’re okay to be offline?”

“I’m keeping an ear out.” Boden motioned to his radio. “But we all wanted—we needed to be here.” He eyed Chris for a moment. “How’s she really doing?”

Chris shook his head, not able to find his words right away. “Not good,” he managed to get out. “She was having trouble breathing and Will looked pretty worried.”

Boden took that in, a deep line forming between his brows. “And how are you?”

“Not good,” Chris said, huffing out a flat laugh. “Worried.” He shot Boden a small smile. “Grateful for the support.”

“We’ll stay as long as we can.” Boden clapped a hand on Chris’s shoulder before pulling him into a hug. “At least until Cindy gets here.”

“Hah.” Chris sniffed as he stepped back, doing a quick swipe of his eyes. “She’ll be happy to know it takes a full firehouse to fill in for her.”

“And we’re still a poor substitute,” Boden grinned back him.

Chris nodded, trying to keep the lightness going, but was unable to keep the tears back this time. “Shit,” he muttered, facing the wall to scrub at his face.

Boden stood silently beside him, blocking him from view.

A tissue appeared from the other side and Chris glanced over to see Trudy holding a whole dang box. “I swiped them from the desk,” she said. “Go nuts.”

“Ah, thanks, Truds,” Chis said, sniffling as he grabbed a few more. “Sorry, I’m just—seeing her like that—I need to get it together so I can be there for her—”

“It’s okay to need a moment, Chris,” Trudy said. She took a few tissues and stuffed them into her pocket. “I expect we’re all going to at some point so no judgement here.”

“None of you are alone in this.” Boden reached around him to grab tissues for his own pocket. “Remember that.”

Taking a deep breath, Chris nodded, letting their words sink into him. They’d get through this like they got through everything; all of them together.

And then, as if on cue, four familiar faces came rushing in from outside.

***

Sam

Sam leapt to his feet as Devon, Isaac, Malia, and Kira ran through the front doors. Kira spotted him first and rushed over.

“Sam!” What’s going on? What happened?” The rest of them came up behind her, all staring at him with anxious faces.

He stared back at them—mouth opening and closing as he tried to give them some kind of answer, but all he could do was shake his head. Shay came to his rescue.

“Ty attacked Emery,” she said quietly as she joined their little circle. “He stabbed her, and Bex, uh—I think she walked in on the attack and she fought him off. She’s getting checked out now.”

“Stabbed—” Malia pressed a hand to her mouth, eyes wide. Devon wrapped an arm around her and Kira pressed in on her other side. Isaac’s face crumpled as he stepped over to Sam and hugged him around the middle. Sam closed his eyes, letting himself lean into his strong arms.

“Have you heard anything?” Devon asked Shay. “About Em?”

“No, they would’ve been waiting for me, right?” Kira said before Shay could answer. Sam opened his eyes to see Shay nodding and Kira disentangling herself from Malia. “I’ll see what I can find out.”

He watched as she straightened her shoulders and marched off toward the desk, determined despite the tiny tremble of her chin.

Today had been…awful and Sam didn’t see it getting any better, but at least they were all here now. Whatever happened next, they would face it together.

***

Shay

“I hate this,” Shay muttered as she took her seat again. Kelly made a questioning noise beside her, but she couldn’t look away from the little group of Bex’s friends huddled together on the other side of the room.

Looking so incredibly young and so incredibly scared.

She wished Julie were here.

Sam had said something about her staying on the scene and then going to Lakeshore with Ty which—thank goodness he hadn’t been brought to Med, but Shay still wished Julie was there with them. She’d have better words for Sam. For his friends.

Sam and Julie had hit it off as not only partners, but as friends which meant that once Shay started dating Julie, she was quickly brought into their orbit. She’d spent plenty of time with Sam and his boyfriends and Malia and Kira as well. Shay probably knew them almost as well as Bex did at this point.

And Emery—even when she’d been away from the group, they talked about her. They still loved her so much and when she made her way back to them, Shay kept getting all of the updates.

All of them were so proud of how far Emery had come.

And now this.

“It’s not fair,” Shay said, shaking her head. She rubbed at her eyes and then took the tissue Kelly offered her.

“Hey,” he said softly, ducking his head down to catch her gaze. “Talk to me.”

“I just—” She waved the tissue at the group before crumpling it in her hands. “I hate this. It’s not right. Emery, she’s come so far, you know? And this? This is what happens? It’s bullshit, Kelly.”

“Yeah, it is,” he agreed, sinking back in his chair with a deep sigh. “It really is.”

“It can’t end like this for her,” Shay whispered. “It’s not fair.”

“You can’t think like that,” Kelly said, grabbing her arm and giving it a little squeeze. “No, listen—” He cut her off before she could get going again. “I get what you’re saying and you’re right. It’s bullshit. But…why are we here?” He stared at her, giving her a little nod, waiting for her to answer.

“To be here,” she said. “To support Herrmann and Bex and Emery and all of them.”

“Right,” Kelly said as he sat up and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “And what would Bex say if she was here? ‘Don’t put out bad energy’ or something like that, right? You know how she talks.” He smiled down at her, looking entirely too pleased with himself when Shay managed a small smile back. “Emery and Bex are fighting their way through so we need to sit here and believe that they can do it. They’re gonna be okay, Shay.”

She really hoped he was right. Shay took a shaky breath and settled into Kelly’s side, ready to start putting all of the good energy out there.

***

Connor

“We have a pulse,” one of the nurses announced.

Connor nearly sagged against the operating table in relief. It was the second time Emery had coded since they started and the way things were going, he knew with a sickening certainty that it wouldn’t be the last.

Come on, Em, he willed her to hear him. I’m not going to stop fighting so you’re not allowed to stop either. Work with me here. Bex’ll never forgive either of us if you die so cut it out.

Dr. Latham called for another unit of blood and Connor cut a quick look over at Emery’s stats, frowning at what he saw.

“Come on, Em,” he whispered.

“Dr. Rhodes, perhaps we should reconsider your presence—”

“Respectfully, Dr. Latham,” Connor said firmly. “We should not.”

He wasn’t leaving her.

Not when there was still a chance.

***

Mouse

Platt vacated the seat beside him, nodding at Jay as they passed each other and heading over to see Chris. Jay plopped down in the empty spot.

He groaned, resting his elbows on his knees and scrubbing his hands over his face. Mouse waited, playing with the empty coffee cup in his hands until Jay finally looked over at him.

“Thank you,” he said. “For getting Chris. That was—that was the right move.”

“Just wanted to do what I could to help,” Mouse said. “Seemed like the best plan.”

“I’m sorry, man,” Jay said and Mouse stilled, not quite sure where this was coming from.

“For what—”

“I just left.” Jay sat back, managing to look miserable, exhausted, stressed, angry, and apologetic all in one go. It was almost impressive. “I ran out of there and didn’t let you know what was happening,” Jay said. He rubbed at his forehead with a sigh. “Didn’t think to even ask anyone to let you know or—”

“Jay.” Mouse had to stop him right there because he couldn’t listen to anymore of this. “Don’t even—just—are you seriously apologizing for not stopping to let me know you were leaving? When Bex was in danger? I don’t—you had to get to her. That was what mattered.”

“Didn’t get there fast enough,” Jay muttered.

“She needed you and you got there as soon as you could,” Mouse said. “I’m glad you didn’t waste any time doing it. Okay?” He stared at Jay until he nodded and then Mouse sat back as well. He had a thousand questions he wanted to throw at him, but Jay didn’t look up to talking. Mouse didn’t want him pressing for more details to be the thing that had Jay falling apart when the guy was clearly using everything he had to keep it together.

Mouse knew the feeling.

He kept his thousand questions to himself and worked on bracing himself for their inevitable answers.

***

Jay

Jay closed his eyes as he settled into his seat beside Mouse, more grateful than ever for his friend’s ability to read him and know when he needed to leave Jay be.

Talking was not something Jay could do right now. Not without screaming.

He bounced his knee, trying to block out the sounds of the waiting room and centre himself like his therapist was always going on about. Quiet his mind.

But the quiet—it just made room for Bex’s voice to come back in.

Over and over, sounding so scared as it came through the phone.

Please. Put the knife down.

And her scream.

Jay was never going to forget it as long as he lived.

He hadn’t been fast enough.

Not fast enough at all.

***

Will

Will closed the door to Bex’s room with a quiet click. Resting his forehead against the wood, he took a moment in the quiet hallway to just breathe.

Bex had gone through all of the scans and tests like a champ, but was struggling by the end of it so they’d given her another round of pain meds and she’d conked right out.

Well, not right out. She’d managed to garble a few instructions at him first and tell him that she loved him. So much. Will smiled to himself. The ‘so much’ had been repeated quite a few times. Bex on pain medication was going to be an interesting experience.

Since they needed to keep her at least overnight for observation, he’d gone ahead and settled her into a room instead of taking her back to the ED or another holding place. He’d add fast tracking the process to the list of things Goodwin could yell at him for later. 

And now he had to go and update their family. He sighed. It’d been hard enough for Will to hear the laundry list of Bex’s injuries, but to have to tell the others and see their faces…he needed to be a bit steadier to handle that.

It was going to suck, but he wasn’t about to pass the task on to anyone else. Not after what happened with Chris when he got hurt and god, was that really only a few months ago?

How were they right back here again?

“Dr. Halstead!”

Will straightened up, looking around to see Sharon Goodwin coming down the hall towards him trailed by two unexpected faces.

“Ms. Goodwin,” Will said, nodding at her and the two men behind her. “Dr. Charles...Dr. Abrams? I thought you’d all gone home for the day. Is everything okay?”

“Is everything—Will, we heard what happened,” Sharon said, reaching out to give his arm a squeeze. “We wanted to check on you.”

Oh. That was…hunh. “I’m—” Will dragged a hand through his hair and a slightly hysterical little laugh slipped out. “It’s, uh, it’s been a day.”

“I’ll bet.” Dr. Charles peered around him to peek through the window in the door into Bex’s room. “How’s she doing?”

“She’s in rough shape, but she’ll be okay,” Will said. “Eventually. She’ll be better when we know how Emery is.”

“Don’t worry about finishing your shift,” Sharon said. “Dr. Armstrong is coming in early and the ED can manage without you until then.”

Right. He’d absolutely abandoned his job as soon as Bex came in. Crap. Sharon shook her head at him as soon as he opened his mouth.

“Don’t worry,” she repeated. “You’re having a family emergency. We all understand.”

“Been there a time or two ourselves,” Dr. Charles said with a kind smile. He reached out to pat Will’s shoulder. “Anything you need, be sure to let us know.”

“Remember to take all the time you need,” Sharon added and then the two of them headed off down the hall. Dr. Abrams remained, staring at the door to Bex’s room.

“Dr. Abrams?” The man didn’t respond so Will tried again. “Sam?”

“Yes.” Dr. Abrams cleared his throat and glanced over at Will, a flicker concern disrupting his usual impassiveness. “What Dr. Charles said. If anything is needed, for either of you…”

“I’ll let you know,” Will agreed. “That’s—thank you. It’s appreciated.”

With a short nod, Dr. Abrams turned and walked away.

“Bex, you make the weirdest friends,” Will whispered. He chuckled to himself and took a last look to make sure she was still sleeping before heading out to the waiting room.

He still had one job to do.

***

Chris

“Christopher!”

Chris whipped around at the sound of Cindy’s voice and rushed over to meet her in the middle of the waiting room.

“I got here as fast as I could, I’m sorry, It took me way too long to get out of the house —my parents, and then the kids—” she said, tripping over her words as she grabbed onto his hands. “Have you heard anything yet? What’s going on? How’s Bex? How’s Emery?”

“Hey, hey. Breathe, Cinds, it’s okay,” Chris said. “Bex is getting checked out and we—we haven’t heard anything about Emery yet.” He moved to wrap his arms her and held her tight. “God, I’m so glad you’re here.”

She squeezed him back, tucking her head into his shoulder. “It’s bad, isn’t it?”

“It’s not good,” he murmured.

They stood there for a moment, taking what they needed before breaking apart. Cindy met his eyes. “Whatever it is,” she said. “We’ll handle it.”

Now that she was here, he actually felt like that was true. Chris leaned in to press a kiss against her forehead. “I love you,” he whispered into her skin.

An “I love you, too,” was whispered back, just for him to hear.

After one more tight hug, Cindy took a deep breath, centering herself. “Okay,” she said. “Where are the boys?”

“Jay and Mouse are over there,” Chris said, jerking a nod in their direction. “Will’s with Bex while she’s getting checked out and Connor—he’s working on Emery.”

“I’m going to sit with them for a bit,” Cindy said, but before she could head in Jay and Mouse’s direction, Will came in and everyone’s attention instantly turned his way.

Jay and Mouse jumped out of their chairs and came to stand by Chris and Cindy. The rest of their gang crowded in behind. Chris reached for Cindy’s hand only to find her already reaching for his and they clung to each other; ready for Will’s update.

“Cindy, hey, you’re here. That’s great,” Will said, giving her a soft smile before taking in the whole group before him. “And all of 51 is here. Nice, now I owe Bex five bucks. Thanks, guys.”

Chris smiled at the quiet wave of laughter that welled up behind him. Bex got him on a dummy bet, for sure. Knowing Will, he probably went along with it just to make her smile.

“Okay, well, she’s given me permission to share with everyone because, and I quote, ‘they’re all nosy enough to get it out of Chris anyway,’” Will’s lips twisted in a wry little grin at the reaction that got. His face fell back into serious lines though once everyone settled. “This is going to be a lot to take in so I want to start by saying Bex is going to be okay. We’re keeping her overnight for observation, but barring any complications—”

Complications? The word sent a jolt through Chris.

He and complications were not friends.

“—she should be cleared to go home tomorrow,” Will finished.

“Is anyone with her right now?” Cindy asked. “Has she been admitted or is she still in the ED?”

“We’ve got her in a room,” Will said. “She’s sleeping right now; she’s on some pretty heavy pain medication, but the nurses are keeping an eye on her and I can take you back to see her yourself when we’re done.”

Heavy pain medication. The pressure was back in Chris’s chest and he gripped Cindy’s hand tighter. “Okay, so…tell us how she is, Will,” Chris said. “All of it.”

“She has two lacerations that required some stitches,” Will began. “One over her shoulder which was fairly shallow.” Chris had seen that one. It might have been shallow, but it was still disturbingly close to hitting an artery. They’d been lucky. “The one on her side was deeper,” Will continued. “But not enough to damage anything serious.”

“Ty went after her with the knife he used on Emery,” Jay piped up suddenly. He had his arms crossed and was staring a hole into the floor. “Bex disarmed him.”

Christ. Chris was more grateful than ever for the lessons Jay and Hailey and their crew had been giving Bex. Probably saved her life.

“She also had a deep laceration on her right hand—”

“—stabbed Ty with broken glass,” Jay muttered.

“—but, uh, she didn’t damage any ligaments so that’s good,” Will said. He shot a concerned glance at Jay who still wasn’t looking up from the floor. Cindy shuffled them over a bit so she could reach out to wrap her free arm around Jay’s waist. He stiffened; then relaxed minutely.

Cindy nodded at Will to keep going. He cleared his throat. “She has a hairline fracture in her right arm,” he said, pausing and right on cue—

“Ty threw her into a bookshelf,” Jay said quietly.

Chris rubbed at his forehead and swallowed hard against the growing nausea building in his gut. The tension in the room was growing, but no one walked away. Listening to this—the clinical rundown from Will and the admittedly horrible context from Jay—it was brutal, but they needed to hear it. To know what had happened and to prepare themselves for how they were going to get everyone through the aftermath.

“Her arm is splinted right now,” Will said. “It looks like the injury was aggravated and it’s too swollen to cast at the moment so we’ll have to take care of that after it goes down.”

“She was trying to do compressions on Emery when I arrived,” Sam’s voice came from the back of the group, shaky, but clear.

“Oh, that’s—” Will’s breath caught and he blinked before schooling his face back into something more professional. “That’s good to know,” he said, making a note on her chart. He looked back up at their group, pressing on. “She also has a few cracked ribs and one broken one,” he said. “Which leads me to her most serious injury and the one we want to monitor. Bex has what’s called a pulmonary contusion which is basically a bruised lung.”

“Jesus,” Gabi exclaimed as she came up on Chris’s left. “A pulmonary contusion? That’s—that’s a blunt force trauma injury. How—”

“Ty fucking stomped on her,” Jay bit out. “That’s how.”

“What the hell—are you serious?” Kelly asked, voice raising. “Where is that asshole? He—”

“He is being dealt with by the CPD,” Boden said, moving to stand by Will and casting a grave look over their group. There were a few more grumbles, but the Chief’s stare silenced them.

Chris leaned into Cindy, grateful to Boden for stepping in because he didn’t have it in him right now. He was angry too—of course he was. He wanted to track down Ty and give a taste of his own medicine, but what good would that do? It wouldn’t help Bex or Emery.

They were all needed here. With the two of them. That was who they had to focus on. Screw Ty.

All Chris cared about was his family.

“What do you need to watch out for with this contusion thing?” he asked Will.

“Her breathing, for one,” Will said. “We’ve got her on oxygen to help ease things along and we’re checking her levels regularly. There’s also a small amount of internal bleeding that we’re watching, but it should resolve itself.”

Jay’s head whipped up at that. “You’re not doing anything about it?”

“We had multiple doctors look at the scans and everyone agrees,” Will said. “It would be too invasive to try and repair it when more often than not, it does heal on its own.”

“Do you not remember what happened with Chris?” Jay exclaimed. “You guys said it would be fine and he almost died.”

“Jay, trust me, please.” Will rubbed at his eyes with a sigh before facing them again. “I know it’s scary and it sounds awful, but this really is the best course of action to take. Bex will be monitored constantly. She’ll probably get pissed off about it, but she’s also going to be okay and that’s what matters.”

Jay opened his mouth, ready to argue some more, but Boden’s radio squawked right then and everyone knew what that meant. Duty called.

“Folks, I’m sorry, but we have to head out,” Boden announced to the group. “51, with me. Herrmann, we’ll be back when we can. Give our girl a hug for us.”

“Will do, Chief,” Chris said. “And thank you.”

With a nod and some quick hugs, Boden and the rest of the team filed out, leaving the rest of them to figure out their next steps.

“Um, they said there’s a room up on the surgical floor where we can wait?” Kira said, coming over to stand at the front of their remaining cluster. “They’ll let us know how things are going with Emery as soon as they can.”

“I’ll go on up with you kids,” Trudy said and all of Bex’s friends looked relieved by that—an expression Chris wasn’t used to seeing directed her way. Hunh. When had Platt managed to adopt her own gaggle of twenty-somethings?

That…was a puzzle to be solved another day. Right now, Chris was glad she was going with them because he and Cindy needed to check in on Bex first.

“Let us know when you hear something,” he called after them and Trudy gave him a nod, waving her phone as they headed through the doors. Chris turned to Cindy with a sigh, tugging on her hand. “Let’s go see Bex.”

“In a minute,” she said quietly. He followed her gaze to where Jay and Will stood, faces tense while Mouse hovered anxiously beside them. Will was talking to Jay, quietly but intensely, and Jay was shaking his head. “Come on.” Cindy steered them over to see what was what.

“You have to trust me on this, Jay,” Will was saying. “I know you’re scared—”

“Don’t friggin’ patronize me,” Jay snapped, scowling at Will. “Of course, I’m scared. It’s Bex. How can you ask me to trust you—to trust any of you after what happened last time. You wanna risk her life—”

“Both of you take a breath,” Cindy asked, stepping in between them.

“I don’t need—” Jay withered under the look Cindy pinned him with, a muscle in his jaw ticking as he clamped it shut.

The kid needed a lot of things actually and top of that list was someplace quieter to talk. “Hey, Will,” Chris said. “Is there somewhere private we could all go?” The meltdown Jay was teetering closer and closer to would be better off happening away from prying eyes.

“Oh, uh…” Will blinked. “Yeah, there’s a family room I can take you to—”

“We don’t need that.” Jay’s back immediately went up again. “Why—”

“Maybe you don’t,” Chris said. “But I’m an old man who’d rather be in a comfier chair than on my feet for the rest of this chat.” He made eye contact with Cindy, a silent conversation whipping back and forth between them until they landed on the same page a few seconds later.

At which point she winked at him.

…he really loved her a stupid amount.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Cindy announced. “Mouse, you go on ahead with Will to see Bex.”

Mouse’s eyes went wide. “Me? Don’t you want to, uh, I-I can wait—”

“No, no, you go,” Chris said. “She was asking about you earlier and I know she’ll want to see you. Please.”

“Jay…” Mouse looked hopelessly lost as he turned to Jay who jerked his chin in the barest agreement. “Okay,” he said softly. “I can do that.

“Everyone follow me then, I guess,” Will said carefully. He led them back in through the ED and down a few other hallways before stopping at a door and peeking inside. “You guys can use this one,” he said, stepping away and leaving the door open. “Mouse, if you—”

“You’re coming back, right?” Jay demanded. “We’re not done talking about this and—”

“Yes, Jay,” Will sighed. “I’ll be right back.” He strode off down the hall with Mouse in tow.

Chris used Jay’s momentary distraction of glaring after them to herd him into the room and Cindy closed the door after them. She came to tuck herself into his side once again as Jay began to pace in front of them.

Kid was wound so tight he was about to break himself in two.

***

Jay

“Jay,” Chris began and Jay sliced a hand through the air at him.

“Don’t,” Jay said. “Don’t tell me to calm down. Don’t tell me I’m being unreasonable. Not when we all know that I’m right.” He stopped in his tracks and took a step toward Chris and Cindy. “It’s Bex.” Jay’s voice broke over her name.

He shook his head, trying to get it together. He had to be calm. He had to be strong about this and reasonable so they would listen to him.

“They need to check again,” he said. “And-and-and do something! They can’t just let her bleed. We can’t stand here and do nothing while she’s hurt. She’s in pain. I can’t watch that, not again, not after—not after hearing her and—I can’t—not again—I can’t—”

Chris lying unresponsive in his hospital room.

Bex’s scream echoing out of his phone.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Axel facedown in the dirt with blood pooling out from under his uniform.

Blow after blow from Ty thudding through the speaker.

“I tried—I tried to get to her—I wasn’t fast enough—”

“…Jay…breathe…panic attack…” Cindy’s voice couldn’t break through the noise in his brain. One after another after another.

Bex calling out for him.

An explosion.

His world turning sideways.

Mouse staring at him with deadened eyes.

Bex.

Screaming.

And Jay…doing nothing.

“I’m sorry. I—”

***

Mouse

Will stopped in front of the door to Bex’s room and turned to face Mouse. He pressed his lips together as he dragged a hand through his hair. “I feel like I should give you a head’s up before we go in there,” he said quietly. “You just—you need to brace yourself, okay? It’s rough to see her like this, but I meant it when I said she’s going to make a full recovery.”

Mouse nodded, swallowing hard as he tried to do what Will said and brace himself before following him into the room.

…but Will’s warning hadn’t been enough.

He must’ve made some kind of noise because Will’s head whipped back as he looked at Mouse in concern. “You good?”

“No,” Mouse whispered. “But I’m not going anywhere either.” He stepped around Will and got closer to the bed.

Bex was still asleep, snuffling a bit under the oxygen mask. She was bruised and battered all over—Mouse had a hard time spotting a part of her skin that was unmarked and what he could find was deathly pale. Lying there, unmoving, she looked so fragile.

Mouse sat down in the chair, stopping himself when he reached out to touch her. Her splinted arm was on the other side, but the hand closest to him was bandaged as well. “I don’t—I don’t want to hurt her,” he said to Will. “How should I—”

“Gently,” Will said, giving him an encouraging smile. “You can hold her fingers on that hand, just don’t squeeze, or hold on to her wrist there. And talk to her if you want. She’ll probably wake up soon.”

“Okay, yeah, I, uh, I can do that.” Mouse placed a tentative hand on her wrist, stroking at the soft skin there. Will clapped a hand on his shoulder and Mouse looked up at him. “Thanks. For letting me stay here with her.”

“Thanks for being her for her,” Will said. He patted Mouse on the back before quietly leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

Mouse turned back to Bex. Talk to her, Will had said.

It took him awhile to figure out what to say, but eventually he just decided to go for it and started talking.

“Hey, Bex. It’s me, Mouse. Uh, Mouse Gerwitz.” He palmed his face, chuckling quietly. “Mouse Gerwitz. She knows that, you idiot.” He looked back at Bex, startling forward when her eyes started to blink open. “Hey,” he said quietly. “Hey, Bex. That’s it. Open your eyes, baby. I’m right here.”

She frowned a bit, gaze hazy as she tried to focus on him, and she pulled her bandaged hand free to try and tug at the oxygen mask.

“Oh, no, hang on,” Mouse said. “That’s supposed to stay there.”

Bex grumbled something unintelligible at him. She batted his hand away and pulled down the mask anyway. Her head rolled on the pillow, tilting to look his way as a dopey smile spread across her face. “You’re here,” she said, voice all raspy.

Mouse scooched his chair in closer, leaning in as he stroked her forehead. “I’m here.”

“I like it when you’re here,” Bex whispered. “You should always be here.”

“That’s the plan,” Mouse said.

For as long as she’d have him.

***

Cindy

Between her and Chris, they’d managed to get Jay seated in one of the arm chairs. He had one of his hands tightly gripped around Chris’s while the other was white-knuckled over the faded upholstery. Cindy crouched in front of him, hands braced on his knees as she tried to make her voice heard through the storm currently raging in his head.

“Jay? Jay.” Cindy squeezed his knees until he met her eyes. “Listen to me, listen to my voice,” she said. “Focus on it.”

He was still taking air in through choppy breaths, but he looked more there than he had a moment before and he blinked at her. Slowly. Deliberately.

“Good, that’s good, sweetie,” she said. “Do you think you can take a slower breath for me?”

He shook his head, eyes sliding away from her. Cindy grabbed his chin gently with one hand and brought him back to face her. “That’s okay,” she said quickly. “Don’t worry about that yet then. Why don’t we try this—can you tell me five things you can see?”

Jay rolled his eyes at her over his next ragged inhale and she took that as a good sign.

“Come on,” Cindy cajoled him. “You can do it. Tell me the five ugliest things you can see in this truly sad family room.”

“Uh, chair,” Jay huffed out, casting his eyes around. “Car-carpet.” Another breath. “Paint. Lights.”

“Great, that’s four things,” Cindy said. “One more.”

“C-Chris.”

“Hey, now,” Chris laughed. “I feel like I should have ranked higher than the carpet.”

Cindy grinned at Jay. “That was perfect, hun,” she said. “How about four things you can touch.”

“Chair,” Jay sighed, his next breath coming ever so slightly slower. “Chris. You. Carpet.” He tapped his foot and Cindy nodded.

“Good, really good.” Cindy squeezed his hand. “Three things you can hear?”

“You,” Jay whispered. “Um, the, uh, the fluorescent lights making that, uh, hum sound, and—and people talking in the hallway.” He took a deep breath, sagging back in the chair a bit. “Please don’t make me do the smell thing because I think Chris’s deodorant has given up the fight.”

“Oh, ha-ha,” Chris said, smiling as he patted Jay’s back. “Glad you’re back to making jokes, bud. Even if they’re cheap.”

Jay laughed weakly, leaning into Cindy’s hand when she ran it through his hair.

A light knock sounded at the door before it opened and Will poked his head in. “Hey, I got Mouse settled with Bex. She’s still out…” He frowned when he got a good look at them, shutting the door behind him. “Everything okay in here?”

“Just taking our moment,” Cindy said. She stood up, wincing at the crack in her knees and shooting a look at Christopher before he could crack a joke of his own. She settled down on the arm of Jay’s chair and rubbed a hand on his back. “Better?”

He nodded. “Yeah, thank you. Uh, Will, man, I’m sorry about earlier—”

Will waved him off as he pulled up his own chair. “I get it,” he said. “I meant it though, Jay. Bex is going to be okay. I would never lie to you about that.”

“I know,” Jay whispered. “I just—I hate that she’s hurting now.”

They all did. If Cindy could take this on for her, she would. In a heartbeat.

“Jay.” Chris dragged another chair over and sat next to him. “I know you didn’t want to talk about it earlier, but I think we have to, bud.”

That flipped a switch in Jay and he instantly tensed up again. “No—”

“Sweetheart,” Cindy said, pulling him into her side. She didn’t want to push him, but this wasn’t something they could let fester either. “Before—you kept apologizing. You know that none of this is your fault, right?”

Jay scoffed. “I should have left as soon as she called,” he said. “I would have been there faster and I—I should have told her to come to the station! We could have gone together or-or-or I should have convinced her to stay in the car and wait—”

“Hang on,” Chris held up a hand and exchanged a frown with Cindy over Jay’s head. “You were on the phone with her when she got to Emery’s? That’s how everyone knew so quickly what was going on?”

“She’d called to ask if Ty was still in jail because Emery thought she’d seen him,” Jay said. “By the time I called her back, she was there and she told me the door was open and I told her to stay in the car, I swear.” Jay lurched back upright, looking between the three of them with wide eyes. “I called for back up and I left and I told her, I said stay in the car until I get there, but she wanted to check on Emery—”

“Hey,” Chris said, reaching out to settle a hand on Jay’s shoulder. “Listen, she’s half Herrmann, half Halstead, and her friend was in danger. There was a zero percent chance she was going to listen to you. It’s not your fault, Jay. Put the blame on Ty where it belongs.”

Everything Jay had said here and back in the waiting room suddenly fell into place for Cindy. She knew how it all went down with horrific clarity. “You stayed on the phone with her,” she whispered. He’d heard everything. “Oh, Jay.”

Jay’s eyes filled with tears as he shook his head. “I couldn’t help her,” he said. His voice cracked and a shaky sob slipped out. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“No, no, no.” Cindy nudged him over and squished in beside him, grateful this sad little room at least had spacious arm chairs. “Look at me.” She cupped his cheeks and turned his head, barely making him out through her own tears. “Thank you,” she said, willing him to hear her. “Thank you for being there with her through all of that. She needed you and you stayed. You stayed, Jay, until you could get to her. Thank you.”

His face crumpled and Cindy pulled him into a hug, pressing him close as he sobbed into her shoulder. Oh, her poor boy.

Christopher and Will weren’t faring much better on the tears front. They were all hurting today.

She gave them a tiny nod and they both moved in to join the hug.

They could stay here for each other. As long as they needed.

***

Bex

Mouse said he would stay.

That was nice.

She always wanted to be around him and not just because he was really, super handsome.

The handsomest.

…don’t tell Connor.

Mouse choked on a laugh and Bex frowned. Her brain felt all goopy so she wasn’t sure, but did she say that out loud?

“Um, yes, you definitely did,” Mouse said, smiling down at her. “But don’t worry, I won’t tell Connor.”

“He’d be sad,” Bex said. “He likes being the handsomest.” She squinted at him. “But your face is so good.”

“Thank you?” Mouse bit at his lip.

“I don’t just like your face though,” Bex tried to add quickly. Her words were so slow though. Each one felt two steps behind. “I like all of your parts,” she explained. “Inside and out.”

“That’s good to know,” Mouse said. “I like all of your parts too. Inside and out.”

“Yeah?” That was nice. Mouse was nice. She was so happy they were finally going on their da—

…wait.

Bex closed her eyes against the onslaught of memories that suddenly flashed through her brain.

Ty. A knife.

Emery.

***

Mouse

Bex let out a small, pained noise that instantly had Mouse on alert. “Are you okay?” Stupid question. “What hurts? Should I call a nurse?” He shouldn’t have let her keep the oxygen mask off. What if that had made things worse? So stupid—

“Emery,” she whispered, opening her eyes to look at him again. “Is she okay?”

“She’s still in surgery,” Mouse said, hating that he couldn’t tell her better news. “We haven’t heard anything yet.”

“It’s taking so long,” Bex said. Her fingers plucked at the sheet as she took a shaky breath. “Is that a good sign or a bad one?”

“If she’s still in there, that means she’s still alive,” Mouse said. “She’s still fighting.”

Bex nodded, pressing her lips together. “I thought—I thought she was dead when I found her,” she said, a tear running down her cheek. “Ty—he tried to kill her. How could he do that?”   

“I don’t know, Bex.” Mouse stroked a hand over her uninjured wrist. “People like Ty…they’ve got something broken inside of them.”

“I should have told her to go to the police station when she called me,” Bex whispered. “If she hadn’t gone home—”

“Hey, no,” Mouse said. “This is all on Ty. All of it.”

She looked like she was about to argue further when there was a knock on the door and Will came in, followed by Chris, Cindy, and Jay. They were all sporting red-rimmed eyes and watery smiles. Cindy made a beeline for Bex who let out a sob at the sight of her.

Mouse stepped back to give them a moment, making his way over to Jay who looked like he was about to fall on his face. He bumped shoulders with him, getting a small smile in return.

“How’s she doing?” Jay whispered as he watched Cindy fussing over Bex, straightening her pillow and getting her oxygen mask back in place.

“Blaming herself,” Mouse said.

“Fuck.” Jay closed his eyes briefly, his shoulders sagging.

It was a horrible instinct, but one that so many of them had. Something like this happened and you couldn’t help playing it over and over in your mind. Wondering what you could have done differently. ‘Nothing’ was a nearly impossible answer to accept.

Knowing if Emery was going to survive might make it easier though.

“Any news?” Mouse asked Will, keeping his voice low. Will shook his head grimly.

He wasn’t a praying man, but Mouse sent out a call to whoever might be listening to give them whatever help they could. Emery had to make it.

She had to.

It would break Bex if she didn’t.

***

Connor

“God dammit, Emery,” Connor gritted out as he focused on compressions.

“Dr. Rhodes,” Dr. Latham said solemnly.

The sharp whine of the monitor filled the room. It set Connor’s teeth on edge despite his best attempts to block it out. He didn’t need a screaming reminder that he was failing.

“Dr. Rhodes,” Dr. Latham tried again. “We should call it.”

“What?” Connor shook his head, panting with the effort of trying to restart Emery’s heart, sure that he’d heard the man incorrectly.

“The patient is too far gone—”

 “No,” Connor snarled. “No, she’s not. And don’t—don’t start talking about me leaving. I’m not doing that and I’m not giving up. Not on her.” He glanced up at Dr. Latham and saw the hesitation—the pity in his eyes. Connor’s breath caught. He couldn’t stop. He couldn’t give up.

But he couldn’t do this on his own either.

“Dr. Latham, please,” Connor begged. “You were right. I probably shouldn’t have been in here, but I had to be. This girl. She—she’s part of my family and I couldn’t let her go through this alone. She needs me. She needs us. Help me fight for her now. Please. Help. Me.”

Connor stared at him, not breaking the rhythm of his compressions despite the merciless drone of the flatline weighing him down.

There could be no giving up.

“Please.”

Click here to read Chapter Five. Click here to read Chapter Six. Click here to read Chapter Seven.

Click here to read That Herrmann/Halstead DNA on ao3:

And here is the tag list (let me know if you wish to be added or removed):

@sorry-i-spaced, @thegirlwhowishedeveryonelived, @ivyalmighty, @thewannabewriter, @lexhalstead3, @multifandomgrl08, @foxes-and-cats, @sensitivemallysix, @thebewingedjewelcat, @emme-looou

[idontknowwhatimdoinglol]

Modern blood of zeus x reader (assistant) pt. 2

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Zeus led you down the hall of glass meeting rooms, stopping at his office which was the only one on the floor that had solid walls. he unlocked the door of it and stood aside letting you enter. his office was spacious, probably even bigger than at least 4 of the smaller glass meeting rooms put together. it was filled with only the finest of furniture and other small items, and a view of the city line. "your desk is over there, sorry about not having the privacy of your own office. It's simply because I prefer to keep my assistants close in case I need something quickly." he says with a kind smile.

you give him a nod in return, walking over to sit at the desk. he clears his throat before saying "I must attend a meeting now, I will return shortly. Please fill out the papers to your left." then he leaves. you set your purse down under the desk and grab the papers reading them over, they were about the company's stocks. you knew that being an assistant meant you may have to file papers like this but you expected at least some training.

you grab a few more papers hoping that if you read more of the topic you would understand what to do with them but all the papers had were graph charts or numbers. you sighed knowing you had no choice but to find someone to help. standing from the chair you walked to the door, before even touching the handle someone opened it quite fast hitting you in the face. you turned away a bit holding your nose in pain. "my apologies I didn't see you there. are you alright?" a man asks softly leaning to your height.

when you looked towards him you saw a tall man with long light brown hair and pretty sky blue eyes. he had pale skin and was wearing a black suit with a more rainbow and iridescent tie. "yes I'm fine. it was my fault I should've paid more attention." you laugh a little. "no no I should've knocked." he says laughing with you, rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment.

"I'm y/n, the new assistant." you say holding your hand for him to shake. "it's a pleasure to meet you, I am Hermes son of Zeus." he says with a kind smile. look at him and give a subtle laugh "I don't suppose as his son you would know how to file these graph charts?" you ask a bit embarrassed. he laughs before saying "Just check off rising and stack them neatly on his desk. he never looks them over again." you sigh in relief.

"thank you. I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't walked in." you say relieved. "probably not had a hurt nose." he jokes. the two of you laugh a bit. "well since my father isn't here at the moment I will leave you to your work. I hope to talk again soon" he says before leaving. you sit down at your desk once more. within the hour you had managed to finish the work your boss had left for you, now you were just answering some emails on your laptop. the sudden slam of the office door opening causes you to nearly jump from your seat as Zeus storms into the office, his wife Hera following, the both of them in a heated argument.

"it is just an event among the thousand this company throws yearly it doesn't matter!" zeus shouts. Hera gives him a glare in return "This is the company's anniversary party, an event that every partnership we have along with the press attends. I will not be humiliated once more like I was last year when you brought your bastard son!" she shouts back. Zeus glares down at her "Don't speak of heron that way. he will inherit this company one day it is his job to attend events such as that" Zeus says, they both silently glare at each other for a moment before Hera turns to you. You freeze under her harsh gaze. "you. come." she says firmly turning to leave the room. you stand there hesitant, looking to Zeus who gives a reluctant nod.

you hurry to follow Hera who has already neared the elevator. the elevator ride to the lobby was quite uncomfortable, she was very intimidating and you could feel her stare burning through you. when you reached the lobby you followed her outside, ignoring the surprised glances of Apollo and Artemis who were sitting at the receptionist's desk. you follow Hera to a limo, having to speed walk at her pace. the driver, a man with black hair and a black suit, opens the door for her, and once in she calls for you to follow. you sit awkwardly across from her, the driver walks to the front before driving the car away. "where are we going mam?" you say a bit nervous. she looks at you nearly offended. "never call me mam. I'm hardly that old." she says coldly.

She pours herself a glass of champagne and takes a sip before speaking. "we are going to the east side of the city, i need to finish a few errands." she says staring out the window. "why not ask your assistant? you ask curiously earning a look of annoyance. "they are sick. now be quiet." she says harshly. you nod looking down to your lap fiddling with your hands. occasionally you would look up at Hera, she was beautiful and almost goddess-like with how she held herself. it was so elegant and perfect. she of course would notice you and shoot your glances away with a glare. by the time you arrived at the first store, Hera had finished her glass of champagne and had probably burned a hole in your sole from her glares. She waits for the driver to open the door for her before getting out. "follow" she says gesturing to go with her, you nod and follow her into the fancy store.  

- - - - - . o 0 O 0 o . - - - - -

[wrencatte]

"I'm probably not going to do any of this year's whumptober," she says after she finishes a second fill.

I wrote this on my phone during a conference call so apologies for formatting and any weird misspellings.

Whumptober no 1. "How many fingers am I holding up?" feat! Robin!Jason and Disowing!Dick (that's not obvious though)

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

Jason groans, doesn't open his eyes to silently reply with one particular finger. Dick grins and huffs out a laugh. At least his personality is intact. The amusement fades quickly, though as Jason stays prone on the ground, his breaths slow and deliberate to keep nausea down. Blood soaks his hair and streaks across his forehead. He lost consciousness for half a minute, which is half a minute too long.

"C'mon," he grunts as he slides a hand under the base of Jason's skull, keeping it steady as he hauls the kid up. Jason makes an awful noise and keeps going, folding over to the side to retch. He lets out a soft sob, clumsily reaching for his head. Dick knocks his hand away. "Nope. Don't touch it."

"Glurk," Jason half groans, half gags.

"Very eloquent." Dick rubs circles between his shoulder blades as he retches again. Jason shivers, eyes squeezing shut tighter, arms tucked around himself. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, muscles untensing as the nausea lessens. "You back with me?"

"No," Jason says in the tiniest voice he's ever heard. He squints up at Dick. Even in the dim light, his pupils are very obviously not the same size. "Wha 'appened?"

"Bomb."

"...oh. Cool."

"Yep, super cool," Dick says, his own voice airy and light, not giving away the panic that is threatening to overtake take him.

Jason slumps against him, and he uses the opportunity to finally dig out a gauze pad from his depleted supply. He presses it to the wound on the back of his head. Doesn't ease him into it, just presses it down hard enough he can feel blood squelch. Jason cries out and shoves himself harder against Dick in an attempt to get away from the pain. Dick wraps an arm around his back to keep him place.

Head wounds bleed a lot, he reminds himself as the sick warmth seeps through his suit gloves. It's too dark to see how bad it is. The fact that Jason's awake and semi-coherent is a miracle and a half and makes him feel a little better about the severity of it.

"Stop," Jason slurs out, hiding his face against Dick's shoulder. "Hurts."

"I know, buddy. But I've got to stop the bleeding," Dick says as soothingly as possible. Jason whines.

He's only fourteen. Gods, it's like a punch in the gut. It's stupid to be so horrified by it, Dick was doing a lot more at fourteen than visiting his almost-but-not-quite-brother in his city, but it's all about perspective isn't it? Guess he now has a reason behind all of Bruce's outbursts from when he was Robin.

...

Oh shit. Is that why?

"I'm going to pick you up," he warns before his thoughts start going in the wrong direction. Focus on the here and now, Jason needs him to. "Try not to puke on me."

"...no promises," Jason mumbles.

Concussions, the gift that keeps on giving.

That's okay. Well, it's not because it's gross, but it's not the first time someone's puked on him. He carefully stands, holding Jason like he's a toddler instead of a teenager so he can keep pressure on his head -- he's so painfully light even after two years of eating Alfred's food. Jason swallows thickly but manages to hold everything down.

It's not until they're halfway to one of Dick's safe houses (not apartment, they're a little too bloody to risk his apartment, but a safe house? That's fine.) that Jason makes a small noise.

"'m sorry."

Dick doesn't reply right away, trying to puzzle out how they're going to get to the other side of the street without being noticed. He finally makes it over and tucks Jason's cape a little tighter around him.

"'Bout what?"

"Should've moved faster."

He closes his eyes briefly. The scene flashes behind his lids -- him shouting bomb! and Robin turning too slowly. Him grabbing his arm and trying to shove the kid in front of him as they try to run for it, and Dick moving too slow this time because the bomb goes off with Jason taking the shockwave too close and he goes flying.

Dick unknowingly echoes Jason's small sound, something that's close guilt and regret and pain. "Yeah," he agrees. "But I should've moved faster too. Not going to lie, Robin. This wasn't our best showing."

Jason snorts then groans. He goes quiet, and Dick can practically hear the cogs whirring.

"We're not on comms," Jason whispers a block from the safe house. Dick makes a questioning noise. "You called me Robin, and we're not on comms. You never do that."

Why did he have to pick now to go from semi-coherent to fully? Dick climbs the fire escape, his steps heavier than normal with the extra weight.

He's not wrong. Which is the worst part. Dick had been doing it purposefully, and then it became a habit. Only on comms would he call him Robin. Face to face, even in the suit, he was kid or Jason, ignoring every sharp "names" reprimand that came from Bruce.

"I messed up," Jason continues, "but you still called me Robin."

Dick slides his window open and contorts his way in, his back groaning about it. He puts Jason on the couch. The kid clings to him initially before letting go, slumping back even with Dick's hand cradling his head still. He blinks dazedly up at Dick, frowing and grimacing.

"You didn't mess up," Dick murmurs as he kneels to his level. It makes his shoulder ache from the angle of keeping the soaked gauze in place, but Jason sort of follows the incline so that helps. "You didn't mess up tonight. You didn't mess up about this. I did. I shouldn't have taken my anger at Bruce out on you. That wasn't fair."

"I took Robin from you."

Dick exhales slowly. "You didn't know. Bruce didn't have the right to tell you or let you be Robin, but that's on him. Not you."

Jason blinks slowly, in the dim streetlamp. Dick sees a glimmer of tears. Whether that's from pain or something else, he doesn't know, and chooses not to know to give Jason some privacy.

"Let's get you patched up."

"Are you gonna send me home?"

He should. He absolutely one-hundred percent should send him home, solely because of the injury. But, they still have two days of his three day weekend to get through. If the head injury isn't as bad as he's expecting, there's still a ton of civilian brotherly stuff they can do.

Dick leans Jason forward so he's not resting his head on the back of the couch and takes his hand away. The gauze sticks to his palm, drenched with blood, but the very edges are still white. Good sign.

"Nah. There's still a crap ton of things in Blud I want to show you. Can't do that if you're all the way in Gotham."

The smile Jason gives him is brilliant and bright, chasing away the paleness of pain. Dick can't help but smile back, charmed without meaning to be.

Now that's a grade-A Robin smile right there.

[risen-from-stardust]

A taste of blood

CW: Violence / Blood / Torture

3317 words

Toyhouse

Note: HELLO UHHH HA i wanted to post this here cuz why not? I really wanted to do something a bit dark for a while soooo... Remember that english is not my first language and I have no beta reader, enjoy, or not, idc. Vix and Sushi are the OCs of @whereisxyro, the rest are mine.

Note 2: I'm probably going to do more mini stories to tell the lore of some of my OCs, i have a lot in mind and even if "Risen from Stardust" is slowly being published on Wattpad (Still a WIP and is in spanish and i'm not updating soon cof cof), i preffer to use this way

Note 3: Writing is so complicated, i admire people who do this omfg

Vix was walking with Dan'dchei and Tai'ytu in this new, or at least unknown for him, space station. There were plenty of interesting things around, almost forgetting why they had come here initially. Things for their ship? He doesn't remember, and neither cares right now. He was happily listening to them talk as he was included time to me in the conversation.

— Too much tech stuff for me, go and do whatever you two need. I'll be fine, I want to explore

Dan'dchei clicked his tusks a bit.

— Don't you want one of us to come with you? Security, I mean

— I can take care of myself! See you in a while

Without waiting for an answer, Vix just moved away to explore by himself, ignoring how Tai'yu loudly huffed. Why did they even care about him? He's not lying, the past days had been... Nice. He supossed. Dan'dchei and Tai'yu were gentle with him, ignoring again how their relationship started. It was pretty much probably due to the fact he was like some kind of trophy. Another pretty thing in a stupid collection of ego-filled creatures... But... He had expected to at least be called to come back, and here he was, almost screaming to be stolen again. These two actually cared? Then why was he here?

His head turned at the glance of something shiny in one of the stores. One of the first things he noticed when he arrived here. Ah, now he remembers.

He didn't knew what it was, nor did he care. Shiny was shiny, and distracting enough to keep him out of his thoughts. Yeah, that was a good plan.

After a while a scent made him wipe his head around. What is that? He asked himself. Too familiar, but too faint in his memories. Decided to investigate, Vix started to walk around the shops until he saw a little brown Yautja? With a peculiar look. It was adorable, like an oversized axolotl. Curious, and lured by the scent, Vix decided to get closer and started to follow. Why was he alone in this place? Poor thing. Maybe he could help to find his parents or whatever took care of him.

— Hey little thing, — Vix said, walking closer to the slimy yautja. — You look lost, may I help?

The creature chirped happily, he was about to take Vix's hand until he decided to suddenly stop, his expression changing to instant worry.

— What's wrong? I'm not going to hurt you don't worry

Vix tried to use his most calm voice possible, seeming to be useless as the yautja darted away, tripping on things and chirping broken apologies.

— Wait!

Vix darted too to follow him, being easy to catch the thing in his arms due how much he was bumping on things. He started to wiggle on Vix arms, surprisingly loud screams coming from him.

— Calm down! I said I'm not-

That smell...

Unwittingly, Vix used his poisonous spikes to prick the soft skin and release a paralyzing venom. At the feeling of the sharp things, the yautja stopped moving. Whatever the reason was, fear, his poison, that didn't matter. He sunk his fangs on the squishy meat, savoring the addicting taste of his warm blood as it started to coat his mouth.

Loud stomping started to come close to them, before Vix could even look, he was trashed violently against a wall, whining due the sudden pain of all his body.

Dizzyingly, Vix looked up to see a massive creature... Yautja too? Holding in his arms the much smaller one, who was now curled on himself and whimpering in pain. Oh no, no, no, what he had done?

— Sushi... Sushi... I'm here — His deep voice sounded worried, those webbed hands petting the recently discovered to be called Sushi and pulling him into an embrace. Mumbles being said to the little one.

Vix tried to get up and noticed how the yautja tensed. He wasn't even looking at him, so in little hope he had to escape, he tried to slowly, carefully, to get up. Again, in a blurry movement everything was agony. The yautja used his weight to crush one of Vix's legs. A nasty crack echoing in the silence. The few people that were around decided to leave. Being near an angry yautja was dangerous, being the reason why they were angry was far, far worse.

His scream was stopped when he held his throat in a deadly grip. The feeling being something Vix already got used to, so his body slightly tensed and instinctively got lax again. All of this while he was being pushed against a wall.

— You, — The yautja snarled, his only dark eye looking straight into his very soul. — are going to feel something far worse than regret.

After that, he found himself being half-dragged around the station. Having to forcefully walk due how high he was hanging. Vix tried to take out at least one of his spines to stab the stranger with these, however, every time he moved, the hand on his throat choked him until he was almost unconscious and repeating over and over again. This little game actually excited Vix in some twisted way, having your life hanging off a cliff like this was dangerous, and it was exactly what he liked... Even if it wasn't a good situation for those thoughts, he just couldn't help it.

He was tossed again once the yautja entered a building, leaving the slimy one in a table and calling for O'Twei.

Once this said yautja with blue hide was with them, the much bigger one picked Vix up and chained his arms behind his back, picking carefully some of his spikes and pulling away, making Vix hiss.

— I'll go to see what this thing does, — The bigger one, O'Steaab, as O'Twei called him, looked back at Vix. — Pray this doesn't kill Sushi.

And with that he was gone, leaving him with O'Twei and an agonizing Sushi.

— What are you going to do with me...? — Vix asked, for some reason his voice sounded a bit scared. Was he scared? This wasn't the first time someone chained him.

— Not me. He — Replied calmly the blue yautja as he started to work in the bite Vix caused, trying to calm down Sushi and reassuring him with being back at home.

— I didn't mean it! I swear I don't know why I bit him! It just.... Happened

— Unfortunate. Try to explain that to O'Steaab and he may not be so cruel with you

Curiosity pricked him a bit. Some part of Vix wanted to know what he was actually able to do. The other... Wasn't happy at all about this whole situation. Dan'dchei and Tai'yu will be worried if something happens to him, and he really didn't wanted to worry them this way.

— What you say is true...? — Vix lowered his voice a bit, tilting his head down to don't look threatening in any way. He also used his best tragic eyes, concern and a slight hint of fear in them.

O'Twei looked at him for some long seconds and sighed, slowly petting the trembling brown ball in the table.

— No — He finally replied, not even paying attention to Vix anymore — But accident, as you call it, or not, you're going to be dead. — A soft purr started to sound in the depths of O'Twei's chest, picking Sushi up and nuzzling his mandibles on the little one's head — Eventually. Start begging for it.

Groaning, a burst of blood came out of Vix as he puked on the floor. A little pool of neon magenta blood creating in front of him. This was bad, really bad. He was probably bleeding internally due the crude handling from earlier. Cursing internally he was picked up again, this time by O'Twei, left in another room and locked there. Like if he was able to scape with a broken leg.

Some time passed since they left him alone here. Barely catching some noises from the outside. Some things were hanging from the ceiling, probably useless whires and some steel boxes scattered around. Nothing useful here.

He was starting to feel dizzy due to the lack of blood. The floor around him being a mess of magenta and pink. His mind wandered back to situations like this in the past. It was all he had right now to distract himself. For how long they are going to keep him here? 

The sudden slam of the pad outside was his answer, O'Steaab entered the room and darted his tongue to taste the air. The way he looked at him had Vix shivering. A faint feeling that he was going to die right here and then started to make him nervous.

He was about to explain what happened, but his words ended up in a squeak when O'Steaab picked him up and shoved him hardly on the steel table near a wall, forcing him to cough some remains of blood still in his throat. Vix was about to try again and excuse his pathetic self when a hand pressed his head against the table, the other pulling out the poisonous spikes of his body. They sometimes fell, so it only made him feel a slight discomfort.

— You have to try harder to make me not enjoy this

Vix teased. He knew he was digging his own grave. Whatever.

— Make yourself comfortable then

O'Steaab growled, leaving the spikes aside and pressing Vix's back. He seemed to take a second to calculate before ripping open his back, five long trails made by his claws started to bleed and coat Vix, a pained hiss coming from him, but just as a natural instinct. He actually enjoyed that a damn lot, melting as the warmth of himself leaked out. Vix tail slammed O'Steaab on his side, just as a reflex, in response, he just took it and ripped it apart from his body. Again, this sometimes happens, but it hurt a lot due to the sudden move, making him roar this time in surprise.

O'Steaab carelessly turned Vix around and let him rest on his exposed flesh, making him squirm uncomfortably against the table. Then he left. Leaving Vix alone in his misery for who knows how long.

•  •  •

Vix lost sense of time after some hours. Gods, he was starting to get hungry, and dehydrated due all the bleeding and puking. Where were Dan'dchei and Tai'yu? They said they'll be with him if he had any issues. Well, now, he was stuck in one.

From time to time O'Steaab came back to just do more damage on his back, it was weird how his claws teased his spine, but in a good manner... At the beginning. It was starting to get seriously uncomfortable due how long he took his time, searching for sensitive spots and abusing them until Vix was whimpering in discomfort.

He tried to not care and somehow enjoy it. If he's going to be stuck here for a while, he really had to search for ways to not make this unbearable, convincing himself that it could be worse. How long since he has been here? He tried to count and already lost track after half an hour.

— Where are they...

Whispered Vix under his dry voice, shifting time to time with the chains still in his arms pressing against his abused back. He could swear that he was torn enough to have his bones slightly touching the surface under him.

— Who?

— Like if you cared, asshole

A pitch yelp came from him when O'Steaab buried deep a dagger he was sharpening near him in the internal part of his tight near the beginning of his leg, jerking aggressively due how sensitive and also damaged that zone was.

— FUCK! — Vix cursed, baring his inner fangs — If you're going to kill me, do it already!!

— Cool off, — O'Steaab snarled, twisting the dagger — It's been only three days

— Three days?! — How was he even alive? His body couldn't produce that amount of blood. Well, he also time to time fell unconscious, giving him enough time to heal at least a bit.

— And half — O'Steaab mumbled, his free hand exploring with curiosity Vix's gills. This sent a pleasant shiver throughout his body, even if he knew they were being considered his next zone to damage.

Gods above. Where are they?? He was having enough of this.

— They... They are going to come and find me, they care about me... — Vix was disrupted when a claw hooked in the inside of one of his gills, at the verge of feeling so damn good and painful.

— If they really care, then where are they?

There was a momentary pause. He just used what Vix just said but in a way that had him doubting the insecurities Dan'dchei and Tai'yu tried to take away, clawing back at him and holding Vix like a vendetta. He really wanted to ignore O'Steaab, but he was right, they already gave up on him? Just like that?! He shouldn't be surprised. They were all the same after all.

Looking how the thing seemed to crash in a wall of realization, O'Steaab took the opportunity to rip open the gill he was hooking, an actual painful, hoarse cry coming from Vix.

— Take a break — O'Steaab pulled the dagger out of his leg, licking the blood as he walked away. — I'll give you time to think.

Think... That was the last thing he wanted to do right now.

•  •  •

O'Steaab actually left Vix alone, first making sure to have he forcefully hydrated again, which meant coughing water out of his lungs. Trough these three days O'Steaab noticed the two yautjas asking for their companion. What a shame he was having some fun with him, the magenta blood looking interesting on his claws.

Sushi in his own way insisted to don't kill the thing. He didn't knew why even if Sushi was noticeably more quiet since the attack. Miraculously the spikes weren't deadly, only paralyzing, but still he's not forgiving him soon for scaring like that the little one.

He was surprised at himself at how protective and attached he had become to the pup, trying to teach him how to hunt small things so he could learn the basics, even if Sushi was basically blind. That feeling of pride striking O'Steaab unexpectedly hard when Sushi managed to get something, a little fish, it was all he needed.

He couldn't help the curl in his upper mandibles, smiling at the memory. Doing a last check to see if Sushi, and Kiloun apparently, were comfortable in their nest, he made his way to the other nest of furs in the room, nuzzling against a sleepy O'Twei and occupying most of his little personal space due O'Steaab's size.

Maybe he could let the creature go for tomorrow's morning. But not before giving him a reminder to never, fucking never get close to them or this station ever again. One that he was sure the masochist thing couldn't enjoy. Yeah, that sounded good. Yawning and stretching O'Steaab curled around O'Twei, letting his faint purr drift him to slumber.

•  •  •

— Wake up

A kick near his injured gill made Vix realize he was on the floor, his arms free. Or at least not chained, O'Steaab was holding one of them behind his back. Wait, he was going to...? A hard shake made him slightly hiss in protest.

— I'm awake, I'm awake... Going rough today, big one? I still can sing for you~

O'Steaab kicked him again, harder this time, and growled, obviously pissed by that.

— Don't. Congratulations, you're getting out of here

— Ha. Didn't know you where funny

— I'm being serious. Tai'yu and... Dan'dchei are your owners, right? Well, I can give them the important piece of you — He then used one of his feet to press Vix head against the warm ground, slightly curling his back to be closer. — But I'll take something first

— You already have my tail, what else... — He stopped when his arm was pulled further backwards, reaching his stretching limit.

— Let me show you... — He growled, a slight popping coming from Vix sore muscles.

— No... Wait, WAIT, WAIT!!

With a grunt, O'Steaab used his strength to rip off the arm out of his body, tossing it to the table. Vix was unable to scream due how hard he was hit in his head with something, falling unconscious once more.

The next thing he knew was muffled voices, bright lights... Why was it so bright?! His eyes hurt, so he decided to fall into oblivion once more. When he woke up, his body was heavy as stone, none of his limbs cooperating. A faint shadow made Vix open his eyes, looking at the blurry figure hovering over him. Glass? Where am I... His back wasn't in pain anymore, in fact, he didn't felt anything at the moment.

Groaning, he moved to touch the glass, his left arm didn't respond, so he used the other to catch the attention of the shadow. Slightly glowy eyes stared at him. First in surprise, then confusion, and finally moved away in a sudden motion. Okay, it was gone, what else did he had around him? He was floating in some kind of liquid? Strange.

Wanting to go back to sleep the liquid was drained and now he was resting against a soft surface. When the glass moved away Vix took the opportunity to sit and look around, feeling a bit dizzy. He noticed the other beings in the room, three of them being particularly close.

— Vix... — Whispered the one with a familiar glowing pattern all over his body, it seemed to be fearful to speak any louder, which Vix appreciated due a faint hint of a headache. Wait a second.

— Dan'dchei...? — Vix mumbled, leaning closer to look at him.

A purr was his answer, a warm hand coming to cup his cheek. He couldn't help but lean on the touch, he was craving for this since...

— For how long I've been out?

— A week and a bit more — Tai'yu — Lost too much blood. Need time to recover, Thakiar decided to finally take you out of your slumber. Also need to recover your strength

— How am I even here? — Vix darted his only hand to the sticky and cold bandages in his supposed to be right arm place. He was going to be okay, if he could grow back his tail, why not limbs? Right?

— We received a message of your location, when we reached the zone, this... Yautja... — Dan'dchei hissed in disgust, seeming to despise sharing species with O'Steaab — Tossed you to us and left, not without warning us to never come back again or he's going to actually kill you.

— We are not afraid — Continued Tai'yu, growling — But we are neither risking you, or anyone here

Vix decided to say nothing this time, he just didn't know what to say. Sighing, he let them carry him up to stretch his legs, noticing more bandages and how much they were trembling. This was going to take a long time to heal.

•  •  •

With Vix out of his sight, O'Steaab was back at O'Twei's little home. Gods, he wanted to get out of here for yesterday, a good warm sun and a mud bath screaming for him. He gathered some of his stuff and left them for easy transportation for the next hypothetical morning. That night his tail was pulled hard enough to turn around and see what happened, Sushi being a bit more annoying than usual.

— What? — He growled, his voice rumbling like that due how sleepy he was.

A soft squeak was his only answer. He tried to teach Sushi many times how to communicate in Yautja, the task being slightly impossible because the little thing was stubborn about keeping his squeaking noises. O'Steaab just picked him up and also curled around him, a faint smell of fear coming from Sushi. 

When he was ready to go, Sushi picked his tail again and refused to let go, a bit surprised at how hard Sushi was holding him.

— I'll be back later, you know O'Twei will also take care of you

Still, Sushi refused, so he decided to say his goodbyes to his friend and bring Sushi with him. A slight feeling of compassion and guilt for seeing him like this and lowering his guard to let this happen poking his brain. Probably Sushi also needed some time outside, so this was going to be necessary for both of them.

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook: 𝐀𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐫 (ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇ)

In which sometimes, you have to choose between what's best for you, and what's the right thing to do.

Tags/Warnings: listen I swear this is the last Alien!Jungkook I swear, someone please stop me, angst, near death situation, mentions of running away/homelessness, it's an idea, please comment or send asks if you want more of this, these meds be kicking mh dreams are so lucid

Length: mid

Drabble 1 || Drabble 2 | ???

♥━━━━━━━━━━━♡━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

You're torn.

While he's clearly the same kind that's currently on the hunt for you to bring you back to your destroyed home planet, he also clearly needs help to survive. He's barely breathing, chest hardly moving as he struggles visibly to hang onto life. His clothes are soaked, his skin is pale, lips turning blue and eyes closed shut.

You don't know how he got in this situation- but somehow, he reminds you of yourself a little. You're clumsy after all- constantly hurting yourself on accident, legs almost always littered in bruises from accidentally hitting tables and other furniture.

Though nowadays, it's more or less from your little illegal adventure to this planet.

Earth is basically dying; with no recourses left and the remaining one's heavily limited and restricted, humans riot more than they live their lifes, and some, like you, try to escape elsewhere in hopes of a different and better future. You've snuck yourself onto a cargo spaceship, and made it to Arion- and while your life is hectic and you don't have a home, it's definitely a lot calmer than back on earth, were people constantly riot and fight over the littlest of things.

You slip a little as you make yourself down the slippery sides of the creek, scratching your thigh harshly, provably drawing blood. But by now, your mind has been made up- you're gonna get him out, call for help- and as soon as you made sure he'd been noticed, you'd just run as fast as you could.

Yeah, that's a good plan.

His eyes barely open as you approach him, head turning to the side to glance at you- but he doesn't say anything, doesn't move otherwise, as if he knows there's no use in it anyways. You're chewing on the inside of your cheek as you think about how to get him out of the cold water- freezing river already biting harshly at your own legs, pants soaking with it instantly- you can't imagine how horrible it must be for him. "sorry.." you apologize in advance, before tugging on his arm, slowly pulling him out of the riverbed and onto the side. He groans in pain for a second, and you apologize under your breath again.

Though you're not sure if he understands.

While the race living on this planet seems to be very aware of human language, it's not the same for everyone. Politicians from this planet speak the human language just fine, and you've read somewhere in a news headline that they apparently are able to speak in a way that makes it understandable to anybody and that language is something they don't really have nor understand, but you're not sure if you understand that correctly.

It's a lot to unpack, and you don't really think of yourself as smart anyways. It's not like you need to either- you don't talk to any of them.

Your plan now would be to call for help and run- but the problem right now, is that pulling him out took away a lot more strength from you than you thought it would. Your legs feel heavy, and the tiredness in your bones makes it almost impossible to get up again. Especially now that it starts raining. Heavily.

You sigh, accepting your fate at this point, before you yell out for help.

You've pulled him out of the riverbed- you won't let your efforts go to waste now, even if he is the same kind that will probably kill you as soon as they find you for illegally living on this planet for months now. But it's fine- you've at least did something good, filled up your karma a bit, so you'll maybe get to heaven if there is one.

"...why?" he croaks out as you interrupt your shouting, looking down at him. His brows are furrowed, sharp pupils focused on you as you shrug, before lights suddenly shine down on you.

"good comes to those who do good." you shrug. "or so my granny said." you mumble more or less to yourself, as the trees bend and sway under the heavy force of the winds the spacecraft produces as it hovers above you both.

"step away from the body.!" the loudspeakers announce harshly, and you chuckle, before slowly getting up on your knees before you stumble backwards. "further!" it barks out from the speakers, and you trip yet again- though it seems like it's enough. "do not move. Any movement will be taken as an act of aggression, and dealt with accordingly." the announcer says, and you just laugh to yourself as you stay on your back while two people are led down with a stretcher, landing close to the man you've pulled out the creek.

They work on him for a bit, before he says something that makes the fully armed first responders, turn their helmets towards you;

But you're unable to know what happens next, as fatigue makes you black out under the heavy rain and deafening aircraft above.

♥━━━━━━━━━━━♡━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

[moodysann]

You broke up after a long relationship.💔

Rating: fluff, there are small mentions of dependencies, you can cry.

Character: Rindou Haitani, Kokonoi Hajime!

Rindo Haitani

• In fact, both of you have not yet figured out who exactly came to this decision, one thing is certain - Rindo has no regrets at all.

• In your life you don't admit to yourself that it hurt you "a little", because your pride is too high, and the fear of the remaining feelings does not fade away, no matter how you try to overcome yourself. "Former lovers do not exist" - that's how you can be described.

• He won't try to keep in touch and will most likely move away from you in a subtle but very progressive way.

From the beginning, you will be ignored in various social networks, then Rindo will completely avoid meeting you or try to behave as coldly as possible.

• He doesn't do it out of dislike - the younger Haitani is not that kind of person at all and, come on, I will interrupt the course of your just emerging guesses and cut you off in mid-sentence? Yes, Rindo is also undecided about his feelings for you. This is what I call "irony of fate".

• No, you will by no means restore the relationship, Haitani and their huge ego literally screams that they do not need former whores. It's harsh, but it's true.

Of course, until Rindo finds a new passion for himself, he will not stop thinking about you before going to bed, because of which a hot stream of blood will come to his jade, and his hand will involuntarily help him get rid of the surging old memories. Fortunately, all this will pass quickly, literally when a new, regular and probably similar to you, female carcass appears in his previously lonely bed.

Kokonoi Hajime

• This is too strong a blow to his fragile heart. After the difficult parting of Kokonoi with Akane, in which to this day he blames himself, he found peace only in your warm hands and pure soul.

Hajime constantly regrets all his actions that could somehow upset or offend you, again making sure that all this happened because of him.

• Perhaps he will try to get you back, or at least save the relationship, getting out of his skin for you, but every time he sees your gentle smile, soft eyes and fragile body, his sharp resentment and hopelessness kills Kokonoy from the inside.

He is like a small child who has been taken away from his most beloved and, it seems, the only toy.

• Do not try to get close to him for communication, as friends, because this will develop into a friend zone and this will only make it more painful for him - if you decide to leave, then do it with the ends.

• In order not to go crazy, Hajime will go headlong into work and the dangerous affairs of his gangs.

Looking at your joint photos and at the same time filling out some important document with large numbers, Kokonoi will smile at the flood of memories, realizing that he spent the best time in his life with you ...

[mlmxreader]

How Times Change | Hugo Stiglitz x m!reader

anonymous asked; Stiglitz with I'm not gonna hurt you

summary: there was a man, so many years ago, that you knew well and that you cared about deeply, but war changes time, and although you would like to see him again, you know that it will only be briefly.

tws: swearing, war, smoking, mentions of alcohol/drinking

support your fanfic writers by reblogging what you read & enjoy

You had joined the war in thirty eight, nearly six years ago when the news first broke about what those fascist scum were doing; you knew that it was the right thing to do and that the allies needed every hand they could hold.

The allies needed all the help they could get, and the more glad you were to kill fascists, the more help you could be; you were assigned to a special forces regiment, told that you would be operating away from other allies.

But in those six years, the only ones left were you and Archie; you had become inseparable, and when Churchill, the fucking war criminal who had enough blood on his hands for it to fill his own grave, told you both that you were to meet with another allied group, you wanted to scream.

What use was a small group? You weren't going to be able to save lives with just a handful of soldiers. What fucking use would you be?

But Archie talked you into it, and although you weren't happy, you eventually agreed; the Basterds were... fine. Hugo, especially, was nice, and you found solace in sitting beside him in the quiet; dimly lit rooms that still smelled of smoke from the recent bombings.

He didn't really look at you, except to hand you cigarettes and smoke with you; didn't say much except the odd murmured thanks when you lit his cigarette or picked up his knife if he dropped it.

Archie noticed it, raised a brow as he looked at you before he pulled you aside into a different room; he didn't look happy, blue eyes glaring at you.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm making friends," you deadpanned.

He clenched his jaw. "Don't."

"Why not?"

Archie took a quick look around, making sure no one could hear before he sighed and shook his head. "We're not staying with them. You know our orders."

"Fuck our orders," you growled. "We came here to kill fascist scum, nobody loves slaughtering those cunts more than Stiglitz."

"Revenge isn't necessary," he warned. "I know you miss the others, but-"

"No," you said softly. "This isn't revenge. This is war... you do realise what they're doing to people like me, don't you?"

"I do," he said quietly.

"Then you know what we're fighting for," you hissed. "Archie, I adore you, you're my best friend - but if I can, I'm gonna kill every fucking fascist we come across, and Stiglitz is my best chance... besides..."

"Besides what?"

"He's nice," you shrugged. "He reminds me of someone I used to know."

Archie tutted as he shook his head. "That German boy? It's been years, Corporal."

"You can't tell me he doesn't look like him," you huffed. "Same blue eyes, same dirty blond hair, same scowl."

"He does, but it's not the same man," he insisted. "Even if it were, he's probably long forgotten about you."

"I don't think so," you shook your head, looking over at the Basterds before you excused yourself and headed back over. Archie wished he had a more obedient corporal, but he wasn't about to give you up.

He loved you, after all, you were his best friend and the only man from the regiment left, and he wanted to protect you; he didn't want you to be involved with Kino, at least then you would have a chance of getting what you wanted without worrying about being blown to smithereens.

Aldo caught his attention, and although he didn't want to let you out of his sights, Archie went with him.

"Out of curiosity," you hummed as you lit up a cigarette, speaking quietly. "Were you ever in Wales?"

"Vor dem Krieg," Hugo agreed with a nod. "Ja... Warum?"

"Did you work on a farm?" You asked, and when he nodded, you swallowed thickly. "You didn't, uhm, you didn't meet a young lad there, did you?"

He nodded. "Warum?"

"Do you remember fields of daffodils?" You asked softly. "And stealing whisky to go drink it under the stars?"

Biting at his lip, Hugo nodded.

"Do you remember the days spent riding horses and going up the mountains?"

He nodded, shifting in his seat. "Genug. It was a long time ago."

"Hugo..." you reached into your pocket, and pulled out a pressed daffodil. You shoved it into his hand as you tried to look him in the eyes. "Hugo, it's me."

He looked at it, looked at his own handwriting written on it, and he glared at you. "(y/n)?"

You nodded, daring to smile. "Hi."

His face fell for a moment as he studied your features, daring to drop everything so that he could feel your face in his hands again; it had been so long, he hardly recognised you, hardly knew the lips that he had once spent hours staring at when you spoke.

But now he could taste the whisky on his tongue, and he could remember all the times that you had made the excuse that, by kissing him, you were just chasing the last little taste of the harsh liquor; now he could see the stars glittering in your eyes again and he could hear the sheep in their paddock.

He could smell the fresh dew on the grass and the sweet scent of the berries you would pick for him. He swallowed thickly.

"I broke my promise," he murmured.

"No, you didn't," you shook your head as you dared to crack a smile. "It's been... what? About ten years?"

He nodded.

"I found you," you told you him quietly, trying not to laugh softly. "I win."

He cracked a small smile, hidden when he hung his head and focused on the cigarette in his hand, watching the ash mix with burning tobacco, grey and orange so close to his own skin; he could feel your gaze on him, trying not to blush as he doubled down staring at his cigarette, trying to convince himself that it had been too long. You had moved on, surely, you would have by now. Ten years, six of them spent fighting in war, you would have moved on.

"You were always better at that game."

You grinned, nodding as you swallowed thickly and dared to gently reach out, placing your hand on his shoulder as you sighed. "You stopped writing."

Hugo nodded. "Couldn't afford to send letters... I'm sorry."

You shook your head, daring to press your forehead to the side of his neck, making him tense up at the sudden contact as he swallowed thickly and froze completely. "Don't be. This time, I'm not leaving without you."

He nodded again, slowly moving to put his arm around you; you still felt so good against his body, still smelled like cheap cigarettes and dirt. The last time he had held you that way was when you had invited him to spend the night in the barn with you; he could feel the straw poking into his back and the soft breeze sneaking through the cracks in the walls, he could still hear your soft breathing when you fell asleep and how you snuggled into him without a single care.

Times were different back then, he had thought that there was a chance of returning to you when he had saved up enough money; he could work on the farm for the rest of his life if it meant that he could be near you again. Now, he wasn't even sure if he would see dawn. Now, he wasn't even sure if he would be alive in a matter of hours, let alone for more than a day.

But he still knew he didn't want to say goodbye again, and if he was forced to do it, then he would say goodbye until the war ended and every fascist was dead; he would say goodbye until his very last breath if it meant he just had more time with you.

Someday, somehow, he would make sure he didn't leave you again, he would make sure that he would have even just another minute with you; whatever the cost, Hugo didn't want to leave you again, didn't want to be without you.

"I missed you."

The words sliced his stomach open, forcing his entrails to spill onto the charred and broken wooden floors, staining the light brown with thick blood that looked nearly black; he wanted to try and pick them up, but he couldn't bring himself to let you go, couldn't bring himself to stop being able to feel you in his arms.

Slowly, he coaxed you to sit between his legs, pulling you back enough that he could feel your back against his chest as he rested his forehead against your neck, fingers splayed and sneaking through the gaps between the buttons of your shirt; your skin still felt as soft and warm as it used to, a painful reminder of what he had lost.

You still smelled of smoke and dirt like you always used to, although now the smoke was from fighting, no longer caused by cigarettes; the dirt came from mud and hiding in it, no longer caused by working on the fields. He missed the way it used to smell on you, he missed the way it mixed with sweat and hard liquor; times changed, your smell was the same but the causes of it were different and it wasn't as sweet as it used to be. When he kissed the back of your neck, it wasn't the same.

It wasn't sweat soaked skin he was kissing, or rain soaked. It was dry, and although still soft, it was scarred from bullet fragments and nicks from rubble. It wasn't the skin of a farmhand, it was the skin of a soldier. Still, it reminded him of those days that were long gone; waiting for you to return from synagogue on Saturdays so that he could take you to the woods and spend the day lying on the riverbank, watching the deer and foxes and birds go by.

"I'm not gonna hurt you again," he said quietly, mumbling. "I'm not letting you go, mein Welpe."

You nodded, leaning into him as you dared to let out a long sigh. "You never hurt me."

"I left."

"You had to," you pointed out. "You didn't know that you... you never hurt me."

Hugo knew then, he knew he wouldn't leave your side even if he was forced to; he knew he would never leave you, he would never let you out of his sight for as long as he could still breathe. He couldn't bring himself to let you get hurt when he knew now that he could do something to stop it from happening; he couldn't bring himself to let you go again, to leave you again.

[dokidokisadness]

Whump prompt + art

(With my OC's :3 )

[Adam - avian whumpee]

[Idris - human caretaker]

The avian was sitting limp in his cell, the short wings hanging from his back, it's been a long time since they have been clipped... At the beginning it was painful, he would whimper and groan from the awful pain, day and night. But now... Well, not anymore. It's just numb. The avian wished he could go back to that horrible pain, keeping him up and alert, he wished he could go back to that feeling of needing to run away, to find a way back home. At the very least, he would be feeling something, anything at all...

Someone entered his cell, it doesn't matter who it is... It's a human, of course it is. Probably there to hurt him even more, like the countless bruises and open wounds aren't enough already. The human seems to be in a hurry, he dashes towards the avian and starts to inspect him with a concerned look in his eyes.

"wh-what have they done to you?" The human asks as he checks for the pulse and breathing.

The avian doesn't respond, he didn't understand question, and even if he did, isn't the answer obvious?

"it's going to be okay... I'll- I'll help you, okay? Just -" he glances at the wings "...just stay with me"

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

The avian is laying on the cell floor, on top of the Hunan's coat. The human himself is sitting right next to him, he opes a brief case and the chemical smell immediately fills the room. The human picks a few items out of it, some tubes, a syringe and a lot of bandages. The human turns back the avian.

The avians' face was cut right in the middle, the ankle was destroyed, his back is unrecognizable, the infected cuts on his chest were at the verge of a necrosis, his breathing is shallow and Ill-paced, a result of the untreated fractured ribs, there was a constant nervous tik moving his finger, the one movement he could stop even when tired... The nose had stopped bleeding, but the dried blood still remained, obstructing his nostrils...

The human started to clean the blood and was preparing to patch his wounds, he had a depressing expression, looking directly at the avians' eyes, such eyes remained unbothered, completely absencent, as if nothing was happening.

"look..." The human sighed "I'm sorry, I-... I really am... This wasn't what I wanted, I-..."

He stops, it's too late now.

"just, please, look at me... Please"

No response.

"I'm sorry, I never meant for this to happen..." He caressed the avians face, trying to provide some level of comfort, or safety.

"please, just look at me..." he just can't believe, nothing is working for him anymore. the human, always know for the calm and soothing voice is unable to comfort... The usual curious look of the avian has now been replaced by a lifeless glare...

"please, Adam..." He whispered, quietly, like he said it to himself...

The avians' glare immediately move towards him. The glare is still unamused, but it moved.

"Adam?" The human was unsure if he saw it right.

The avian was shocked. This. This thing! That. This thing he just said. It's very familiar...

"ah...a-" the avian attempts to replicate it, but the throat is too sore for the sound to come out.

The avian suddenly jumps onto the Hunan's lap.

"Adam!?" He feels a quite light yet unexpected shove on his chest "wait, you'll hurt yourself!"

But the avian - Adam - doesn't care. He barely listened. It's right, isn't it? That's it. Him?! Adam!

"Ah-!" Adam puts a hand in his own chest. Trying to recall his name. This name, nobody calls him like that in such a long time... No one calls him anything at all...

"yes! You! You're Adam! Yes!" The human violently nods and repeats the words 'yes' and 'adam' trying to be as clear as possible. He was still worried with Adam moving like this when he is that injured, but he moved! He spoke... Kinda

Adam interrupts the human's nodding and puts a hand in his face with a confused look.

Adams knows this man, he really does, but... Who is he? The name! He means to ask.

"you... Don't remember... Me?" The human pieces together. "I'm Idris... Remember?" He said a little concerned.

The avian doesn't say anything tho... Adam simply brushes the tip of his fingers on the Idris face... It's almost coming together, but he is still not sure...

"It's ok, adam... you'll remember..." Idris smiles camly "It's ok..."

Adam's eyes tear up... he has never been so happy to hear his own name...