#reader dies

[theres-a-body-here]

Scumtober- Day 21 (Exsanguination)

Arthur Morgan x Reader Drabble

As you lay on the floor, blood seeping through your clothes, you couldn't help but think about how this all went to shit.

The job was supposed to go smoothly, but here you were, wounded and dying. O'Driscolls had caught you both by surprise when you entered the seemingly empty house. There was a scuffle as you and Arthur took them out; however, one of them managed to get in a shot before Arthur could blow their brains out.

You had taken a bullet straight to the lung; it was fatal. The pain was excruciating, and you could feel yourself slipping away slowly.

Arthur sat next to you, pressing his hands against the bullet hole in your chest, trying to stop the bleeding. His face was contorted to a mix of rage and agony as he begged, "Oh god, please don't die."

You struggled to speak through the pain, managing only a weak whisper, "Ar...th..."

Looking at you helplessly, Arthur cried out, "No! Don't say anything, dammit!" He grabbed your hand tightly, squeezing it hard enough to hurt even through the numbness.

As Arthur attempted to drag you to his horse, he realized the futility of the situation. With every movement, you let out a cry of pain and spat out blood. It dawned on him that he was causing more harm than good by attempting to move you like this. In despair, he released his grip and crouched back down beside you. He cradles your body in his arms as he looks defeated.

As you started to cough out blood once again, you whispered faintly, "I never expected to die in a home... or comfortably...".

"You won't die," Arthur growled through gritted teeth, his voice laced with desperation. "Just hang on...for me".

Whether you heard him or chose to ignore him, he'll never know. All he knew is that you seemed to not be in any pain at that point.

"But dying like this... isn't so bad." You finished hoarsely, leaning your head against his shoulder for comfort.

"Don't talk like that," Arthur pleaded, his voice breaking as tears streamed down his face. He pulled you closer, holding you with trembling hands. "Please, just stay alive."

You reached up to touch his face, smearing blood across his skin. He holds your hand to his face as he presses against it and closes his eyes.

After a while of silence, Arthur opens his eyes to find you with a expression of serenity.

As you gaze up at the sky, taking in each breath as if it might be your last, Arthur breaks down completely. He holds you closer, and you can feel his heart pounding wildly against yours. The warmth of his body provides some small comfort amidst the cold that settling into yours.

"I love you. Never doubt that, yeah?" Arthur said through heavy sobs, holding you close.

"love you....too," you managed to choke out, feeling your breath growing shallower by the minute.

Arthur leaned down and kissed your forehead tenderly, tears rolling off his nose onto your skin.

"Promise me something," he whispered. "If there's a heaven, wait for me there, alright? I'll find ya somehow."

With great effort, you nodded, closing your eyes as you began to feel sleepy. You closed your eyes for the last time, letting the darkness claim you.

The last thing you hear is wails of agony as Arthur clings to your cold body.

Scumtober 2023 Masterlist

[outlaw-apologist]

Bitter Sweet Goodbye - RDR2 - You Die In Their Arms

Imagine you, as their lover, die in their arms (Fem!Reader)

Characters: Arthur, Charles, Micah, Dutch, Hosea 

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence and character death, mentions of Chapter 4, use of Y/N and L/N

If anyone has any writing requests or want to see any other characters/scenarios please let me know! :D If you rather read it on AO3 it can be found here! ______

Arthur

This couldn’t be happening. Arthur would have laughed at the absurdity of it, really. If he weren’t so choked up by the gnawing realization that you weren’t going to make it. Micah had insisted on pulling another O’Driscoll bust. Stealing the mother-load from a bank transport wagon the rival gang had their eye on. “C’mon Arthur. After what they did to you and Kieran? They deserve it.” He coerced you both into it. “And Y/N is a quick shot. In and out, easy job.”

You were excited to fuck over the Irish gang. When Arthur returned half dead on his horse you were in shambles. Heartbroken over seeing your lover at death’s door. “Let’s do this!” You exclaimed. “Let’s make their pockets hurt.” Just as Micah had pointed out, you were quite experienced. You had been running with the gang for a long while and your talents were admirable. Hell, you even saved Arthur from getting shot a few times.

“Okay.” He agreed reluctantly. “Let’s go.” He didn’t trust Micah but if you were there… Well… The job would probably be fine.

Arthur should have known by now it was another setup. After the O’Driscoll boys strung him up in that cellar he should have known… After Sean’s head was blown off during the blood feud he should have known. When he saw you fall from your horse everything clicked for him. The world slowed as he watched the horses of the men behind you trample your limp body mercilessly into the dust. The O'Driscolls outnumbered the three of you greatly and it was clear they were out for blood. Arthur shot every single one of them with little hesitation, leaving behind no survivors.

Micah rejoiced while the dirt cleared from the air. “Whoo-hoo!” He laughed, sliding from his saddle to loot the O’Driscoll corpses. “They got some good money!” Micah gazed up, tilting the brim of his hat while scanning the area for you. “Shit-” He breathed. Your horse was dead and you… Well, he could tell by the way Arthur dropped everything to rush to your side that something not so good probably happened.

Arthur noticed you hadn’t moved in awhile. By the time he collapsed by your side and held you in his arms he was able to take in how much you were in rough shape. Arthur swallowed hard, watching you gurgle on your blood and gasp, struggling to breathe. “Arthur-” He winced when the broken sound of your usually sweet voice reached his ears.

“Shhh, Y/N. Save your energy. It’s gonna be okay, we’re gettin’ you outta this.” Though they were meant to be soothing, his words were desperate. A silent prayer to whatever god above had long abandoned him and his friends, and now his lover who was suffering badly. Arthur knew you wouldn’t make it to camp. Shit, you probably wouldn’t even live long enough for him to get you both on his horse. All he could do was hold you in his arms. Memorizing the weight of your body against his. The warmth of your skin and how beautifully you always looked up at him even in your last few moments.

Despite the drying blood coating your bruising face you were still the most ethereal being Arthur had ever laid eyes upon. He could have laughed right then and there. He could have cried. He could have begged; ‘No! Not Y/N too. Please- take anyone but Y/N! Take me instead!’ but who would listen? The universe never answered his prayers or his pleas. Surely the universe would be quiet today too.

He didn’t want your last moments to be scary. Instead he pet your hair, kissing your lips while trying to make sure you were laying in a comfortable position. It wasn’t easy since your ribs were shattered but it was all he could think to do. “Guess what?”

“What?” Your voice was barely just above a whisper.

“I wanted to tell you earlier, but… We finally have enough money to get ourselves a nice cabin out West. Just you and me. Maybe we can get ourselves a dog. Doesn’t that sound nice?” It was a lie but it was also a beautiful dream.

“Mmmm.” Your breaths were shallow now. There was a smile growing on your busted lips. Arthur’s heart sunk as he watched your eyes flutter shut. You looked so exhausted. Ready for eternal rest. Never had he felt such heartache. “It does sound nice. I really….. really want a dog.”

“I know you do, sweetheart. I know.” His voice trembled, finally giving away his emotions. When your breathing slowly came to a stop he pressed your foreheads together letting out a soft anguished cry. ‘I love you.’ He wanted to say, but who would listen? You were gone. The whole world fell silent. The birds didn’t chirp, the coyotes didn’t bark, and Micah Bell somehow had enough wit to him to give you both privacy in your final moments.

Arthur held you until the sun had long set and your body was growing cold. He couldn’t let go – wouldn’t…. Until Hosea finally came and squeezed his shoulder. “Arthur, my boy… I’m so sorry. Micah told me everything. Charles and I are here to help. Let’s let Y/N rest.” Slowly, Arthur uncurled from you, reluctantly passing your body to Hosea. Even as you were taken away he stared blankly at the spot you had been before slowly staring up at the twinkling stars above. Finally, he laughed. A cold hard grief filled laugh that was as heavy as his heart and mind.

“This is it for us.” He murmured, taking out a cigarette. “None of us are long for this world now.” Lighting it between his lips he flicked the match away then took a long drag. “I’m sure I’ll see you soon, sweetheart.” The breeze pushed back his hair while he smoked. Just taking in the scene before him. This was a scene he’ll never bear to draw in his journal. A scene that he’ll carry, burned into his memory, to fuel him until he too takes his final breaths.

Arthur Morgan stood. Covered in the blood of the only person who had genuinely loved him for who he was. In the blood of the most beautiful human being he had ever had the privilege of sharing life with. He carried his trembling body to his horse. “Follow me. I know where she’d wanna be laid to rest.” __________

Charles

Charles took you hunting in the Grizzlies West, an activity you and him have done a dozen times together if not more. Pelts were needed to upgrade things around camp and to keep everyone warm, it was a simple task. You were an experienced hunter and he loved spending quiet lazy days with you out in the mountains. That was, until today.

You had tracked a moose to cliff overlooking a nearby river. “We’re close.” Charles admired the snowflakes shimmering in your hair as the sun moved through the trees.  The day had been long and you two were wrapping up for the evening. Just one last catch…

Then, you were suddenly gone.

Charles blinked in confusion. It happened sp quickly his mind struggled to make sense of it even as the loud SLASH of your body hitting the frozen water reached his ears. “Y/N!?” Charles rushed to the ledge, watching you scramble to catch onto a rock since you were swept away by the deadly current.

He wasted no time in mounting his horse, riding fast and hard to catch up to you long enough to toss you his lasso. “Y/N!” He tried hard to call your name over the rushing sound of water. “Y/N grab the rope!”

You coughed and sputtered, flailing wildly. You couldn’t see anything in the water, the current dragging you under every few seconds. “Charles!” You sobbed out. Finally you felt something wrap around your wrist. Charles managed to throw his lasso just right for you to grab onto. The frigid water bit into your skin like a thousand stinging needles while you were being pulled to the bank.

“You poor thing.” Charles breathed, gathering you into his arms once you were close enough for him to grab. You were half frozen and turning blue with hypothermia. Teeth chattering and shaking so hard you couldn’t even speak. Your skin burned so badly your brain was begging you to rip it off. The cold was a shock to your system, all you could to was press helplessly against your lover’s warm chest. Never had you felt such pain.

Charles did the best he could. He knew he had to get you warm or else…. Luckily you were close enough to Colter, he was able to bring you there quickly. Returning to the spot was bitter sweet. He set you up in the warmest cabin, stripping your wet clothes off. Charles then covered you in his coat and the furs you two managed to collect earlier. Finding dry firewood was a struggle so he ended up burning little kindling with paper from a book and some fat from an animal you both killed.

“S-s-so c-cold.” You whispered. All of your energy had depleted trying to keep your body warm and now your eyes were growing heavy.

“I know, I’m sorry. It’ll be warmer soon.” The fire really wasn’t heating fast enough. Charles gathered you in his arms again in an attempt to share his warmth with you. He could tell you weren’t doing well. Even if he could bring you into the warmest place possible you probably weren’t going to make it, you had been in that water for far too long. He tried not to let that get to him. If he ignored that fact, maybe it would disappear from existance and you would be okay.

Charles brushed the hair from your face, kissing your forehead. Your head rest against his chest and he stared into the fire as he rocked you gently. He was silent for awhile, trying to conjure ways to save your life or to ease your suffering. Nothing came to mind and Charles was beginning to feel terrified. “Don’t go to sleep.” He whispered, resting his chin on top of your head.

“I’m trying not to.”

Oh, your voice was so strained and weak. Was this the last time he’ll ever hear you speak?

“I love you.”

Charles swallowed hard. He looked down at you again, searching your face with desperation. “I know. I love you too.”

“I know.” You teased him, snuggling up to your lover one final time. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

“Y/N…..” His brow furrowed. A part of him didn’t understand why you were saying these things while the other half was realizing the reality and severity of the situation. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes. He held you tighter as if that would somehow keep you bound to this world. “Always.” He whispered. “Now and in the future.” Please… please let there be a future…

You didn’t answer. Your eyes were shut peacefully and your breathing began to fade. Feeling helpless now that his best friend was slipping away in his arms, all Charles could do was silently cry. He kept rocking you, singing a lullaby his mother had sang for him as a child. He wanted you to go peacefully and well loved. It was the least he could do.

Only hours ago you both were on top of the world. Enjoying each others company. Giving thanks to the animals you hunted. Only this morning he woke up to you in his arms kissing all over his face while giggling. And now…. Now you were gone. In his arms, yes, but not really here at all. He’ll never see you again.

Charles sobbed, his whole body shaking as he clung to you. He wasn’t ready for you to leave. Not like this… He stayed with you until the sun rose and a new day broke. Placing one final kiss to your lips he carefully bundled you up in the pelts and brought you to his horse. It was too cold up in Colter to dig a grave and he wanted to place you somewhere beautiful. Somewhere meaningful. The ride down the mountain was slow and painful. Charles sang sorrowfully his lullaby the whole way.

After that day, Charles no longer found any peace in hunting. It only brought memories of you. ____________

Micah

Micah had a hard time loving people. Letting people in. He was shown from a young age that love was a weakness and he was a survivor. That was, until you came around and somehow tore down those walls. With you in his life he was calmer, milder, less likely to shoot up a town for looking at him wrong. If he had to do a job you were always right there by his side.

Micah didn’t consider this might be a setup. He thought it was just another day out and easy money.  A house robbery where the occupants had recently come into some decent cash while gambling in Saint Denis. However, they were simple country folk and seemed innocent enough. The wife was supposedly away visiting her sister with their children and the husband was fast asleep. Easy. Sneak in, grab the money, sneak out. Maybe steal their carriage. Something you could probably handle on your own but Micah thought the two of you riding off into the moonlight with pockets overstuffed with ritches was rather romantic.

It was an ambush.

You found the cash effortlessly just as assumed. There was a book here you picked up and glance at, or a bottle of alcohol there you stowed away in case it was useful. You always had a good eye for these things and since you’ve robbed plenty of homesteads you weren’t too concerned with things going south. Instead you took your sweet time as quiet as a mouse.

Micah was right behind you. He even teasingly spanked your ass at one point, causing you to glare playfully at him. “Really?” You mouthed. He shrugged. “C’mon. Let’s get outta here.” His hand was on your hip as you opened the front door. Micah could feel you freeze.

“Shit-”  Was all you could manage before stumbling backwards, clutching your throat in a feeble attempt to stop from bleeding out. Bounty hunters! They had surrounded the house as soon as you two entered, waiting for an opening. One hiding behind the door had shot you point blank in the jugular.

“Mother fucker!” Micah’s voice cracked with rage. His eyes were wild with insanity as he shot the man to death. Micah kicked the door shut in an attempt to buy you both a bit of coverage, dragging you to lay in the safety of his lap. “Come on out Micah Bell. We know you’re in there!” The team of bounty hunters circled the house, shooting at its walls, shattering the windows.

Micah ignored them the best he could. They could wait. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from your writhing choking form. You couldn’t breathe. Your hands reached out for him, clawing at his arms desperately as if Micah could give you your breath back. Crimson stained the both of you and your clothes.

“Shit baby-doll.” He let out a shaky breath. “I’m so sorry. I’ll make ‘em pay. I’m so sorry, I shoulda known.” He brushed the hair from your face, wiping the blood from the corner of your mouth with his shirt sleeve while his free hand put pressure on your spewing neck. There was so much blood and he could tell by the way your wide eyes glistened you were in pain. “I know, I know.” He hugged you while listening to your gurgled plea. “I know it hurts. It’ll go away soon.”

His hand wet with your life force slid down your body to rest over your still beating heart. He felt it thrum a moment longer before pressing his gun to the area. “I love you baby-doll.”

BANG!

Your body falling limp brought relief to Micah’s own lungs and he let out a shaky breath. He couldn’t stand the thought of you dying while wretching like a wounded animal. A mercy killing was most fitting of his sweetheart, he thought darkly with a heavy heart. Micah stayed with you a moment longer, whispering soft nothings until the bounty hunters caught his attention again. All of that rage filled him once more and he wasted no time in kicking open the front door and gunning them down in cold blood.

Silence filled the midnight air accompanied by crickets. The scent of gunpowder and iron was so thick he could taste it. It was peaceful. Life and death mingled in silent spaces held in the shadows. It was as expected, Micah thought.

Shrugging off his jacket he slid it on your form before scooping your lifeless body up in his arms. He set you on the back of Baylock before dragging the other corpses into the house and lighting it on fire. Micah watched it burn, smoking a cigarette. The dancing images cast over the land in a faint glow amused him. Were you there? Rejoicing in the death of the men who killed you? He wanted to think so. To think that you would dance in every fire he lit from here on out.

Once dawn broke Micah finally mounted his horse to find a place to bury you. He actually considered this a lot. He wanted to lay you to rest in a place easily accessible so he could visit you often. He stayed silent the whole ride, replaying memories of you in his mind. You were his one and only and Micah knew he would never find love again. _____________

Dutch

Dutch had many lovers but none were quite like you. You were ethereal. Special. All he ever wanted to do was make his plans then return to his tent to hold you in his arms as you both spoke about the future and fell asleep for the night. He looked forward to his time with you. Unlike his other lovers you enjoyed going out and working for money. Charming a fella for his days wage, or stealing from a rich man’s wife during teatime. It was a quality about you he found… Well… Sexy.

When Dutch met with Colm O’Driscoll he thought it went rather well. Arthur never met them on the road home but he didn’t think too much of it. Riding back to camp he was in high spirits. Speaking loudly to Micah about how they were finally moving forward in life. “Where’s Y/N? I have wonderful news!” He announced after hitching his horse. Charles and Ms. Grimshaw exchanged looks.

“She hasn’t returned yet Dutch, I thought you went to meet her in Rhodes.” Grimshaw flattened her skirt.

Dutch scoffed. “Now why would I go and do that?”

“She said she’d be back in the evening.”

“It’s evening now, Ms. Grimshaw.”

“I know. We were waiting for her.”

With a sigh, Dutch simply stalked back to The Count, climbing onto his saddle. “I’ll go fetch her then.” It was such a chore! He shouldn’t be out when he has such a price on his head. But Dutch was quite giddy after Colm complimented him and he wanted you to be the first to hear about how the meeting went.

He rode into town, walking through on his horse as his eyes scanned the buildings for any sign of you. Maybe you were mingling?  Before he could consider any other possibilities something caught his ear. His heart sank while he overheard words he never dared imagine the combination of.

“O’Driscolls? Down this far South? Unheard of. I guess they were searching for a gal. Grabbed her and took off with the Lemoyne Raiders hot on their tail. Nasty business.”

Nasty business indeed. Now, he could be slow but Dutch van der Linde was no fool. Why else would the O’Driscolls be down this way, during the day of their meeting no less, to kidnap a random girl? Oh, he knew. This was their idea all along. To kill his other sweetheart.

Dutch’s knuckles turned white with rage, snapping the reigns violently. The Count whirled around, running out of Rhodes until he carried Dutch back to camp. “Micah, Bill, with me. Now!” He barked through gritted teeth, pacing straight to his tent to grab his revolver. “Y/N has been taken. By Colm O’Driscoll.”

“Shit! That bastard. You shoulda’ killed ‘em!” Bill ran, grabbing his rifle while Micah walked leisurely to mount Baylock, completely unbothered.

“I should have, Bill. I should have. Now com’mon!”

They rode fast and hard. Somehow catching up to the O’Driscoll’s little posse before they could reach some encampment with you stowed on a horse. Micah flanked the enemy gang on one side while Bill came in from the other. Dutch held the back, eyeing you tied up and gagged. The sight made his blood boil. There was eight O’Driscolls in total and their horses were fast, but Dutch, Bill, and Micah managed to keep up. Riding and shooting at each other as they went.

The Irishmen fell from their horses like flies. Some with their face half blown off, others screaming as their horses dragged them to death.  One by one they were picked off until there were only two left. Dutch dug his spurs into his horse, moving him to ride along the man who held you captive on horseback. “Give it up son. Give me the lady and we’ll spare your life.” He didn’t want to shoot the man just yet in case you got hurt.

When a gun was pulled out of his pocket, Dutch veered to the side, assuming the fucker was going to shoot at him. His eyes widened when he realized the O’Driscoll boy wasn’t aiming for him at all. A severe miscalculation on Dutch’s part. “Colm says hello.”

BANG!

“God damn you!” He snarled. Dutch finally raised his pistol.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

He emptied a barrage of shots into the man until the gun clicked and no more bullets came out. Dutch chased after the boy’s horse, corralling the spooked animal into stopping. Time seemed slow. Too slow. Dutch tried his best to calm the horse enough for him to safely take you off its back and into the comfort of his arms. “Oh, my darling.” Dutch fell to his knees, untying you so he could inspect the growing blood stain near your abdomen.

“Dutch! You came for me. You came-” You sobbed, gripping your side in pain.

“Shhh. Of course I did.” He placed a kiss to your trembling lips. The wound was bad. This situation was bad. Everything was fucked. He had seen men shot in this area more times than he could count and he knew they never survived for more than a day at most.

“Com’ere.” He picked you up, carrying you to his horse. After sitting you down he climbed into the saddle. “Tell the others…” His mouth opened and closed for a moment. What does he even say? He didn’t want to scare you but… He didn’t want that filthy camp to be the last thing you see. He knew how much you hated it...

“Alright.” Bill said, seeming to understand what was happening. He took his hat off, staring at you for a moment before bowing politely. “I’m happy you’re safe, Ms. L/N.”

You smiled gently. “Thank you Bill.” Your throat was dry and your words were weak.

Dutch held you close to him as you rode off.

“Where are we going?” You wondered.

“Somewhere nice, my dear. With a wound like that you need rest and fresh air. Simple as that.” Somehow Dutch managed to keep his voice calm even as his heart churned with sorrow.

He brought the both of you to stop overlooking a beautiful meadow with a perfect view of the lake. After placing a sweet kiss to the top of your head Dutch scooped you into his arms, carrying you to a nice tree where he then settled you in his lap. “Here, take this.” He pressed a bottle of alcohol into your hands. “It’ll help take the pain away and you’ll be able to sleep.”

Dutch pet your hair as he watched you. Studying your face. Every bump, wrinkle, scar, and blemish. He wanted to remember every single aspect of you. His last lover… Whenever he tried to recall her face the picture was fuzzy. He couldn’t stand the idea of not being able to remember you. “I love you so much, you know that? You were so brave today. I’m proud of you, sweetheart. Real proud.”

“I wasn’t really…” You gave a little laugh, wincing as the alcohol burned your throat. “I love you too. Thank you for saving me.” You felt stiff and exhausted. Snuggling against his chest you both watched the sunrise and Dutch began reciting lines from your favorite book he had memorized. It was lovely, you thought as your eyes became too heavy and sleep was hard to battle. You hummed happily, a smile on your face as you drifted off peacefully.

Long after he felt your breathing stop did Dutch keep telling your favorite story. As if your spirit were lingering around and would return to your body. Then, maybe, everything would be okay. When he reached the final line of his remembrance only then did he cry. Burying his face into your hair he sobbed and took in your scent one final time.

The last thread of his sanity broke that day. He no longer cared about what future the gang might have. What future he would have with the price on his head… The only future he ever cared about was with you and you were gone now. He held you until Hosea came looking for him. Together they buried you somewhere meaningful. This was the only time Dutch actually payed for a headstone to be made. In your honor. __________________

Hosea

You and Hosea were always together no matter what you were doing. Half of the time you didn’t even need to speak with each other and just silently enjoyed each others company. Naturally you joined him on many outings to scope out who to rob. This particular occasion was a party on the outskirts of Saint Denis located in a beautiful garden home. You were dressed brilliantly, posing as Hosea’s lawful wife.

You’re charming. More charming than anyone else in the gang. With your sweet angel face and your gentle voice, everyone who spoke to you immediately thought of you as a good friend. And so there you were, mingling with the other guests. Giggling with the ladies and awe-ing (falsely so) with the rich gentlemen. Everyone loved you! So many people were trying to speak with you and flag down your attention.

It wasn’t usual to have such an elegant, smart, sweet, kind, and funny lady in their midst. You were a bit of a commodity. Hosea could hardly make his way to your side there were so many people surrounding you. He watched fondly from afar. Many times men would approach him to compliment you. “You’re one lucky man, Mr. Matthews. Mrs. Matthews is such a charmer.”

“Oh, I know it!” He laughed.” Trust me, fellas, it’s hard to keep my wife for myself some days.”

They all laughed. One man handing him a cigar which he happily accepted. The evening was bright and joyful. Though he nor you enjoyed events like this somehow you both were having fun this time. Hosea followed a group of men into a private back study to discuss investments while he left you at the main party.

This particular crowd was juicy, you thought. You heard so much gossip and many of the attendees were telling on themselves; bragging to you about what they’ve recently purchased for themselves or who’s neighbor was hoarding cash in personal safes. You were careful to make a mental note of each and every person as you nursed a glass of champagne.

“Did you hear?” A woman leaned close to you and a few of her friends.

“Hear what?” You inquired.

“Apparently Mrs. Conway has asked the local apothecary for… a permanent sleep cure.”

You tilt your head as the other ladies gasped and giggled. “Mrs. Conway… Our host for the evening?” Were they really gossiping about this woman in her own home?

“Yes. Oh, she must be dreadfully bored of Mr. Conway. I wonder if he’ll join us this evening.”

All you could do was smile and nod to blend in. It wasn’t the first time you had heard of a woman wanting to poison her rich husband. To each their own, you didn’t really care. You flinched as a loud clattering noise reached your ears. Looking behind you  your eyes settled towards the source of the sound. The kitchens.

“I heard they hired new help and the kitchens are a mess tonight.” Another older woman snickered. “The Conways are lucky mingling has been this evening’s high point. Otherwise a ruined meal would sully the party.”

“Absolutely.” You agreed, setting your glass aside. “Will you please excuse me? I wish to powder my nose before dinner.” With a hum you moved away from the group to find Hosea. It wasn’t hard for you to follow his voice down the hallway. You smiled to yourself, simply listening to him work his magic. He truly was such a likable man.

Once dinner arrived Hosea had met up with you and brought you to the dining room where he pulled out your chair. Even if you two weren’t in such a luxurious setting he would have still done this. Always such a gentlemen to the love of his life. “How goes it?”

“Quite well. The ladies here are wonderfully friendly. I’ve learned a lot from them.”

Hosea admired how stunning you looked in the chandelier lighting, ignoring the help as plates of food were set in front of each guest. “I’m happy to hear that, honey.” He gave you an easy but loving smile. A smile you were quite familiar with.

There was a short speech given by Mrs. Conway, who’s party this was, where she thanked everyone and made a few jokes that earned a chuckle here and there. Finally you were able to eat. It was spaghetti which was, apparently, an Italian dish. Jack had told you and Hosea all about it when he returned to Shady Belle.

There was still chatter in the air as you took your first bite. It was delicious! It made your throat tingle a little but you thought nothing of it. Perhaps it was just the spices used. After your third bite your throat suddenly completely restricted. Your fork clattered against the table, hands flying to your throat. You couldn’t swallow. You couldn’t breathe.

“Y/N?” Hosea’s startled gaze snapped to you immediately. The room went silent as looks of horror washed over the faces of guests. “Y/N!?” Hosea gasped when your body began convulsing. He quickly took you into his arms, helping you to the floor so you wouldn’t hurt yourself. “Someone call the doctor! Quick!” He screamed. His eyes met with Mrs. Conway’s only for a split moment. She was frozen into place, guilt written all over her face. “Hurry!” Hosea pleaded.

You cried out the best you could. Holding onto Hosea who tried his best to calm you. “I’m here my love. I’m here. Hang on. Please Y/N.” He felt so helpless. All he could do was wipe the spit from the corner of your mouth and the tears from your cheeks while whispering soft soothing words. He held eye contact with you, shushing you, promising you help was on the way. “Stay with me, love. Stay with me.” His words were desperate. Eyes filled with tears.

Your face was turning blue. Your body trembling, writhing and heaving. It was a disturbing sight for Hosea, who had always assumed he would meet his end far before you ever met yours. The poison was swift. As soon as it started it ended and you finally fell limply against his chest. Hosea paused, studying your face. He couldn’t understand at first why you were quiet. “Y/N?” He gently shook you.

“No…. No! Y/N!” He cried out for you. Hosea pulled you tightly against him, wrapping his arms to cradle your head away from prying eyes as he sobbed openly. The whole thing was a whirlwind. What was supposed to be a tantalizing evening ended in tragedy. A selfish woman meaning to poison her husband. The messy kitchen staff mixing up the guests’ plates. You choking to death on an elixir from hell. Hosea Matthews experiencing his lover being ripped away from him violently a second time.

To onlookers he was nothing but a broken man refusing to let go of his murdered wife even as the police came and tried to break them apart. He wanted so desperately to fight them away, but he knew he couldn’t.

“I’m so sorry Mr. Matthews. I never meant for-” Ms. Conway whimpered pathetically while her hands were being bound by an officer for her arrest.

“You never meant for what?” He snapped. “An innocent person to die? You didn’t mean to get caught? You didn’t mean for your greed to bring you to such lows?” His eyes were cold and Ms. Conway hung her head in shame. “Go to hell, Ms. Conway. Where you belong.”

Once it was allowed, Hosea left the party. He went straight to the Saint Denis morgue to see you one last time before making funeral arrangements. It felt fake. As if the events of the night were a figment of his imagination. The gravity of reality didn’t sink in until he returned to Shady Belle alone. Every ne was asking where you were. All he could do was drag his old bones to his room, collapse onto his cot, and cry.

[wintersxani]

𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤'𝐬 𝐓𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Emily Prentiss x Fem!reader

Warning(s): use of y/n, death of y/n, Emily having to witness it, implied SA, just sad overall

Word count: 2041

Characters: Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan, Penelope Garcia, Jennifer Jareau, Aaron Hotchner, Spencer Reid

Summary: When you get captured by an unsub and your team finds out where you are, your lover and coworker, Emily Prentiss, seeks you out. Only she’s too late to save you.

She blamed herself for not driving home with you the night the unsub took you from outside your shared apartment. The work she had done could've waited... and maybe you would've still been with her and your guys' team. "Emily, we might've got something." Derek informed from across the alley they had been in, where the unsub had dumped his last victim. 'Clock's ticking' was carved into the girl's abdomen, serving as a reminder of the time you had left alive was thinning. Desolately, she stared at this poor girl, just like she had the past two. Seeing the state she was in... she knew what their unsub had in store for you, and it made her want to scream- lash out; hurt somebody. Hurt Robert Delmont- the man who was hiding you.

Emily's gaze moved from the lifeless body to Derek, who rushed over with his phone extended. "Okay, talk to me baby." He eagerly spoke into the phone, examining his coworker's distraught expression as his own heart raced. "I found Robert's house. I narrowed down your area and used the information you guys provided- and I found it. 24 Newberg Road, you're about six minutes away."

Emily hadn't wasted a second before running towards her SUV; Derek on her tail replied: "Copy that, thanks Garcia."

"Godspeed, guys. Save our girl." Penelope spoke from the other end, ending the call to inform the rest of the team as Derek and Emily climbed in the car, speeding to the home you were being held in.

Faintly through the singular basement window, you could see flashing red and blue lights. Relief washed over you as tears fell down your cheeks. You struggled against the restraints you were held in, arms sore from being held in the same upwards position for these past 8 & 1/2 hours. You could hear the steel door creek open and shut as footsteps descending followed. Your relief left you as you met face to face with Robert, who rushed towards you, throwing a punch to your face. "They think they're going to save you."

Your lip was already busted, and you had cuts and bruises marking your whole body. He moved behind you, putting a blade up to your neck. Your breath hitched as he pulled your head back by your hair, whispering in your ear; "Time to prove them wrong."

-

Emily had already been out of the passenger's side before it came to a full stop, rushing inside the home. Derek followed after her, whisper-yelling for her to wait. She didn't oblige, rather rushed in anyway. In no way was she going to string out the little time you had left. She motioned for Derek to search upstairs, receiving a nod in return. They both should've waited for the rest of their team, but Emily already made it clear she couldn't wait, and Derek understood. This was personal... and time wasn't in their favor, if Robert was following his 10 hours spent with each victim.

Her heart was pounding as she neared every corner, pausing when she observed the steel door cracked open. While she should've retrieved Derek for backup, she went down instead, keeping her gun aimed ahead. The door shut behind her, leaving her in total darkness as it made a beeping noise. Only then did she realize that it had no handle on the inside, but that it needed a keycard, likely installed by the twisted killer who brought women down here, guaranteeing that escaping was out of the question. The air was cold and bitter down here, smelling of metal and mildew; agony so potent in the air. She breathed heavily, continuing her descent as she prepared for what laid ahead.

But nothing could've prepared her to meet face to face with you, strung up and beaten. So vulnerable and broken. A tang of pain struck her heart as she watched your face pinch, tears mixing with the crimson on your cheeks. The knife against your neck made her blood run cold as she aimed at the unsub. "Back away and drop the knife." Her voice came out firm as she remained at a safe distance, not wanting to push the Delmont man. "Ah, Emily Prentiss."

"I said back away and drop the-"

"I do that and you put me in prison, or I kill her and you kill me. Doesn't seem like a win-win situation, now does it?"

"Let her go." She ordered, unable to tell the man that she didn't want to shoot him. If anything, she wanted to torture him for the trauma he had inflicted on you. Make him feel every bit of pain you have felt- every bit of pain she had felt in the absence of you.

"I know how deeply you care for her... she's so... extravagant. I'd want her too. Well, I had her... that's for sure." He chuckled as you shut your eyes tightly. Her lip curled as her eyebrows furrowed, reminding herself of the oath she took for this job. An oath that she wished didn't exist in this very moment. "You son of a bitch."

"You want me to slit her throat right now? I will."

"You know what I want you to do. If you comply, we can negotiate-"

"We both know that's bullshit. Don't we?" He stated, turning to put his lips up to your ear at the last part. You tried to pull away, but he yanked your head back. Emily was panicking because she didn't have a clear shot of him. He was perfectly blocked by your shaking body, and you would be hit in order to get him, no matter the angle.

"You walk out those doors and leave, I'll spare her. Leave her for you to find in a couple days."

"I'm not negotiating this with you."

"I thought you wanted to negotiate? Don't you want her alive?" He started, tilting his head as he watched Emily's expression harden. "I can leave her lifeless if you'd prefer... yeah. Yeah that sounds better." Pounding came from the steel door upstairs as all three below heard Derek's shouts. "Clock's ticking." He grinned as Emily's body shivered, mouth opening to speak. "No. Times up." He finalized; In a swift motion, he sliced your neck open as you cried out. Her body stilled, though her reflexes didn't waste a second to shoot his withdrawn arm. He scampered to the side, clutching his arm as he rushed towards her. She was quicker, firing one final shot that knocked him down for good.

Her gaze moved back at you, watching the blood pour to the ground below your bowed head. "Y/n-" spit from her mouth as she rushed towards you, untying the ropes around your wrists, letting you fall into her arms. You were coughing on your own blood as she tried to turn you on your side, clearing your airway as she applied pressure to your open wound. "Stay with me my love, stay with me." She instructed, pushing the hair out of your face as you looked up at her.

Never had she felt fear like this before as her arms desperately pulled your shaking body closer to hers, trying to keep you curled into her like you would several nights spent together. She'd whisper how much she loved you as she held you dearly as she'd kiss your head, reminding you that in those moments, it was just you two. Not the job, not the world. You were each other's safe havens; the only light outside the dark they faced every day.

"I'm right here. I've got you, love. Stay with me." She spoke quickly, keeping pressure as crimson spilled over her fingers. You were struggling to breath, but you needed to speak; you knew you weren't leaving this basement, just like you knew she was denying that truth. It pained you to be aware of your fate when you had finally found the other half to your soul that spent every waking moment reminding you of what real love was. Slowly, your arm rested on her hand upon your neck, grasping it. Her broken eyes peered down at you as both of you could hear your other team members desperately trying to get through that godforsaken door, calling out your guys' names.

"They're going to get us out of here... and we're gonna get you to a hospital- you're gonna be okay. I- I'm right here." She insisted, clenching her jaw as she fought back the tears lining her waterline. If you saw her break, she was sure you would too. She needed to be strong, but all you needed in this moment was her. "Em-" You tried, unable to continue as blood poured from the corner of your mouth. "Don't try to talk honey-"

"Emily." You managed to get out, choking on your blood as her head slightly shook. "Lis-listen to me." Your hand squeezed hers as she tried to talk again. "You k-know what's going t-to happen."

"No."

"Emily-"

"No-"

"I'm not going to m-make it."

"No! No I don't accept that." She exclaimed, her head shaking vigorously as a sob slipped from her throat. "Em, please-" You tried, but she cut you off as tears now began to fall down her cheeks. "I can't- I can't accept that. I need you. I'm always going to need you." Her voice was utterly broken; already in denial, she couldn't stop shaking her head at you, pushing away the thoughts of what life would be like when she stepped outside of this house, knowing you weren't ever coming home with her.

"I love you s-" You had started, beginning to fade out of consciousness. Her eyes widened as she used her arm from under you to touch your face, pulling your body up to hers. "So much." You managed to finish, though your eyes were slowly shutting. Exhaustion wasn't even a comparable word to what you were feeling. When the pain started to fade, and you began to feel numb, you knew your time was up. "Hey- Stay with me y/n." She slightly shook you; your eyes weren't fully closed, but your eyelids were drooped. "Please stay with me." Her words were quiet, small. So much pain was laced in those four words as she felt the exact moment your life left your body.

Her body stilled as she pulled back to look at your face; eyelids were still drooped, but you were gone. Her jaw slowly slacked as she shook her head, removing her hand from your throat before placing it on your cheek, gently tilting your head at an angle where you would be able to see her. "No- no please!" Sobs were spilling from her lips as her chest heaved, thumb stroking your face delicately. "I need you-"

A loud, ground shaking bang came from the upstairs as she pulled your lifeless body up against her chest, cradling the back of your head over her shoulder as the other hand tightly held your bare waist. "Emily!" Derek's voice erupted from the stairway as several footsteps boomed from afar.

"I love you- I love you so much." She wept, eyes shut tightly as the rest of her team members made it downstairs, halting at the sight. The unsub's body had been the first thing observed, but the sight of Emily cradling your lifeless body- seeing Emily shattered in a way that they'd never seen before caused them to still.

JJ's hand covered her mouth as Hotch lowered his gun, tears beginning to brim in his own eyes despite his usual cold exterior. Rossi & Spencer beside him unable to watch as he turned away, walking into JJ's embrace. Then there was Derek, who stood with his mouth agape, heart plummeting. One of his best friends was forever broken, and the other dead.

Eventually, JJ had to pull Emily from your body, which took a tremendous amount of effort to do. Your lover had refused to let you go as she cried I'm sorry's and pleas for you to come back to her. Knowing you died before she said I love you back destroyed her. She just wanted to hold you; to kiss you one more time. Yet all she could do was kiss your forehead as they removed you from her arms, watching your hand leave hers.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐂𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

[sunflowersteves]

sacrifices || e.m.

request || was wondering if you could do an imagine in which the reader sacrifices themself instead of eddie and it has all the reactions of the characters including eddie. 

pairing || eddie munson x fem!reader

author’s note || wowow this is hella sad!! 

warnings || reader dies instead of eddie, gore, blood, upside down, unhappy ending

“No, no, no!” 

Eddie screamed as his limbs ached with each movement of his muscles as he tried to run. All he could see was you, vision becoming blurry while trying to get closer.

He needed to get to you.

He hoped, to whatever deity was out there, that he wasn’t too late. 

You and the rest of the gang were all in the Upside Down to take down Vecna and hoped that your plan was going to work. It had, at first. 

You, Dustin, and Eddie distracted the demobats with Eddie’s guitar before leading them into his trailer. You three let out a breath, thinking you were safe for the time being until realizing none of the vents were covered. 

As they flooded his trailer, the demobats pounded and clawed against his bedroom door, downright bloody thirsty for the three of you. Eddie had already pushed Dustin back into the gate and was about to push you in.

You started to step back, confusion clouding his features. You placed one hand on the front door to his trailer, taking a deep breath as you prepared yourself. 

“Baby?”

You shook your head, “I'm sorry, Eddie.”

You took a part of the trash can lid, slashing your arm with the spikes. Blood trickled down your arm–the feeling of it was warm.

“What the–” Before he could even react, the wooden door shattered, and the democrats crowded his trailer. You saw some of the bats start flying towards you with Eddie and Dustin screaming your name at the top of their lungs. 

You rushed out of his trailer, almost tripping down the stairs. You ran in success as they followed you. The scent of fresh blood sent them into a frenzy. Good, be thirsty, you thought. 

You would sacrifice yourself ten times over if it meant that Eddie and Dustin could live on. 

“Come and get me, you little fuckers!”

You picked up one of the kid's bikes, throwing yourself on top before pedaling as fast as you possible could. You could hear the whirring sound of their wings getting closer and closer.

Your heart pounded against your ears as your hands tightened around the handlebar. God, your arm hurt like hell, but the rushing of emotions seemed to defer some of the pain. Your eyes locked on another trailer not that far ahead. You could do this. You could make it. If you could just get there in time–

Out of nowhere, a bat rams into your side and unsettles your balance. You fall off the bike, yelping in the process. You start to roll down a small hill, pain rumbling over you with each movement. 

You let out a huff, trying to get yourself up as the demobats never altered their speed. They were catching up and man, were they catching up fast. 

You grabbed the spear and the sheild that was tied to your back, jabbing and ramming the thing into any of the bats you could. Before you know it, they formed a storm around you.

Their screeching was loud—almost tormenting—as you could barely see the upside down around you. You then screamed in pain, forcing you to drop the weapons that were in your hands. One of the demobats had latched onto your back, setting a deep bite into your skin. 

You could feel the blood rushing down your back, almost making the small demon thing hungrier. 

~~

“Henderson, hurry the fuck up!”

Eddie was bouncing with anticipation and adrenaline as Dustin was taking his sweet, sweet time getting back through the portal. He knew that if he left the kid to go after you, you would definitely kill him and never forgive him.

“I’m trying!”

Eddie couldn’t help but outburst, “Well try faster!”

Dustin finally plopped down onto the mattress, groaning at the long fall from the ceiling. Eddie helped him up before grabbing all their weapons. He burst out of the trailer, screaming your name. 

His eyes searched around until they found your body, the demo bats littered around you as they screeched in pain. Something else must have been hurting them, and he assumed it was Nancy blowing Vecna's head off. 

You were on the ground, still. Very still. 

The two shared a look, their heart plummeting deep down into their stomachs before running as fast as they could. 

“No, no, no!” 

Eddie screamed as his limbs ached with each movement of his muscles as he tried to run. All he could see was you, vision becoming blurry while trying to get closer.

He needed to get to you.

He hoped, to whatever deity was out there, that he wasn’t too late. 

He fell to the ground on his knees, scooping you into his lap. His eyes raked over your body, almost choking at the large wounds that littered you. He could feel your blood seep onto his hands, wet and sticky, as he tried to pull you closer.

“Hi, Eddie.” You coughed, blood dripping slightly down your mouth. 

“Baby, I’m here, okay? I-I’m here now.” He brushed some blood off of your face. “I’ve got you.”

Dustin wasn’t too far behind Eddie, and he gasped when he saw your state. “Dustin! Go get help, okay?” When Eddie looked back down, you were shaking your head. 

You knew that you were a goner. The loss of blood was too much. You wouldn’t even make it to the hospital. You knew that you were going to die here in the Upside Down with Eddie and Dustin.

Tears cascaded down Eddie’s cheeks while he shook his head back at you, “N-No, we need to get you help, we–”

You decided to ignore his pleas, turning towards the kid next to you. “Dustin, y-you take care of him, okay? Don’t l-let him be sad for long.”

Dustin shook his head, “No, no, you’re gonna make it. Y-You’re–” He choked on a sob, grabbing your hand and squeezing it tightly. 

“I-I love you, Eddie, you know that?” Your own tears ran down the side of your temples, the copper taste in your mouth becoming stronger. 

“I know, baby. I know so much. I love you, okay? Know that I-I–” You were becoming increasingly tired like your body was going into a sleepy trance. As if he could sense that, Eddie started to panic. 

“B-But I promised you a date on Saturday, yeah? C’mon, y-you can’t–you have to—” His words became garbled together as the sobs raked over his body. 

Your hands squeezed the two of theirs, “I love you, Dustin.” 

You looked over to see him sobbing, as well, weakly saying the three words back to you. They both felt like cowards—like if they just did things differently then maybe it would all be okay. 

“Baby, I—”

“I-It’s okay, Eddie, let go.” You interrupted. Your strength of fighting was hanging on a thread. Your hands would’ve fallen out of their hands if they hadn’t had such a death grip. 

“I love you so much.” Your eyes were slowly closing, Dustin and Eddie yelling at you to stay awake, but everything was slowly fading. You were fading. 

And you let the fading take you into a long slumber. 

Not even a beat later, footsteps can be heard coming up to Eddie and Dustin. They didn’t hear it, though, too focused on you. 

“What’s going on?” Steve's voice rang in Eddie’s ears, but he still didn’t hear him. He didn’t hear anything but the repeating sound of your voice getting weaker and weaker. 

“No…” Nancy gasped and clasped her hand onto her mouth. Her eyes began to water, all of theirs did, as they saw you covered in blood and your body seeming so…lifeless. 

“Is that—” Before Robin could finish, Eddie started to scream. His face was planted onto your chest, and his grip on you became increasingly tighter.

“Wake up! You have to wake up, please!” He was shaking your body, over and over, while Dustin's sobs were loud. 

Robin and Nancy were full-on sobbing now, with Dustin and Eddie, as they couldn’t help but continue to stare at your body. Just an hour ago, they saw you so determined to kill Vecna, so full of courage. And now?

Eddie had continued his attempt in waking you up as Steve had to rip him off of you, but he wouldn’t let Steve. He couldn’t leave you. Not again.

“Why did you do that, Steve! Why–” His anger started to calm as he saw the tears that had shed down Steve’s face. Steve wrapped his arms around Eddie in a bone-crushing hug. Eddie’s eyes were wide in surprise but slowly wrapped his own arms around his. 

They sobbed, Eddie’s hands gripping Steve’s shirt so tight. Dustin ran up to them and hugged the two of them, then Robin and Nancy did the same. 

“We’re not leaving her here, okay? I refuse to leave my best friend in this shithole. Come on, Munson, help me pick her up.”

He nodded, the two of them carefully picking you up and walking towards the portal. He wanted you away from the Upside Down and away from those fucking bats. 

“Thank you, Steve.”

He sniffled, “Of course, Munson."

[melshome]

Crying blood, bleeding tears

tw mention of su!c!de, angst, no comfort, character death, demon slayer AU character scaramouche/F!reader a/n i really enjoyed writing thiss!! the angst in this- i was surprised when i reread this. "did i write this? holy-" haha

happy reading though! or considering it's angst- probably not happy reading...

this one-shot is a bit long.. 2308 words to be exact.. sorry about that :,3 it's also on my ao3!!

The way you spoke to people, how you use your hands in conversations, how you always care for people even if they have bad intentions for you. The way you look at him, like he's the only person in the world that matters to you. If he was dared to tell the whole world he loves you, he would simply whisper it in your ear.

Out of all the hashira's, you're a rank higher than him, but he is still well respected, even though his personality is shi-ty. Most of the members of the Demon Slayer Corps know him for how strong he is, even though he joined the Corps a year ago. Apparently he was some sort of criminal before he joined. A lot of people question if he should be serving the Corps, but Master let him join. You're still curious as to why the Master let him join, but he has definitely changed since he joined.

"Scaramouchie! We're on another mission together, how great is that?!" You jog up to him. You love to call him Scaramouchie, teasing him of any sort is fun, especially seeing his flustered face. He turns from his conversation with one of the Mizunoe ranked slayers, scowling, but when he sees you, his scowl disappears, and his eyes soften at your smile. But he quickly turns back, mumbling something to himself.

"Yeah yeah, be quiet, will you? We need to focus, apparently it's an Uppermoon, according to this Mizunoe," he gestures at the trembling girl. She bows when you turn to her.

"Are you hurt anywhere? The Kakushi will be here soon, please take the other slayers to safety in the meantime, yes?" You say, not letting her reply. She bows, and rushes off to the other slayers.

Nakurami Forest is known for being dark even when it's bright and sunny. It's something due to the trees according to Master. An Uppermoon? Here in Nakurami Forest..? You question, going back to Scaramouche, who is looking at the forest.

"What are you thinking, Y/N?" He asks, noticing how there's some sort of look on your face, which is unusual for you.

You turn to him, surprised, but you push the thoughts away, trying to focus.

"Nothing," you smile at him.

"Loving thunder breathing, first form, wall of rumbling hearts!"

A wall, with hearts, that is shaking against each other, small bolts of lightning between them, suddenly rises from the ground, going all the way up to the tree tops. You wince at the pain at your stomach, and quickly help the wounded member out of danger, yelling at him to leave the forest.

You cough, and look at the blood splattered at the ground from the cough.

Your wall goes down, and there is Scaramouche fighting the Uppermoon, dashing from spot to spot. You straighten your back, getting into stance. You hear your crow say something about two more hashira's arriving.

"Loving thunder breathing, third form, lightning love!"

A lightning cackle bursts from the sky, stunning the Uppermoon. Scaramouche takes this opportunity and dashes right to the Uppermoon, about to slice his neck, but the Uppermoon disappears, and you're suddenly pulled down to the ground, hitting your head on a rock, half of it in the ground, the other sharp half, on top.

You shrieked, a sudden jolt of pain rushing through your head. You try to keep your eyes open, your vision blurry, and your head is spinning. Your sword drops to the ground right next to you, the handguard of a lotus flower falling off from it. You groan, at the rush of the pain rushing through your head.

You can't focus on anything, and it's confusing you. He sees you fall back, and fear and worry fills his eyes. He gets into his stance.

"Anemo breathing, third form, song of the wind."

All of a sudden, he's right there, right next to the Uppermoon behind you, like a gust of wind had taken him there. He slashes the Uppermoon's head, and it falls to the ground. He drops his sword, panting, and goes right to your side.

"Y/N? Are you alright? Can you hear me? What's your name? What's my name?" He panics, asking all sorts of questions.

You try your best to answer all of them, but you wince in pain. You tied a cloth around your stomach when the Uppermoon sliced a bit too deep, but now the cloth is falling apart.

"Sca…scara.."

He shakes his head, tears streaming down his face. He hiccups, shaking his head.

"Y/N.. No.. Please don't leave me.. You're the only.." He struggles to finish his sentence.

You were the first person who treated him with kindness, even when you didn't know him that well. All the other hashira's treated him differently when he first joined, but you spoke to him, after he defeated a demon, effortlessly. You wanted to learn more about this mysterious hashira. He was a strange one, he was quiet, and kept to himself, but the more you two talked, he cared more about you, and loved you more than himself. He never showed this kindness to you, but you could see it in his eyes. The way they soften when you walk into the room. You could see it in his expressions as he's talking to you.

You groan in pain, gulping down and trying to control your breathing.

"Try to control your breathing. The Kakushi will be here soon, hang in there a little longer, please Y/N?" His voice is breaking apart, and he's trying to stop crying. He's holding your hand, and squeezing it, giving you reassurance that he'll be here with you. For eternity.

"Scara.. You're a really.. Good person, you know? Look at you worrying about me, when you're hurt worse," You manage to get out, but there's so much pain from your stomach.

"Sh-t.." You mumble under your breath, feeling more blood pour out from your stomach as you speak.

Scaramouche notices this, and unbuttons his uniform, ripping it off. He folds it as quickly as he can, and puts pressure with it to your wound.

"It's fine, Scara…" You can taste the blood in your mouth from the punch to the stomach earlier. You've always had a habit of peeling the skin on your lips, secretly loving the metallic taste on your tongue. But you want the taste to go away now. You want all the pain to go away, you just want to see Scaramouche smile once more. When he smiles, you just seem to forget all about your struggles, and worries. All you could see was how beautiful he looked. How happy he looked to just be with you.

"NO!" You're surprised by this outburst.

"BE QUIET Y/N. IT'S NOT FINE, YOU'RE.." He pants, trying to process all this, trying to keep it all together for your sake, but he's a mess. There's tears flooding down his eyes, snot dripping from his nose, and there is blood everywhere.

You give him a smile, your best smile. To show him it's okay. But you know it's not. There's tears rolling down the side of your face now, and you sniff, trying to keep yourself together.

He notices the smile, the tears and his eyes widen.

"STOP! Please.. Y/N.. Stop. Just stop.. Stop smiling like EVERYTHING IS OKAY. YOU'RE NOT OKAY, YOU'RE NOT OKAY."

You lift your hand, and take his hand from the cloth he's still applying pressure to you on. You hold his hand, as tightly as you can.

"Scaramouche.. It's alright." He frowns, his mouth opening to say something, but you continue, stopping him.

"It's alright. Death is something that happens in life. It's natural. It comes to everyone. Everyone has their happy ever after, some of them don't. But having you with me, as.." You can't bring yourself to say the word.

No matter how much you wanted to die in the past, no matter how many times you've cursed at yourself for not being able to die, you can't bring yourself to say the word in front of him, while he's crying. You've never seen him cry, and seeing him cry right now, breaks your heart. You want to hug him, and comfort him. But you can't.

"The Kakushi.." he says, but he shakes his head, hiccupping and wiping his eyes.

"They won't be here in time.. The rock hit my.. Head.. Really.. Badly…" you smile at him, feeling the tears run down your ear.

"STOP BEING SO NEGATIVE. THEY WILL BE HERE.. SOON.." He yells at you, squeezing your hand.

You chuckle, scrunching your face in pain.

His hold on your hand loosens, afraid he's going to cause you even more pain.

"Hey.. Scara.. Mouchie.."

He looks at you, waiting for you to speak. He's always enjoyed talking to you. He's always enjoyed listening to you, ramble on about things that interest you. Scaramouche has always known that you overthink things quite easily, so he tries his best to be clear about things. Your voice, smile, and just you, has always cheered him up. But seeing you die? Right in front of him? When he can't do anything? How can he live? How can he live, with the regret that you died right in front of him, and he just watched you, snot dripping down his face, crying like a little baby?

You slowly lose your vision, and your eyes seem to be closing. You try your best to keep your eyes open, but you can't. Deep down, you just want to close your eyes to make the pain go away. Your eyelids are too heavy for you now.

"NO, NO, NO, NO, NO. DON'T! KEEP YOUR EYES OPEN. DON'T LEAVE ME.. Please... Y/N.." He sobs through his words, wiping his noses, gently shaking you, still holding your hand. Having three people leave and betray him left him alone, but once he met you, he forgot all about them. He forgot all about his suffering. You bloomed a path into his heart, allowing him to express himself more, showing more of his self to people, and especially to you. What did he do to have you enter his life, and be the sunlight, he always looks forward to seeing?

Your hand goes limp, and he continues shaking you, sobbing. He continues to hold your hand, even when there's no warmth on your hand. He continues holding your hand, even when he knows, that you're already gone. 

"Y/N.. Please.. Wake up.. "

Your whole body is cold, and limp. You're not moving at all, not even when he shakes you violently. He stares at your body. In horror, shock, denial. You're not actually dead, are you? You're just teasing him, aren't you?

"I want to hear you.. call me Scaramouchie.. once more.. please.."

A few years later...

"Anemo breathing, third form, Jade-Claimed flower."

A flower, the same design as the top of his hat, rises from beneath the demon, and folds itself in half with the demon in the middle of it, knocking out the demon. He takes a step to the unconscious demon. Rising his sword, he slashes the demons head off, its body crumbling away, as the ashes fly into the air. He slices his sword in the air, something he was always taught to remove the blood after a fight. He slowly puts his sword back into his scabbard, and looks around the scene. More Kakushi scurry onto the scene, helping the wounded and helping clean up the scene.

"Sir Scaramouche?"

He turns around slowly, wondering why someone would talk to him, when there are severely wounded people who need attention.

His eyes widen slightly, and he seems to have been bought back to the first time he met her.

The same worried expression, like he's worrying if Scaramouche will be annoyed. She also used to have that expression whenever she asked for a favour, or for help with something.

"I uh.. I thank you.. Thank you for helping us.. I don't know if we would've been able to see the sun again if you hadn't arrived.." the young slayer bows, lower than a normal bow. Scaramouche looks in surprise, but his gaze softens. She also bowed like that when she apologized and thanked people..

Some of the Kakushi are secretly watching this scene now, as they continue cleaning up and helping the wounded. None of the new slayers ever dare walk up to Scaramouche due to his temper and cold personality. They've heard about him, as he's the most well respected among the Hashira, but the new slayers question that because of the stories they've heard about him, by people who have met him before.

Scaramouche takes a step to the young slayer, and places his hand on his head, and pats it gently. The young man is surprised by this, but he just stands there.

Scaramouche looks at the slayer, and gives a small smile. A genuine smile, but there is a hint of sorrow in his eyes as he smiles.

He takes his hand off the slayer's head, and walks off. All the Kakushi watch him leave, but continue with work, murmuring to each other. The young slayer turns and watches him, staring at him leave, but before he does leave, the young slayer yells something to Scaramouche, he's been wanting to tell him since he first saw him.

"I like your handguard.. A lotus flower.. It's beautiful."

Scaramouche stops for a second when he hears this. He's surprised the slayer noticed, and even commented on this. He smiles, just a bit. Scaramouche waves his hand, as he continues to walk out of the forest.

Once he has left Narukami Forest, he stares at the sun, shining down. He suddenly chuckles to himself, adjusting his hat.

"What an idiot.. Who bows that low?"

[lazycatwriter1]

“Tragedy always follows”

Sanemi x reader

Warning: angst, alcohol, a major character death, manga spoilers kind of, a few grammar mistakes probably, reader crushing on sanemi hard

You don't have an easy life that's for sure. Your family was killed by demons at a young age. You join the demon slayer corps and you even become a hashira. You did it for revenge and to protect people who can't. Because of this you lost many loved ones.

It seems like tragedy always follows you everywhere you go. Seeing everyone you love dead hurts you. But it seems like your luck has changed for the first time in years. 

Sanemi, the wind hashira with a bad temper.the person who's rude, aggressive, and the shortest-tempered person alive. He was the one who turns your life for the better 

He was the one who made you feel hope and joy in your life. You never Thought you would fall In Love with someone who had such a bad temper but was so amazing at the same time.  

But you never told him. You were too scared to tell him. In your eyes, you were not good for him and you were a waste of space. 

You dream of confessing to him and him saying 

Yes, but you couldn't really do it. You tried to get the confidence to confess but you never could.

It’s been months since you realize that you like him. The feeling of love for him continues to grow and grow. 

But you still didn't confess.  You Continue to dream about what if about him and you. 

Then you and the other hashira meant a boy named Tanjiro who was carrying a demon with him. During the whole time, you watched Sanemi not caring about the trial. Not caring that the demon could live, you were too lost in your thoughts.

At the end of the trail, you were walking to a bar to get a drink and suddenly you felt a hand on your shoulder. You turn your head to see sanemi looking pissed. You knew why he didn’t like how the trial went. 

“Oh hi Sanemi!” You said looking at him. “I'm probably blushing,” you thought to yourself as you looked at him wondering what he needed.

“Do you want to get a drink with me? Cause I need one.” he spoke with his normal harsh tone. “Yes, that would be nice,” you respond, smiling at him, happy to spend time with him.

When You two got to the bar and you got a sake And Sanemi got a beer. You took a sip of your drink as you looked at Sanemi. He took a huge gulp of his own drink.

“God. I hate Giyuu and that kid. Protecting a demon. god.” He muttered to himself as he took another drink of his beer.you looked at him as he drank.

“What do you think?”He turned to look at you. “ I trust master judgment.” You answered as you took a small sip of your drink.you didn’t want to drink too much so you won’t say anything stupid.

He didn’t say anything, he continued to look at you. He took another big drink. you looked at him and started to get lost in thought. 

You were in love with him and you wished that you could be with him forever. You wished that you had a Confidence to tell him that you liked him.

“Something wrong? You seemed lost In thought and you barely drank.” He suddenly speaks. You snap out of your thoughts. 

“Nothing wrong, I just don’t drink that much,” you said, a bit embarrassed that you were daydreaming about him. You took a little bigger sip of your sake.

He nodded his head a little and drank the last of his beer and ordered another one and started to drink it. You silently watched him and listened to him complain about work.

when he was done with his 3rd cup you just finished your first cup. You couldn’t drink much, you were too focused on Sanemi. 

“You really don't drink much,” he said looking at you. You chuckled slightly and nodded “ I'm a lightweight so I don’t drink much” you spoke 

“Are you going to drink more?” You asked  As you looked back at him.”nah I’m done..”he said as he finished his last deer. 

You grabbed your wallet and grabbed some money that would be paid for both of you and paid the bartender. 

“You didn’t have to pay besides you barely drank.”he said looking at you. “It’s fine” You responded as you got up from the seat. 

“Well thanks.” He said as he got up too. “It’s no problem”you responded to him “well have a good night sanemi” you said before walking off to your own house 

As you were walking to your home. You thought about sanemi again. You don’t know why you like him so much. “Why do I like him so much? He is so harsh,has a bad temper. But I still like him.”You thought

Today was great. You loved to listen to him. You felt so happy with him. You wanted to be with him and you wanted to tell him that you like him. 

“I’m going to tell him the next time when we are by ourselves.” You promised to yourself as you walked 

“I will tell him next time.”

Time skip

You lay on the ground bleeding out. You start to think about your life. You had one regret in your life. Tell Sanemi how you feel. You wished that you could at least tell him. 

The battle was over. Muzan was dead. You didn’t have to fight anymore. You wished that you could keep your promise that you made to yourself

You heard someone coming but you couldn't see who it was. The person slowly got closer and then realized it was Sanemi. He sat down and pulled you into your arms

“Sanemi…” you quietly said, tears starting to form in your eyes “Shh stop talking, save your energy." he said as he continued to hold you in his arms.

Your vision started to blur from the tears in your eyes. 

You spoke weakly again “Sanemi… I-I want to tell you something…” he paused for a second to catch your breath 

“ I like you…” you said, finally telling him how you felt. you slightly smiled knowing that you at least told him. I know that you idiot.” he responded. You smiled a little more.” it was that obvious huh…” I softly said.

“I like you too,” he spoke, holding onto tightly. You started to cry more and you continued to smile knowing that you had no regrets anymore. The only thing you wished was that you could be with him but you know that you were going to die.

Because Tragedy always follows you. but at least this time you got to say goodbye. 

“I love you…goodbye…sanemi…” you said weakly as your vision started to turn black. And you felt him hold onto more tightly to you.

Thank you so much for reading

[rice-enjoyer]

Oh, how I loathe who I used to be ; although i didn't put any effort into change.

a/n: how that god actually arrived into Teyvat. it was not all smooth sailing, as most of your acolytes like to believe. ~1.2k words cw: gn reader, READER DIES by getting hit by a car, but then boom! isekai'd into teyvat! sagau, mentions of self-harm, depression, bullying, cheating, and other nasties. not proofread we die! (literally in this case)one dash ( - ) means time skip. describing injuries thoroughly, unrealistically high amounts of blood loss for dramatic effect

--

The scars of the past are permanent, you can't hide them. When someone new talks to you long enough, they notice. You do dress rather modestly, so the physical remains of your sour past stay hidden. There is something so sorrowful and stern in your soft and warm smile. Your eyes turn dim, the sparkle slowly fading out, like it was never there.

Indeed, it has been a while since you were so pure and naive to make the mistake of showing your honesty on your face. Maybe when you were younger, innocence shined wherever you walked. Oh, but you grew up, just like everyone else. What can you expect in a word so cruel and unforgiving as yours? Sometimes wishing to be born in a different one, or to not be born at all.

Losing all touch with your inner child, as your friends from elementary school called you stupid, dumb, and slow. Respect leaves you when you get peer pressured into drinking in high school by older students when you really would rather be alone at home reading a book. Kindness leaves your body when your partner cheated on you, because of how "easy" you are, back in college. You still had some compassion left for your family and your boss at your secretary job.

You became robotic, almost. Very quiet, rigid, and dull. You have gotten many praises from higher-ups. They would all say that being a leader is fitting for you, yet you have not gotten promoted. You appear to be understanding, but the years and years of disrespect are starting to accumulate in your system. "Keep your mouth shut and your head held high." - is your way of living. Talking with others seems to be a fruitless endeavor. How very tiring, you just want to get home and immerse yourself in video games. You tried and tried and tried, but couldn't have dodged getting mistreated at work.

You fueled the source of the workplace gossip, everyone was saying how you must've used other methods to be at the top. But you are just a single step ahead, they wouldn't see it from their own seething envy anyway. This seems to be the pattern, you'd think. Assumptions prevent you from interacting with people you don't know very well, and vice versa.

Today was somehow worse, maybe because you stayed up all night reading Genshin lore. As you left the building, you remembered to open the game on your phone, maybe when you get across the street it would load. Playing on the metro could calm your senses, everyone is occupied with themselves anyway. You could only get to the first step of your little agenda, getting stopped mid-thought. Harassed by a group of people on the way home, you simply put, snapped. Maybe if you slept, things could've turned out differently.

But they didn't! Weary and furious and miserable. Letting emotions wash over you was so freeing. On the way to them, you were tunnel-visioned. Not looking when crossing the street, someone who was driving one of those dead-silent hybrid cars hit you. Maybe it was the angle the car hit you, your limp body bounced on their windshield, then slipped down onto the concrete with an unpleasant thud sound. There are no visible organs or bones showing, but my God, you are losing all of your blood. A small puddle forms under and around you, coating your phone in the thick, and warm redness. But your phone was broken. So were you.

-

Your last breath from the old world was your first in Teyvat. Beings all over felt your pain, but that liberating sense of freedom too. You fell on your stomach into a pool of frozen water, thin ice breaking at the sudden impact. In the exact same position you were in when you died. The notorious fight or flight instinct takes over your body, not even letting your mind dwell on your whereabouts. One word resonates within you: survive.

Your golden blood makes the water an unnatural moss-greenish color, but you have finer things to worry about. As you try to push your head up, only to be met with soft snow and some wild mint growing in your face. When you sneeze, you realize that your lower stomach area is an open wound. You hope the water might somehow get rid of leftover bacteria in it. You quickly grab onto some steady rocks to pull yourself out of the icy grip the water holds on you. You look up, dense clouds and a thick fog shielding the Sun from you. Maybe it's snowing, you are unsure, the spots could be a result of loss of blood. You prop your head up on a tree trunk, laying on your back, and you look down. Oh yeah, blood... Your abdomen has a long but thin cut, blood slowly oozing out of your recent injury. Why is it gold?!

Wait... did your fantasy come true? Are you a lost and ancient god of a world you know every nook and cranny of? You have read and seen many reincarnation tropes used throughout your favorite works of fiction. How very remarkable. You can finally become the leader you were destined to be. Even if you have to fight for your rightful title of the all-powerful god, you will use everything you have, right after you get this potential infection fixed.

You try chanting words into the cold air but to no avail. You do, however, think of something else. "All I'm asking for is a little warmth, I'll freeze to death if-" It works. A dry patch of grass, exactly where you are looking, lights on fire. You cheer and laugh and almost cry. In the reflection of a puddle that formed from melted snow, you see your eyes glow yellow, orange, and red. Your cheeks are flushed, and so are your arms. Warmth, true warmth that would only come from a fireplace hugs your sore and tired body. Maybe this is the reward for enduring all of that suffering. You feel proud. You would stand proud too, but you would have to conjure some little helper for you to get up.

Your tiny fire does go out, from the wind. Not surprised, you try another approach to your circumstances. Maybe you are in Dragonspine? Or Snezhnaya? You won't survive for long, even if you have more unknown godly powers up your sleeve. "Hm, if I could be at a warmer place, like Mondstadt for a change, if I-" You get teleported to Windrise, next to the statue. You feel better, the wound healing mostly. It's still very painful when you stand upright. You wobble down from the statue on those stairs in front of it, your hands on your waist, looking towards the city of freedom. "A new challenge to take on, how very exciting." - You mutter to yourself. Creatures of all types and sizes flock to you. Animals to monsters gather near you. You do have quite the following, how beneficial.

You tear your left long-sleeved sweater, making an impromptu bandage around your wound. You do have smaller cuts along your torso, but since they are not bleeding, you'll have to ignore them for now. Jokes aside, you should find someone who can heal injuries, or stitch them up. Multiple characters pop into your head. You will be busy, but at least it will be enjoyable. You feel at ease, if the simpler life forms already recognized you as their "creator", it should not take long for your favorite characters to do so as well.

[witchy8464]

Change - Legolas x GN!Reader

Summary - You age, yet Legolas does not. A life over 71 years of marriage. Short angst fic.

You met when you were young and spry, aged twenty-four. Your skin was tight and smooth over your face, your hair full of color, and your muscles strong. He found you fascinating, and you found him equally so. Your bond grew deep and powerful, tied together were your souls. It was no surprise when love followed. You were married four years after meeting. 

At twenty-six, lines began to appear near the corners of your mouth and your eyes. Legolas’s skin remained flawless. 

At thirty-five, your hair began to grey. Legolas’s did not. His hair remained silken, the color of a golden field of wheat.

At forty-seven, your joints began to ache. Legolas could still leap and bound with the grace of a deer.

At fifty-three, your once gorgeous hair, filled with life, was almost muted, tuned to gray. Legolas’s hair did not change.

At sixty-eight, your face was covered in folds and creases. Legolas’s skin did not change.

At seventy-four, you grew tired, your body protesting. Legolas did not change.

At eighty-two, your memory began to fade. Legolas did not change.

At ninety-one, you were bedridden. Legolas did not change.

At ninety-nine, you were sick. Legolas did not change.

At ninety-nine. 

You were gone.

And Legolas? 

He did not change.

When you would have been one hundred, a century, Legolas was gone.

.

.

.

You met when you were young and spry, aged twenty-four. You were beautiful. He loved your heart and your mind, your soul and your spirit. He loved how you loved him, and he loved loving you. Your bond grew deep and powerful, tied together were your souls. It was no surprise when love followed. You were married four years after meeting.

At twenty-six, lines began to appear near the corners of your mouth and your eyes. Legolas kissed them. How lovely to have the permanent signs of happiness etched into your skin. He was glad for them. It meant you were happy with him.

At thirty-five, your hair began to grey. Legolas was enraptured. The strands of silver glinted in the starlight, and he ran his fingers over your hair.

At forty-seven, your joints began to ache. Legolas held pride. Here you were, bearing the signs of an adventurer, of someone who did and fought and flew. 

At fifty-three, your once gorgeous hair, filled with life, was almost muted, tuned to gray. Legolas saw nothing but beauty, your hair the color of the moon.

At sixty-eight, your face was covered in folds and creases. Legolas held your face in his hands, warm and soft, loving the way your face showed every way you thought, you laughed, you smiled.

At seventy-four, you grew tired, your body protesting. Legolas stayed with you. He waited and he listened and let you sleep as you needed.

At eighty-two, your memory began to fade. Legolas held you tight. Even when you did not remember him, you felt safe in his arms. So that was what he would do.

At ninety-one, you were bedridden. Legolas read to you. He placed flowers on the table, wrapped you in the softest blankets, and slept next to you through the night

At ninety-nine, you were sick. Legolas loved you.

At ninety-nine. 

You were gone.

And Legolas? 

He changed.

He did not laugh, and he did not smile. You were not there to hold. You were not there to wait for. You were not there to read to. His heart died that day. It died with yours. His soul pulled at your bond, wishing you would tug back a response. But you were cold and silent. 

When you would have been one hundred, a century, Legolas went with you.

--

Word Count - 611

Inspired by this post 

[yureismellslikefanfic]

Scaramouche x Reader

Angsty, ig? (Death)

A/N: First time writing on Tumblr, a little nervous 😅

"Wh- I had it under control! I had a plan dammit!" Scaramouche cursed, putting pressure on the bleeding wound on the side of your stomach.

(Before)

You had moved out of pure instinct when you saw that Scaramouche was about to get hit by a certain Lumine as he was focused on fighting Kazuha and Bennett.

Lumine had lunged forward to attack Scaramouche from out of his line of sight, and you didn't have any time to react.

You'd pushed him out of the way, Lumine's sword piercing your stomach instead.

Lumine's eyes widened, realizing what she had done. Taking her sword out of your stomach, she uttered a small apology, quickly darting off with Kazuha and Bennett.

Kazuha and Bennett only quickly glanced in your direction as they left.

Scaramouche had just recovered after being pushed, and laid eyes on you, who was still in shock from what happened.

"Why the fuck would you-... holy shit, holy shit- (y/n)!"

You just stood still, completely frozen, while Scaramouche was just now taking all this information in.

Panic and fear were the only things running through his veins as he hurried towards you.

You'd fallen backwards from the pain that had just kicked in, Scaramouche was fast enough to catch you before you hit the ground.

"Wh- I had it under control! I had a plan dammit!" Scaramouche cursed, putting pressure on the bleeding wound on the side of your stomach.

You looked into his eyes and saw the very obvious glint of fear that he hadn't had time to even think about hiding.

You vaguely remember the day Scaramouche told you about his abandonment issues, and the events that had caused them.

"L- Love, you'll be okay."

If you paid attention, you could've heard the uncertainty in his voice. It was like he was trying to convince himself, more than you.

But you wouldn't be able to focus enough to notice.

You wouldn't be able to focus enough to notice that his voice shook.

"I'm-.. s- so... tir-..ed..."

You were able to notice how he shook when he held you, his arms holding you ever-so-tighter.

You were losing consciousness quickly, and your eyes blurring.

But through your drowsiness, you could feel his forehead press against yours.

You could feel... water... dropping onto your face as you lay in his arms, growing paler by the second.

"(y/n)-.. please-.. hold on.. for me... please-.."

He knew when your heart stopped, and when you'd grown impossibly cold, that you were gone.

He was scared. Terrified, even. He'd let himself get vulnerable around you.

He vowed to himself from that day on, he would push everyone away. His paranoia from losing you was too great.

He would never love again.

At least, that's what he'd repeated to himself.

[amber-sekio]

Oneshot -Killing Butterflies

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Ships: Aether x reader ; Childe x reader ; Childe x Zhongli

TW: Aether x reader ; reader x Tartaglia ; Tartaglia x Zhongli (if you squint) ; Major angst ; character death ; hurt no comfort ; Aether loves reader, reader loves Tartaglia, Tartaglia loves Zhongli ; reader dies ; implied death ; gn reader-no gender is given to reader

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This is a whole bucket full of angst so have fun lol. Also, for context i would recommend reading this post of mine. Anyways enjoy reading! (*^▽^*)

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Aether couldn't bear to see you like this. To watch you through yourself at him when he no longer loved you. It was pitiful really. How you begged for him to stay. You were attached to him while he moved on. Tartaglia didn't hate you, he simply didn't love you anymore. Tartaglia moved on and fell in love with someone else; his best friend. You couldn't do anything about it but simply accept what had happened. Though you could never move on from him as he had done.  

And so Aether watched as you fell deeper into despair. He tried to lift you up, to show you how much you were loved and that you didn't need Tartaglia to feel loved, that there was someone else who loved you dearly. You were too blinded by your sorrow to notice how Aether thought of you.  

As much as Aether wanted to do more for you he couldn't and so he let himself be a shoulder to cry on for you. Hoping. Praying. That one day you would see how much he cared for you. 

You had been going to Aether nearly every day for about a week just to cry. He was your dearest friend after all.  Until one day you stopped.  

Aether thought you simply needed a bit of space to get over your heartache.  

That was a week ago though. 

It had been two weeks since he last saw you, and he was getting worried.  

He stood outside your home, knocked, telling you it was only him and that he was worried because he hadn't saw you in two weeks. 

Silence 

He knocked again. 

Nothing 

He wasn't fond of entering without your permission but he had to make sure you were alright. He needed to make sure. 

He went to open the door to find it was unlocked already, though it wasn't uncommon for you, it seemed to unnerve him for some reason. Your home was dark, the curtains were all closed and no light was on. The lack of light only made him worry more. You always had light in your home whether from open curtains or candles lit at night so for your house to be so dark in the middle of the day was worrisome. He walked around your house looking for you until he came to your room. 

The door was closed and at first it seemed deadly silent from within your room as it was in the rest of your house. He stood there silently until he heard what sounded like a sob come from within your room. He opened the door to find you curled in on yourself in the corner of the room on your bed.  

"Y/n are you-" 

However you were surrounded by butterflies. 

Red butterflies. 

Blood Red butterflies 

"Aether?" 

He knew what was happening. He had seen this before. A friend from another world had died the exact same way, but he hadn't heard of it happening on Teyvat. He didn’t think it was possible here. He didn't want to believe it.  

"How long has this been going on for y/n?" Aether inquired while walking over to your side. 

"A-about two weeks now," you paused, taking a breath. "Aether do you know what's wrong with me?" 

The look in Aether's eyes told you the answer to your question. It hurt Aether to see you like this, to hear you sound broken. It seemed that at the very least the disease wasn't well known in Teyvat if at all. 

You didn't have much longer. It was obvious with how pale you were and the number of butterflies around you. Most people barely survived a month with the disease. Typically the victim died within three to four weeks of obtaining it. So it was easy to tell you would be dead soon. 

He stayed by your side, tending to you as you slowly grew weaker and couldn't perform simple tasks let alone even walk. The only time he left your side was to inform Tartaglia of your condition and what was going to happen as well as ask Albedo if he knew anything of the disease. 

Aether was told that while it did exist in Teyvat, it was extremely rare. 

The moment Aether got back he was immediately by your side again. 

You died in his arms five days later. 

He laid you down on your bed as the butterflies landed on and around you to rest peacefully alongside with you.  

Aether sat on the ground next to your bed, closing his eyes only to start coughing. He looked at his hand only to be met with flowers. 

Red flowers. 

Blood Red flowers. 

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I've come to realize that while I'm not the biggest fan of reading angst, I sure do love writing it.

[unlucky-corvid]

Losing his spark: Cayde-6 x Solar Guardian reader

so, my first actual full fic. Don't get your hopes up, I've no idea if this is any good or makes any sense, tried to keep it as in character as possible. It's barely proofread and I'm only like 4 hours sleep so excuse any typos but fingers crossed it all makes some sense.

as always, have a good day lovlies and I hope you enjoy xoxox

WARNINGS: Death, injury detail, angst and violence under the cut, if you can't handle these please scroll away, I promise I'll write something fluffy and sweet.

Well, this wasn't going as expected.

Cayde and yourself had been trusted with what was supposed to be a simple in and out mission. Into the cabal stronghold, grab the intel (maybe shoot a few bad guys and look good doing it) then back to the tower in time for some piping hot ramen. His plan was flawless. or as you had called it "winging it".

Praise was reserved for quiet moments, whispers about how you were his favourite, how he had never seen such a bright solar spark in all his years at the tower, just so he could watch the blush bloom onto your cheeks and your smile. Oh, your smile, he would set aside what little pride and dignity he had to see it just once. You could point at any star in the night sky and if you asked, he would retrieve it for you. If only he had the guts to tell you this. He would eventually. He had plans, a clear summer night, hot ramen, something strong to drink with a nice kick. Just the two of you.

Well, you had always been overly cautious, but it worked surprisingly well for the pair of you. Cayde, the man with the plan and a slightly headstrong attitude and you, cautious and always with 6 back up plans. That's what he loved about you, of course, he wouldn't say that out loud, no, he had a reputation to maintain.

The mission was going well. the pair of you had crept into the cabal's stronghold unseen. Suspiciously easy. That's when all hell broke loose. The plan was lock tight. They shouldn't have known you were there but now both of you were up shit creek without a paddle...or a boat...or a life jacket. Someone must have tipped them off. Legionaries, phalanxes, gladiators, centurions, and war beasts surged out of every doorway and corridor. It was nothing either of you couldn't handle.

He thought.

As bullets flew the pair of you slowly drifted apart, swamped by cabal, the well-oiled machine the pair of you were when fighting started to rust. Soon you were just a distant blur of solar energy. His little firefly, his solar flare. He couldn't stand and watch though, as shot after shot was fired from his trusty hand cannon into the swam of red.

The ambush was thinning, he knew the pair of you would pull through you always did.

Then he felt it.

As if a part of his own light was ripped from his very being. A tidal wave that rocked the whole room, he had to catch himself from being thrown against the wall as the pure light that surged through the area bowled him over, knocking the wind out of him. No. Not you.

The red tide didn't stop, but the surprise of the explosion gave him the perfect window to see the despair as your ghosts shattered shell, lightless, scattered across the floor. The scream trapped in your throat as the gladiator speared you onto its cabal serverus blade, the stench of searing flesh permeating the air, the way your legs buckled, and body thudded against the floor as the gladiator kicked you off its blade.

The war beast that clamped down onto his left arm causing him to drop his hand cannon was first to feel his retribution. Snapping out of his trance he grits his teeth, throwing the war beast with such force it dented the steel wall behind him and grabbing ace he reloads and unleashes hell. Shot after shot echoed over the roaring screams of the cabal. Bones crunched, tendons snapped and popped until all that was left was the gladiator, your body at its feet in a gasping crumpled mess.

Cayde saw red. He doesn't know how many rounds he pumped into the gladiator. He doesn't remember ripping its jaw apart as he screams in pure unbridled anger. He doesn’t remember being beating it into a bloody unrecognisable mess.

The red tide was now a red sea. Cayde had spilt enough blood in his lifetime, and he would spill more in future. But now wasn't the time to dwell on his crimson-stained past.

It was Sundance who snapped him out of his anger, his body tense, chest heaving. "Cayde....they need you" Sundance says quietly.

Cayde is at your side in an instant, hand barely able to cover the ragged wound in your abdomen as he pulls you onto his lap. "No no no no no" he mumbles his hand instantly soaked in your blood. You had always been a paragon of strength, the pair of you often rough and tumbling in the tower, sparring in the training room, but now in his arms you felt fragile, body trembling as you gulped for air.

"h-hey" you rasped weakly a pained smile on your face. "We...we sure showed them."

He choked on his words "Yeah, we sure did”.

"I’m sorry"

Why were you apologising? You shouldn't be apologising. He should have been beside you; he should have been better; he should have done more. It should have been him. His thoughts fly a million miles an hour.

"Don't you dare apologise" he rasps, his voice synthesiser becoming more staticky.

"I'm sorry we couldn't have been more" you whisper, his hands stroke your hair as he rocks you gently.

"Wasn’t supposed to be like this. Was supposed to take you back home, treat you real nice" he growls in frustration. He couldnt loose you, not now. Not after there was so much he wanted to do, so many words left unsaid. He had saved so many cheesy pick up plines, so many date ideas, crimson day, festival of the lost, the dawning festival.

He had plans for every single one with you beside him. He removes your helmet, if he was going to say this if he was going to hold you in your final moments, he wanted to see those eyes he loved so much. the ones he would think about late at night, the ones he longed to see when he would turn in bed to the emptiness of cold sheets. Sheets that would remain cold. That would never see your warmth.

"Oh yeah? tell…Tell me about it" You begin to cough, and his arms tighten around you, he can feel the visceral rattling gurgle that accompanies each breath and he knows it will haunt him.

"Was gonna take you to that ramen spot in the city, you know, the really nice one in the city, has the pretty lanterns outside? yeah, I’d get you whatever you wanted, on me, really spoil you. Then I’d take you to our spot-"

"That little overlook on the city wall?" your voice, quiet and scratchy barely reaches his audio receptors.

He nods smiling through the pain to keep you relaxed, he had time to scream and shout and cry later, right now you were the only important thing "that's the one. Bring with us a little something to drink and watch the sunset. Maybe we would have a little slow dance under the stars. Always said I’d take you dancing one day didn't I?" the static in his voice was becoming more prominent as he had to force the words out, willing his body to stop trembling, trying to comfort you.

“Sounds nice”

“Then I'd tell you everything, everything I should have told you months ago” he mumbles burring his face in your hair, if he could cry he's sure he would be in floods, just another reason he despised his exo body.

“It's okay, I knew”.

“You knew?”

You weakly nod and struggle to put on a smile, bloody lips barely managing to up turn, your face was pale. You were fading fast, trickling through his fingers like sand and no matter how hard he tried it was like trying to catch water with a siv. “Always knew. I love you to”.

He can feel your faint heartbeat getting harder and harder to pick up under his blood-soaked fingers.

“I love you”.

Sundance didn’t have the heart to tell him they were already gone before he said those three words. She wasn’t ever going to tell him.

You knew.

You had always known.

Traveler help the poor bastard who tipped off the cabal about their arrival. Because no force within the known galaxy could protect them from Cayde-6

[worriedvision]

Reader saying "you don't get to be sorry" with either cyno, heizou, kazuha, or scara. Any one of them would be fine!

Doing this with Cyno, got hit with a stroke of inspiration. Gender neutral reader, mentions the readers death.

--

You had always been somewhat troublesome to work with, in the general Mahamatra's opinion. You always did things your own way, sometimes not thinking too much about possible domino effects, and things tended to go wrong with you around. Nothing that was irreparable or damaging to your team members, but he couldn't help but get frustrated when you got harmed by your own silly actions.

Every time you apologised for your lack of thinking before acting, Cyno took less and less of your apology. He knew you wouldn't consider an action that would put other people at risk, but you kept forgetting to think of your own safety.

Unfortunately, your last mission was a solo one. You had decided to try a plan that, in your mind, sounded great. This, ultimately, led to your demise. When Cyno heard the area you were investigating collapsed, he was ready to scold you. He was preparing himself for the apology.

When he arrived, however, he had to look for your body. When he did, he couldn't stop himself from saying those words out loud.

"You don't get to be sorry." He softly realises, hugging your cold body close to his as he begins to mourn your loss.

[witcher-and-henry-cavill-stuff]

Love's Legacy: Henry Cavill x Reader

Note: This story contains sensitive and emotional subject matter. Please proceed with caution.

---

The room was filled with a heavy silence as Henry, with a sense of both anticipation and grief, held the letter that you had left behind. The pain of losing you while giving birth to your daughter was still fresh, and Henry's heart ached for the love he had lost. With trembling hands, he opened the letter, prepared to read your final words.

As he began to read the delicate script, tears welled up in his eyes, blurring the words that carried your essence.

"My Dearest Henry,

If you are reading this letter, it means that fate has dealt us a cruel hand, and I am no longer beside you. My heart aches at the thought of leaving you behind, but I find solace in the knowledge that our love created something beautiful—a precious gift that will forever be a part of us.

As our daughter takes her first breath, I want you to be her guiding light. You have always been the pillar of strength and love in my life, and I know that you will be the same for her. Wrap her in the warmth of our love, Henry, and let her know that she is a living testament to the love that bound us together.

In her eyes, you will find a reflection of my love for you. Treasure every giggle, every milestone, and every whispered 'I love you.' Teach her the values we held dear, and instill in her the kindness and compassion that defined our relationship.

Please remember, my love, that while my physical presence may be absent, my spirit remains with you and our daughter. I will watch over both of you, protecting and guiding you from wherever I may be. In her laughter, in her smile, and in the depths of her eyes, you will find glimpses of me.

Though my heart aches at not being able to witness our daughter grow, I find solace in the knowledge that she will have you as her father. You are a beacon of love and strength, Henry, and I know that you will fill her life with happiness and joy.

Please, my love, do not let grief consume you entirely. I want you to find joy in the moments you shared with our daughter and in the memories we created together. Embrace life, not just for yourself, but for her. Be the father she deserves, and let our love be her guiding star.

I entrust our daughter's future to you, Henry. Love her fiercely, protect her with all your might, and may she always know the depth of our love.

With all the love that my heart can hold, and even more,

Y/N"

As Henry finished reading your heartfelt words, he clutched the letter close to his heart, the weight of your absence heavier than ever. Tears streamed down his face, a mixture of profound loss and immense love. In that moment, he made a silent vow to honor your wishes and be the father you believed he could be.

With a trembling breath, Henry whispered into the air, "Thank you, my love. Our daughter will know the strength of your love through me. I will cherish her and ensure she knows how deeply she was loved by her mother."

In the depths of his grief, Henry felt a comforting presence surrounding him, as if you were there, whispering back, "I love you, Henry. Always and forever."

And with your words echoing in his heart, Henry knew that your love would guide him on this new journey of fatherhood. He would cherish your daughter, enveloping her in the love that you had left behind. Together, they would carry your legacy forward, forever connected by the bond that transcended life and death.

In the gentle breeze that brushed his cheek, in the soft cries of their daughter, and in the memories that lingered, Henry felt your love. And he knew that, even in your absence, your spirit would forever be intertwined with his and their daughter's lives.

[whore-mel]

Stabbed to death <3

.ೃ࿔*:･ Warnings: Gore, blood, murder, Danny Johnson, I think that's it idk.

You stare at ghostface's white mask as you sit on his lap. You frown, as Danny slowly strokes your back. You were nervous, definitely. You had a bad feeling in your stomach. Danny definitely sensed that because he leaned in and whispered to you..

"It's fine, sweetheart. You'll be fine." He reassures you, making you feel a fake sense of security. He grabs your hips and pulls you closer, your chest hitting his. You sigh softly, and you put your head on his shoulder in a loving manner. You hear him shuffling under you. Which makes you wonder, what's he looking for? He suddenly chuckles, which makes you slightly worried again. Suddenly you feel something sharp on your back. Realizing what was happening far too late, you open your mouth to argue, when a scream rips out of your throat.

"Shh, sweetheart. We don't want the neighbors to hear." He laughs. You grip his body, gasping for air as the knife lunges into your back once more. You scream again, feeling an excruciating pain in your back. He pulls the knife out and drags it on your back.

"Such a good girl, taking the pain so well" he mumbles, you sob and close your eyes tightly. Danny laughs and stabs it into your back once more. You sob, softly begging him to stop. He laughs harder, ignoring your pleas for mercy, and continues to lunge the knife into your back.

Blood is gushing out of your wounds, staining your shirt with the red liquid. You can feel your shirt sticking onto your body, due to the blood. You start coughing, tasting blood in your mouth. He pulls you back by your hair. You cry out in pain, and you reach up to hold his hand. You stare at his white screaming mask.

He slowly admires his work, your shirt bloodstained and stuck onto your body, your face tearstained, the blood in your hair, and your horrified expression. He smiles sadistically under his mask, the fun is just getting started...

He throws you onto the ground. You gasp, the impact causing all the air to leave your lungs. He straddles you, you try to fight back. But the pain from the stab wounds is too much. He stabs your shoulder. You scream but instead of telling you to shut up, he straight up slaps you. The force from the blow making your head snap to the side. You stop screaming, you turn to look at him.

He stares at your stupid expression. He stabs your stomach, then he starts to slowly carve into your stomach, the sound of flesh ripping and blood splattering filling the air. You sobbed, screamed, and begged for mercy, begging him to just let you die. But sadly, Danny's a cruel, sadistic man, who takes pleasure in your suffering. He continues to take his time, savoring your screams and sobs, and making you feel your insides being torn apart.

Danny laughs and finally, puts you out of your misery by cutting your throat. He gets up and admires his work. Your were now a bloody mess, your intestines spilling out onto the ground, shirt stained and sticky, tears staining your cheeks, and your blood covering the couch and the floor.

Danny gets up and stares at you. "You are going to be the best article, sweetheart." He laughs as he takes a photo of your mutilated body. He can't wait to see you tomorrow.

Wanted to post this earlier, but had to change so much 😭😭 I'm still not satisfied tbh.

[kirarasdeliveryservice]

SPECIAL DELIVERY!

Sanemi Shinazugawa x Male!Reader

Genre: Angst

Format: Oneshot

Warnings: Death & suicidal thoughts

The air was still. The blood that drenched your uniform sticking to your sides and back. You feel the cool air embrace you as you kneel to the ground.

After a while, you slowly close your eyes, embracing the peacefulness of your death. Maybe dying wasn't so bad after all, you felt truly miserable your whole life. The one good thing you had is currently being stripped away from your grasp as you kneel on the ground, accepting death.

“[Y/N]!” Sanemi shouted from afar, sprinting to you with tears falling from his eyes consistently. He begins to shake you rapidly while screaming your name, his voice slowly breaking between breaths. “Please, my love. I cannot lose you, not today!” He places his forehead on yours and takes your hands into his lap. His stream of tears slowly fell onto the back of your palm.

Before you could fully accept your fate, you sob uncontrollably. You never truly believed that someone would care if you died. Even when you tried to think about it, you'd always break out sobbing. You lean your full body weight on Sanemi as you look at him with dull eyes. “[Y/N].” Sanemi grips your hands as his once sorrowful tears, turn into angry, frustrated tears. “You would be alive right now if it weren't for my dumbass getting here late. I'm sorry.”

You look at him with fading eyes, smiling. “It's... Okay. At least I protected those civilians.” You croaked, bringing your hand up from his grasp. Cupping his cheek in your palm.

“[Y/N]! I hope you realize that you can't just sit here and accept death!” He yells as he dresses your wounds, searching for one last ounce of hope. “You want to be a hero? Then be a man and live for as long as you can as one. You can't just do one good deed [Y/N]. Think about it! You'll be more memorable if you do more than one thing. Please, my darling.”

Once he finishes dressing your wounds, he grabs both of your hands in his. He brings up your hands to his forehead as a plea. “Please. Even if that doesn't motivate you, stay for me at least.”

You look at him, tears rolling down your cheeks in a consistent pattern. “I.. I... You don't need me. You'll be alright without me.” You feel your vision start to blur as you look at Sanemi. “No [Y/N]! I won't!” He yells, his voice croaking more and more. “You are the only light I have left in this world! Please, as the man I love so much. Please stay alive!”

He grips your hands violently as he sobs. He knew your time was up since he saw you kneel on the ground. He didn't want to believe it though. You were the first ever person to love and appreciate him as much as you did.

You made him realize so many pleasant things about life. You helped him through so much, and now he's getting it taken from him. Like every good thing in life.

“I...” He sighs and looks at you, accepting fate. “[Y/N], the man that truly brought me true happiness in this world. I am glad to have met you and to live this adventure with you. I love you.”

“I love you too.” You smile with your dull eyes. Soon enough, you turn cold and die peacefully in Sanemi's arms.

“We'll meet again, someday, somewhere.”

[phonkscribes]

Dead Last.

You live by a code most would abandon in these circumstances, where death isn’t an escape and a nameless goddess hungers. It’s a rare trait to find amongst people, especially those that have died time and time again. When the gates are powered and you’re abandoned by your peers, you don’t think that anyone would notice. Let alone the people that put you in that spot.

Assorted killers reacting to an abandoned reader.

Legion / Frank Morrison

Legion is as thick as nails, nothing can get between them, even if things got rough. That much was true on that night in the store when they took turns killing that janitor. He’s disappointed to see that your ‘team’ won’t extend a hand to save one of their own like how the Legion would to him. Ace runs out the door, not even looking back as you lay on the cold floor of Ormond.

“I bet that hurts real bad”, he teases, putting a foot on your back to keep you from struggling.

He wants to hear what you’ll say in response, to see how you’ll beg or plead for your life. You’re whimpering, crying— he can see the steam rise from your cheeks. The pain he’s talking about isn’t physical, but you’re trying your best to hold it in. In some ways, he could feel for you, in others he could not. That’s just how things are around here. You stick your neck out for someone and then it gets you killed.

“That’s what happens when you try and play hero, dumbass”, he grabs you, hoisting you up and over his shoulder.

He has a quota to meet, a number to fill so that bitch in the sky doesn’t give him or any of his friends shit later. He doesn’t feel bad for putting you on the hook, watching as the claws sink into your sides as you die. Although he does feel… something. The next trial that you see him he doesn’t bother you so much, choosing to hit you while he’s in his frenzy before leaving to find the bigger fish. If Ace happens to be with you, he’s sure to tunnel him out.

It’s his way of being nice, hoping you don’t catch on when he does this one thing.

The Ghostface / Danny Johnson

You’d been running with Yun-Jin towards the gates as the timer ticked down. She’d been right at your side until she hadn’t. As you went to look over your shoulder he was right there. The ribbons on his hood billowed as he cut through the night, breaking his shroud as he tore into your side. You’d been exposed and you didn’t even notice, nor did the producer bother to tell you. As Danny wipes his blade he looks down at you pitifully, tutting I’m disappointment as your fellow survivor left you for dead.

“You should’ve seen your face”, he taunts, chuckling as you try and recover, “But that was fun”

You sit there, gasping for air as he squats down to pat your shoulder, which has a hook shaped hole through it. You cry out from the pain, but he coos, as if there was an adorable puppy before him and not your sweaty, bleeding body.

“Isn’t that tough?”, he picks you up and starts walking.

You’re sure you’re dead, not bothering to struggle as you sniffle. It tugs at his heartstrings, it really does. You’re lucky he thinks you’re so cute! Otherwise, he’d have killed you a lot sooner, which he probably should’ve done to that bitch Yun-Jin! He walks along, straining his ears as you try and not to cry at your defeat. The hatch is near as the two of you pick up on the sound of the angelic singing. The Ghostface sets you down just in front of it.

“Since I’m feeling generous… just this once, I’ll let you go”, hope starts to seep through that look of despair etched onto your features. It stirs something within him.

You start to crawl, pulling yourself forward as he thinks about shutting it in your face. How would you look if he stole away your only means of escape? Danny wants to see what that’d look like, the terror reinstalled in your eyes as you inch closer and closer.

“Th- Thank you..”, you tell him, looking up into the eyes of the mask.

Ah… next time. Definitely next time.

Hillbilly / Max Thompson Jr.

He’d caught you by the shack, using his saw to cut through your middle as Dwight had made the mistake of throwing the pallet down to block your path. It was a mistake, he’d heard the saw and reacted when he saw the red stain. The look of regret is as plain as day as he runs, pain struck across his face as he leaves you behind. Max didn’t think much of survivors, but he could understand better than anyone what it felt like to be caught and punished rather than betrayed. He watched Fairfield leave as your blood spilled all across the wooden floorboards. The sounds of your panicked, frustrated breaths mixing with his labored growls filled the air.

So that’s it eh?

He looks down at you, waiting to see how you might react, if you’d yell or cry out. With the leader gone, it was just you left. If he put you on the hook, you’d die, as simple as that. He moves, stepping over your body to break the pallet. The wood splinters as it falls, collecting besides you as he goes to pick you up. It’s not uncommon, he’s seen it happen before a thousand times but it’s always so… he doesn’t know the words to place it. You didn’t deserve that, he reasons. Max carries you off to the gate where he saw the scratch marks fade off to.

He’s says something, tries to at least, but is unable to. It comes out as a small grunt, as he picks you up. You wonder why he’s being so nice. Usually he’s so intent on getting people off the farm and into the next match. You pat his back, a quiet thank you as he gently drops you off on the floor. He doesn’t say anything, just watches, revving up his chainsaw to carry him off to go close the hatch if he can find it.

He thinks you’re cool, like a hero from one of his shows. You’re too kind to kill, too brave, too good. He’d have felt better about doing it if you were a scum bag.

Pig / Amanda Young

You tried your best to keep everyone alive, but no amount of heals or pallets can prevent the inevitable. It’s not that they didn’t try. All of you try, fighting to stay alive in the face of cruelty, but alas. The reverse bear traps didn’t find them to be agreeable. Either your friends fell victim to the saw trap or to the blade of Miss Amanda Young. You’re the only one who managed to get the trap off in time, so by Amanda’a standards, you’ve earned your life. That didn’t stop you from trying to save your friends from their graves.

At the end, she meets you in her workshop, eyeing you curiously. There was no favoritism, no second chances aside from the one you got. They all had every opportunity to survive and failed. Watching you now, she feels a shred of sympathy. A few years ago, she was the same just like you, eyes wide and afraid of dying. You’ve earned your life, proven by the lack of a trap on your head. She beckons you to follow her, as she already knows a way out.

“Don’t think too hard about it”, she says, noting your apprehension to follow her like a good survivor.

She’s indifferent for the most part, with the slightest hint of being proud of you. You may not be disciple worthy, but you held quite a bit of promise in her eyes. Should you ever turn to the dark side, she’d love to mentor you. You jump through the hatch as she waves goodbye, silent as she studies the expression on your face as you depart.

Shape / Michael Myers

You were the obsession this trial, and as much as he would’ve loved to kill you just then and there, he knew it’d serve him better to let you go. There were so many times where he could’ve just offed you had he felt like it. Though evil personified had other plans, such as dealing with the gnats flying around you. They really were just flies, swarming you when they needed help, when their wounds couldn’t be staunched caused by his knife. Picking them off one by one wasn’t hard, with how quickly he was able to catch up to them as they worked hard to complete their tasks. He reveled in the way that you watched their bodies hit the floor. You were next.

You were next and there was nothing you could do to stop it. As the last survivor, he was more than eager to track you down, playing the same game he played with his little sister. He stalked you through the halls of his childhood home, you sprinted up the stairs and towards the window, but he was faster. The shape was content with the way your throat fit in his hand when he held you up and pinned you to the wall. You slammed back quite nicely, your grunt of pain being drowned out by a scream.

The wet squelch of your guts wet his hand, your blood dripping down from the hilt and making the handle sticky. He didn’t mind, didn’t seem to care as he watched you with interest. Your death seemed to fascinate him almost as he pushed it deeper into your struggling body. He set you down when you were done, finally done with this trial. Somehow… he liked it. The way you squirmed, how you didn’t quite accept it as it was happening. He’ll be sure to save you for last the next time he sees you.