#reader injury

[indulgentdaydream]

Can you write something where the reader is badly injured in some way and jason rushes her to the manor for help and everybody is confused on who she is bc they didnt even know he was in a relationship (despite them being together for awhile) but they see how soft and cute he is with her. (I’ve never made a request so sorry if it got kinda rambley)

anon you’ve got me TEEMING with ideas I LOVE the trope of nobody knowing jason has a girlfriend and they find out but it is NOT by Jason’s choice nor reader’s.

Also omg? Your first ask is to lil ol me?? That means this is a special occassion. And you’re doing great I’ve def sent worse asks.

Out of the Bag

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader || Hurt and Comfort.

Word Count: 1,862

Warnings: Injuries, swearing, near death experience, blood, knife mention, stabbing, canon-typical violence, use of pet names (princess, baby), drug (pain med) use

You were sat in an alleyway, vision going in and out.

“Tell me something, princess. Anything.” Jason’s voice rang out in your ear.

That’s right. In your right hand, you held your phone, to your ear. Your other hand was pressing the fabric of your coat to the side of your stomach. The blood had soaked through, becoming sticking on your palm and fingers.

You should’ve listened to Jason. You shouldn’t have walked home alone, at night. Luckily your phone had been in your pocket and not your purse, which had been stolen from you by the same guy who decided to stab you.

“Princess,” he sounded panicked.

Right. “Wish I had kicked him harder.”

You heard a sigh of relief leave him, “That’s my girl.”

The phone slipped from your grip a little as your head swam. The sight of blood coming from your own abdomen made no help in quelling your nausea.

You fixed the phone. You had called Jason the second the guy ran off, leaving you to bleed out. He was driving, you think. Tracking your phone to try and get to you. “How far?”

He said something you didn’t hear. Your vision was swimming, your side was aching, and you couldn’t help but keep this funny understanding out of your mind that you were dying.

That this is something Jason had come back to your apartment with a few times, claiming it was nothing. It was something.

You heard him call your name, “What’s around you?”

“I’m tired,” you mumbled.

It seemed to happen in a blink of an eye. Jason was trying to tell you to stay awake, to look at the alley around you. To look out towards the street and tell him what you saw. Then he was there, standing in front of you, his helmet hiding his face.

“I’m here. I’m here, baby.” He cupped your face, tapping your cheek to get you to open up your eyes. He crouched down, pulling your hand from your side to assess the damage.

You smiled lazily and leaned forward, resting your forehead against his shoulder.

Jason muttered a slew of swears as he pressed something soft yet hard against your agonizing wound. You let out a yelp before Jason was picking you up, placing you on his bike.

He’s talking fast, “Fuck. Okay, listen to me. We’re going to go somewhere new, okay? There’s nowhere around here except there for me to get you safe.”

You passed out nearly as soon as he started the bike.

Jason’s freaking. He had tried to keep you safe from anything like this. From everything less than this. And here you were, bleeding out in his arms as he carried you through the batcave. He beelined for the cots and the medical supplies off to the side. He knows his motorcycle couldn’t have been the smoothest of rides for someone in your condition, but it’s all he had in such a short time span.

He’ll apologize when you wake up.

When. He repeats. When she wakes up and when we can get the hell out of this place again and when I can remind her I love her.

No one was back from patrol yet. He set you down on the cot before tearing off his helmet. He tossed it aside, pulling out a med bag and ripping it open. He pushed up your shirt, examining your side and where he had placed the military-grade gauze pad. He curses at the amount of blood.

His hands are shaking. Jason’s hands don’t shake, but you’ve proven to him a lot of things you could make him do that he hadn’t known he was capable of in the last year and (almost) a half of your relationship.

Jason nearly drops the suture thread before another hand is reaching out from just behind him. It catches the thread and Jason looks back over his shoulder. Alfred’s there, moving up to you.

“Allow me. You keep checking her vitals.”

Jason hadn’t even heard him come up. He’s nodding, stepping back to let Alfred take over the stitching. He moves to the other side of the bed.

That’s when he catches sight of the dark figure moving closer from behind Alfred. Jason immediately fixes him with a deadly glare, pointing at Bruce, “Do not come closer!”

Bruce stills. He’s in his bat suit, his cowl hanging behind his head, exposing his face. He looks down to your body, “Who is she?”

Jason doesn’t want him here. Rather, he doesn’t want to be here. You should’ve been home by now. Getting ready for bed and sending him a goodnight text. He turns his gaze back to you.

There’s some hair across your face that he hadn’t noticed. He moves it out of your way without a second thought, “My girlfriend.”

“Finally feel some remorse for sending someone to their grave, Todd?” Damian’s voice spoke up, walking up and stopping beside Bruce, “He’s probably trying to just reverse what he did.”

Jason ignores him. He wants to yell, scream, and maybe shoot the little bastard, but he was right. In a way, this was his fault. He didn’t look after you. He should’ve offered you a ride. Called you a taxi. An uber. Anything.

Jason grips your hand into his. It’s a way to count your heartbeat, and another way to ground himself. To reassure that you’ll be okay. His other hand stays on your cheek. His thumb gently moves back and forth, stroking your skin.

He barely registers Bruce telling Damian to go wash up. When the brat is gone, Bruce speaks up again, “What happened?”

Jason doesn’t take his eyes off of you, “She was walking home from her friend’s. A mugger got her purse, she fought back. He stabbed her.” Jason takes a deep breath, “She still had her phone. She called me. I brought her here because it was closest.”

A beat of silence. Still stitching you up, Alfred speaks, “How come we’ve never been introduced?”

Jason shakes his head, “I didn’t want her near any of this. She’s bad off enough sticking with me.”

Once you stabilize, Jason brings you up to his room in the manor. He walks past Dick, Tim, Duke, Cass, and Steph without looking at them. They sit around the batcomputer, watching Jason gently carry you out ot the cave.

He changes you out of your dirty clothes once he makes a run back to your apartment to grab you some of your own spare clothes.

Asides from that, he doesn’t leave your side.

He lets you have the bed to yourself. He pulls up a chair beside it, waiting for you to wake up. He didn’t want you to be alone when you did, in a strange place after a traumatic event. It was a recipe for disaster.

The sun’s been up for a long while and Jason hasn’t budged. He sits there, your hand gripped in both of his, held up and pressed against his mouth. His lips brush over your knuckles whenever he speaks up. Uttering a “I’m sorry.” every now and then.

There’s a light knock at the door before it’s cracking open. Jason turns his head to find Dick poking his head in. Jason glares at him.

Dick steps further in, presenting the tray he was holding. There were two glasses of water, some solid foods, and lighter ones, probably for you. Jason looked back down at you, letting his older brother enter.

“Just… figured since you’ve been cooped up in here all day,” Dick begins, setting the tray down on the beside table beside Jason.

Dick moves back around. He stands at the end of the bed, leaning against the tall bed post that was meant to hold up a canopy. “I heard…” he trails off, before nodding and your body in the bed, still unconscious, “Who is she?”

Jason looks up at his brother, not letting go of your hand, “So you haven’t heard.”

Dick rolls his eyes, “You know what I mean.”

Jason raises his brows a little. He looks back down at you. His hand reaches out to brush along your forehead, moving away imaginary stray hairs, “My girl.”

Dick nods in understanding, “How long you two been together.”

Jason pauses in thought, “Over a year. Our anniversary was in December.”

A small, choked sound comes from outside the door, in the hallway. “A year?”

Jason looks up at Dick, who makes a face that shows he’s knows he’s been caught.

“Are they seriously listening right now?”

Steph poked her head in first, an apologetic smile on her face, “We wanted to know!”

Duke pokes his head in next, just above Steph’s, “And we wanted to meet her.”

Tim’s head in next, above Duke’s, “You can’t carry a random bleeding woman into the cave and expect the family of detectives to not be curious.”

Cass’ head appears below Steph’s. She nods in agreement.

Jason let’s one hand go of yours to wave his hand through the air, “What the fuck? She’s not even awake!”

“Well that’s why we sent Dick as bait.”

“For the record,” Dick held up a finger, “They built off of my original, innocent idea of bringing you snacks.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jason stands up, taking a few steps forward. He points them all back towards the door as they start to filter into the room, “Get—“

“What’s going on…?”

Jason’s whole body whipped back around at the sound of your groggy, rough voice. The others watch as he’s back at your side in a millisecond, his whole demeanour changed. “Hey, you’re okay. Everything’s okay. Remember how I said we were going somewhere new? You thirsty, baby? Here, I got you some water.”

“Oh, you certainly did not get the water,” Dick piped up.

Jason glared back over his shoulder as he held the glass of water for you, keeping the straw Dick had added placed in your mouth.

You stopped drinking, your eyes now on the other people in the room. You turned your head, propped up against pillows Jason had put there for you. You weakly raised your left hand to wave, “Hi… oh?” your gaze turned down to your hand. A heart monitor clip sitting on your finger grabbed your attention. You gave a confused pout at it, “I feel funny.”

Jason set the water aside again. His glare was gone. He leaned in, kissing your forehead, “You’re hopped up on pain meds. That’s why, princess.”

“Damn,” Steph spoke up, “I wish I got the literal princess treatment.”

Jason turned back around, pointing out the door, “Get. Out. Leave my girlfriend alone until she’s better.”

You looked at the strangers, pointing at Jason with your left hand, “I’m his girlfriend.” Your head tilted back against the pillows as you stared up at Jason, pursing your lips, "I’m tired.”

“I know,” Jason said softly. The others began to filter out of the room as he leaned down and gave you a soft kiss, this time on the lips.

From the exit, a collective, “Awwww,” sounded out.

“Out!”

Your drugged up voice came after his, once they were all back in the hall, “Nice to meet you!”

[miilkcandies]

the story i managed to create with all of you [4/4] [1] [2] [3]

[I love the Story I managed to create with all of you. Although we encountered many painful, sad things, we…] Even then, I loved this story so much so that I wished for it to continue on forever. -CH. 466

[maxlarens]

lando + bandaging/stitching up an injury :)))) i love love love your writing!!!!!

i think about his nose scar a lot. i know he’s told some details about what happened but i’m throwing most of that out the window for fic purposes. also thank you🥰

tw blood, mild descriptions of a wound

You’re on the way back with drinks for you, Lando and another friend when there’s suddenly a commotion coming from the direction you’re headed. Glass shattering, someone that sounds a lot like Lando swearing loudly. The moment you hear it you’d really like to rush over there— but it’s a bit difficult with three full pint glasses held in your hands.

You charge through the crowd, elbowing and shoving as much as you can without spilling your drinks— you find Lando with his hand clutched over his nose, blood running through his fingers, down his wrist. There’s a loose gathering of people around him but you’re barely paying attention to them. You put the pint glasses down on the nearest table and shove through to Lando, indiscriminate of who you’re forcing out of your way.

“Lan,” you put a hand on his shoulder, a hand gently on his elbow, “Lan, what happened?”

He says something you can’t understand. There’s music, chatter, and a person you’re not particularly fond of is trying to take charge of the situation. Saying irrelevant things to people, directing them places and then trying to pull you away from Lando. Suddenly they’ve got a hand tugging on your elbow, saying,

“Dude, give him space, give him space.”

Then they’re shoving dirty bar napkins into Lando’s unoccupied hand and you’ve had fucking enough.

“Give me one sec, Lan,” you pat him gently on the shoulder and then whirl around to face the source of your ire, “First of all, do not touch me,”

Their hand slips from your elbow immediately as they reel back a few steps, something shocked passing across their face.

“Second,” you bite, “If you want to do something actually useful, go to the bar, ask for the first aid kit and bring it to me right now. Can you do that?”

They blink, half-stutter, “Yeah, yeah, okay. Done.”

You’re glad to see them turn tail and push through the crowd. You sigh, ask another friend to “please tell Martin about Lando. He’s over on the decks,” and then tell everyone else they need to back off unless you ask for help. You turn your attention back to Lando, grateful for your experience wrangling teenagers which is apparently a lot like wrangling drunk adults around an accident.

“Sorry,” you sigh, hands back on him, “Can you tell me what happened?”

“Er, my glass broke.”

“Your glass broke?”, you repeat, and then, “Lan, babe, can you move your hand please?”

“Mm. I dunno.”

“Sweetheart,” you say, the pet names you try not to use for him slipping out of your mouth with alarming frequency, “C’mon.”

Someone stuffs a wad of apparently clean napkins into your hand and then the first aid kit you’d asked for is on the table next to you. You unzip it, flipping it open and gathering supplies as Lando finally musters the courage to move his hand from the injury.

“It’s bad,” he says matter-of-factly, now fixated on the blood trailing down his arm, “It feels bad.”

“I’ll look,” you sigh, shuffling your high-stool closer to him so your thighs are touching, “Don’t freak out.”

You can hear him, breathing a little ragged with nerves. His unbloodied arm grabs at your jumper, clutches there. You lean into him, using a napkin to dab at the blood spilling down his nose. It’s not that bad— or it’s not bleeding profusely anymore. You don’t see any glass, just a two-centimetre wide gash on the bridge of his nose.

“Lan,” you say, reaching for a cotton ball to press there, guiding his hand to hold it, “Lando. It’s fine.”

He scrunches his nose, winces when it hurts, “Are you sure?”

You nod, grabbing napkins to wipe up his arm which you meant for him to attend to, “Promise. It’s not deep. Just need to wait for the bleeding to slow down a bit.”

You wipe blood off the tan skin of his forearm, but it’s dried a bit so you’re more just smearing it around. You manage what you can, leave the rest for later.

“Okay,” Lando says finally, sounding a little less shaky now, a little more reassured by you.

You cant help but smile to yourself as you move Lando’s other hand and the now red cotton ball. You pour a bit of saline on the cut and you’re pleased to spot no glass residue. And to find that it’s not too deep— it’s a sizeable gash but it hasn’t done anything scary like hit bone and it’s not bleeding much now. It seems to have just scraped a good layer of skin off.

You lean back and level Lando with a look. He returns the look with apparent apprehension, mouth curled into a frown, green eyes wide with worry.

“What?”, he asks.

“I’ve gotta put antiseptic on it, bub.”

He groans, grits his teeth and tips his head back instead of wincing.

“Okay,” still through gritted teeth, “Do it.”

You ready a cotton swab with a good glug of antiseptic on it. Moving again to loom over Lando. You steady his head with your fingers on his chin, not gripping hard but enough to remind him to stay still.

“Y’know,” you say, going for it right away with the cotton ball— he hisses through his teeth, a prolonged thing, “This’ll leave a scar.”

“Ugh,” he groans, less at what you’re saying, more at the way you’re covering his entire nose in antiseptic, “Girls like that don’t they?”

You shrug, letting the antiseptic dry, letting the sting subside. You ready a bandaid— they’re Disney Princess themed, thrown in there with the standard first aid kit bandaids. You’ve made an executive decision that he needs to have Princess Aurora plastered across his nose for the rest of the day.

“I guess,” you answer, imagining Lando’s nose with a permanent mark on it, “It’s cute. Quirky.”

“You think?”, he looks at you expectantly.

You snort, peeling the bandaid from its wrapping, “I have no idea, Lan. Maybe it’ll be horrific.”

He makes an offended noise, shaking his head as you tip forward to press the Aurora bandaid across his nose. You smooth it down on both sides just as Martin materialises from the crowd, carrying new drinks for the three of you. Condensation rolling down the sides of the beer glasses.

“Ah, mate,” Lando admonishes, reaching around you to take a beer, “You didn’t have to stop the set for me.”

Martin shrugs, “Eh,” he practically forces a beer into your hand, eyes shining with something that’s maybe a little mischievous, “It’s no worries. But, you clearly have someone taking care of you.”

He winks slyly at you— you feel the urge to punch him bubble up in your chest. You take a gulp of your drink to stymie the feeling, try to step away from Lando.

Lando grabs you. His arm going around your shoulder as he slips off his stool, pulling you to him. You knock your shoulder into his, bounce back and try not to press into his side.

“You don’t mean that,” Lando says later— once Martin has been filled in, you’ve been told the sequence of events leading up to the cut, and you’re another beer deep.

“Huh,” you raise an eyebrow, your mouth on the straw of your tequila apple juice, “Whaddya mean?”

“That it’ll look horrific?”

You sigh, giggle a bit, “No, Lan. Course not.”

“You think girls will like it?”, he’s smirking a little, pleased at the idea, then, hands on your shoulders, “Would you like it? You’re a girl.”

You roll your eyes, ignoring the thing in your gut, “Well, babe. It’s covered by a princess bandaid right now, but sure, yeah— it’ll be cute. Hot even.”

He smushes you to his chest without warning and if his smile stretches even wider for it then so what.

✨lets discuss: best friend!reader using so many pet names when lando needs reassurance because its her internal dialogue that she usually has the presence of mind to filter out— but when she’s taking care of him she’s not bothered to focus on cutting them because her only priority is lando😁😁😁 on that note best friend!reader would be a total wreck if lando got in an accident on track 😋

send me a prompt/request + a driver and i’ll write something. pls check if my requests are open 💖

[stagark]

Gn! Rover! Reader x Scar

Im going insane over this pretty boy so have a little blurb while I start writing for him <3

MINORS DNI - DARK AND SEXUAL CONTENT

Content warnings: slight choking, reader is vaguely injured, reader taken captive, dubcon but no sexual content, only suggestive. Super vague as this is a draft!!

I wrote this in an hour so it’s a very rough draft, I will post the much longer and revised version by tomorrow!

”I know you’re not one I can sway with simple words.”

Tousled bicolor locks fell in front of eyes of pure nectar, captivating and oh so distracting with every word he purred from that gorgeous mouth of his echoing around your pounding head.

The travel had taken its toll on you. You didn’t know how you’d gotten here. Didn’t you have your sword to his neck just a moment ago? Didn’t you have friends to get back to? But oh when his warm, strong hand squeezed around your neck ever so slightly to catch your attention, the situation became painfully obvious.

Those cruel lips had curled so pretty as he disarmed you in one swift motion, metal clattering to the floor and ears ringing as a large hand gripped your jaw hard enough to bruise and the other found its way to tie both of yours in place.

Only when lean muscle flexed against your back as he leaned to laugh softly in your ear did you realize the situation, the chill of fear running through you.

“But if you refuse to humor me then I have no choice.”

The smile he painted on his face was deceptively innocent, and you had fallen into his trap, distracted by his grandiose charm. And you would pay the consequences. Twisted and cruel maniac indeed.

[rafesbbyy]

Thinking about the fact that in s1ep6 when Barry burns Rafe's arm, poor baby probably had to bandage himself up all by himself. It just makes me so sad for no reason because Rafe's always alone and he literally has zero support system. And, his hands were shaking when he attempted to steal from his dad's office and when Ward catches him, he doesn't even look concerned or notice the burnt arm of his son??? Something about that just makes me so mad and sad like wtf. Rafe needs a big hug, man. I soo wanna be his stress reliever, his balm that calms him and more. I am literally not normal about this man. Like imagine someone burning ur arm on a fucking motorbike and having no one to turn to but yourself :(

[florencemtrash]

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Twenty-Two

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: Minor character deaths. Major character injuries. Canon typical violence/graphic descriptions. Whoopdeedoo 9.2k words for you!

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

The lake lay flat and motionless as a mirror, like a pool of paint someone had spilled over grey stone. It extended past its dark borders, seeping into the ground beneath your feet and drenching the soil until it was thick as winter slush. You shivered just to stand in it. 

Ione stumbled on the soft, marshy ground of the southeast blindspot. She didn’t think she’d ever get used to winnowing. 

“Gods have mercy,” she swore beneath her breath, tugging at her cane from where it sank inches deep into the earth. There was a sucking sound as Ione gave another irritated pull.

Techaria allowed the woman to lean against her side, butterfly wings fluttering before turning invisible with a shiver of light. They attracted too much attention. 

You blinked up at her in surprise, forgetting the dread that had your stomach churning. Magic like that usually hailed from the Day Court, which meant your father had chosen her to accompany you. 

She shrugged noncommittally. “Helion had some say in deciding who would accompany you and Ione to the Continent. Everyone agreed I would be the best fit as someone familiar with both the Day and the Night Courts.”

You had dozens of questions you wanted to ask — how had she come to the Night Court? When did she join the ranks of the Valkyries, small in number as they were? What had possessed her to do such a thing? 

But those were questions for another day when you weren’t trying to keep your stomach contents from revolting and your racing heart in check. 

“Yes, that makes sense,” you agreed.

You gripped onto the straps of your pack, feeling the weight of two dozen siphons sitting within them. The plan was simple in nature, but would be difficult to execute — use Nesta as a distraction to lead Koschei away from the lake and give Ione enough time to unlock the power for herself. If your theory held true, the siphons would allow Ione to concentrate that power and destroy Koschei once and for all… at least that was the hope. 

Bone-pale trees stood in loose clusters all around and up to the water’s true edge, bracing themselves against one another like wounded soldiers trudging through mud. You tried to imagine they were protecting you as they’d protected Andrian. A fragile barrier against Koschei’s influence both physically and metaphorically. Thin as they were, they did what they could to cover your movements and you saw no evidence of the activities you knew were taking place across these lands. 

Some of the trees leaned out over the water with their pale, thin faces. Desperate to catch their own reflection in the inky stillness. Gray stones, round and smooth, filled the bottom of the lake, staring up like polished skulls through the brackish water. Or were they skulls after all? You couldn’t tell, although shadows appeared to look out through hollows that may have once been eyes. 

The ground rose on your left, curling out towards you like a brown wave. The trees that grew over the wave’s crest looked healthier, their skeletal branches managing to hold onto the last of their frost-bitten leaves on sturdier ground unspoiled by the water.

You breathed through your nose and gagged. The heady scent of rot and death choked the air, the stench inescapable no matter how you breathed. 

There was another sick smell creeping into the air. Something acrid, like chemicals set to flame in a flask. You tilted your head to the sky and gave a tentative sniff before frowning immediately. Whatever was causing the smell was close by. 

Techaria looked down first and swallowed a scream. Her boots, which had sunk into the soil up to her calves, were sizzling. 

Ione lifted her cane with a shaking hand and found the silver cap at its end similarly melting away. The metal smarted and popped off the wooden end, sinking into the ground and catching flame. 

The lake was alive and it was hungry. 

Techaria lunged forward, snatching the old woman around the waist and throwing her over her shoulder with a grunt. She took off towards higher ground, trusting that you would follow close behind. Not that you had much of a choice. You could either run or stand still and let your pearly white bones succumb to the lake’s magic. You rejected the latter option immediately.

You scrambled after them and with every step you felt the power of the lake seep closer and closer to your skin, begging to feast on the flesh of your bones. 

The harder you pushed, the deeper your feet sank into the ground until every step felt like a battle with the gaping maw of a fish.

All at once you understood what Bethsevah had meant when she had locked the power beneath the lake. There was something in those waters not altogether evil, but hateful nevertheless — some essence of Bethsevah’s magic that would destroy whatever it identified as its enemy. 

You were vaguely prideful and equally frustrated that your theories on magic as a biological system were proving true at every turn. You didn’t even know how you could quantify this for inclusion in your manuscript. 

Good thoughts, wrong time. You thought as you kept running. 

Techaria ran up the slope of the hill, digging her toes in before launching her body up by the strength of her back and catching onto a snarled claw of roots. For a split second, the roots threatened to snap and send both Techaria and Ione tumbling back down to the acidic mud. But Techaria made the final ascent, dropping Ione to the ground with little fanfare before she reached down for your hand. 

“Come on!” She hissed, too terrified to make more sound. 

There were ears and eyes in these woods. She could feel them blowing their foul breath against her neck. 

Something whistled in the sky as you clawed your way up the sloped ground. An unearthly glow shot across Techaria’s terrified features as she latched onto your arm and yanked you up to safety. You cried out in pain, your ankles nearly popping out of their joints as your feet came free of your shoes. 

Techaria rolled on top of you and slapped her hand over your lips hard enough to make your teeth rattle. 

“Be quiet and stay still.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. Techaria wove her magic around the three of you like a blanket, hiding you in plain sight just like she’d done with her wings.

Your breath caught in your chest when the source of the whistling came into view.  

It was Vassa.

She seemed to have doubled in size and strength — no more dreary feathers or patches of picked skin. She sailed close to the treetops, brushing her wings against the sparse foliage and setting them aflame with what could have been a screech or a laugh. 

Snapped branches, charred and crackling, rained over your head. 

“Is she gone?” Techaria asked moments later, her face still locked on your eyes as you took shuddering breaths.

You nodded stiffly and the female finally released her hold on you.

“Your shoes—”

You shook your head. You still had one sock on your left foot, but your right settled into the dirt and you felt every poke of detritus against the sensitive skin. Down below you caught glimpses of your leather boots bubbling in the soil. There was no salvaging them. 

“You can take mine.” Techaria offered, already bending down to undo the laces. 

“Don’t. They won’t fit me anyway.” They were burnt beyond recognition and hanging on by weak threads. “And from the looks of them they won’t stay intact for much longer no matter who’s wearing them.” 

But Ione was suspiciously unharmed. Her shoes were intact, as was the hemline of her cloak. The only item that seemed to have earned the lake’s ire was her cane. She waved it in the air, dispelling the smoke from its fuming end as if she were warding away evil.  

Curious. You thought. 

When you’d all caught your breath, you set out in search of safe ground closer to the water’s edge. You’d need easy access to its powers when the time came. Eventually you found your safe haven in the form of a willow hovering by a pool that bubbled out from the main lake. Its silvery sprays hung low, sparse and thin and sickly. But its roots held onto the soil well, keeping the ground firm and dry.

You pressed the palms of your hands into the ground, focusing on the subtle hum of magic that seemed to emanate from it. You dug through layers of topsoil, unspun the threads of magic like a ream of paper until you could read its contents. Every stroke of magic, its very signature, felt familiar.

It felt like Bethsevah. 

“I want to test something,” you said, gesturing to Techaria’s long, coiled hair. Without hesitation, she let you cut off a golden lock. You lowered it towards the lake’s mirrored surface and quickly snatched your hand away when the strands disintegrated with a spark. All it had taken was a touch and poof. Gone.

You repeated your test with Ione’s and… nothing. Nothing but a knotted length of gray, damp hair. Ione stared at the lake’s frozen surface, feeling something pull her closer and closer. 

She plunged her hands into the darkness.

You bit down a shout. Techaria leapt forward, grabbing a fistful of Ione’s cloak and pulling her back. You expected to see pure, white bone sticking out from the nubs of the wrist. At the very least, you expected some cracking of the universe as the ripples fluttered out and died. But once again… there was nothing.

Ione shrugged Techaria off her back before drying her hands on her cloak. “Well I think that settles any concern we had about my blood relationship to Bethsevah.” 

Techaria couldn’t believe that such boldness could come from a woman so frail and aged. 

You nodded. “Magic recognizes magic the same way blood does. It must be why you’re unaffected by the lake’s powers. It knows who you are.” 

You quickly took off your satchel, ripping off the buckles and upending its contents. Two dozen siphons spilled out, blinking like sapphires. You tried to tamp down on the wave of longing that rolled over you as you saw their familiar color but not the familiar body that came with them. 

Azriel.

Your mind whispered his name into the void as you clutched one of the blue stones. 

I’ll find you again when this is all over. I promise.

The elaborate leatherwork Ione had strapped on her hands, elbows, chest, and knees were familiar to you. Illyrian-made and designed to hold siphons capable of collecting and focusing power. 

You locked two of them into place on the backs of Ione’s hands, one at the center of her back, one at her chest, two at her elbows, and two at her knees. It was more than Azriel and Cassian wore, but Ione carried them with cold grace, as if she’d been born to carry out this task. 

“I hope you know what you’re doing, girl,” Ione said as you finished tightening the straps. 

“If you mean the armor, then yes, I do know what I’m doing.” It wasn’t the first time you’d handled Illyrian leather. You helped Azriel strip them off at the end of every day. It had become a ritual of sorts. You would unlace the armor at his elbows and knees and undo the buckles that kept his back brace secured beneath his wings. In return, Azriel would ghost his hands over your shoulders as you shrugged off your robes and undo whatever pins and knots had found their way into your hair that day. 

You shivered at the thought of him and his careful touch. At all the things you hadn’t told him. All the things you’d never gotten to do with him. You’d both been so cautious and determined to take your time as if you’d had an endless abundance of it, but you were beginning to regret it now. 

You swallowed those emotions. 

You couldn’t let them distract you. Not now. 

“If you mean everything else… I don’t.” You replied honestly. All of this was a gamble. You didn’t know if Ione would be able to handle the magic she was about to take on. And if she did survive, you didn’t know if the siphons you’d prepared would do anything to focus that power into something that could be used to kill a death god.

You slid a knife out from your thigh and Ione’s eyes flashed like two marbles caught in the sun. She too was thinking of all the ways the day could go wrong. But it was too late. She’d already committed to this next turn in her life and would see where the path took her. 

But for now… they could only wait. 

Azriel.

His head snapped up at the sound of your voice.

Every so often, when your guard was down or your emotions were heightened, thoughts and feelings would trickle across the connection that bound you too together and knock at the doors of Azriel’s soul. As if the bond knew your thoughts lay with him and wanted to give him a taste of all that could be his one day. 

Azriel. Focus. His brother’s voice snapped him from his thoughts. Shadows swarmed around him in a cloud so thick, he couldn’t see his brothers standing right next to him. They were all hidden in the same dark.

Is she safe, Rhys?

As safe as she can be with Ione and Techaria. They found the blindspot in Koschei’s magic. Y/n says some of the power in the lake belongs to Bethsevah, or at least used to, and will seek to destroy anything it doesn’t recognize. Take one step into those waters and it will burn you to a crisp.

So don’t touch the lake. Got it. I never was a fan of swimming. Cassian interjected. And I don’t believe my opinion will change after this day.

Azriel could feel the tension in his brother’s muscles the longer they were forced to stay hidden. Every twitch of his fingers as he drummed the hilt of his sword. Every rapid blink as he switched between conversations with Rhys, Nesta, and Feyre. 

Will Koschei burn too then? Azriel thought aloud. If he touches the lake before unlocking his power?

That would make our lives infinitely easier, wouldn’t it? I would bet good coin I could wrestle him into the lake. 

Something tells me Koschei isn’t the kind of man you can throw around, Cassian.

He’s not— 

The words died in Cassian’s mind, shriveling up and wasting away like flowers at the end of their season. 

He meant to tell Rhys, “He’s not a man at all.” But when Koschei emerged from the woods, languidly striding towards the lake, Cassian felt foolish for thinking anyone would need the reminder. 

Koschei was not dressed for war. 

Not a stitch of metal armor graced his skin. He wore only the unblemished flesh he’d been born in — grey as a stillborn child — and a length of pitch black fabric draped around his waist. Trails of white cord criss-crossed over his chest and wrapped around his throat like a necklace before looping down his arms.

Azriel narrowed his eyes, looking past his shadows, and shivered. It wasn’t white cord at all, but an endless chain of teeth strung together like stained pearls.

Koschei fingered them thoughtfully, counting each tooth and twisting the necklace around his neck so he could feel them drag across his skin. Molars, canines, and incisors alike were worn as decoration, testifying to the millions that had met their end beneath his feet. 

Death followed at his heels, sucking the air dry until it felt hard to breathe. Where he walked through the grass, the ground turned black. Plants lost their color and collapsed in pathetic heaps. Worms sprung from the ground, wriggling and writhing like the unfurling of a carpet in search of new rot to consume.

He carried a scythe in his hands, rust streaming down the black metal like it was weeping tears of blood. 

A scythe. How poetic,  Feyre thought with a shiver. Where farmers used the humble tool to cut down their fields, Koschei used his to cut down men. 

She gritted her teeth at the sight of something else in his hands. A metal chain tied around his wrist. One sharp tug and Ione — or rather, Nesta — stumbled out from the treeline by her neck. 

Nesta! 

I’m fine. She soothed her mate’s mind even as she followed Koschei’s beck and call, wrapping tendrils of cold flame around his boiling fury until it was at a simmer. The glare she shot into the death god’s back would have sent lesser men to their graves, but whenever he looked back at her with his alarmingly sympathetic smile, she masked that disdain, replacing it with a familiar mix of contempt and fear disguised as anger. He hasn’t hurt me.

She knew it was killing Cassian to watch as she was led to the lake like a lamb to slaughter. Every instinct of his screamed out to crush Koschei’s smooth skull beneath the heel of his boot for laying a hand on his mate. But whatever your magic had done was working. Vassa had dropped her at Koschei’s feet like a cat delivering a corpse and he had smiled so brightly, skin stretched to breaking over wide cheeks, that Nesta knew he’d been fooled. 

He’d locked that chain around her neck, caressed her cheek with care, and walked with her all the way from his cabin in the woods to this thin stretch of beach. He hadn’t spoken a single word, but he’d sung. 

Funeral songs.

Each and every one of them.  

Some she recognized, others she didn’t. Sometimes he sang in languages that had been buried in graves a long, long time ago, their tombstones scattered as dust in the wind. 

Pitch black eyes raked over the empty shores. His nostrils flared as he drank in the stench of decay and petrichor. Rain clouds huddled overhead, trembling in his presence as he smiled with a joy that didn’t reach his eyes. 

He couldn’t remember the last time his hands had been drenched with fresh blood, but he was looking forward to it. When he was finally free of this place, he would go to Prythian and revel in the violence he’d been deprived of for so long. 

He licked his lips and sighed. He could almost taste the iron on the tip of his tongue, brackish and pure. He began coiling the chain in his hands until Nesta was forced to kneel in front of him, not even a foot away from the still water. She could smell sickness on his skin, like that horrid summer in the human lands when plague bodies were left to bloat and spoil in the streets.

He gripped her face in one hand, pressing her cheeks until her lips parted. She fought the urge to bite off his fingers. 

“I know you’re disgusted by me.” He spoke in a deep, grating voice. “But you must understand, I was not meant to be like this. When I was worshiped, when I had full grasp of my being, I was a more handsome sight to look upon.” He grabbed the back of her neck, forcing her face over the lake until she could see Ione’s face staring back at her. 

“Thank you for giving that back to me, child.” 

Later on, when Nesta reflected on yet another brush with death, she would marvel at how sincere she found his words. 

He moved faster than light, a knife appearing in his hands that he aimed at Nesta’s throat.

But Cassian was faster. 

He hurled himself out of the shadows, slamming into Koschei’s side in an explosion of red light that left a crater in the earth. The death god looked almost elegant as he was thrown onto his back, drapery smooth over his chest and legs as he regarded Cassian with a frigid frown, like he was an ant who had dared to splatter and mark the bottom of his shoe. 

Cassian threw Nesta over his shoulder, sprinting off into the cover of the woods with his wings tucked tight between his shoulder blades. 

Remember, You’d told him, We need to keep Koschei away from the lake for as long as possible. The moment Ione breaks the spell, he’ll know and he’ll come racing back to destroy us all. 

He could hear Vassa screeching in the distance, the noise growing as the beat of her wings carried her back to the heart of the lake. Back to her master. 

He also heard the rustling of the leaves as the wind picked up. The steady footsteps of warriors getting ready to make their assault.

Koschei did not run after them. It was beneath him to run. He may have lost his prize, but such things were temporary. He’d waited this long. He could afford to wait a little longer. 

He took his scythe, raised the blade to his lips, and cut a vertical line down the center. Dark red blood, thick and clotted, spilled out from the wound and painted the blade. With an artful swing, he carved a circle into the sand and those things that were dead in the woods began to walk once more. 

Ione clawed at her chest the moment Koschei drew blood, some wild feeling in her spirit begging her to turn and sprint into the deep woods or to hide in the tall grasses like a bunny escaping a hound. 

“What’s going on? What’s happening?” 

You remembered she wasn’t blessed with the sight and sound of the fae. She couldn’t see what was happening on the other edges of the lake as Koschei finally began to walk after Cassian and Nesta. But she could feel it as keenly as you and Techaria that something was amiss. A malicious power was bleeding into the world and ripping souls from their rest.

It’s finally begun. 

The ground shook with silent thunder.

Techaria’s amber skin turned white, wings flickering back into the seeing world before disappearing again as she regained her focus. 

The wind whistled past you, skeletal branches beginning to rise and fall as they bowed over and over and over again in frantic prayer. The trees by the water leaned further down, kissing the lake with their lips and watching as they were burned away, leaving black craters on their faces. 

The earth trembled and bones rose from their graves, creeping up inch by inch like shiny, white pustules. Some still clung to their rotted flesh, stringy and dark and rank. Others were as smooth as pearls, picked clean by the scavengers of the earth. But all of them began clustering together, held up by magic as new tendons sprang into existence and knit the bones close.

You couldn’t believe how quickly those crooked creatures ran. Their movements were erratic yet purposeful as they weaved in between the gaps in the trees and through the rustling tall grasses, followed by distant screams and shouts and the ringing of steel and—

“Do it,” Ione commanded, holding out her wrists with a grimace. 

You clutched the knife tighter, but didn’t move. “Ione, I—”

The woman’s eyes hardened. She had not traveled all this way for fear to take over. She had not lived to this age or survived a fucking war to be afraid of death now. 

“I’m an old woman, Y/n. It’s a miracle I’ve kept my sanity this long. I can afford to lose it today. Now, if you don’t use that knife for its intended purpose, hand it over and I’ll do it myself!” She growled.

You sucked in a deep breath and without further hesitation, cut a line across the woman’s wrists. She hissed in pain before she turned and held out her hands so her blood could drip, drip, drip down, and disturb the smooth mirrored surface of the lake. 

He’s not following us, Cassian. Cassian! 

Nesta held onto him for dear life, burying her face in the folds of his wings as he sprinted through the woods like a wild horse. 

Koschei was meant to be following them. 

It wouldn’t matter that Ione could break the magic of the lake if Koschei was there to snatch it up instead.

Nesta felt a wave of power roll over the woods. Cassian held his breath, his stomach dropping towards the cradle of his hip bones.

I think you’ve spoken too soon, Nes.

Twisted creatures dropped down from the trees, pale with pitch black eyes and gaping mouths. Nesta gave a shout as one grabbed hold of her shoulder and threw her off Cassian’s back.

Two more leapt atop of Cassian, narrowly missing the curve of his throat with their teeth as he jerked back and then shot out bursts of power. 

NESTA!

She screamed, beating at the creature with her fists. Long, black strands of flesh fell from its skull, drooping over Nesta’s cheeks with a slimy touch. Just when she thought she’d need to pull from her own power, Cassian’s hands burst through its chest, tearing apart its chest in a shower of red light and bone fragments.

“Come on!”

The wind stopped howling so loudly. The temperature of the air dropped. And suddenly there was Koschei, looming just above Cassian’s shoulder with his stretched-skin smile and empty eyes.

Cassian caught sight of the death god in Nesta’s eyes, rolling out of the way of his scythe before it could take off his head. 

Nesta played the role of the old woman, scrambling away on all fours as bone-beasts gathered around like crows to a corpse. They clicked their teeth together, heads popping in and out of sockets as they closed off all avenues of escape. 

But Nesta’s attention was squarely on Cassian as he and Koschei danced through the trees. Her mate had never looked more alive than while fighting a god of death, with his sweat-slicked hair and cheeks painted red from exertion. There was a light in his eyes as he dove and twisted away from the swinging scythe and Nesta swore she could hear his wildly beating heart over the chaos.

Are you glad he followed us now, Nesta? He could still find it within himself to tease her.

Oh for fuck’s sake! 

She gritted her teeth, picking up a rotten log and beating away a creature that dared to cock its head in her direction with hunger. 

Despite the rush of blood in Cassian’s ears and the growing ache in his body, he couldn’t help but smile at the sound of Nesta’s curses in his mind. He stamped down on the scythe with his left foot and kicked it away with his right. It flew through the air, embedding itself in the trunk of a dead elm at the same time that Cassian sank his sword into Koschei’s ribs.

Koschei looked down at the blade in his side, a flicker of surprise passing through his eyes. 

His shoulders twitched… then began to shake. 

Koschei was laughing.

Cords of unnaturally defined muscle pulsed around Cassian’s sword, sucking and swallowing like a starving dog. Cassian’s stomach turned. His brain muddled and grew hot, for there was no blood to be found when he finished twisting the blade and wrenched it loose. 

Worms, wriggling, pink-grey worms, poked their heads out from the wound, writhing and coagulating before becoming flesh once more.

Koschei stopped laughing, but the smile never left him as he locked eyes with the Lord of Bloodshed.

“It’s been a long while since anyone laid a hand on me, let alone twice.” His words were heavy with condescension. “Well done.” 

Cassian reeled back, dropping his weapon as the muscles of his right arm seized with a vengeance. He ripped off his gauntlet, watching as the veins of his hand turned purple… then black. The skin followed suit, decaying before his very eyes.

He dropped to his knees, cradling the ruined limb against his chest and howling in pain.

Nesta saw red and lost her mind as Cassian’s pain erupted down the bond. 

She shrieked so loud and so powerfully that the bone-beasts vibrated before shattering into dust.

She tore away the magic you’d spent days weaving over her skin and through her blood like they were cobwebs until it wasn’t Ione standing in front of Koschei, but a Lady of Death in her own right.

Recognition flickered through Koschei as the scythe flew back into his hands. 

“Sister?” 

Then.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

And a piece of Koschei’s soul cracked open. His eyes flew open in surprise. His mouth dropped and a dozen flies swarmed out, buzzing with anticipation and hunger. 

Someone had unlocked the power in the lake. His power. 

Nesta lunged at him and landed in the dirt, damp leaves slipping and sliding beneath her hands and knees. Koschei was already gone.

Cassian moaned. His skinned burned from the inside out. Is this what his death would be? He felt like a pig slowly roasting on a split.

“Cassian, Cassian, my love.” Nesta crawled over to him, tearing buckles and leather armor off his chest and arms. “Cassian. Look at me.”

His eyes opened, bleary and unfocused.

“Nes,” he whispered, feeling cool kisses of wind pepper his burning flesh. “How bad is it?” 

Nesta went quiet. His right arm was black up to the elbow and the infection of Koschei’s touch was only spreading. Darkening veins bloomed towards his shoulder, like ink running down coarse paper. Soon it would spread to his chest and kill him. 

“Nes?” He felt her caress his mind. Felt her soothing his soul before quietly shutting him out. 

She eyed the sword abandoned on the ground, walked over, and picked it up. Cassian didn’t need to ask her what she meant to do as she stood above him and raised the blade above her head. His wife, his mate, had never been one to shy away from hard decisions.

“Damn, Nes,” he said through gritted teeth and adjusted his position so she had a clear path to his arm. “Just do it.”

“I love you, Cassian,” she said through tears.

“I know.” 

Then she brought down the sword, and severed Cassian’s arm from his shoulder.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

The water turned red, swirls of color spreading out through the dark until every inch of the lake had turned as crimson as a rose.

Azriel slipped in and out of shadows, cutting down Koschei’s creatures just as quickly as they reformed. Beads of sweat gathered at his brow, painting his cheeks and neck with salty strokes. 

EVERYONE TO THE WATER! NOW! 

Feyre’s command rang in his mind and in a flash of shadow, he materialized on the beach. 

The High Lady’s silver armor shone like starlight — a beacon for warriors to flock to as they came staggering out of the trees and grasses covered in the blood of their friends.

Behind me! Rhys shouted from Feyre’s side. 

He crouched low as the bone beast sailed over his head, its crooked jaw open wide. Feyre plunged her fingers into its eye sockets, curling them around the nose bridge and holding tight as Rhys drove his sword up and into the dark flesh of its underside. His sword channeled his power, exploding the creature from the inside as it thrashed. Its jaws still snapped and twisted, screeching at a high-pitch until Feyre crushed it to dust.

Light, wind, fire, and ice exploded on the beach as High Lords and High Ladies poured out their power. Viviane threw her hands up, sending hundreds of shards of clear-cut ice towards Vassa as the firebird swooped down and bit off the head of an Autumn Court soldier. There came a scream as fire met ice and steam blanketed the ground, thick as early morning mist. 

Koschei’s creatures never stopped spilling out of the woods, piecing themselves back together in increasingly bulky, horrid formations. Even the fragments on the ground were restless, crawling over bodies like maggots, filling the eyes, and ears, and mouths of corpses until they were compelled to stand and fight with twitching limbs.

To Azriel’s right, Helion fought a wolf-man hybrid, shoving light down the creature’s throat until it lay convulsing on the ground. Somewhere to his left, the High Lord of Autumn was kneeling in the wet sand, shaking the bloodless body of one of his brothers and screaming at him to wake up. Azriel tried blinking the grit out of his eyes, shadows streaming over his arms and around his body like a shield. 

One blink and there was nothing but the misty haze before him.

Another blink and there was Koschei with his scythe in hand and a line of blood from his lips all the way down to his sternum.

Eris stopped cradling his brother’s body. The tears evaporated from his cheeks as he stood on shaking legs and pulled out his knife. He wanted to be close when he made the kill. This was personal.

Koschei tipped his head to the side as he regarded the High Lord. Then he smiled. He enjoyed it immensely when they fought back. 

The passion and hope and rage was just so delicious, like salt sprinkled over a fine meal. 

So when Eris roared, his metal armor turning pure white as he burst into flame, what else could Koschei do but slide his tongue over his lips and taste death? 

Eris clapped his hands together above his head, bringing them down in a stroke of white flame that Azriel felt blaze past his shoulder. Koschei swung his scythe and severed the flames in two, cutting a neat circle in the sand. Then he swung again and in an arc of light, the power of a High Lord of Prythian met the power of a death god. 

Lighting cracked through the air, structures of sand erupting and trapping the arc of the bolt like a snake’s tongue.

The scythe won.

Blood splatter decorated the ground as Eris’s armor was torn off him. His helm of oak branches and gold cracked in two, clattering to the ground before his body followed suit. Lucien ran forward, dragging Eris away as he gurgled and gasped for breath. 

Koschei sighed, dragging a finger down the handle of his scythe. “Oh how I’ve missed this.”

Ione felt the power call out the moment her blood hit the water. It was a thousand symphonies playing at the same time, calls from a hundred desperate lovers asking for her hand as she stared at her reflection and felt the world around her drown itself to music.

Drip… drip… drip.

“Ione… Ione… IONE!” 

Her eyes went dark and hungry, her hands curling into claws that wanted to reach out and take, and take, and take.

She shrugged off the hand you laid on her back, plunged her head into the iron-laced water, and began to drink. 

Every gulp was a breath of fresh air. An electric zing through her blood she hadn’t felt in decades as the pain of time-worn bones melted away. 

She felt untouchable. 

She felt alive. 

Like the first time she’d taken a man to her bed, his dramatic gasps rolling out from beneath her as she dug her nails into the headboard and drove her hips down. Like the day she’d run away from home with nothing but a bag of copper, the clothes on her back, and bruises blossoming on her knuckles. Like the morning she’d awoken in a strange town miles away from home and seen her endless future unfurling before her.

Yes. That’s what she was. Endless.

“IONE!” You screamed through water-logged ears. 

Ione’s skin, wrinkled and dusted with sunspots, began to clear. Light, hot and saturated as a sunset, pressed against her skin from the inside. Like a parasite ready to burst, it roiled and bubbled within her, consuming her every thought except that she needed to keep drinking until the lake was completely empty and she’d reached the depths of Koschei’s magic. 

“You need to stop! You’re taking too much! IONE!” The siphons she wore were bright as stars, cracks appearing in their surface as they tried to contain the power coursing through her system and failed. You kept replacing the ones you could reach, throwing the overcharged stones to Techaria until you ran out. 

You grabbed the leather straps criss-crossing over Ione’s back and yanked. Hard. 

Ione threw out her hand and the siphons on her body exploded. Your head burst with pain as you were thrown back with enough force to snap the trunk of a chestnut tree. The world swam before you. Colors melted like the paint water Feyre cleaned her brushes in. 

Ione drank and drank and drank, craning her neck ever forward as the water level dropped at an alarming rate. 

Techaria looped her arms around the old woman’s chest, digging her heels into the ground and heaving with all her might. But the woman didn’t budge, too drunk off power and possibility to let anyone stand in her way. Ione used her newly acquired strength to grab Techaria’s wrists and together they dove into the water and disappeared. 

Blood dripped down your temples, dampening your hair as you crawled your way to the lake’s edge. 

Techaria’s wings floated to the surface, orange crystalline membrane sizzling like steel wool.

The water dropped another three feet before Ione reemerged. If you hadn’t seen her go in, you wouldn’t have recognized her when she came out. Her grey hair was now so blonde it may as well have been moonbeam cascading down her back and over her breasts. Her skin shone, pale and perfect. Her pupils were but pinpricks in the fabric of her steel grey eyes. 

You whimpered when she looked at you, her stare flat and empty as the air around her rippled and turned white. 

For a moment she looked like she might smile. 

But then she took in a shuddering breath, lower lip trembling as her mouth filled with blood. She dragged her hands down her face, peeling away the skin as fissures broke out full of light and crackling with electricity.

“Get it out. Get it out! GET IT OUT! NOOOOOOOOO!”

Ione blew apart. 

Her blood rained over your head, drenching you so thoroughly you may as well have gotten caught in a thunderstorm.

Bethsevah hadn’t been able to control the power nestled within the lake. To possess it for even a short period of time had nearly driven her mad. You should have known Ione never stood a chance. 

If things go wrong, find me so I can protect you. And so if anything happens, we won’t be alone. I want you to promise me.

“I promise, Azriel. I promise.” 

You walked in a daze, muttering those words to yourself over and over again. You didn’t know where you were. You didn’t even register the change in the air as you stepped out of the blindspot’s safety and began walking. 

And walking. 

And walking. 

Towards where you could only hope Azriel was still fighting. 

You tripped over a body, salt-crusted braids peeking out from beneath a helm of coral and seashell. Paisley blue eyes, deep and dark and bloodshot, stared lifelessly at the sky. You staggered back to your feet, picking up the pace as you stumbled through a maze of corpses. 

You slipped when the ground turned to pure ice. It splintered outwards from two bodies like a starburst.

Viviane, armed to the teeth in blue steel and a crown of ice protruding from her white curls, rocked back and forth on her heels while cradling Kallias’s head in her hands. 

She wailed as his body turned cold. Frost clung to his long, pale lashes and where his blood pooled around his pale blue robes the ice melted and cotton grass grew in quiet, white tufts. 

Onwards you walked, until you felt a familiar tap at the edges of your mind. 

Y/n! What’s going on? Where are you? Your High Lady’s voice rang loud and clear. 

It’s over, Feyre. Ione’s dead. Techaria’s dead. 

What do you mean? What happened? TELL ME!

Ione wasn’t strong enough to hold Koschei’s power. She… she killed Techaria. She blew apart into a million pieces. I’m covered in her. 

You spit on the ground, wiping away the taste of blood on your lips. It clung to you like a second skin, seeping into your pores and burying itself there. 

Y/N!

It was a different voice calling out to you this time. You heard it on the wind, soft and faint as an echo. Or maybe you were finally losing your mind. But it didn’t matter. You would have followed Azriel’s voice anywhere. 

You started to run, or rather stumble forward, hearing the clanging of steel and shattering of bones grow louder and louder. Through the gaps in the trees you saw Koschei standing as immovable as a mountain. He had one hand splayed out — silver lines splintering out in the air like and holding back the assault of Rhysand and Helion’s power. With the other he swung outward with his scythe, the rusted blade sprayed with fresh blood. 

The High Lord of Summer beat aside the weapon, the moisture he’d plucked from the air fluctuating around him like a brilliant, blue sea creature. Feyre trapped the scythe in the sand, crossing her twin swords in an X and giving Tarquin the chance he needed to bring down his spear and shatter the weapon with a boom that exploded through the woods and sent you sprawling back on hands and knees. 

Koschei hissed and he lurched back with what remained of his weapon — a metal rod tapering to a jagged, thin end. That fleeting moment of triumph on Tarquin’s face fell away when Koschei stepped close and drove that jagged end through Tarquin’s stomach. His iridescent, pearl-encrusted armor may as well have been crafted from paper the way it crumbled and tore. 

Rhysand roared, finally breaking through Koschei’s shield as Feyre threw herself over Tarquin and raised a barrier to protect them both. He snapped his wings out to the side, leaping through the air in an arc that had you holding your breath. 

Black feathers exploded from his skin. His hands elongated, curling into claws capable of shredding through steel and iron. 

This was the High Lord of the Night Court. 

Rhysand was darkness given monstrous form.

Night triumphant.

The strongest elements of his Illyrian and high fae heritage combined.

Koschei plucked Rhysand out of the air like he was a fly. 

Grabbed hold of his wings.

And tore them off his back. 

“RHYS!” Feyre’s shriek tore through the air, forcing everyone to turn their heads and watch as the High Lord of the Night Court’s wings drifted to the ground like silk.

Rhysand didn’t cry out, too in shock at the loss of such a familiar weight from his shoulder blades. He felt Feyre’s horror and pain where he couldn’t feel anything. His body all but shut down. He landed in the dirt, sand rolling around his tongue and stealing the moisture from his mouth. Then Feyre was there, smoothing back his hair and telling him not to move. He fumbled around for her hand, feeling it clamp down and never let go. 

Koschei loomed over the High Lord and High Lady, looking down at the fire in Feyre’s grey-blue eyes with a sneer. It was a sight he was too familiar with — a foolish girl making foolish decisions in the name of love. It filled him with an indescribable hatred. 

His wall of magic built itself up again and would not bend or break, no matter how Helion threw his blows down in cascades of golden light to help his friends. 

Feyre spit on the ground as tendrils of decay scattered out from Koschei’s feet, dampening her magic until she could only drag Rhysand over her lap and press her lips to the top of his head. 

Helion gritted his teeth. His magic was fading fast, even as he kept finding new places within himself to pull strength from. Koschei’s shield was weakening, he could feel it stretching thin as he began to divide his attention towards the High Lady and High Lord of Night stretched out before him. 

Just… a little… longer. He promised himself, even as his legs shook and buckled until he was down on his knees. 

There was a flash of red at his side and Helion’s brows shot into his hairline when Lucien Vanserra slipped into his peripheral vision, palms out and pouring every ounce of energy in his body towards the weakening hole in Koschei’s shield. There was something about him that Helion recognized. Some close connection that revealed itself as the golden flame of Lucien’s power joined his own. 

Helion’s stomach bottomed out. He was in freefall. “Lucien?” He asked breathlessly.

“We’ll talk about it later,” Lucien replied through gritted teeth.

Koschei snapped out his wrist and an obsidian blade, thin as a needle, appeared in his palm. It seemed to shriek as he swung it down, screaming with a thousand voices like a choir from hell. 

Azriel slipped out from the darkness, shadows pouring out to block the attack. 

No. You breathed. No, no, no, no, no, no, no—

Azriel was cunning. You’d seen him in action and knew he was talented beyond measure and armed with a skillset that could rival the High Lords of Prythian. But even he was no match for Koschei. 

The death god stuck his hand through the assault of shadows and lifted Azriel into the air with a mere flick of his palm. 

He tore Azriel’s shadows away from him, peeling them back like a second skin until they fell limp to the ground. Had he killed them? You’d never stopped to think that such a thing was possible.

Azriel stifled the screams that rose in his throat. He had promised himself he would never cry out in pain — never beg for anything — since the day his brothers had ruined his hands. 

But then he locked eyes with you and heard you scream his name as you ran towards him barefoot and bleeding over the battlefield. And he found reason to beg. 

“NO!” He roared over the shrieking of shadows in his ears. “GET OUT OF HERE, Y/N!” 

There was only one way he’d die a good male and that was if you managed to escape. That was the only hope on his mind. The only prayer on his lips as he begged you to leave him. To leave them all. 

“Y/N! PLEASE!” He cried out in pain, thrashing in the air. 

Promise aside, you couldn’t leave him. You’d never stopped to entertain the thought that Azriel might be the one to die today. He was too good. Too strong. But if this was the end of his road, you would follow close behind. That was a promise no magic or death god would ever get in the way of.

You gasped, feeling something beneath your ribs tighten and lock. 

The bond snapped into place so powerfully you almost fell apart in the sand. 

It was a sliver of moonbeam laced with shadow that tied you to the one person in the entire world you’d felt safe with. The first person you could ever truly call home. 

Azriel’s face crumbled, tears streaming down his cheeks as the world fell away from him until you were the only bright and shining thing. A single star dropped onto a black sky. 

And Azriel… Azriel was everything to you. 

I’m only a Librarian. You thought even as you ran forward, eyes locked on your mate. You weren’t meant for war or strategy or cunning. You belonged in the stacks, huddled over ancient pages. Not on blood-soaked grounds hundreds of miles from home. 

But more than that, you belonged with Azriel. You were meant for each other. As intrinsically as gravity bound the seas to the earth, Azriel grounded you and you centered him. To lose him now would mean being untethered from the world. To float away into a nothingness that wasn’t serene or patient, but dark and lonely. 

You wouldn’t lose him. Not now. Not ever. 

You had done what no one else had been capable of doing. You’d read through Bethsevah’s history. For a moment, when you’d been close to death on the cobblestone streets of Velaris, you had felt her power fill you like a cup of wine, her memories overflowing from the pages of her book until you had become her.

If you’re reading this, my daughters, do what I could not. Take the power in the lake and destroy him. It will open for you, and only you. My power. My blood. 

You’d had a taste of that power. You knew the shapes it took beneath your hands. You knew how it felt when it was running through your veins like blood. And it was this knowledge that you clung to with reckless abandonment as you began to pull Bethsevah’s memories from the reaches of your mind, donning them like a costume.

Without thinking twice, you switched courses, desperation fuelling your legs as you sprinted towards the glossy, blood-red lake before you. Azriel was still screaming your name, begging you to stop, and you heard your father and brother’s voices join in his pleading. The bond, still so fresh and vulnerable, echoed his horror as you ran right up to the lake’s edge and leapt into the waters. 

I don’t know how to swim. You remembered as the darkness enveloped you. Lucien never taught me and I don’t know if he’ll ever get a chance to. 

You thought that by looking up you’d see a warped image of the sky, bordered by murky outlines of the trees as they swayed and bowed. Instead, you saw a reflection of yourself. You floated inches above yourself, lips closed tight as you felt the growing need for oxygen begin to bloom in your lungs. 

It was warm here, but it did not burn like it did before. You held onto the knowledge of Bethsevah’s power, feeling the texture of it beneath your fingertips and carefully undoing the threads of your own magical signature before remaking it to match. Months ago, you had shared a theory with Azriel that Clairvoyants possessed a particular ability to alter their magical signatures to match others. A form of magical mimicry and another example of your studies bleeding into the real world and shaping the fabric of the universe. 

You’d tested that theory with Nesta when you’d hid her from Koschei, but now it was time for a second experiment. 

You did not burn. Not even when you opened your lips and let the water pour in. 

It slipped down your throat like whiskey, setting your blood ablaze and sending shivers across your skin. With each gulp you felt stronger. The wounds on your body sealed shut. The bruises beneath your eyes faded. 

You reached deep into that wealth of power to find what belonged to Koschei, Thanatos, Stryga, and Bethsevah. You absorbed the knowledge embedded in their magic, and time crumbled beneath your touch as you began undoing and reweaving their magical signatures into something utterly changed. 

It was careful, pensive work. The kind of work that could only belong to a Librarian and a Clairvoyant. 

With the power of three death gods and a warrior flooding through your veins, you pulled yourself to the edge of that mirror and stared at your own reflection. Your clothes were gone and your body healed. Once, you would have cringed at the sight of your own skin. But no more.

You drank.

And drank.

And drank.

Until the lake was only an empty pit in the ground. 

All creatures, dead and alive and in-between, felt it when the powers within the lake broke a second time. 

Koschei dropped Azriel and he fell flat onto his back, raw and broken. His shadows were gone, and now matter how he called out for them, they did not return.

He grasped on to the bond, desperately tugging on it to make sure you were still breathing on the other side. 

“Y/n,” he whispered. His voice was stripped back to nothing. 

You were still there, but you felt faint, as if more distance stretched between you than a hundred meters. 

He rolled onto his stomach, digging his fingernails into the sand and dragging himself forward inch by bloody inch. But the lake drew away from him, water levels plummeting like someone had reached down and pulled the stopper from a bathtub. 

The bond roared, heat blooming in his chest with new power as you revealed yourself. First it was the smooth expanse of your back, then your head as it dipped further and further down to drink what remained of the lake’s magic until there wasn’t a single drop left. 

Koschei stood in shock, his bloodless skin growing even paler as you stood up and pinned him to the ground with your stare. You shone brighter than the sun, moon, and all the stars in the universe combined and Azriel couldn’t pull his gaze away. 

You had never looked more otherworldly — more ethereal — than in that very moment. 

You moved forward so quickly, Azriel didn’t register it until you were standing in front of Koschei, naked and perfect. 

You grabbed Koschei’s face in your hands, his jaw slack and open. He tried to move but found that his feet had been driven into the ground like tent poles. For the first time in his immortal life, Koschei felt fear. 

You shoved power into his body — down his throat, his eyes, his ears — until he was vibrating with untempered energy. His skin started to split apart, light spilling out from the fissures like lava rock and dripping down his body like blood. He felt his own power attack him, killing him from the inside out as you kept pouring more and more magic into Koschei before it could destroy you as well. He was being unwritten from this world. Every muscle fiber snapped in two. Every cell in his body swelled and burst like a grape. 

You held onto the bond, letting it act as an anchor for your sanity so you wouldn’t die like Ione did, and Azriel held on too. Gods did he hold on. He held on so tight you could feel the pressure in your ribs like he was holding your body together and not just your soul. 

You leaned close, allowing your breath to fan over Koschei’s rotten face. “No one touches my mate,” you seethed.

And Koschei blew apart into a trillion microscopic pieces.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

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Author's Note:

Thank you for your patience as I worked to get this chapter out! And um.... sorry if it wasn't what you were hoping for.

Now let me just—

[midnight-hotel]

Missing (Alastor x Reader)

My first fic in 4+ years, please go easy on me. This story occurs during and after the final episode of season one. Enjoy and feel free to give feedback!

Coughs racked your body as you struggled to take in a breath of dust polluted air. Pain shot through your undoubtedly broken ribs and back with every cough, blood splattering across your bottom lip and tongue, amplifying the smell of iron in the air. Wrapping an arm around yourself, you stared up at the executioner who was quickly approaching with their broken spear. 

‘Shit- I might actually die here…’ 

They lunged, ready to plunge their holy weapon through your skull. You tried, with all your might, to push off the wall and away from death’s path, failing to notice that it wouldn’t have come to begin with. The next time you looked back at the angel, they were on the ground, covered in their alarmingly golden blood, several holes littering their body. 

Looking around, alarmed, you realised that you had been saved, but by who? Your eyes briefly met with Angel Dust’s, and in that moment, you knew your saviour. With no time to show your gratitude, you spat a mouthful of blood onto the ground and stood, grabbing the angel’s broken weapon to take as your own. If Alastor’s shield could fail, then there was no way you could take a moment to stop and breathe, everyone needed you to keep fighting, as much as you needed them to as well. You could only hope they were all okay. 

It seemed like there was no end to the onslaught of angels. They just kept coming out of that damned doorway into heaven. You were growing tired, injuries burning and only getting worse, but stopping now would only lead to your death and possibly the death of others. Stabbing another Angel through the chest, you kicked their body away, stealing their intact spear to replace the broken one you had left in the corpse. That’s when you heard more commotion from behind and then an irritatingly familiar voice. Turning, you understood why everything had kicked up a gear.

Adam was still alive? But that could only mean…

“Alastor!” His name tore up your throat as you quickly looked up towards the roof of the hotel. Shit- he couldn’t be… but would he have really allowed Adam to get away and rejoin the fight? 

Dropping the spear in your hands, you ran for the hotel, barging in through the doors and rushing up the stairs. You needed to get to him. He couldn’t be dead. 

Third floor.

The whole building began to shake as you reached the third floor. Looking down the stairwell, just barely able to see through the dust, you could make out Dazzle and… was that Vaggie? You contemplated jumping down to help- Dazzle was clearly not about to get up but… you needed to get to Alastor. Vaggie would be fine. So, you continued running up the stairs- cursing yourself for not being in better shape.

Sixth Floor.

The building shook again. ‘Shit- I don’t know if I’m going to make it up there.’ It sounded like the fight had made it to the top of the hotel already. Based on the rubble constantly falling overhead and how the place was quickly falling apart.

Seventh Floor. 

There was a bright light- a flash really- and you think you heard screaming? Fuck it, there had been non stop screaming for the past hour, what was one more? Your vision had hardly cleared from the flashbang when the whole building started to come down. Dropping to the ground, you tucked yourself into a corner, hoping that there was enough structural strength in that section of the building to prevent you from being crushed. The last thing you could recall was the feeling of something falling on top.

Who knows how much time had passed before you were being pulled from the rubble. There was too much going on- too many people talking at once, too many people hovering… you reached out, swatting away the faces that were too close. 

“Alastor… where’s Alastor?” you croaked, trying to push yourself up into a seated position. Your beaten body screamed at you- begging for you to just lay there and rest, but you needed to know if he was okay- needed to know where he was. 

Multiple hands helped you up, but you took no notice of who it was. From who you could see, the makeshift army hadn’t lost too many numbers but everyone was about as fucked up as you were. 

“We… don’t know…” You turned your head to Charlie who looked as if she had been crying. Of course she had… out of everyone, losing anyone would have hit her the hardest. Your heart sank. No one had seen him? Looking around at the others- even Husk shook his head, almost looking worried, before he spoke up. 

“He’s not dead. Not yet anyway. That asshole’s probably hiding away somewhere, butt hurt that he lost to an angel,” he grunted out, subconsciously bringing a hand to his throat. Of course Husk would know if Alastor was gone… he’s bound to him after all. 

“He could be buried under there though- we need to search. He could be dying in there,” You tried to argue, standing only to stumble back into what used to be the hotel. 

Angel Dust grabbed you by the wrist to stop you, pulling you back. “Easy there Doll Face. We’ll find him or he’ll show up. You’re in no state to go digging through what’s left right now.”

It wasn’t fair. How could everyone walk away from the disaster that was once their home while there were still people missing?

That was three weeks ago. As you laid in bed, in a room provided by Lucifer himself to those who had nowhere else to go, you stared up at the ceiling, thinking the last few weeks over. Everyone’s injuries had been healing pretty well, though yours were a tad worse since you had the building come down on top of you. There was a lot of talk about rebuilding the hotel. Plans had been drawn up and Charlie and Lucifer had teamed up to clear the rubble from the original hotel so that everyone could start building fresh when the time was right. 

There was also a lot of talk on what to do about the lost lives. Memorials were being planned out, names of the fallen cannibals taken down in order to properly remember those who sacrificed themselves for the cause, a painting for Pentious and even a statue of some kind. You hadn’t really been listening to that part. You hadn’t listened to much at all really, either constantly lost in thought or bed bound by your injuries. You were getting pretty sick of not being present, physically and mentally.

As you closed your eyes to sleep, something inside the room moved. Eyes snapping back open, you quickly looked to where you saw the movement, just barely catching the tail end of a shadow disappearing from outside your door. Climbing out of bed, you pulled a robe over your bandaged body and quickly exited the room, looking around for whatever it was that you had just seen. There was no one in sight. All the other occupied rooms in the hallway had their doors closed and lights off, so you doubted it was one of them. Right as you were about to head back into the room, you saw it again, rushing around a corner.

Quickly you ran after it, hoping that by the time you reached the corner, it wouldn’t have disappeared. Injuries, mostly healed but still tender, began to ache from the sudden strain as you tried to keep up with the shadow that passed through another door. 

Before you could open it and continue your pursuit, you had to stop and catch your breath. Healing ribs ached and your once punctured lung protested with every deep breath taken. Sucking in one more deep breath, you pushed yourself to open the door, leading out into the courtyard. Pretty big place for just one person to be living in most of the time, but this is the home of the king of hell himself, so you supposed it was fitting.

Subconsciously holding your ribs, you looked around for the shadowy figure again, but in the dark, there was no way you would be able to see it so easily. Without really realising it, you had walked further into the courtyard, admiring the garden in the small amount of light that was available. ‘Lots of roses… surprised there isn’t an apple tree or something.’

“They are quite beautiful aren’t they?” A voice suddenly spoke up, making you jump. Whipping around, wincing as your bruises and stitches stretched, you eyed off the culprit.

“Of course, I much prefer Nerium over roses.”

“Alastor…” Standing before you was the man who had made this last week a living hell. Did he not realise how much sleep you had lost, not knowing if he was okay? How worried you had been? 

“Only because they’re toxic you freak…” you retorted softly, not even sure if he had heard it as you slowly approached him.

“I had a feeling it was your shadow I had seen… You’re the only sonofabitch I know who can do that.”

Stopping just short of the man, you stared up at him with tired eyes. He looked down at you, that stupid grin on his face, like it always was. 

“Now Darling, must you use such language during our happy reunion? Aren’t you happy to see me?” He mocked, before you weakly punched him in the chest.

You hadn’t even realised it but you had started crying sometime after seeing him standing there. “You asshole… Don’t you know how fucking worried I was about you? Where have you been?” You hit him again, hardly bothering him by the looks of it, as he hardly flinched with every hit. He was a lot stronger than you were… but you supposed you didn’t really want to hurt him.

“Why couldn’t you have at least told us you were okay? Why didn’t you show yourself? I was scared you were dying under the hotel or something- after losing Pentious- I don’t know what we would have done if we found you dead as well.”

A hand dropped onto the top of your head, silencing you and you stopped hitting him, dropping your arms and instead, falling forward to rest your head on his chest.

“I apologise for causing you such grief my dear. I must be honest, I had some loose ends I needed to tie off before I could return. If I had been able to inform you of my whereabouts, I would have,” Alastor remarked, a familiar, almost comforting radio static coating every word. 

“Everything is okay now though isn’t it? We’re all alive and we can start rebuilding the hotel much faster now that I’m back! Though I must say, I am honoured that you care so much!”

You shut your eyes, concentrating on the hand that was gently petting your head before pulling back. “You’re a liar. You got hurt. You can fool everyone else as much as you want Al… but you can’t fool me that easily. I’ve known you far too long for that. You got hurt and you should have come to me. Hell, I was coming after you- to help you and I got crushed because of it!” You didn’t mean to raise your voice, or blame him for the building falling on top of you, it just happened. You wiped your tears away with the back of your hand and watched as his gaze softened a little while his smile remained. 

“You said it yourself (Y/N), you’ve known me too long, to think I didn’t get away. But, if it’s all the same, I apologise. I truly never meant to frighten you.” Alastor cupped your cheek, gently guiding you to meet his red gaze. “I promise, from now on, I will assure you I am okay before running anymore of my long term errands. Okay?”

Anyone could tell he was still hiding things from you, but what more could you do? You knew him well, but you didn’t think anyone truly knew what was going on inside of Alastors mind other than Alastor himself. 

“Okay…”

“Wonderful Darling. Come now, I do believe we should be getting you back to bed. Those wounds aren’t going to finish healing if you keep running around like a headless chicken.” Spinning you around, he set a hand onto your lower back and started heading you back to your room so that you could get some rest. Typical Alastor… always quick to disturb and dismiss… but at least he was okay. You felt like, as long as he was okay, maybe you could be okay as well.

[savemefromanepicoftimewasted]

In Every Trio, There's Always A Duo

John Price X Reader

You were following behind Soap and Ghost, keeping a close eye on your surroundings while watching their six. Soap was on Ghost’s left, you were on his right, so how could they have gotten to you so easily?

A/N:this is probably the angstiest fic I've written in a while lol, the idea popped up in my head after scrolling tiktok and now I'd like you all to suffer with me(also I know I promised the Gaz fic first, it is coming! I promise!) warnings:mentions of blood, injuries, wounds, gore, depressive thoughts, thoughts of suicide, mentions of death

Price had been the one to introduce you to everyone, saying that you were the newest member of their team. Gaz welcomed you with open arms and even offered to show you around so that you wouldn’t get lost. Soap was happy to greet you, talking too quickly for you to understand even half of what he’d been saying. Ghost was a little more closed off, friendly enough to say hello and introduce himself but didn’t go out of his way to be your friend. It was something you were used to, men in the military were one of three things. Friendly, flirty, or standoffish. While Ghost wasn’t your typical “I’m better than you” military meathead, he wasn’t an open book.

It was all fine though, you had gotten close to the rest of the group and made friends with all of them quick enough. Alejandro and Rudy were much friendlier during the first meeting, Rudy and you swapped recipes and talked about your interests. Ale joked that you would end up stealing his best friend right from under his nose. Of course you would never do that, stealing someone else’s best friend was a big no no in your book.

“I would never steal him away from you! Best friends are sacred.” You smiled over at Ale, watching the way he became flustered ever so slightly.

“Well, thank you then.” He wasn’t sure what to say, most people teased them for being such close friends, this was a nice change.

“Of course, no need to thank me.” Rudy pulled you back into the conversation, explaining how to properly cook one of his mother’s best dishes.

It went on like that for months, you making friends with everyone on the task force, along with Ale and Rudy. When everyone would go home for break you didn’t leave, assuring everyone that you would leave the following day. No one needed to know that you didn’t want to go back to your family, their toxicity pushing you to where you were now. Your mother had been an alcoholic your entire life, your father no better when he actually bothered to come around. Your brother had up and left the moment he turned eighteen, leaving you behind to suffer.

No one needed to know what happened in your past, to them things were good and you had a loving family. They didn’t need to know that you had nothing left waiting for you, no family, and no friends for if you succumbed to your death during a mission. You’d wanted to tell them the truth so badly, that you truly weren’t alright, but you couldn’t.

You were out at the bar with everyone, sitting between Gaz and Soap. The Scot had interrupted you nearly five times now, voice booming as he recalled a tale about how Price had embarrassed himself during a mission. You bit your lip, sinking into your seat and not bothering to try and speak up anymore. The night continued on like that, everyone talking about different things as the drinks flowed. You’d even learnt a little bit more about Ghost, how his parents weren’t the nicest of people, how he’d done what he could to help them. It reminded you of your own situation, abusive parents that refused to take accountability.

It continued on like that for months, you would head out with everyone and continue to turn into nothing but a shadow. Seven turned to six, six turned into five, and soon enough it was only you, Ghost, and Soap going out. Price was too busy with paperwork, Ale and Rudy had their own duties to attend to, and Gaz was seeing someone. You were happy for Gaz, he was a total catch and anyone with eyes could see how attractive he was. Though you missed his corny jokes at the tables when you’d go out. Soap was the main jokester, Ghost throwing in a few from time to time to throw the Scot off his game.

It was strange seeing Ghost without his mask, the first time your jaw dropped open but you refused to comment. Nothing more humiliating than bringing up someone’s scars to them when you’re in public. He ignored everyone who tried to flirt with him, shutting down their advances with a “not interested” before they could utter another word. That same night they left you behind at the pub, you’d gone to the bathroom to relieve yourself before heading back. When you walked out the table was empty and cleaned, surely they were waiting outside. However once you stepped foot outside you noticed the truck you’d all driven in was gone as well.

Your throat closed up as you realized they had completely forgotten you, the base was over ten miles away. Refusing to try and call them, you tugged your jacket closer to your body and made the journey on foot. Price was still awake when you arrived, feet nearly bleeding from the blisters you now had, and tears running down your face.

“Sweetheart? What’s going on?” Price abandoned his paperwork to rush over to you.

You lied and told him you were simply too intoxicated and had forgotten you had gone to the pub with Soap and Ghost, the two men soundly asleep in their own rooms. He didn’t look as if he believed you, but nonetheless he let it slide. You would tell him the truth when you finally felt ready. Instead of pushing for more answers he helped treat your wounds, and gave you some warmer clothes to sleep in for the night.

Your sleep had been restless that night, struggling to get over how much pain you were in physically, and emotionally. Maybe they had just forgotten because you hadn’t talked the entire night? Sure, that’s what it probably was.

Price kept you on light work for the next two weeks, letting your feet heal before putting you into weapons and basic training. You were being sent out on a mission in a few days and he wanted everyone to be prepared. You stuck close by Gaz and Price for the most part, not wanting a repeat of the pub again. Training was easy, you excelled with each weapon you were given and surpassed everyone else, even Ghost.

Laswell was happy with the progress you’d made since joining, happy to know you had integrated so well with everyone else on the team. It didn’t matter if she didn’t know the entire truth, or that you were miserable deep down. She lead the briefing for your next mission, you were to get the intel required and get out, taking out any hostels if needed. You were a little nervous, the last firefight you’d gone into had nearly gotten you killed. Had Rudy not yanked you down behind the pillar you wouldn’t be standing there.

The helicopter hovered as you rappelled down onto the ground, unclipping your belt and grabbing your gun. There was no one as far as you were able to see, though you couldn’t be too careful, enemies were trained to hide in plain sight. Price and Ghost lead the group, guns raised as they begin a slow but cautious walk towards the building. No one noticed the enemy as they slid from behind their own hiding spots. 

The bullets were raining down on the group before any of the guys or yourself could take cover. Price had thrown Gaz behind one of the pillars, Ghost doing the same with Soap to help prevent his teammate from becoming swiss cheese. Alejandro wrapped his arms around Rudy and tackled him to the ground, laying completely still until the sound of the enemy reloading calmed his nerves. It wasn’t until they realized that you were laying out in the open, screams ripping the air apart as you began to slowly bleed out. Ghost’s heart stopped, how the hell did they completely forget about another person! 

“Shit!” Soap turned to run around Soap’s bulky frame, grunting as Ghost grabbed the collar of his tac vest.

“You do that an’ you’re both dead!” Ghost couldn’t risk someone else getting injured, they needed to neutralize the threat.

“We need to save her!” Soap couldn’t watch you bleed out, it would destroy him.

“Stand down!” Ghost winced as the gunfire drew closer, they needed to retreat before they lost anyone else.

The group slowly retreated, watching the way your frame became smaller and smaller with each step they took. Ghost was gnawing the inside of his jaw, angry that he’d let something like this happen under his watch. Shit, they’d have to figure out how to get you back before you ended up bleeding out on the field.

“Ghost!” Gaz was staring over at the older man, eyes wide with terror.

The enemy had grabbed you, running off while they seemed to be too preoccupied figuring out a plan to stop them in their tracks. His blood ran cold, they were surely going to kill you if they couldn’t rescue you soon enough.

“Stop them!” Ghost raised the gun in his arms, aiming down the scope to try and get a shot off.

It was with a sickening realization that he noticed they were all gone, nothing but dust kicked up in the air as they fled. He’d always kept everyone safe, or as safe as he could when they were in enemy territory. This? This was his worst nightmare come to life, someone getting injured and captured because of his actions. How the hell had he not realized you were near him? While you were quiet when needed you always made your presence known.

“We’ll get them back, but we can’t go in with our heads up in the clouds.” Price was angry, they were split up into two groups. 

You were following behind Soap and Ghost, keeping a close eye on your surroundings while watching their six. Soap was on Ghost’s left, you were on his right, so how could they have gotten to you so easily?

“You let her get hurt, you were too busy keeping an eye on Soap that she got hurt!” Gaz stood up harshly, stomping over to where Ghost and Soap were crouched.

“Hey! Let’s not start going at each other’s throats.” Price grabbed onto his tac vest, stopping him before he could reach the other two.

“I saw it, she was walking too far from Ghost and instead of remembering that she was even there he saved Soap instead, and now she’s been taken by the fucking enemy!” Gaz was angry, angrier than he’d been in quite a while.

Ghost wanted to deny it, that he had been keeping an eye on you the entire time, but it would’ve been a dirty lie. It had been obvious over the last few months how little attention they ever spared you, especially him and Soap. The three of you would go out during your leave together and it was simply as if you didn’t exist to them. You were the third wheel during their conversations, trying your hardest to speak up only to be ignored.

Everyone had gone out for a night of drinks and dinner, mainly because Price all but demanded on getting off base for at least one night. Things had been silent for a little while and he needed to release some tension. You and Gaz were up getting drinks for everyone at the bar, the waitress already swinging by to get everyone’s order for food. Price had seen how sullen your expression was, the sparkle your eyes usually had seemed so dull now. Maybe this would help bring it back and things would go back to normal. You were his favorite(don’t tell Simon)and he would do his damndest to make sure you were okay.

“Sorry about the wait, bar was a little busier than expected.” You and Gaz set down all the drinks, being careful not to spill any liquid onto the, for now, clean table.

“No worries love, food won’t be out for a little while anyway.” Price smiled at the way your face flushed, proud that he could still have you blushing like a schoolgirl. 

The conversation seemed to flow easily with everyone, Gaz was telling a story from his teenage years that had everyone laughing. He’d embarrassed himself trying to impress a girl and refused to even look her in the eye afterwards. You opened your mouth to make a comment before Soap cut you off, the entire table echoing with laughter. Clearing your throat quietly you took a quick sip of your drink. 

The chatter died down once the food was brought out, everyone eating in near silence, save for the bustle of the restaurant around you. You wanted to talk about something, anything, but the timing never felt right. So instead of opening your mouth to talk you kept eating, your stomach turning slightly as you pushed the food around the plate. The chance to strike up a new conversation was dulled entirely once Ghost started talking about something. You didn’t bother to listen, eyes locked onto your plate as you tried to muster up the energy to keep eating.

Everyone was pulled into the conversation, offering their own bits and pieces here and there, everyone except for you. Why bother speaking to people who clearly didn’t notice when you did anyway? It would be a waste of energy and you needed to worry about what would happen on your next mission. Only you didn’t notice the way Price’s gaze lingered on you, a frown marring his nearly perfect features.

“If you don’t get them back, then I sure the fuck will.” Gaz knew the risks that rescuing you would entail and right now he was willing to take that risk.

“Kyle, if you go running in there you’ll be dead before you can get to her. I’ll go with you.” Price was willing to do whatever it took to get you back.

“Sir.” Soap felt terrible, had he kept a closer eye on you this wouldn’t have happened.

“No, we need to start thinking about how we’re going to rescue her, I’ll call Laswell.” Price turned and walked off without waiting for anyone to follow.

Ale and Rudy were horrified, they’d known the men for quite a while, having only just met you a few months prior, and watching the way this had gone down? It sickened them, but they wouldn’t voice those opinions out loud. They’d do whatever needed to be done to rescue you, to make sure that you came back home alive.

You, Ghost, and Soap were all sitting in the cafeteria, trying to enjoy the MRE’s that had been given to you earlier that day. A new shipment wouldn’t be in for a few more days so you were suffering through what had been left over. They weren’t terrible, but it was obvious why these were the ones left over from everyone else. Ghost and Soap had been keeping conversation going between them from the moment you sat down. You didn’t bother to say a word, simply ate your rather dry and tasteless food and waited for it to be gone so you could leave.

It was becoming more obvious as each day passed how little they liked having you around, from the way they would simply ignore you, to even brushing you off when you tried to join the conversation. It had stung in the beginning, but this was something that happened quite often, and you weren’t going to sit there and whine like a child. No, instead you learned to hide the disappointment and hurt deep down inside. If John ever found out how you were mentally, he’d have you discharged before you could even blink and stop him.

“‘M tellin’ ya! You nevah believe me!” Soap was laughing at something Ghost had said, you were sure of that, but the effort to even pretend to listen was too much.

“Oh will you stop with that? I don’t need to believe ya if I don’ want to.” Ghost rolled his eyes, shoving another forkful of…something into his mouth.

Neither of them had so much as glanced at you in the twenty minutes it had been since you’d sat down, another reminder that you weren’t wanted. Your throat closed up slightly, a sickening feeling clawing at your chest as you tried to keep the negative thoughts at bay. That was all wiped away when Price walked in, your back straightened immediately. It was a habit you had tried to break so often but never seemed to be able to.

“At ease soldier, just here to let you know that we’ll be headed out at 0400, so I suggest you get ready to go.” Price nodded at you before heading out.

You would all be debriefed on the plane ride over, it was something Price had begun to do so you went into the mission with the details fresh in your mind. Unless things were sensitive, then he wouldn’t run the risk of the wrong person hearing. Maybe this would finally be the mission you’d be left behind, a girl could have dreams right?

Soap was pacing the room, mumbling to himself to figure out how he could even try and get back on your good side. It was his fault that you were not only shot, but also captured. Price had gotten into contact with Laswell the moment they were back to safety. She was furious, asking how you’d managed to get captured when it was a simple recon. Gaz had exploded then, telling her how Ghost and Soap had been too caught up in each other to keep an eye on you. Price had to calm him down, nearly threatening him.

“There’s been an update, and before any of you say anything I need you to watch this and not rip out each other’s throats.” Laswell turned towards the screen, hitting play.

The screen was blurry for a few seconds before your slumped over form became clearer, it was obvious they’d done a shitty patch up job to your wounds. Your wrists and ankles were bound to the chair, blood dripping down your temple.

“If you want her back, we want something as well.” A voice, presumably someone behind the camera, spoke.

You laughed loudly, the sound surely causing your head to throb as you struggled to sit upright in the wooden chair.

“You couldn’t have picked anyone worse to ransom. Everyone knows I'm expendable on the team, nothing but a throwaway.” Your smile tore at Price’s heart, you looked defeated, ready for the comforting embrace of death.

They growled in anger, fist colliding with your jaw as a sickening crack echoed through the speakers. You groaned, spitting blood onto the floor with a huff.

“You don’t understand, they’re never going to come back for me. You’re better off letting me just die.” Your body was begging for death now, pain surging through every nerve ending.

The man turned towards the camera, angry that you seemed so unwilling to help get whatever they were so desperate for.

“You have two days.” The screen suddenly went black, leaving the room completely silent.

Price walked over to Laswell, afraid of what answer he was going to get for the million questions running through his mind.

“How long do we have?” The video wasn’t brand new, they would never actually give the men enough time to properly plan.

“Less than twenty four hours, we found her location from that bracelet you gave her a few months ago.” Ghost’s head whipped around, why was his captain giving you gifts?

“Everyone gear up, we need to get her back before it’s too late.” Price wasn’t going to waste another second, not when you were so close to death.

The plane was fueled up and ready to go by the time everyone headed out, briefing over the plan during the flight. Gaz would go in guns blazing if it meant saving you, and he’d force Ghost and Soap to wait until they got you. It was reckless to think that way of course, and being angry with his teammates wouldn’t do him any good either. Once you were back and safe with them he’d reprimand the other two. It didn’t matter that Ghost ranked higher than him, he’d give those two an earful they’d never forget.

“Rudy, do you have eyes on her?” Price walked over to check the monitor, a small sigh of relief when he saw your outline.

You were still breathing, the motions slow and labored as you struggled with each breath. Rudy was going to stay on the plane, keeping an eye out to make sure no one tried to sneak on. It was a risky move, especially considering he’d be sitting alone, save for Nikolai. They each geared up, checking their weapons ammunition to make sure everything was loaded.

“Hold down the fort til we get back.” Price slapped a hand against Rudy’s shoulder, nodding towards Gaz and Ale to follow him.

Ghost knew better than to argue, Price was their leader and right now he was definitely on his shit list. Soap wasn’t getting off scot free either, it had been both of them that caused this entire situation. No, the focus was solely on you, Ghost could deal with the repercussions later on when you were safe.

Their footsteps were silent, Gaz lockpicking the door before heading inside behind Price and Ale, guns drawn high as they looked around for enemies. The air was thick with tension, sweat beading up underneath Price's hat as he tried to keep his breathing steady. The sound of fists colliding with skin they picked up pace. They’d managed to find you quicker than expected, but what awaited them beyond those doors?

“Tell us where they are!” It was the same voice as your abuser from the tape, they were enraged at how you simply laughed at their anger.

“I’m tellin’ ya, don’ know shit.” You groaned as his fist collided with your stomach, doubling over in the chair as much as you physically could.

They’d been interrogating you for hours, doing whatever they could to get any information from you before they’d finally send you into the afterlife. The pain was excruciating, resonating through your body like a livewire. How long would you last before you would finally succumb to the wounds that adorned your skin?

The sound of gunshots echoed inside the tiny room, deafening you as the pain in your skull amplified by a thousand. You’d surely had a concussion, if the amount of times you’d been punched had anything else to do with it. The scent of gunpowder and blood filled the air, though you were positive almost half of the blood was yours. A hand grabbing your face caused you to flinch back violently, a terrified screaming ripping from your lips.

“Please! No more!” Whoever had killed your captors wouldn’t have the best intentions for you.

“Sweetheart it’s me, we’re here to get you.” Gaz’s voice was calm, even if his heart was nearly beating out of his chest.

“Gaz.” Your eyes filled with tears, staring back at your teammate and friend.

Price stood right behind him, eyes filled with worry at your state, they needed to get you to a medic immediately. Gaz cut through the ropes binding you to the chair, helping you to stand up. It became obvious that one of your legs was broken as you stumbled in his hold, grabbing onto your thigh with a vice grip.

“Fuck, I’m gonna let Price carry you to the plane, we’ll get you hooked up to an IV to get some fluids in you, alright?” You could barely nod but it was enough of a confirmation to hand you over to Price.

He lifted you gently, cradling you in his arms as Gaz and Ale lead the way back out. Ghost and Soap were checking for any stragglers, not wanting to leave anyone else alive. They hadn’t managed to find anyone, or anything else of importance when they met back up with you. Soap could see the way Price was holding you, as if you would turn into dust in his arms. The two men wanted to apologize, to beg for your forgiveness but with Price it wouldn’t be allowed. You needed to make that decision on your own.

“Alright, we’re gonna get you back to base soon enough,” Price had let the team medic take over, checking your vitals and setting up an IV drip.

Ghost opened his mouth to apologize before Gaz’s glare stopped him in his tracks, Soap quietly sat down in a seat without so much as glancing at you. Clearly some things needed to be worked out, and right now they weren’t going to be talked about. Ghost never backed down from a challenge, not when it came to his teammates. He’d gotten enough shit from Soap to last him a lifetime, lord knows the other man never knew when to stop.

That was the whole point though, wasn’t it? He was being taught a very important lesson about how blind he’d become. Maybe not literally, but Ghost was focusing on the wrong things and it was biting him in the ass now. Soap didn’t seem any better, silently sulking in his seat as he went through a million different scenarios in his head. How long had you been suffering in silence while they simply ignored you? How terrible of a friend was he that he didn’t even notice what was going on.

“We left her at the pub one night.” Ghost nearly missed Soap’s words over the engine of the plane.

“What?” His head whipped around, when the hell had they genuinely forgotten you during a night out?

“Remember O’Malley’s? It was that one.” Soap felt the guilt eating at his soul.

Everything began to hit him like a freight train, they were neglecting you both and off the battlefield. You were an amazing teammate and an even better friend and they’d completely taken you for granted. They didn’t know anything about you aside from that you’d joined the army at eighteen and were now with the task force. The first thing Ghost would do was apologize and do whatever he could to help ease your pain.

“We’re about to land, already let them know we’ve got injuries.” The routine medic, a man named Jacob that couldn’t be any older than twenty two, began to prep you for departure.

You’d need surgery to set your leg properly, the break was most likely a shatter which would cause an intense infection. Nurses ran out to grab the gurney, rushing you inside to get you prepped and ready. Price stood at the top of the ramp, back turned towards everyone else.

“You will not go near her at all, she’s going to need space to process and heal. Do I make myself clear?” Price glanced over his shoulder at Soap and Ghost.

“Sir I-” “I said, do I make myself clear sergeant?” Price couldn’t let his emotions take over, but losing a teammate because of someone else’s negligence.

“Yes sir.” Soap straightened up in his seat, ignoring the way he felt like a scorned child.

“Good, we’ll have a debrief once she’s out of surgery.” You wouldn’t be joining, but once he knew you would be alright Price could finally relax.

The doctor and nurses worked quickly to fix the broken bones littered across your body, extracting pieces of bone that had dug into the muscle of your thigh. It took them over five hours to fix you completely, relaying the news to Price. His shoulders relaxed ever so slightly, the worry that you wouldn’t pull through finally gone. Now it was all about making sure you healed properly.

Laswell called them to the debriefing, waiting until everyone was seated before beginning with getting every piece of information. Her expression didn’t give away any emotion of how she felt, it wasn’t the smartest thing to do, getting attached to the task force. She was a little upset with them though, being unaware of your surroundings could cost your life.

“Unfortunately, she’s going to have to be discharged..permanently.” Price slammed his hands down.

“Absolutely not! You are not sending her off after everything that’s happened.” How could they just throw you away so easily?!

“I’m sorry John, this is even outside of my own jurisdiction. She got injured during a mission and might not be able to walk properly for a few years.” Fuck, you were going to be devastated hearing this.

“If she’s gone, then so am I.” Price was risking a lot for you, but you’d saved his life countless times before.

Laswell sighed, running a hand over her face before heading off to contact god knows who and see if they could keep you as part of the task force. He hadn’t fought to get this team together for nothing, and he would do whatever he could to keep everyone together. Things would work out, they had to.

—---------

You’d been struggling through physical therapy, learning to walk after having your right femur reconstructed was not easy. Price had found you the best physical therapist in all of England, determined to make sure you made a full recovery. It warmed your heart that he was so willing to help, to make sure that you were safe. He’d been by your side for months, helping you settle into your apartment and all but moving into the spare bedroom.

“Sweetheart, you’re doing amazing.” Price was standing at the opposite end of the walk way, ready to catch you in case you lost your balance.

“Fucking hurts.” You winced, arms shaking as you struggled to keep yourself upright.

Price hadn’t wanted to tell you, but Ghost and Soap had wanted to apologize, to sit down and have a discussion about everything. He wouldn’t push the subject if you disagreed, you deserved to be treated with respect first and foremost. It would be better to wait until you were back in the apartment where you could relax. Maybe he could give you one of his sweaters to wear, you always seemed to relax when wearing his clothes.

Your physical therapist was happy with your progress, saying that you were exceeding expectations and could possibly go down to three days a week instead of four. It made you feel a little bit better, knowing you were doing so well. You hadn’t been in the apartment for longer than two minutes before Price was wrapping one of his jackets around your shoulders. It was something he tended to do when he had bad news.

“Now you have every right to say no, but Johnny and Simon want to come by and talk.” John waited to see how you would react, knowing physical therapy had been a good day he felt optimistic.

“What’s there to even talk about? That they don’t see me as anything other than an annoyance? John, we're having a good day, I don’t want to ruin it.” Your eyes were pleading with him.

He wanted to argue that this conversation needed to happen or else things would only get worse for everyone. So, instead of listening to your pleas of “don’t you dare call them” John let them know to come over. He’d make it up to you later with a great dinner and some dessert. After all it was the very least he could do after subjecting you to their antics. Hopefully Johnny didn’t end up saying the wrong thing and pissing you off even more.

—-----

No one had dared utter a word for nearly ten minutes once Johnny and Simon arrived. The taller of the two had forgone even his surgical mask, muttering how it felt wrong to hide. Johnny was twiddling his thumbs, waiting for someone to break the ice so that he could make amends. John had made you a cup of cocoa(extra marshmallows and whipped cream as always). Simon sighed to himself before straightening up in his seat on the couch.

“No amount of I’m sorries will ever be enough for what happened. We never truly realized how shitty our actions were because we’d gotten so used to routine that adding someone else didn’t feel natural. I’m not saying that as an excuse, you didn’t deserve what happened, and I fully blame myself for you getting taken and for all of this.” Simon gestured vaguely to where you were perched in what was apparently John’s favorite chair.

You glanced at Simon over the rim of your mug, sipping the warm liquid as you soaked in his words. Simon wanted to mention the dollop of whipped cream on the end of your nose, but John beat him to it. He reached over and gently turned your head to face him, wiping off the cream with his thumb. Your smile was radiant, eyes sparkling as you stared back at your captain. 

Oh.

Oh.

This was something entirely new, but it also explained why John had been so angry that you were going to be discharged originally. Somehow they’d convinced Laswell, and whoever else, that you were too much of an essential player to lose. You were in love, and here they were intruding on an otherwise very personal moment. John suddenly seemed to remember the other two were there, awkwardly clearing his throat before sitting back in his seat.

“It’s going to take a while before I can fully trust you guys again, I’ve been through a lot in my life but having my teammates basically throw me to the wolves? It fucking hurts.” Maybe it was time to finally come clean about your life and who you truly were.

You couldn’t stop the words from spilling out, telling them about your abusive home life growing up before finally making it out and finding a purpose in life. How on every break you would stay on base and make sure it looked like you’d left when they all came back home. You didn’t want their pity, you just needed them to finally understand why you were hurt by their actions.

John had carefully scooped you up and placed you into his lap when tears began to slide down your cheeks, comforting you the best way he could. Simon could understand your pain, having dealt with abuse from his own father growing up. It was a reminder that sometimes the strongest people were often hiding the darkest past. He’d done the same thing for years, refusing to open up and let anyone close.

“We really just wanted to apologize for treating you like shit, and wanting to make sure that you were doing better now.” Johnny could see that even being shot, tortured, and left for dead that you still had that shine to you.

“I know, I’m just going to need time to process everything, it hasn’t been easy.” You wanted to forgive them, but deep down the feeling that it would happen all over again ate at your mind.

“I understand lass.” Johnny nodded, he would gladly give you time to process and even see if you could forgive him.

John set you back into the chair so he could walk Johnny and Simon out, promising to keep in touch if anything changed. He wouldn’t disrespect your decision, and with the other two being on board he wasn’t going to argue. Now it was time to sit and think about what he could make for you to make up for everything.

“Hey, I just want to say thank you for everything you’ve been doing, it means a lot.” You pushed yourself off the chair slowly, stepping over to John who looked seconds away from panicking.

“You don’t need to thank me love, it’s my pleasure.” He kept his hands out, ready to help in case you needed it.

“You’re doing a lot more than you might think, so yes, I do need to thank you.” You rested your hands on his shoulders, slightly winded at how far you’d had to walk.

John’s hands slid to your waist, pulling your body closer to his. He wanted to lie and say it was only because he was afraid you’d stumble. How would you react to hearing about his true feelings? Knowing that he’d harbored a crush for frankly much too long than was appropriate to be honest. Your gaze landed on his face, lips parted as you watched the way his eyes dilated ever so slightly. John couldn’t stop himself before he was kissing you, lips pressed softly against yours. You would be a liar if you’d said you hadn’t dreamt of this before, hoping that John felt the same way towards you.

You were the first to pull away, face flushed and lungs desperate for air as you clung to the cotton shirt John wore. A small chuckle slipped through his lips, fingers digging into your hips as he pulled your bodies closer.

“I’ve wanted to do that for quite a while if I’m being honest.” Your heart was racing, had you really heard him correctly?

“So have I.” You rested your forehead against his chest, relishing in the warmth he exuded.

Neither of you made to move from the kitchen, simply wrapped in each other’s embrace. You couldn’t forgive Simon and Johnny for causing the damage they did. But maybe they helped push you into the right direction. tagging: @gaylemonshark

[strawberry-cowmilk]

the brothers when they realise mc will die one day

-> brothers x mc

a/n: it's been a good minute since I wrote actual ultimate painful angst so here you go while I wait for my hot makeup sponge soap soup to help me clean the things

mc's gender is not mentioned, not proof read

content warnings: angst, death, crying, sports injury

-----

Lucifer

he was peacefully listening to a new record he got with you next to him

lucifer was a great fan of this certain composer so he started to talk a little about the music and the meaning behind it

'the composer wrote this piece for their deceased partner-' he suddenly went quiet once he realised he will be like the composer one day

you had already fallen asleep to hear what he said, lucifer carefully pressed you close, afraid of waking you up and afraid of the day you'll leave him

Mammon

mammon was very bored since lucifer took away his card as a punishment, so he decided to watch tv

he was just browsing the channels and ended up watching the news

mammon was already upset about not having his card, and all the depressing stuff on the news made him more sad, and one certain report hit him with the reality that humans die way before demons

tears stung at his eyes as he instantly called you, asking where you are and if you're willing to cuddle him

Leviathan

he got a new game off of akuzon and you're playing it together

it just happens that you're absolutely terrible at this game so you keep dying every two minutes

it was funny at first, you and levi were laughing about it until he suddenly went quiet and started crying

before you could ask him what happened he hugged you and started begging you to not die for real

it took some while for him to calm down a little, you're his (only) friend, how will he live without you?

Satan

he was working on a group rad project with solomon, eventually he started talking about how he accidentally made himself immortal

eventually satan demanded to know how he did it, and he was pretty angrily asking too, during the conversation he realised you are not immortal (unlike solomon)

the prof literally had to separate them because satan was getting too angry

satan wasted no time, he went to look for you so he can spend time with you and forget his awful thoughts

Asmodeus

there was some fashion week event in the devildom and some high fashion brand asked asmo to model for them (he accepted)

but on the day of the event, it got cancelled

asmo was not pleased with this, but you told him it's ok and you can watch him on the catwalk next time he gets invited, but the thing is that probably won't be until another 500 years-

he realised there's a very good chance you won't be alive for the next time, he cried and clung to you, denying reality

Beelzebub

beel was playing the finals of his fangol game and things were getting very serious, there were players getting tackled left and right pretty badly

his mind started to drift away from the game for a while, and remembered that time you asked him to play with you

but if you, a human, were on this field, you'd probably get badly injured, or worse

the coach had to get a time out because the team's got beel literally crying his eyes out on the bench

the team won, but beel is not in the mood for celebrating

Belphegor

it just randomly hit him

he was looking at the stars next to you in the planetarium and something about the stars today made him think about everything, and eventually the fact that humans don't live long compared to demons

he turned to you, said something along the lines of 'don't go' and curled up against you, falling asleep

belphie needed to give himself a good dream right now otherwise he feels like he won't be able to handle it now

[valkyriexo]

You get your period | Hyunjin

ᑉ³pairing; Hyunjin x Reader

ᑉ³genre; Sickfic, Smau, Comfort, Fluff,

ᑉ³warnings; Reader has their period, Mentions of blood

ᑉ³Authors Note; Edited ! Other members coming soon!

Part of the "He helps you when.." collection. Other members parts: Chan | Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin | Han | Felix | Seungmin | Jeongin

The room was filled with chatter and laughter, the sound mingling with the soft music playing in the background. Colleagues and acquaintances moved about, their animated conversations punctuated by the clinking of glasses and occasional bursts of laughter. It was supposed to be a happy atmosphere, a chance to network and socialize, but to you, it felt like a suffocating few hours.

Despite the vibrant energy pulsating through the room, you felt isolated, trapped within the confines of your own discomfort. Each laugh felt like a dagger twisting in your gut, a painful reminder of the mask you were struggling to maintain. You plastered on a smile, nodding along to the conversations swirling around you, but inside, you were crumbling.

All you could focus on was the throbbing ache in your lower abdomen. Each wave of pain felt like a vice grip, threatening to squeeze the life out of you. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, trying to maintain a composed facade while feeling like a wreck inside.

As you excused yourself to the restroom for the umpteenth time, dread washed over you. Each step felt heavier than the last, as if you were dragging yourself through quicksand. The familiar hum of the air conditioning seemed to mock your discomfort, the cool breeze offering no respite from the inferno raging within your body.

The mirror revealed a nightmare: your once pristine dress was stained with crimson. The stains seemed to mock you, taunting you with their unwanted presence.

You were mortified, embarrassment and shame threatening to drown you. Your hands trembled as you frantically tried to salvage what was left of your dignity, dabbing futilely at the stubborn stains with damp paper towels. But with each passing moment, it became increasingly clear that this was a battle you could not win.

The weight of judgment hung heavy in the air, suffocating you with its silent condemnation. What would your coworkers think if they saw you like this? Would they whisper behind your back, doubting your competence and professionalism? The thought made your stomach churn with anxiety, a knot tightening in your chest.

Desperation clawed at you as you contemplated your next move. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you grappled with the impossible choice between suffering in silence or fleeing in disgrace.

Just as despair threatened to consume you, a familiar ping broke through the chaos of your thoughts. It was Hyunjin, your ever-reliable boyfriend, offering a lifeline in the form of a text message. Despite your protests, he insisted on coming to your rescue.

As you frantically tried to salvage what was left of your dignity in the restroom, a soft knock on the door startled you.

"Love, it's me," Hyunjin's voice called out, filled with concern.

With a mixture of relief and fear, you opened the door to find him standing there. With gentle reassurance, he wrapped you in his embrace, shielding you from the judging eyes of the world. Without a word, he handed you a neatly folded garment, a discreet smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Put this on," he said softly.

You glanced down at the garment in your hands and felt a surge of gratitude wash over you. It was a dark blazer, impeccably tailored and stylishly understated. With trembling fingers, you slipped it on, feeling its comforting weight settle over your shoulders. You noted with relief that it was long enough to cover the stains on your dress

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion.

Hyunjin simply smiled and took your hand in his, leading you out. 

As you reached the exit, he led you towards the waiting car, its sleek exterior a welcome sight amidst the hustle and bustle of the city streets. With a gentle touch, he opened the door for you, revealing the interior adorned with plush towels carefully arranged to protect the seat.

You offered him a grateful smile as you settled into the car, the soft fabric of the blazer providing a comforting cocoon against the outside world. Hyunjin closed the door behind you with a reassuring click.

Through the tinted windows, you watched as he engaged in conversation with another manager, his gestures animated and his expression earnest. Though you couldn't hear their words, you could sense the genuine concern in his voice as he explained your sudden departure, painting a picture of a devoted partner looking out for your well-being.

As the car pulled away from the curb, leaving behind the chaos of the event, you couldn't shake the feeling of mortification that chewed at your insides. The image of Hyunjin coming to your rescue, witnessing you at your most vulnerable, lingered in your mind like a haunting nightmare.

You tried to push the embarrassment aside, but it clung to you like a persistent shadow, refusing to be ignored. Despite Hyunjin's love and reassurance, you couldn't shake the nagging sense of inadequacy that tugged at your heartstrings.

As you arrived home, Hyunjin wasted no time in pampering you with the kind of tender care and affection that only he could provide. With a gentle touch, he led you to the bathroom, where a luxurious bubble bath awaited, steam rising invitingly from the surface.

You couldn't help but smile as you sank into the warm embrace of the water, feeling the tension melt away from your weary muscles. Hyunjin hovered nearby, a silent guardian angel, ready to tend to your every need.

As the warm water of the bubble bath enveloped you, Hyunjin gently applied a soothing face mask to your skin, his touch light and tender. The cool gel felt like a balm against your flushed cheeks, easing the tension that had settled in your muscles.

With practiced hands, Hyunjin began to massage the mask into your skin, his fingers tracing delicate patterns across your forehead, cheeks, and chin. Each touch sent waves of relaxation cascading through your body, melting away the knots of tension that had formed during the long and trying day.

As he worked, his movements became more rhythmic, his touch alternating between gentle strokes and firm pressure points. With each pass, you felt the weight of the world lift from your shoulders, replaced by a sense of tranquility and calm.

But Hyunjin didn't stop there. With a soft smile, he moved his attention to your scalp, his fingers deftly massaging away the lingering remnants of your headache. The sensation was pure bliss, each stroke sending tingles of pleasure cascading down your spine.

You closed your eyes and let yourself be carried away by the gentle rhythm of his touch, allowing the stress and tension of the day to melt away into the warm embrace of the bath.

As the soothing scent of lavender filled the air, Hyunjin busied himself with preparing a tray of your favorite snacks, arranging them with care beside the bath. He selected strawberries, dipped in rich chocolate, knowing they were your weakness, along with a selection of delicate finger sandwiches and a glass of chilled sparkling water adorned with a slice of lemon.

He settled himself beside the bath, perched on a small stool, his gaze never leaving yours as he offered you a strawberry, coated in decadent chocolate. "Here, love," he said softly, his eyes warm with tenderness. "Let me feed you."

You accepted the treat with a grateful smile, savoring the sweetness of the chocolate as it melted on your tongue. With each delicate bite, Hyunjin's love enveloped you like a warm embrace, filling the room with a sense of intimacy and closeness that transcended words.

As you nibbled on the snacks, Hyunjin regaled you with tales of his day, his voice a soothing melody that washed over you like a gentle breeze. 

"I could paint you like this," he murmured softly, his voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid to break the fragile spell of tranquility that enveloped the room. "I want to capture this moment, this image of you surrounded by warmth and light, so I can remember it forever."

You paused, your heart skipping a beat at his words. "Paint me?" you repeated, a hint of disbelief coloring your tone. "But... why would you want to remember this? It's been so mortifying."

Hyunjin's expression softened, his eyes filled with understanding. "Because even in moments of vulnerability, you are still the most beautiful person I've ever known," he said, his voice tinged with sincerity. "And I want to remember every part of you, even the moments that you may consider less than perfect."

You felt a lump form in your throat at his words, a rush of emotion threatening to overwhelm you. At that moment, you realized that Hyunjin's love for you transcended any momentary embarrassment or discomfort. He saw you for who you truly were, flaws and all, and loved you unconditionally.

With a soft smile, you nodded, a sense of warmth spreading through your chest. "Okay," you whispered, your voice filled with acceptance and gratitude. "Paint me." And as Hyunjin's pencil danced across the page, capturing the essence of your beauty with each stroke.

And as the evening wore on, you reveled in the simple pleasure of being cared for by the most romantic man you had ever known. With each passing moment, the weight of embarrassment and shame lifted from your shoulders, replaced by a sense of peace and contentment that could only be found in the arms of your beloved boyfriend Hyunjin.

ઇଓ M.LIST | Ko-Fi | Taglist | Thank you for your support ♡ | Consider leaving a comment, reblog or like ♡ | © 2024 Valkyriexo 

[letstalkaboutshtufff]

I’m Sorry I Wasn’t Enough

Neteyam x reader

Pairing: Neteyam Sully x Reader Mate

Warnings: Mentions of Arranged Marriage, violence, blood.

Summary: A year after your marriage you are looking back on things, more specifically your non existent relationship with your mate. When something happens and you’re in danger how will Neteyam react? Oh and you’re injured?

****************************************************

Today marked the one year anniversary of your bonding ceremony to the future oleykten of the omatikaya. One year and one month since your life had changed forever

Neteyam te Sully, son of Toruk Makto… your husband. You remember it like it was yesterday..

The war with the sky people had gotten increasingly difficult, Toruk makto had been meeting with your Grandfather to discuss a potential alliance between the clans to aid in the fight against the sky people.

It was a shock to all when your Grandfather said they would only help if there was a blood alliance. Meaning you, the sole heir were to be married to Neteyam, there clans heir.

It was a smart move for all parties involved on paper. A decision that would strengthen everyone, combining resources, combining armies, combining… well everything. But happiness for everyone else unfortunately meant the sacrifice for you and Neteyam.

Toruk Makto had asked you many times if you were alright with it, to which you politely said you were ready to do anything to aid the cause against the sky people.

It’s not like you could have said anything else.

Your parents were not alive to defend you, your grandfather was a good leader but couldn’t care less about your happiness. “Good leaders need to make sacrifices for the people.”

Neteyam understood the same thing. He also wanted nothing more than to prove himself.

So you both agreed without so much as having more than one conversation together.

Within a few days you had packed all your belongings and were mounting an Ikran. Your new life awaited you.

A month later you were mated before Eywa to Neteyam. Bonded in every way except the heart.

Neteyam wasn’t cruel no but he was… serious. The heavy burden of war on his responsible shoulders. He was civil with you. Spoke when nessesary to you but other than that… you barely ever saw him.

His days were either filled with preparing for raids or the raids himself and he would enter your home pod late when you were asleep and leave at first light.

The only time you ever felt any sort of emotion from him was during your first and only mating bond. Connecting your queues forced emotion to flow through the both of you, and he had been gentle and caring. But you realized soon after that that was a one time occurrence and that warmth was not a thing your mate was capable of.

Well at least not with you. He was caring with his family, you’d watched him interact with them from afar. He was careful not to show this side of him to many but you did manage to see it several times before he noticed you were there, then he’d swiftly mask his face.

You really didn’t understand his coldness. You were mated for life shouldn’t you both make an effort to at least be friends?

You tried to be someone he would proud to call his mate. You helped around the village, especially with the wounded, you made sure not to fight with anyone and keep a cool head. You did everything you could but he never saw you.. never saw your efforts.. even though you saw his.

Over the year you watched your mate. You grew to admire his strength and character. Perhaps that is why it hurt so much. You had feelings for a man who barely acknowledged your existence.

You let out a deep sigh. The trees of the forest were the only ever witnesses to your sorrow. You adjusted your net covering around you. It was getting colder, your old home never reached cool temperatures so you were not prepared for it.

You really didn’t have friends save for Neteyams siblings. And even there you didn’t spend that much time with them seeing how much trouble they liked to get into. You didn’t want to risk upsetting your mate.

You would admit that you were lonely however. When you weren’t needed in the village you spent your time exploring the never ending forest that was your home. You weren’t raised in one so you were always venturing out and exploring.

Today however due to your more than usual sadness, what with it being your anniversary and all you had walked further than you intended.

You paused your steps hearing several voices up ahead, what were Navi doing all the way out here?

You slowly crept closer to the sounds but made sure to stay hidden behind the trees.

Your eyes widened when you caught sight of the Navi- no Avatars that were clad in military gear and holding AR’s.

You carefully moved backwards until you were out of earshot.

You knew you had to tell your mate. They were clearly dangerous.

You felt for the weird contraption around your neck, you never had to use it before. You pressed down on it,

“N-neteyam?” You spoke shakily.

A few seconds passed before you heard a click. “Y/n…? Is that you?”

You could hear the slight confusion in his voice. At least he recognized you.

“Y-yes um, I’m out in the forest and there’s these Avatars… but they don’t look normal, they are dressed in camo and are holding AR’s…”

“What’s you pos?”

“W-what?” You furrowed your brows.

“Your position, where are you right now?” He spoke a bit more sternly.

“I’m-“

Wait where were you?

“Y/n?”

“I’m not sure but they were standing in front of an old worn down building..like a shack… something from the sky people I think..”

You could hear an intake of breath, “Y/n listen to me carefully, you’re going to get out of there without making a sound ok? Get back here immediately.”

You nodded before realizing he couldn’t see you, “ok I’m coming” you released the button and started to run as quietly as you could back the way you came.

Adrenaline coursed through you, you looked back several times to ensure you weren’t being followed.

You stopped to catch your breath, hopefully this was far enough-

“Ah!” You cried out falling backwards seeing a fresh bullet lodged in the now smoking tree beside you.

You quickly regained your footing and started barreling forward.

A round of explosive pops rang from behind you, debris grazing your back.

Oh Great Mother help me!

You cried out as another bullet whizzed right by your ear causing you to lose balance.

You heard shouts but they spoke in a language unknown to you.

You moved to get up when suddenly your queue was yanked back forcefully.

You hissed at your abuser, but he only smiled. Again he spoke in a language you didn’t understand.

“L-Let me go!” You tried clawing at his hand but he only yanked harder causing your vision to go white in seering pain.

Was he going to kill you? You wish you could at least understand what he was shouting at you.

He used your queue to turn you harshly around. You hissed again now able to fully see your attacker.

He only rolled his eyes said something that again failed your understanding and swiftly backhanded you into the dirt.

While you lay on the ground in pain he held a hand to his ear saying something into his comm.

You had to do something, he was going to kill you or take you back to the others…

Your eyes perked up seeing something glinting strapped to his boot.

You figured it was best to attack while he was distracted…

I guess it’s now or never,

You swiftly grabbed the knife and plunged it into his stomach.

“Gah! You bitch!”

You didn’t stick around to see his reaction, you were already darting away. You heard the cocking of his gun and immediately started weaving through trees.

*POP* *POP* *POP*

It was a miracle you avoided all the bullets.

You made the mistake of looking back for a split second and found yourself tumbling over a root.

You gasped and tried to right yourself but he was already there pointing his gun.

Your eyes met his murderous ones and you knew this was it.

You let out one more frightened hiss and watched his finger start to pull.

*POP POP*

You couldn’t help the cry that left your mouth but- why weren’t you in pain?

“Y/N move!” Suddenly an arm was yanking you up onto your feet.

“N-neteyam!?” You couldn’t believe your eyes. He was about to speak when moments later more gunshots rang out. You gasped seeing more avatars emerging from the trees.

“Neteyam get her out of here! Move!” Jake jumped in front of you both and motioned for you to run. A few Navi warriors aiding him shooting their own weapons.

Neteyam pulled you through the trees at record speed, he quickly pulled you onto his Ikran before mounting it himself behind you and flying away. His eyes scanning the trees to make sure no one was aiming anything at them.

“Are you injured?” He asked in that raw tone he used in the middle of battle. Serious and to the point.

You shook your head, not trusting your voice not to crack. That was the last thing you wanted to do was cry in front of him.

He sighed before adjusting his reins. His silence was like poison. Slowly seeping into you making you feel ten times worse then when you were just under that guys gun.

You were breathing heavily when he landed the ikran on the mountain ledge.

He dismounted first then held out his hand, you let him help you down thanking Eywa that your legs didn’t give out on you in front of the entire village who were currently staring.

“Neteyam!” Tuk ran up and hugged your mate tightly.

The silly siblings all ran up to you guys asking what happened.

“Are you hurt sister?” Kiri eyed you up and down wearily.

“I’m alright, don’t worry…”

“Y/n!” Tuk was quick to switch to you and you embraced her warmly wanting to ease the fear on her face.

“Everyone is alright Tuk, please don’t cry…” you stroked her back calming her down, or maybe you were using her as a buffer.

You hesitantly glanced up to where Neteyam was speaking to his mother. He looked pissed. Neytiris eyes met your worried ones for a split second, softening slightly before turning back to her son. Her eyes widened in some sort of threat before sighing and coming to you.

“Are you alright daughter?” She placed a hand on your shoulder.

“I’m alright…I’m sorry for all of this I-“ she shushed you quickly.

“Don’t, it’s alright, everyone is alright…” you sighed and nodded to her thankful that she wasn’t upset with you for putting her family in danger.

“Y/n” you sucked in a breath and met your mates eyes. You wanted to let out a whimper at the anger they held.

He motioned for you to follow him. Every step felt like someone had placed a stone in your heart.

He pulled aside the flap of your tent and looked forward waiting for you to enter.

With shakey breaths you ducked under and stepped into your home.

Your fingers pulling at your netted covering as a nervous distraction.

You had seen Neteyam angry countless times before, at warriors who disobeyed orders. At his brother for causing trouble, at anyone who seriously stepped out of line.

You shivered in place now that for the first time that anger was directed at you.

He yanked the flap back down and rounded on you.

“What the hell were you thinking!?” His eyes shooting daggers through you.

“I-I I’m sorry I didn’t mean-“

“Do you know how much danger you’ve put everyone in?! They could’ve followed you back to our village and done who knows what!”

“I never would have-“

“What were you thinking wandering around there!? That areas off limits for a reason!”

“I didn’t know- Neteyam I-!”

“Enough! I don’t want to hear your excuses.” You felt the tears running down your cheeks and it seemed to trigger Neteyam to at least bring his anger down a notch.

He turned around letting out a sigh,

He hated you, that was evident now. He may have hidden his distaste before but now that you had finally angered him his true colors showed.

It only made your tears come faster. The adrenaline finally wearing off, you realized just how scared you had been. Your body ached, craving nothing more than to curl up and rest.

Not to mention an annoying pinching feeling on your abdomen that was getting increasingly more painful. Like a sting from a beertus beetle.

You ignored it focusing on the man before you.

He held a hand up to his neck, you could hear his father speaking on the other side.

They talked for a minute, you released a breath you didn’t know you were holding when you heard that everyone was alright.

Neteyam ended the line and his head turned towards you. He seemed a bit calmer now that he knew everyone was ok.

Your eyes couldn’t handle his glare at the moment so instead they landed on the mat beneath you.

It was quiet for several moments, the air thick with tension.

“You are never to go there or anywhere near that area again understood?” He spoke to you like you were one of his soldiers.

“Understood…” your voice was hoarse but at least it didn’t break.

He nodded before turning to leave and meet with his father to discuss this new threat.

Your heard his footsteps start to fade which meant he was going to leave. Of course he would. Why would he want to stay with someone like you?

Your eyes were still glued to the mat. A beautifully woven mat that was a gift from your Mother in law. It was dyed in beautiful colors.

Huh? Did something spill on it? Your eyebrows furrowed seeing red droplets. Hopefully that wouldn’t stain.. was it juice? You hoped it-

Another drop, forming right before your eyes. You looked up at the ceiling, frowning when you didn’t see anything. Then something clicked and you moved your netted cover to the side, you expected to see a cut or deep scrape from your falls. But you felt like a bucket of ice had been dumped on you when you saw it.

Why Great mother? Why were you testing me like this?

You let out a distressed whimper. Your eyes shot to the entrance where your mate had just stepped out of seconds before. You could still hear his footsteps.

You could call to him. He would hear you. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.. your mate already hated you. You would not tell him this and make him even angrier.

You would not tell him you had been shot…

****************************************************

You cursed realizing quickly that that was probably the dumbest mistake you had made. Because moments later you were too dizzy to stand and were sprawled out onto the floor clutching your side.

How could you get help now? Was this how you were going to die? It certainly looked like it..

You thought of your mate. He hated you, maybe it was…. You whimpered at your next thought.

Maybe this was for the better. He would find a new mate and be happy.

Yeah, you could do this for him… why should such a good person be miserable..?

But wait… would this damage his reputation? That he let sky people kill his mate?

Was this actually going to hurt him?

A Navi males reputation was everything. If he couldn’t protect his family who would trust him to protect the people.

No, you couldn’t be selfish. If you died, he would suffer in his position.

For the second time ever you reached up to your neck, fingers slippery from the blood.

“N-neteyam…” was that your voice? It sounded so different…

Would he even answer? He probably thought you were trying to make excuses for what happened. You tried calling out a few more times.

You felt your heart sink at the silence, it looked like he had shut the line off.

As your vision began to blur at the edges you realized that it looked like his reputation was going to suffer after all.

Even though you knew he wasn’t listening you held the button down once more, one final time…

“I’m s-sorry Neteyam.. I really tried to be a w-worthy m-mate.. I’m sorry I couldn’t do b-better mmh, p-pl.. please tell the p-people it was m-my fault not yours…I… I really did love you N-Neteyam, I-i h-hope your next mate will make you happy-“

Your fingers slipped from exhaustion and your vision failed you completely.

Goodbye my Neteyam…

****************************************************

Neteyam had never moved so fast in all his life.…

Ooooh a cliffhanger hehehe, also is anyone actually reading this? Should I do a part 2👀❤️

[saeyoungchoismaid]

hi it's not seb Saturday yet but I just wanted to throw this idea down. Sebastian chilling outside in the rain in his usual spot before seeing the farmer trudge out from the mines all bloodied and bruised ("I'm alright, really—") and it's like an immediate panic switch is flipped for sebastian because yoba above they look like a vampire's wet dream out here. They either patch farmer up at their house or at Sebastian's room lol (could be funny if the farmer ends up crashing on his bed/couch for the night, then leaves quite early but not without leaving seb a gift they got from the mines.... : ,) anyway that's it)

Awe my first Sebastian Saturday ask yay! Bro this request is so juicy HEHE. (Side note: sorry if this isn't that good or feels rushed. I haven't wrote anything in months but I'm honestly proud of myself for cranking 2k words out)

gif originally uploaded by @starwberrymark

Sebastian listens to the rock music that’s softly coming from the garage as he works. He lets out another low curse when more oil leaks out of his motorcycle and gets on him. He should be used to it. His clothes are covered in it anyway. He sighs and sets down his wrench, taking a seat on the ground by the front tire as he snatches up his rag and wipes his hands clean. Well, as best as he could. He then takes a swig from his water bottle, eyeing the clouds forming above him. Looks like a storm is blowing in. 

He keeps working for maybe another thirty minutes or so before he starts to feel the skies open up. The rain starts gentle, a few droplets starting to fall around him and onto his bike. “Welp…” he grumbles, grabbing his bike and starting to roll it back into the garage. Once secured, he shuts the radio off and closes the garage. 

He places his hands onto his hips, surveying the rain. A ghost of a smile starts to appear on his face as the rain starts to fall harder. He steps back out into it and begins to head towards the lake. He takes his pack of cigs out and smacks them against his hand, inhaling deeply. He’s always loved the smell of rain. 

Once at his usual spot, he takes a cigarette out and holds it up to his lips. He then slips his lighter out of his pocket and protects the end from the wind and rain to light it. Once the flame has caught the end of his cig, he inhales deeply, causing an orange hue to glow from the stick. 

He stands there for a while, just admiring how the water falls onto the lake or how the forest begins to smell when it’s wet. His eyes move towards the entrance of the mines when he thinks he sees movement. Through the rain, that’s starting to come down harder, he can’t really see much. He squints his eyes and moves his head around, trying to get a better look at what was going on. 

His eyes go wide when he sees you hobbling down the path. “(Y/n)!” he shouts in surprise, dropping his cig into a puddle and dashing over to you. Upon getting closer to you, he sees the bruises blooming on your skin and the cuts oozing blood. “Oh my god…” he mumbles, his heart breaking the longer he looks at you. 

“Hey, Sebastian,” you greet him as cheerily as you can muster, trying to slap a smile on your face. The pain makes it a little hard to do though. “Don’t worry about all this. I’m fine, really. Just got a bit scraped up in the mines. Those monsters are-”

“You’re not fine! You’re bleeding!” he shouts, gesturing to you. Before you can respond, he’s wrapping one of your arms around his shoulders for you to lean against him. “C’mon, I’ll help you to my house.” 

“Your house? But-”

“No but’s! You’re seriously hurt and Harvey’s clinic is already closed. You don’t seem too badly injured where we need to bother him, but I’m definitely not letting you go home without patching you up first,” Sebastian argues. You let out a sigh, realizing how serious he is about all of this. 

“Okay…fine…” you grunt out, not having the energy to fight him on it anymore. 

When you get to his place, no one seems to be home. At least, no one is in the front of the house. Sebastian leads you down the stairs and opens the door to his room. You’ve only been in his room a few times and never for long. Normally just when you have stuff for his commissions that he posts outside of Pierre’s store. He’s always very grateful, but he’s not much of a talker, so you just never end up staying around for too long. Besides, you have way too much shit going on in your day anyway. 

He sets you down onto the black couch that’s right by his door and you’re happy to be off of your feet. “I’ll go grab the first aid kit,” he says right before dashing up the stairs to go do that. You grunt and lean back against the couch, the cool air of the house making you shiver in your wet clothes. 

When he returns, he sees you shivering and bites his lip. “Here,” he says, setting down the first aid kit and going over to his dresser at the far end of the room. “Change into these,” he says, offering you a pair of pajamas. You shakily reach your hands out and take them, nodding your head as you stand up. 

You two stare at each other for a moment, unmoving. Sebastian’s eyes go wide as he realizes what you’re waiting for. “Oh! Sorry! Um, I’ll just, uh-” he stutters out as he turns around, completely red in the face. With his back to you, you slowly start stripping out of your clothes, a shy smile on your face. You do your best to avoid getting any blood or dirt on his clothes. Thankfully, the shirt and pants he gave you are both black. Maybe that’s why he gave you that specific pair. 

“Done,” you mumble before crashing back onto the dark cushions. He hesitates for a second before slowly turning around. 

He’s then back in front of you in a second, kneeling on the floor and moving your limbs around to survey your wounds. Once getting an eyeful of them all, he grabs the first aid kit and starts patching you up. You remain silent as he works, even when it hurts, you keep your lips sealed. 

After a while, a thought comes to you. “How are you so good at this?” you ask curiously. His eyes flicker up to yours before going back to your arm where he is currently rubbing in a cream on one of your darker bruises. 

“Let’s just say I…wasn’t exactly always the best-behaving kid,” he replies with a shrug, a smirk starting to form on his lips. 

“Oh?” you ask, looking down at him with your own smirk. Seeing your smirk, he huffs a laugh through his nose. 

“Nothing interesting, I assure you. I just…I’m not the biggest people person…” he says softly, moving onto a cut that he’s cleaned up to bandage it. 

“That’s okay,” you reassure, unsure of what else you could say in this moment. 

“Yeah, I guess. I didn’t have a lot of friends growing up, but I had Sammy, and later on Abigail. They introduced me to some more people, so I have more than enough friends to last me a lifetime now,” he replies with a light chuckle. You can’t help but smile at that. You’re happy to see that he’s, well, happy. 

“We’re friends, aren’t we?” you ask after a few moments of silence, hesitating in asking. After doing a few commissions for him and hanging out with him and the others at festivals, you two slowly started getting closer. You typically end up hanging out after a long day at work and you head over to Gus’ only to find that Sebastian and the others are playing pool. At first, you’d only watch, but after warming up to them, you started playing. 

The last time you played together, you two ended up staying until Gus closed the place down. You two were one of the few people left there, Sam and Abigail being long gone. Y’all ended up walking to the beach and sitting on the pier, sharing jokes and swapping stories. It was one of the best nights of your life. It’s definitely your favorite memory you’ve made since moving to Pelican Town. 

“Yeah…of course we are…” he replies softly, almost sounding hesitant and not looking into your eyes. 

“Good. I’m glad,” you say softly, giving him a sweet smile. He finally looks up at you and gives you a small smile in return. 

He’s then clearing his throat and standing up. “Well, I’m all done,” he says, wiping his hands onto his damp jeans. He glances at his clock and grunts. “It’s pretty late and sounds like it’s still raining. So, if you want to stay…you can…” He starts off confidently but ends on a quiet, unsure note. 

Heat rises to your face at that. “Oh, um, sure. Thank you…” you whisper, looking down at your hands. 

“Don’t mention it. You can, uh, take the bed, if you want. I’ll take the couch,” he offers. He then walks over to his closet and opens it up, revealing extra pillows and blankets at the top of the closet. 

“What? No, no! That’s okay! I’ll take the couch. I don’t want to inco-”

“I won’t take no for an answer,” he interrupts, pulling some blankets free from their tangled mess in his closet. You sigh and nod your head even though he’s not looking at you. 

“Alright, fine,” you say as you stand up, limping over to the bed. You sit there and watch him make the couch comfy for himself. 

As he moves around his room and goes to the bathroom to get ready for bed, you end up lying down at some point. You don’t remember falling asleep, but you do vaguely remember feeling something brush against your forehead and what sounded like someone wishing you a good night. 

When you wake up, you feel well-rested and ready to take on the day. You sit up and rub the leftover sleep from your eyes and then stretch. You wince when the bruises on your ribs ache, reminding you of what happened yesterday. You turn towards the time and find it’s six in the morning. Ah, guess old habits die hard. 

Hearing rustling and a deep sigh, you turn your attention now to the couch. Sebastian is still out cold, and probably will be for another four hours, at least. You smile and slip out of the bed, walking over to him. You smile at how peaceful he looks, his usual RBF nowhere to be seen. 

Not wanting to disturb him, you leave him be as you gather up your still-wet clothes. You’ll return his pjs to him later, after you’ve cleaned them and made sure they’re free of blood. Feeling something hard in your pocket, you slip your hand inside and remember what you found yesterday. Glancing at Sebastian, you gently set it down onto the table beside his couch that’s missing his radio. You then hobble over to his desk and search for paper and something to write with. Upon finding what you’re looking for, you scribble down a little note and leave it there next to your gift. You give him one last look before starting to limp up the stairs. Because it’s so early, no one else is up yet, so you slip out unnoticed thankfully. You’re not sure how you’d explain yourself to Robin. 

When Sebastian wakes up, the first thing he does is look over at his bed. He frowns when he finds you not there and he feels his heart sink a little. He sits up and runs his hands through his hair before scrubbing at his face. Upon dropping his hands, he notices two items resting before him. He practically has stars in his eyes as he picks the Obsidian up. He can’t believe what he’s seeing. 

Noticing the paper next to it, he picks that up next. As he reads your note, he starts to smile harder and harder. 

Dear Sebastian, 

Thank you for patching me up. Don’t think I ever actually properly thanked you last night. It means a lot to me that you’d go through all the trouble. I want you to have this. A little birdy once told me that you’ve always wanted to see Obsidian. I hope you can mark this off your bucket list now. If there’s anything else you want to see, I’m sure I can make it happen ;) Text me :) xxx-xxx-xxxx

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

MASTERLISTS

More with Sebastian

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Tag List: @katelynwithpaint, @babykirbysstuff ✦ if you would like to be added or removed, comment or send an ask. Also, remember to tell me if you ever change your username so I can continue to tag you :)

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

[ginax0916]

₊✧ 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐀𝐧𝐤𝐥𝐞 ✧₊

Chris Sturniolo x hurt!gf!reader

Genre: Fluff

Synopsis: Chris’s gf’s ankle is broken and he helps her even when she doesn’t need help.

*I got the idea of writing this from their recent Wednesday video where Chris tried to help Matt down the stairs*

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“So what did the doctor say?” My boyfriend Chris asks as I walk back into the waiting room where he waits with his brothers.

“Well if you couldn’t already tell by the boot on my foot, my ankle is broken” I sarcastically say.

“Oh shit. What even happened?” Matt asks.

“My dumbass got on the kitchen counter to reach something from the top shelf and when I jumped down I landed on it wrong and then I heard a crack and well yall know the rest” I sigh limping to them.

“Yo you sure you’re good to walk all the way to the car love?” Chris asks holding me up by my waist.

“Oh by the way y/n it would be good to invest in crutches for the first few days! Forgot to mention that earlier” The doctor says as she walks out into the waiting room to call her next patient.

“Does that answer your question?” I laugh.

We sign the papers I needed to be discharged and both Chris and Matt help me limp back to the car since I refuse to be carried like a baby.

“I’m gonna stop at Walgreens because they sell crutches there I’m pretty sure” Matt says.

“But I don’t want crutches” I sigh for the hundredth time.

“Y/n the doctor literally walked out to tell you that you need crutches. We’re buying them” Nick retorts.

“Fine whatever” I slouch down in defeat.

“Ok we’re here. Y/n stay in the car so you don’t have to walk all the way there. Do you want anything else?” Matt questions.

“Can you get me some nerd gummy clusters please? Oooh and a bottle of raspberry Iced Tea if there is any” I smile.

“Of course kid” Matt smiles back.

“I’ll stay with her in the car” Chris says.

“Alright just don’t be making out once we get back” Nick rolls his eyes as he closes the door.

“How you feel ma? Does it hurt?” Chris asks and rubs my thigh.

“I’m okay. And no it doesn’t hurt it feels fine actually” I say.

“Alright then that’s good” I nod in agreement.

“So how am I meant to fuck you with your broken ankle”

“Chris! Why is that your first concern” I laugh.

“I literally asked if it hurt 2 seconds ago!” He lifts his hands in defense.

“Wow makes such a difference Christopher” I slap his arm.

“See! Fucking you was not my first concern initially” He points his finger at me laughing.

“Yea but it was your second which is insane” I giggle.

“Come on don’t act like it wasn’t yours” He smiles sheepishly.

“Oh shut up Chris” I laugh again.

“Oh good you’re both decent” Nick says startling us as he opens the car door.

“Come on we aren’t that immature Nick” Chris says.

“Oh trust me you are Christopher” Nick pats him on the shoulder.

“What’s with people and calling me Christopher today damn” Chris turns back around in his seat.

“Y/n I got you the ice tea you wanted and along with the candy. And unfortunately they were out of stock of crutches so they let us order them online so they should arrive in like 2-3 days” Matt comments as he gets in the car handing me my stuff.

“Thanks Matt” I say. “I can go 2-3 days without walking I’m sure” I chuckle.

“I can just carry you around” Chris speaks up.

“What a delight” I sarcastically say.

“Oh come don’t act like you don’t already ask me to carry you around because you’re too lazy” He says slightly offended by my joke.

“I’m joking baby of course I don’t mind being carried around by you” I giggle.

—

“I’m gonna go pick up Canes for dinner is that good with you guys?” Matt yells from the garage.

“Yes that’s perfect thanks Matt!” I yell back.

“Wait I wanna come with you I’m bored and you always get my order wrong any way” Nick says while running down the stairs to join Matt.

“See ya guys!” Nick says.

“Bye Nick!” Both Chris and I say back.

“So what do you wanna do mama?” Chris asks, sitting down on the couch with me.

“I’m not sure. What is there to do?” I turn my body to be facing Chris and I lay my head of the cushions behind me.

“We could watch a movie, watch YouTube, play a board game or just talk. Whatever you want baby” Chris says, grabbing both my legs and draping them over his lap careful to not hurt my ankle.

“Ummm I’m not sure. But I have to pee” I say getting up. Slightly wincing at the pain of my foot touching the ground.

“C’mere” Chris mumbles, picking me up bridal style and carrying me to the bathroom.

“Thank you Chrissy” I kiss him on the cheek.

“You’re welcome and don’t call me that again” He laughs.

“Can you take my pants off for me please?” I pout.

“Oh now you’re just being a baby. Your hands work perfectly fine” Chris rolls his eyes.

“Fine me the injured person who could die any second will pull her owns pants down god” I dramatically say.

“Oh shut up and go to the bathroom babe” Chris says walking out of the bathroom laughing.

As I finish I limp into the kitchen where Chris leans against the counter.

“Hey you’re not meant to be walking you should’ve called me” Chris says picking me up and setting me on the countertop.

“I swear I’m okay love” I smile cupping his cheeks.

“Yea well the boot on your foot says otherwise” He says and grabs my waist pulling me into a warm hug.

“I love your hugs” I say nuzzling closer into him.

“And I love hugging you” He mumbles, kissing my cheek.

“Can we go to your room and watch a movie while Nick and Matt get back?” I politely ask.

“Of course we can ma” Chris smiles helping me down from the counter.

“Alright c’mon I’ll carry you down the stairs baby” He comments as he bends down ready to pick me up.

“No wait I want to do it myself” I shake my head.

“Babe the doctor said you had to be in crutches you most definitely can’t go down the stairs by yourself” Chris sighs annoyed at my stubbornness.

“Please baby? I swear I can do it” I give him my best puppy eyes to convince him.

“No don’t look at me like that ma you know I’m gonna cave” Chris covers his face with his hands.

“I’m taking that as a yes” I giggle.

“But I will be right behind you and I’m going to pick you up the second I see you stumble understood?” Chris sternly says.

“Yes I understand” I smile.

I step one foot on the first step and then the next, grabbing tightly onto the rail I limp my way down to the 4th step. Only about 15 left oh god. I thought I could do it but it hurts really bad. There’s a stinging pain on my ankle every time I step. It’s bringing tears to my eyes. But I don’t want Chris to think that I’m weak and I can’t do it. But god does it hurt. It’s getting obvious that I can’t do it, I whimper in pain every time step, tears threatening to fall. I bring my hand up to wipe my eyes but I also stepped at the same time. I lose my balance and almost fall but Chris catches me. Oh fuck.

“Hey hey I got you, you’re ok” Chris picks me up bridal style and goes the rest of the way down to his room with me in his arms. My head resting on the crook of his next softly crying. I’m not even sure if it’s because of embarrassment or pain, maybe both.

He sets be down on the edge of the bed and kneels in front of me.

“What’s wrong baby, why’re you crying that pretty makeup away hm?” Chris sweetly asks, moving my hair out of my face.

“I just- I didn’t want you to think I was weak and couldn’t do it myself” I quietly replied with my voice cracking.

“Oh baby you’re not weak. You just have a literal broken ankle. Asking for help sometimes is never being weak ok? I will never ever judge you for anything especially not being able to go down the stairs with a broken ankle. I’m always here for you ma” Chris comforts me, rubbing my arms soothingly.

“Thank you Chris” I smile leaning it to hug him.

“I love you” He kisses my cheek, hugging me back.

“Who wants Canes!!” Matt yells from the top of the stairs.

“You gonna let me carry you now mama?” He laughs as he picks me up, my legs going around his waist carefully with my ankle.

“Took you guys long enough! I’m starving” Chris laughs.

✧˖°⋆⑅˚₊

[jasmines-library]

Tried and True

WHUMPTOBER 2023 DAY FOUR: Prompt - Hiding an injury.

Fandom: Batfam/DC/Young Justice

Summary: During a fight with Bane you get critically injured but leave it hidden from your brothers. When they find out, it's a race against time to get you back to the safety of the manor. Warnings: Bullet wound, blood loss, near death experience, surgery, cursing. Word count: 2.8k Note: I'm super excited about this one. That's all i'm gonna say :)

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER WORKS

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Bane fired three shots down the alleyway. They ricocheted off the bricks, clattering to the ground with a metallic ping. Dick Grayson hid crouched behind the lip of a building overlooking the alleyway, his mask pulled tight over his face. He watched with cautious eyes, surveying the villain before him. You were hunched over on the opposite side of the street dual daggers pressed firmly into the palm of your clammy hands. Damian and Jason lingered nearby, Tim opted to survey with his older brother. He had his bo staff hooked under his arm, ready to draw back and swing at any second. 

“I know you’re out there little birdies.” Bane sung, drawing out his steps as he paced the length of the alley. “Why don’t you come out for a little chat?”

He fired another round of bullets, this time up into the sky. Your little brother cast a look at you from your left, you held out a warning hand.

“Nightwing?” You asked into the coms quietly, careful not to draw unwanted attention. Even though Bane was outnumbered 5-1, he was still extremely powerful and if he caught one of you off guard, you would be in some deep shit. 

“We need to wait until he gets to the end of the alley. There’s a fork. We can flank him from both sides.”

The five of you watched intently as he walked, monotonously slow. When he was a mere few steps away from the end of the alley, Nightwing gave the signal and the five of you sprang into action, disguised and protected by the thick plating of your vigilante suits each specified to fit your needs. 

Landing roughly on your feet, you jumped from the building, reading your daggers in front of you. Your brothers formed a circle besides you, trapping bane between the three exits. He grinned manically.

“Finally! I thought I was going to miss out on all the fun.” 

He hoisted his gun up onto his shoulder and eyed the five of you up. The look on his face was mad; cynical. His eyes glistened beneath his mask as they settled on Robin. He fired, releasing a fresh wave of bullets, but the youngest was small and quick enough to slip away, behind a crate. 

With his back turned, Red Robin took his chance to make a move on Bane. He swung his staff in an arc, swiping at the giant's feet in an attempt to knock him to the ground. He wobbled, but spun around and knocked him out of the way, sending him flying into a nearby pile of junk.

“Red!?” You called out through the coms.

There was static as he shuffled around, coughing slightly as he tried to recover from having the wind knocked out from him. “All good.”

You moved next, Robin at your side. Using the walls, you propelled yourself towards Bane, trying to swing your dagger and lodge it anywhere on his exposed chest, only to have to skid across the floor as he swung his arm out to hit you. Although you weren’t successful, Robin had managed to get in a well placed slice along Bane’s torso. He had been aiming for the thick tubes which pumped him full of venom, but he wasn’t so successful. 

The five of you went many rounds with Bane, swinging, slicing and dodging as you tried to get the upper hand on the giant man. Though despite being outnumbered, he had still managed to get his own in on the five vigilanties. Red Hood was suffering a twisted ankle, and Robin had a trickle of blood running down the side of his temple where Bane had managed to strike him.

“Raven!” Nightwing hollered “Flank left.”

You retreated back round the alley with your eldest brother, twisting and navigating in the dinginess to flank him from his other side. When you returned, he had Tim pinned up against a wall, gasping for air and flailing, his feet struggling to scrape against the floor. You picked up your pace, feet slapping against the concrete. You swung, leaping high into the air and bringing your daggers down in a large sweeping motion, it lodged itself in one of Bane’s tubes, staunching the flow of venom pumping into his veins. You rolled across the ground and onto your feet, skidding against the asphalt as you dodged another swing that caught Robin instead. Nightwing was suddenly flanking from Bane’s otherside, cutting off the rest of the venom’s flow. Pulling Robin to his feet, he raised his katana.

With a signal from your brother cracking out over the coms, you gripped your daggers tighter, shifting them into a more comfortable grip in front of you. The humming of Dicks escrima sticks filled the alley. There was a beat, then you all charged, using bane’s weakness to your advantage. He took a large slice across his abdomen and a shock to his body. He roared, releasing a round of bullets into the brick. Dropping like a sack of flour the five of you pressed your body to the ground, trying to dodge the lethal pieces of metal he flung your way. And that was when you felt it, a raw indescribable pain that radiated across your body above your right hip. You stifled a cry, biting your lip beneath the cover of your mask. Your breath shuddered as you rose, trying to ignore the dark red patch that bloomed across the front of your suit. You readied your daggers, trying to conceal the wound with your arm. You were hoping that the cover of the darkness would help disguise it from your brothers. 

From his place on the ground, Jason fired at bane, distracting him from Tim, who swung his bo staff again at his feet, this time bringing him to the ground. Stepping forwards,you pressed your dagger to his neck, not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to get the message across. He howled and grunted as Nightwing and Red Hood made quick work of securing him with rope they had stored on their suits, then delivering a quick blow to his head to render the giant unconscious. 

Nightwing took a step back and sighed, dropping his twin fighting sticks to the ground. “Is everyone ok?”

There was a chortle of agreement between the comms. You sheathed your daggers in the hosters at your hip, groaning as your fingers brushed against the pulsating wound. 

“Call B, tell him we have Bane.”

“Copy.” You said, flicking through the channels on the comms to call your father. He answered gruffly, signifying that he would be on his way on his way over as soon as he could. You heard the rumble of the batmobile in the background. 

“B’s on his way.” You told your brothers, changing the coms back. “He’ll be here soon.”

You glanced down at your stomach, still oozing blood, crossing his arms in front of you, trying to hide the growing patch and keep some pressure on it. You could feel the warm, stickiness against your skin clinging to the fabric of your suit. You couldn’t feel the exit wound, piercing the back of your flesh. Just the thought of the bullet still lodged inside of you made the pain worsen tenfold. You just had to hope that you would get back to the manor in time to stitch yourself up. 

~~~

Left, Right. Left, Right.

You had never been more glad to see the silhouette of the wayne manor, illuminated by the lights from the many windows that had been left on whilst you were out on patrol. You were trudging back slowly with your brothers after finishing up on patrol and ensuring that The Bat had bane secured and was taking him to Arkham. Your steps had grown sluggish, your vision doubled and your breaths uneven as you tried to keep up pace with your brothers, only to end up falling behind anyway. Your whole body ached, but nothing compared to the stabbing pain near your hip. You pulled your hand away from where you had been discreetly keeping pressure on it. Your head spun as you took in the sight of the blood dousing your hands. 

Left, Right…

Not much further now. You told yourself as you forced your body to keep pressing forwards. Home was so close but felt so so far away. You made your shaky legs push on, but with your hazy vision you swayed on your feet. 

Dick turned around, noticing your absence besides him. 

“Raven?” He asked, stopping in his tracks. His panicked tone alerted the rest of the boys. 

You were leaning on a nearby fence, trying to regain your composure.

“I- I’m fine. I just need-” 

Left…

Your body gave out beneath you as you tried to push yourself away from the wall, you were swallowed by a blinding pain; hot and inflamed as you collapsed in on yourself. Jason, the closest to you, rushed forwards before your body could collide with the hard asphalt. He laid you down tenderly so that your head was lying down on his lap. Dick was by your side patting down your body for the hidden injury, followed quickly by the other two.“Raven?” Damien stared at you with wide eyes. 

“Shit.” Dick cursed when his hand skimmed the tear in your suit, pulling it back with his fingers coaxed in your blood. 

You cried out in pain, eyes flying wide. 

Damien gripped your hand tightly, wincing at your pained expression when Jason hastily tore your mask away. He wiped away the tears which stained your cheeks. 

“AH!” Your face twisted when Dick ripped apart the fabric of your suit to get a better look at the wound; circular and ugly, only around the size of a penny, but it was already an angry shade of scarlet and was leaking more blood than you though you had in your body. The fabric which had matted with your blood tugged at your skin. You squeezed Damian’s hand tightly.

“R, what happened?” 

“...Shot.” You forced out. 

Jason reached around the back of your suit searching for an exit wound then cursing loudly when he failed to find one. “It’s still in there.”

Dick cursed. “Okay. Tim?”

The boy looked up meekly. 

“Grab the emergency pack, we’ll need tweezers, bandages. Something for the pain.”

“On it.”

“Damien? Call Alfred, tell him we need help, stat.”

Hesitantly, the Wayne let go of your hands and scrambled to get his phone. Tim was rushing back over with the supplies. 

“Y/N? This is going to hurt okay?”

You nodded feebly, head lolling around in Jason’s lap. 

“Hood, keep her awake.”

Jason took your head in his hands and angled it up to face him. Your eyes were fluttering closed.

“Hey, look at me, keep ‘em open kid.”

Your eyes opened in fraction as you listened to your older brother's words, though you were in a pained daze, only registering the pain in your side.

They would never forget the inhuman scream that pushed its way past your lips as Dick dig the tweezers into the wound. The pain was indescribable as your fingers clawed against the ground. You writhed in Jason’s hold, squirming away from the onslaught of pain. Dick cringed. 

“Tim, keep her still.”

His hands were like cold vices on your arms as he pinned you down, trying to keep you still as his older brother rummaged through your body. Your screams had morphed into horse shouts by the time he finally got the bullet out. But then came the burst of agony as he pushed his hands down as hard as he could on your wound. You whimpered.

“I know. I know Y/N I’m sorry.”

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you began to lose a grip on consciousness. Black dots danced in your vision.

“Hey. Stay with us!” Tim patted your face. “We need to move fast.

Jason leaned you up against his chest so his brothers could wrap the bandages tightly around your stomach. Damien had returned, informing them that Alfred was on his way. Once the bandages were secured, you were laid back down in Jason's chest, eyes fluttering. Damien returned to holding your hands, rubbing his thumbs back and forth across the flat of your hand. 

“Stay awake, Raven. Talk to us.” Tim prompted.

You were silent for a horrifying moment, before muttering out a few words. “...I’m sorry.”

“No. None of that. You’re gonna be fine.”

“I love you all.”

Your breaths were becoming shallower and you struggled to get the air you needed into your lungs. The black spots began to take over your vision. 

“We love you too, Y/N. So, so much.”

You hummed contently. Your body had begun to go numb. 

A dear ran down Damien’s cheek. You reached up to wipe it away as your older brother had done to you mere minutes ago.

“It’s okay.” You hushed. “It doesn’t hurt bad anymore.”

The two eldest vigilantes swallowed thickly, sharing a wide eyed glance between each other. That was when Alfred turned up, and the next minutes went by in a blur. The boys could do nothing more than watch as they whisked you away into surgery, praying that you would pull through. 

~~~

Dick watched as you began to stir. Your face twitched and you shifted uncomfortably. He had his much larger hand wrapped around yours, and had done for a few hours, insisting that he stay with you. You were his baby sister after all. Bruce had tried to send the other to bed, but like Dick, Jason had insisted that he should be allowed to watch over you too. Bruce was about to protest, but he couldn’t dismiss the distraught look plastered on Jason’s face. He had no doubt that the youngest two were lingering around somewhere, minds too full of opposing thoughts to let them succumb to the sleep that their bodies begged them for. Damian had kept trying to sneak in before being dragged away by Bruce. 

The room had been silent for a few hours as they watched your chest rise and fall. The surgery had been hard on your body, and for a while no one was sure that you were going to pull through. Albeit there you were lying pale but showing signs of waking up, on your bed.

  Alfred and Bruce were frequently in and out of your room where you lay hooked up to all sorts of machines that made Jason cringe. His head was resting on the side of your bed by the hand that Dick wasn’t nursing. His eyes had begun to droop shut as the early hours of the day crept around, when you shifted the let out a pained whimper. When he turned his head, he was greeted by your striking eyes. 

He scrambled off of the floor and into the chair that had been pulled up by your bed. “Y/N? Hey.”

“Boys?” You blinked, your head still groggy from the anaesthesia.

The eldest boy gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. “Yeah kiddo. We’re here.”

Trying to sit up, the tug on your stitches elicited another cry of pain. Instinctively, both boys helped you sit up. 

“Take it easy, little bat.” Dick told you as you gingerly pushed back the sheets. Your hip was bound tightly in a white bandage. “He got you good.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Jay pressed. “You could have…”

“I-”

You were cut off by the sound of the door shuddering open and a pair of your ‘not so little anymore’ brothers' heads peeking around it. They were hesitant, glancing around the room until you gave them a gentle smile.

“Y/N,” Damian rushed into the room, wrapping you tightly into a hug. 

“Hey Dami.” You murmured into his ear. 

He was suddenly ripped away from you by a grinning Tim who chided “Hey, be careful with her, you demon spawn. It’s my turn.”

You chuckled as he pulled you desperately into his arms.

“I’m so glad you’re okay Y/N/N. I was so scared.”

You frowned, hoarse voice breaking as you spoke. “I’m sorry-”

“Damian.” A haggard voice sounded from somewhere in the hallway. It was followed by a pair of heavy set shoes. “How many times do I have to tell you to get back in bed-”

Bruce stopped abruptly at the sight of his children crowded before him. His eyes were clad with dark bags and his hair was unkempt on his head. 

“Hi Dad.” Your voice was barely a whisper, but he heard it nonetheless. Pushing past his sons, he was at your side in less than a second. 

And that was when the reality of the whole situation hit you. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes.

“Dad. I’m sorry. I- I wasn’t thinking.”

“Shh.” He hushed. “This isn’t your fault. This is no one’s fault but Bane’s.”

“But-”

“Listen to the old man for once little bat. All that matters is that everyone is still together.”

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

<- DAY THREE ⛤ DAY FIVE ->

🏷️ Taglist:

@senjoritanana

[humanitys-strongest-brat]

Kintsugi - ch. 1

Summary: After an injury causes you to lose your spot in the World Figure Skating Championship your last hope falls into the hands of Levi Ackerman, a former Olympic competitor.

Pairing: Coach!Levi x Injured fem!Reader

CW: Injury, major themes of depression and hopelessness. 18+ mdni

wc: 3.2k

a/n: Starting off with a huge thank you to @i-lev-you for helping me throughout the process of making this fic and always listening to me yap about my ideas. This is my first chaptered fanfic and I'm very excited to share it~

dedicated song - dividers 1/2

You cry out as your hip collides with the ground. Rolling into a sitting position you pull your left leg up by the knee. Just resting your blade on the ice sends another shock of pain through your ankle and up your leg. You let out a hiss and squeeze your eyes shut. 

You refuse to believe it, deep down you know you just sustained a serious injury. You tell yourself it's not that bad.

get up.

walk it off. 

Come on. 

Your breathing staggers as you twist your body and pull yourself into a kneel, your good foot anchoring on the ice ready to stand back up. The pain is excruciating. 

“Stay Down!” your coach shouts as she races towards you. “Sit back down.” She demands, and you listen, carefully pulling your weight onto your left hip, carefully settling back down onto the ice. 

Coach Tarasov bends down, instructing you to extend your leg out. When you do she carefully applies light pressure to your boot, only nudging it a little to confirm her fears. Your hand immediately flies over your mouth, you curse and wince in pain. “Not good,” She breathes out “Let’s get you up and off the ice” she says, her voice stern and serious, you know now that it’s really bad, you don't want to believe it.

“Coach,” your lip quivers as you look up at her, you feel destroyed. Panic fills your body and your throat is burning. “...Worlds-” Part of you is humiliated. Sure, you’ve cried in front of Coach Tarasov before; during long sessions that never seemed to end, practicing jumps you couldn't land no matter how many times you tried, watching your peers excel on your bad days. This was different.

This was devastating.

Mid February, four weeks before the World Figure Skating Championship. It was just like any other practice. today you were doing triple toe loops and landed wrong.

You can’t contain your sobs as your coach helps you up. She urges you to hold your foot up while she pulls you to the rink’s exit. When you finally sit down on the bench you notice how tight your boot feels. Holding back your sobs causes you to shake as Coach Tarasov kneels in front of you to untie your skate. “I’m just going to look at it.” She tries to sound comforting, but you can hear the disappointment that laces her words, the acceptance in her tone. Like she knew you were done right then and there without even seeing it. 

Your panicked sob catches in your throat as she pulls the boot off, every surge of pain was just as bad as the last. You can't look, you keep your eyes on your coach. When she peels back your nylon sock she stops and stares for a second before letting out a sigh and dropping her head down in defeat. “You need an X-ray,” she says plainly, only confirming your worst fear. “You can't drive, I'll call an ambulance.” she leans back and requests an ice pack from the rink employee standing over the two of you, observing. You're only just now noticing he was there.

“Stay calm, we don't know anything yet.” You know she's lying. You pick your head up and see your fellow competitors have stopped to watch. Most look shocked, some seem to be showing pity. You lock eyes with your friend and fellow contestant Mikasa Ackerman, her eyes well with tears as she watches you. That’s when you finally accept that your dreams are ruined. 

***

You stare up at the blinding lights of the emergency room ceiling, waiting for the results the X-ray ordered to rule out a fracture. Arms folded over your chest, you simmer in the acceptance that everything you worked for your whole life is gone.

This was your first year qualifying and being invited to participate in the World Championship, you knew after your performances in the Grand Prix and Nationals that you had secured your place and a chance to take gold at Worlds. Competitive skaters everywhere spend their lives training and competing for the chance to get where you were, just as you had, only for one accident to take it all away from you and hand it off to the next person. 

You blink back more tears, easily warding them off since the initial shock of everything drained you. The uncertainty of your career plagued your mind. The excitement and determination to compete was gone, replaced with the dread of agonizing failure. All you wanted to do was go home and sulk. An apartment you rented in the city chosen to host this season’s training sessions with a handful of competitors. Everything reminded you of your loss, even the place designed for you to decompress at the end of the day, your apartment was a representation of the things you endured and achieved to make it to the World Championship to begin with, now it’s just a roof over your head to house you while you heal and watch your dreams slip through your fingers like sand. You're wiping away tears with the sleeve of your shirt as the doctor enters the room. 

He strides into the room, greeting you as he pinned your X-ray up and flicked the light on to illuminate the image. You pull yourself upright on the bed, even in this moment your chest fills with hope for good news. “It’s not fractured,” he says, pulling a pen from his breast pocket. You sigh out in relief. A fracture or break was the worst case scenario, and at least you’re safe from that. He lifts his arm, extending his pen out to the board and pointing at the areas of your ankle with speckled white spots “what you’re looking at is a grade two moderate ankle sprain, you have some torn ligaments” he explains, slowly circling his pen over the white spots highlighted by the bright glow behind the picture. “Based on your X-Ray, swelling, and pain level at intake, we’ll have you in a boot for two to four weeks.” Your heart sinks again, it’s not like you forgot that this injury took something from you, but you got excited too fast hearing it wasn’t as bad as you originally feared. You listen and nod as he goes through the details of the first phase of healing, just as you imagined, stay off of it, never put pressure on it, keep it iced and elevated. “After the boot comes off, you’ll start immediately with physical therapy. They will determine when you have the green light to return to your usual activities.” 

You stare at him, feeling it all come back. “Physical therapy? Isn’t that a little intense for just a sprain?” You plead, your voice shaking again. 

He points again to your X-ray, and those damned white streaks on your ankle. “This is not an injury to be taken lightly, I strongly recommend you stick to your treatment plan to prevent possible irreversible damage. Especially as an athlete.” He warns. 

You get your boot, and you’re promptly discharged and wheeled out to coach Tarasov’s car. They help you into the passenger seat and that’s it. You’re left to face this all on your own now. 

Before you leave, you hand coach your discharge documents and lean your head on the window. The sound of the pages turning as she skims through sends pangs straight to your chest. She rests a hand on your shoulder but you refuse to face her. “I’ll make the calls, I need copies of this and your X-rays” she said with caution. 

You cried the entire drive home. 

***

The three weeks of recovery before you’re cleared to take the boot off could be described as nothing less than hell. You barely left your bed for the first five days, you ignored calls, you didn’t take care of yourself. Your parents found out online, you only answered their persistent calls so they would stop worrying. Days started blending together quickly, when you weren’t crying you felt nothing, even your phone proved itself a shitty distraction. Your name was everywhere, the news of your injury and drop from the championship chased you on every app you used. 

After a week you deleted all your social media.

The start of the second week it dawned on you that the competition was just over two weeks away, and you wouldn’t be there. It made you sick to even think about watching it and keeping up with the scores. Several times a day you wonder how you would have done had your injury never happened. Would you have taken gold? Thinking on it now, if you knew this was the alternative you would have been happy to place at all, just to be there. You took it all for granted, high on success. 

At the end of the third week, you’re out of the boot and booked to start physical therapy, just this week you started eating and taking care of yourself again, you leave the blinds and windows open to let in some fresh air. Every step you take still reminds you of what you could’ve had, you walk with a limp. 

***

You decide to watch the Women’s singles program only, anything more would have only twisted the knife. You watch with a bottle of wine and a box of tissues. 

You feel genuinely happy to watch Mikasa perform, part of you was living through her as you watched. Mostly you’re happy she gets to experience this for herself, you know how much it means to her.

She placed 6th overall, you cried tears of joy for her.

***

You’re given an estimate of eight to twelve weeks of physical therapy. when you do the math, you can’t hold back your grin. Even the longest course of recovery would have you back on ice just in time for the start of the next skating season. You decide right then that you’ll be back on the ice competing in next year's World Championship no matter what it took.

Mid April you finish the first phase of physical therapy, three weeks of balance training taking a decent chunk of confidence from you. to put it bluntly, it was horrible. The pain was almost completely gone, it only hurt during specific exercises. Your balance was abysmal, any added weight beyond walking had your ankle shaking. You knew you could do it, you just had to make it past this part. 

Early May, during strength training with your physical therapist, your phone buzzes in your pocket. After your program you excuse yourself for a much needed break and check your phone to see a text from Mikasa, you catch yourself smiling. It’s been weeks since anyone reached out to you. 

Mikasa ⛸️💨

“Been too long, I miss you! Free for a quick lunch today?” 

You can barely contain your happiness, it shocks you how quickly you text back, letting her know what time you’d be available, and to your surprise it works out. You agree on a location and after your session you rush home to get ready, taking extra time to ensure you don’t look like a husk of your former self when you see her for the first time in over two months. 

When you approach her at the table, she stands up and immediately pulls you into a tight hug, gripping your shirt in her fists as she squeezes. You congratulate her on her placement in the championship and quickly you’re catching up on everything the two of you missed during your time apart. 

“So, how’s that going?” Mikasa asks about your physical therapy after you mention that you're about half way through, almost cleared to begin off-ice sport specific exercises. 

You look down, biting your lip before you respond “honestly? Not well.” You begin explaining how you’ve felt the past couple of weeks, even mentioning that you decided to return to competitive skating this upcoming July. “It doesn't feel like it’s enough. My ankle is still shit, it’s enough to gain back mobility but I can tell I’m not where I need to be.” Your voice shakes a little. Mikasa is a wonderful listener, she never breaks eye contact or interrupts, she lets you unload all your grief. “I know I can do better, they won’t let me push myself, my home based exercises are strict.” You explain. 

Mikasa doesn’t say much, and that’s okay, you were happy just to be here with her after weeks of seclusion, only leaving your apartment for physical therapy. It took weight off your shoulders to talk with someone about what you were going through, and no one could understand you better in this moment than Mikasa. 

When your lunch arrives the conversation dulls down to casual pleasant tidbits of information of Mikasa’s life post competition, eventually she tells you that she’s recompeting herself. You couldn’t be more happy for her. 

Somewhere in the endless chatting you can tell something is on her mind, she detaches from the conversation a couple times, staring down at the table before snapping out of it and apologizing. Eventually she excuses herself. “Sorry, I’ll be right back” she promises and makes her way outside. Your brows stay knit as you crane your body to watch her walk out until she’s just out of view. You sigh when you turn back, that was definitely odd, but you decide maybe it’s best not to press when she comes back. 

She’s gone for no longer than five minutes, when she sits back down it’s like nothing was ever bothering her to begin with. You’re tempted to ask but it couldn’t be too bad if she looked this relieved coming back. The two of you finish your meals and send your bills off to be paid, she grins at you from across the table. 

“What?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest.

Mikasa quickly reaches in her bag, grabbing her planner and pen from the bottom and dropping it on the table, she quickly flips to one of the back pages and scribbles something down fast. “Here.” She says, ripping the sheet from its binding and sliding it across the table towards you. 

You raise a brow and stare at the page that’s text side down. After a moment you finally bite “what is this?” You ask, pulling it towards you and lifting it up, looking back towards Mikasa. 

“My cousin is a rehabilitation coach,” she begins, letting her excitement take over. “For competitive figure skaters. He agreed to work with you for me.” 

You have no words, you just blink at her. When you finally take a quick glance at the page you notice a phone number and email address written across the page “Mikasa, this is..” you don’t know how to feel, this came up so quick “I don’t know-.. I appreciate-“ 

She cuts you off “Please take the offer, I insist. He has an opening.” She says “Levi’s great, high success rate. I can get you more information if you need it.” 

Your heart drops into the pit of your stomach “Levi..Ackerman..?” you breathe out, now staring down at the paper in your hands. You should have known he was related to Mikasa. Hell, you don’t even know why you never thought about it to begin with. They share the same last name. “He was injured at the Olympics all those years ago.” you think aloud, unable to take your eyes off the page. 

“That’s the one,” Mikasa beams “and he doesn’t like to talk about it. So maybe don’t start with that when you call him later.” 

You look up from the page at Mikasa “I don’t know what to say.” Truthfully you didn’t even know rehabilitation coaches even existed, your current coach and physical therapist never mentioned that as an option. 

“Don’t say anything. Just call him later, and tell me how that goes.” Her voice was firm, but her eyes were nothing but gentle. 

When the two of you eventually get up and walk out together you stop in the parking lot to give Mikasa one final hug before you split again. “Thank you so much.” you whisper.

“Don’t mention it,” she replies, pulling back and letting her hands rest just above your elbows, “and don’t be a stranger anymore.”

***

When you arrive home, you catch yourself staring down at the contact information that was given to you. Nervousness didn’t even begin to describe how you felt. This wasn’t just any coach, or another physical therapist. It was Levi Ackerman. He was a part of the best figure skating pairs, finally making it to The Olympics with his partner before the accident. 

You haven’t even come close to a skating rink since nearly breaking your ankle almost three months ago now. Working with a rehabilitation coach to get to your previous level of skating wasn’t even a fleeting thought. Hell, you didn’t even know those kinds of coaches existed until today. What if you were just wasting his time? Surely a coach like him is a privilege, right? Letting your nerves get the best of you, the contact info sits idly on your bedside table as you drift off into a world of ice and gold medals. 

***

The next morning, your dream fresh in your mind, you grab the contact from your nightstand. Ignoring the blaring anxiety, you dial the number without too much thought. The more you think about it, the more inviting backing out feels. The dial tone sounds, causing you to begin pacing your apartment. No more blaming the injury, no more blaming the physical therapy program. You couldn’t just keep sitting around, wondering about the what ifs when you were handed a golden ticket. You’d be crazy to pass this up, even if it was just a chance. 

“Took you long enough.” A rich warm voice answers the phone, stopping you dead in your tracks in the kitchen. How the hell did he even know it was you? How were you even meant to respond to a greeting like that anyway. “I was beginning to think you changed your mind.” He states

“Uh, no.” You reply quickly, tapping your fingers on the kitchen counter to give your free hand something to do. “No I didn’t change my mind, I’m interested.” you cursed yourself, trying to sound so formal. This was the type of thing coach Tarasov always took care of, you were completely out of your element. 

“Great,” he says, you have trouble reading his tone but you try not to think too much of it. Over the phone you hear a series of keyboard clicks and your phone buzzes against your ear “I sent a couple things to your email,” did Mikasa already give him your information? “Go ahead and authorize your physical therapy records over, send me copies of your X-rays and prescribed treatment plan, and sign the following documents.” He lists off “after that, I’ll work up a schedule compatible with your PT, I’ll be in contact.” 

If you were nervous before there wasn’t a word to describe how you feel now. “Thank you, I look forward to working with you.” 

“Have a nice day.” he says in the same tone, your phone beeps to indicate the call has ended.

Taglist: @amywritesthings @littlerequiem @humanitys-strongest-bamf @hideandgopeep (please let me know if i missed you and ill add you on to ch 2)

[aurorawritestoescape]

LOVERS ON THE RUN || 2,5k

Pt 3 of Kiss Kiss Bang Bang series

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, angst, rough Joel/soft Joel cos I want it all, m!oral, injury(not reader), blood, cum eating, ball sucking, pussy grinding

Summary: it gets risky… and hot

A/n: hugs and kisses to @milla-frenchy for beta-ing and @iamasaddie for the gif <3<3

Series masterlist || Masterlist

*****

The sirens and gunshots are still ringing loudly in your ears as Tommy is driving Joel and you to a safe place. Yet you can only hope it’ll be safe.

You are sitting in the back of the car with Joel, still clutching the gun in your trembling hand, the other gripping Joel’s jean clad thigh as if grounding yourself to him. The bags with money are at your feet but you forgot all about them. Your widened eyes are fixed on the road. You don’t seem to be followed now but Joel taught you to expect the worst.

“Fuck! That was close!" you exclaim with a tint of hysteria in your loud voice, attempting to shout over the roaring engine of the car and your heart pounding in your ears. You're so high on adrenaline, fear and thrill that you feel invincible, almost immortal.

Tommy's nervous chuckle shows that he's on it too - the only drug that gets you off the best - escaping death with an armful of cash.

Just mere minutes ago you were standing on the brink of the precipice, one wrong move and you’d fall meeting your death. But destiny spared you once again.

“You two are fuckin’ lucky… I had that feeling.. couldn’t relax for shit. Came back and …fucking cops.”

“Thank you, Tommy.” You reach to him and pat his shoulder as he gives you a warm smile in the rear view mirror.

You glance at Joel and say with adoration and almost piety in your voice.

“And thanks to Joel’s number one rule.”

You and Tommy chant it together parodying his drawl, “Always have an escape plan!”

Joel smiles with a corner of his mouth. Your nerves alight, one glance at the man and you wish you two were alone so you could pierce yourself with his cock and ride him until your legs give out. Or suck him off, choking on his length and getting a new fix of adrenaline when you almost suffocate on his member.

But it’s not the place nor the time and Joel isn’t even looking at you.

His head turned to the window, his thoughtful gaze is sliding over the trees and streetlights you’re passing.

Finally the cloud of the high dissipates and you look at him. Really look at him. His forehead is glistening with sweat. He’s chewing on his lower lip and clenching and unclenching his right fist. He’s nervous.

Well he must be, you think, after what happened. Wishing to comfort him you scoot closer, bracing your hand on his chest and lean in to give him a kiss…

“Fuck!, “ Joel winces startling you by a sudden jerk of his whole body and in the next moment you feel the claws of something terrifying grip your heart.

“Where?” You ask with a shaky voice as your eyes are frantically searching all over his body.

He nods down and to the side and you notice his dark shirt stretched over his broad shoulder is glistening. His right arm, the furthest from you, is pressed tightly to his torso.

Your fingers dart to his shoulder but you stop and look at him, eyes screaming ‘What the fuck do I do, Joel?’ You’re frozen, trembling hands raised. You’d never raise them for the police like that but you’re doing it now, staring into the face of your biggest fear - losing him.

“ ‘s gonna be ok baby, don’t worry,” He says through clenched teeth.

The stupor you’ve been in disappears and your head whips to Tommy.

“Joel’s been shot! Floor it!”

*****

The next few minutes flew like a whirlwind of actions and feelings and at the same time dragged on like hours. When you finally arrived at some old abandoned garage you’d already done everything you could in the moving car.

Joel popped a couple of Oxys and now he’s sitting on a stool, shirt ripped off his shoulder exposing a bullet wound. You’re stitching him up, having sent Tommy outside to watch out.

Joel’s every muscle is taught, teeth clenched and he growls with every push of the needle through his skin. The sounds he's making don't let you concentrate. You feel sad for him but can't forget that he growls like that only buried deep in your tight wet heat.

“Can you stop?” you mumble under your breath.

“What?”

“Your growling?”

“Why?” He asks and growls again when you make another stitch.

You shrug and feel him staring at your face, reading you.

It doesn’t take him long, never does, and you hear a soft chuckle coming from the pits of his chest. You glance at him, meeting his narrowed eyes and a shit eating smirk.

“Dirty girl, soakin’ your panties while your man is sufferin’, huh?”

“I’m the one who’s suffering here,” You reply earning another chuckle from him. “And I’m not soaking anything”.

“Should I check, baby?” He smirks tilting his head to the side.

“Jesus, Joel,” you whisper trying to hide that he’s right.

“Don’t call for him yet. I ain’t dead”.

You freeze with a bloody needle hovering over his skin. You can’t see it anymore, your vision gets blurry with tears. You try to hide your face from Joel leaning closer to the wound. But he notices.

“Hey,” he cups your face with the hand he can use, pulling you closer to his face and wipes your tears away with a calloused thumb.

“I’ll be ok, baby.”

“You don’t know it”.

“I do. It’s just a graze”

“No, it’s not. The fucking bullet went through you! You were bleeding so much and.. and …”, you cut yourself off suffocated by the fear.

“Hey,” Joel says and grabs your shoulder, “You stopped it. You did good, ya hear me?”

“Yeah,” you mumble, glistening eyes downcast.

“Look at me,” he asks gently, his gaze is warm and comforting, “Thank you, baby”.

You jerk your head in a nod and a tear falls down on his hand.

“I’m almost done.”

You continue your work in silence.

When it’s done and his arm is secured in a makeshift sling, you take some water from the car to clean yourself off the dark crimson blood. Joel’s blood. Then you start carefully wiping away the red off his big hands and can't help but imagine the world where these hands can’t hold you anymore, can’t wipe away your tears, can’t make you come, can’t be kissed by your loving lips. The wave of panic covers you whole again and you burst into tears.

Immediately embracing you with his healthy arm, no matter the pain he must be in, Joel holds you close kissing wherever he can reach, your hair, eyes, nose, cheeks. No one would believe that this big brutal man could be so gentle and soft.

“I’m s-sorry”, you hiccup after a few minutes of crying on Joel’s healthy shoulder. Your body is still trembling against his and you hate yourself for letting your fear get the best of you.

“Shh.. it’s ok, sweetheart. I’m here. We’re safe,” Joel whispers, pressing you closer to his naked chest peeking from his ripped shirt.

“We aren’t safe, Joel. Not after today.”

“Always have an escape plan, right, baby?”

“You think it’s time? Did we save up enough?”

“Yeah, baby. Enough for us and for Tommy. Can’t wait to see you in that micro bikini you promised me,” he groans in your ear and you quietly giggle. You press your cheek to his broad chest and furrow your brows in thought. You love this life, always have, but you can’t deny that your luck has run out. Going on will be like driving your car towards the edge of the cliff at full speed. With a pang in your heart you realize that it’s time to take another road while you still have each other.

You straighten up, check Joel’s shoulder and arm again and then look deep into his eyes. He notices myriads of thoughts swirling in your mind, wraps his heavy hand around the back of your neck and lightly squeezes.

“If you need somethin’ to calm down…?”

“I can’t smoke now… need clear mind.”

“I ain’t talking about weed, baby”.

“What then?”

“Oh, think, sweetheart. What always helps, huh?” He moves his hand to your face and his thumb brushes your lower lip.

You look confused, head tilted to the side, until he pushes his thick finger into your mouth. Your eyes sparkle with excitement while you’re sucking on his thumb.

“Good girl. C’mon now. Get on your knees.”

He pulls the finger out and you lower yourself kneeling between his legs.

“Sure I won’t hurt you?”

“I’ll be fine. Take what you need, sweetheart,” he replies, spreading his thighs wider for you.

Your heart sings and pussy tingles as you slowly open his jeans, tug them down to the middle of his hips and pull out his soft heavy package.

You press your cheek to his warm crotch and feel his cock twitch. You don’t do anything for a few moments, just breathe in his musk and purr into his soft lightly trimmed hair. Joel’s petting your head and you sink into a trance, as he holds you close.

When you’re ready for more, you start leaving open mouth kisses to his inner thighs, balls, shaft, tip. With every touch of your lips, you feel him grow bigger, stiffer, harder and you can’t help but whine feeling yourself gush. So you start grinding your clothed pussy against your booted heel, desperate for any pressure.

You look up at Joel with your doe eyes, full of devotion and love and he groans, scooting closer to the edge of the seat.

��Go ahead, baby. Suck on it. It’ll calm ya right up.”

You know it will. So you take his already hard cock in your hand and latch on the fat tip. Your eyes flutter shut as soon as precome hits your tongue. You hum as you lick it off him and then take his length deeper into your hot mouth. In a few moments you’re already drooling around him, soaking his cock with your saliva while your warm palms gently caress his heavy balls.

“Fuck… yeah, baby,” Joel groans making your pussy ache with need.

When his cock is nice and wet you pull your mouth away replacing it with your hand and bend lower to suck on the velvet skin of his sack. You trace its seam with the tip of your tongue and take a ball in your mouth. You roll it with your tongue and then suck. Joel’s huge fist clutches your hair, not too hard but enough to signal you to keep going. You suck one into your mouth, slurp and lick around it and then part from it with a pop.

“Hnggg…That’s my girl,” Joel praises you through growls when you start working on the other ball. Your hands aren’t resting, one clasped around his long cock, sliding up and down from the girthy base to the throbbing head, as the other caresses the other ball.

You’re burning up with arousal and not being able to contain yourself, you grind, grind, grind your aching pussy against your heel.

Joel lightly tugs at your hair to get your hazy half lidded eyes to look at him and chuckles when you do,

“Shit, look at ya. Already gone just from suckin’ on my sack.”

You let go of his ball with a pop and his cock twitches in your hand. A clear drop beads on the slit and you lick it off, not tearing your eyes from the man.

“Yeah, now onto the main course, sweetheart,” he groans with a smirk.

You smile back, licking your lips as your hand returns to his sack.

“Don’t hold back, Joel. Please.”

You don’t think it’s possible but his gaze turns even darker, completely obsidian with lust, his cock is throbbing as you’re holding it at the base.

“Ya got it, baby”.

His hand, soft and gentle just a second ago, grabs your hair tight and pulls you closer. You gasp as your lips smash into his warm head but you don’t hesitate to open them and take more and more of his cock, until your nose touches his dark pubic hair. Your throat is trying to accommodate his length, eyes are welling up with tears, fingers gripping his thighs. He fills you so well that all the fears are quickly pushed out of your head by him. You nearly suffocate on his thick cock, squirming between his thighs but he’s holding you tight.

“Keep it in, baby, ya doing so good…”

Your throat contracts around him and he pulls you off with a curse. You cough, swallowing air, drooling all over yourself while he’s holding you by your hair like a dog on a leash.

“Gonna make me come too fast… lemme enjoy this mouth of yours.”

Your mind has already shut down, all your actions, senses, emotions are focused on pleasuring him.

Your mouth is on his cock again, tongue pushing on the underside as you slide up his length and swirl it around his fat head. You’re drunk on Joel, his taste, sounds, scent, his essence is inside you, around you, everywhere. He’s your whole world and they almost took him from you. Angry tears roll out of your eyes while you hollow your cheeks and bob your head up and down, in control of his pleasure but completely under his power. You feel his cock stiffen and then it starts pulsating in your mouth. You take him deeper and drink his cum as Joel is spurting it generously right into your throat. With another roll of your hips against your boot you come, moaning around his length in your mouth, seeing stars behind your eyelids. When he discards of the last drop of his seed, he coos over you,

“Oh, baby, did your little pussy come already?”

Not waiting for the answer, Joel roughly tugs on your hair again, dull pain making you whine, lifts your head off his softening cock and finally sees your face, stained with fresh tears.

“Fuck, baby, c’mere,” he pulls you up on your feet wincing at the pain in his shoulder. You immediately push your face into the crease of his neck, trying not to hurt him, breathing him in. He turns to you and his lips find yours. You kiss each other, desperately and feverishly, like it’s the last time before your old life ends and you meet a new beginning together.

Joel holds you tight one second and in the next his arm falls and his whole weight slumps on you. With his name on your trembling lips, you see his eyes roll back and then close.

*****

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