#trying and didn’t consciously breathe I could just die

[cherrysnax]

it’s been like two weeks and I’m losing so much blood bros

[gtgbabie0]

Hi! I’ve got a request please for Aegon after he’s injured at Rook’s Rest where wife!reader won’t leave his bedside just watching him rest and helping care for him and soothing him when he’s able to wake up 🥺

-Aegon Targaryen x Wife!Reader

{The days following Rooks Rest were spent by Aegon’s side and no where else}

Thank you for the request!! Enjoy my lovelies 💕

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾

It was a day just like the last, the morning sun was blocked behind the thick tapestry that hangs over the huge windows. It casts a hazy light through the chambers, the smoke from the candles dances through the soft rays of sun that peak between the gaps.

The chair beside Aegon’s sick bed was your new home, you slept and ate there- well what little you could stomach. The Maesters had advised you to get proper rest, urging you out of the room whenever they had to tend to him. However, all their complaints went in one ear and out the other.

You were adamant and so they all soon gave in, the desperation in your eyes must’ve spoken to something deep in Grand Maester Orwyle.

The sound of Aegon’s shallow breaths is the only sound that breaks through the silence, along with the faint crackle of candle flames that were starting to die out. You were almost on the cusp of sleep, your head tipping to the side as you try to fight off the heavy weight of exhaustion.

Although your attempts are futile, there was a restlessness that had coiled itself around your body holding you from finding peace ever since they had brought your husband back to the Red Keep in that wooden box, the memory still stirs your stomach unpleasantly.

Shaking the thought off you lean forward slightly, reaching over to brush his hair away from his face, your knuckles grazing over his unburned cheek. His skin is warm to the touch, hot with the leftover remnants of a fever he had not long broken.

You stare at him, watching him sleep so soundly that he almost looks at peace. If it weren’t for his pained expression and the way he weakly fists at the bedsheets then perhaps you might’ve tricked yourself into believing he was fine… just resting as the Maesters put it.

You dip a cotton cloth into the basin, wringing the water out before gently dabbing it against the untouched areas of his skin, the last parts of him that weren’t scorched. His body tenses up, and then a broken sigh passes through his chapped lips, the coolness brought him some relief if only for a few fleeting moments.

He sinks back into the comfort of the pillows as you bring the cloth over his chest, avoiding the marred skin. “… you’re still here?” He whispers, disbelief twinging through his broken tone, watching you through his bleary eye. He knows it’s you, despite the daze he is in. He can tell by the way you tend to him with a certain care that the Maesters didn’t have.

His voice sends a pang of hurt through your chest, hitting your heart. “Of course… I’m not going anywhere.” You whisper, going back over to the basin to fold the cloth back in its place before walking over to him once more.

He had been in out of consciousness since this morning when you had witnessed him speak vaguely to Orwyle, his words then were slurred almost incoherent.

“You don’t have to.” He rasps, his actions betraying his words as his fingers twitch weakly in a desperate attempt to hold your hand. You meet him halfway, clasping your fingers around his palm.

“No, I want to. I’m not leaving you Aegon.” You tell him, more of a reassurance than anything. To soothe him whilst he remains in this almost delirious state. He nods feebly, a smile ghosting over his features, the feeling of your thumb caressing the inside of his wrist brings him peace of mind.

Your gaze casts along his body slowly, the dragon fire had caused a web of marred flesh over his chest and arm, across his face. An unsettling sight of pinks and reds, darker in some places and lighter in others as they blended into a violent purple in some areas, it was all extremely sensitive that even the bedsheets seemed to cause him a great deal of agony.

He watches the way your eyes study him, taking in the horrid sight that has become of him. He hates it more than anything, the look of grief in your eyes for a life that he was no longer able to live, long lost within the very same flames that had nearly claimed him. He hates it, such a solemn emotion doesn’t suit you.

Aegon looks up at you as if it was his first time really seeing you since he was first brought home. He seemed much more aware than he did yesterday. His purple eye brimming with tears that he has no control over, not right now in this condition.

“You look exhausted.” He states the obvious, looking at the deep bags underneath your eyes, although you are well aware of the fact. It was his shallow breaths that kept you from sleeping, far too scared that he might pass whilst you were unconscious.

You hum in acknowledgement, not trusting your voice to carry your words without breaking into a sob. His fingers squeeze your own, a wordless understanding, so softly that you barely even notice it.

You collect yourself, clearing your throat. “I’m okay, shall I get the Maesters?” Your words immediately make him shake his head, a desperate noise of protest slipping past his lips.

“No, stay. I need you.” He tells you, leaning into your palm with a shaky sigh.

His hand reaches for the soft velvet of your dress, trying to urge you closer to him, keeping you there with a small pained whimper. You wrap your fingers around his hands softly, looking down at him, trying to stop him with worry in your eyes as he tries to sit up.

“Stop it Aegon, you’re going to hurt yourself. I’m not leaving just lay back.” You promise, urging him to rest back down against the pillows. He mumbles something that sounds more like a jumble of pained blusters, letting you guide him back to the comfort of the pillows.

“Sit down with me,” he whispers in a strained tone, noting the hesitation in your eyes as you look across his burned skin.

You do ask he asks, perching yourself down on the edge of his bed. Your eyes search his expression for any signs of discomfort, but you are met with only a weak smile as his hand rests against your lap.

He looks over to the chair beside his bed, the blankets and pillows that were placed over the cushions, the small tray of food on the table nearby that had been untouched… you really hadn’t left his side? The thought chokes him up.

“You’ve been sleeping in that old chair this entire time? Don’t be silly…” He says, working his fingers between your own, his thumb stroking across your wedding ring. “You should be in bed… sleeping.”

“What use am I to you if I’m in bed?” You ask him, looking down at his hand as he caresses the small gemstones on your ring.

It had become some sort of habit of his, over time as he let you into his heart little by little. It brought him comfort to know that you chose to stay with him, for all his faults you still found yourself caring for reasons that Aegon can’t seem to comprehend even now.

Aegon furrowed his eyebrows slightly, a weak scoff escaping his chapped lips. Your selflessness would forever puzzle him. “You are my wife, I won’t have you wasting away.” He spoke with a sternness, he was worried about you. How much sleep have you had- or food for that matter- if any at all.

You sigh, opening your mouth to argue with him but he quickly cuts you off. “You’d be no use to me at all by torturing yourself like this, you silly girl…” The words carry some truth, but you were stubborn.

“You worrying about me whilst you lay here…like this… that is silly Aegon.” You tell him, looking down at your lap to your joined hands as his thumb continues to idly rub over the wedding band.

He grunts, looking up at you with a small frown but he can’t be mad. He missed you far too much to spend these moments arguing. “You are frustratingly stubborn… I missed you.” He whispers, bringing your hand to his lips to press a kiss to your ring.

A smile tugs at the corners of your lips, letting him guide your hand to rest against his cheek. He leans into the warmth of your palm as your thumb caresses him once again.

“I’ve missed you… so much.” You breathe, words coming out hushed as you try to keep the tears from falling down your exhausted eyes.

He watches you with slight confusion as you suddenly scramble over to the tables beside your chair, grabbing something before joining him at his side once more. Before he can ask what you were doing you take his uninjured hand, gently pushing his own wedding ring onto his finger.

His heart stops for a moment, leaping into his stomach at the feeling. The affection, the gentleness, makes his throat close up and he can’t do much, rendered speechless as he stares up at you with disbelief.

“I thought you wouldn’t wake up… that you were-” dead… you can’t speak the word, you didn’t dear to, just in case in some sick turn of events it might come to fruition.

The tears fall freely, looking down at your wedding rings. A symbol that meant much more than just duty, you were entwined by the soul and heart, tethered to each other.

He reaches up to brush your tears away, his expression softening. “I’m here… I’m not going anywhere.” He rasps, hating the fact he can do more to soothe you. He’s never felt so useless before then he does right now.

“As am I… I’m not going anywhere.” your teary response makes him chuckle weakly.

“Come here…” he grunts, trying to play off the pain that was still searing through his body in hot flashes.

“No- I don’t want to hurt you.” You whisper, suddenly panicked as he tries to tug you down to him by his good arm.

He beckons you closer, his fingers curling around the back of your head. “You won’t… just please.” He begs meekly.

You steady yourself, pressing the palms of your hands against the mattress- being super vigilant of the burns that tarnish his body- as he lowers you down to kiss him. Your lips meeting his own gently before you pull away.

“No more. Rest before you overexert yourself.” You tell him sternly, getting up from the bed as he grumbles in a mixture of objection and pain, watching you walk back over to the wash basin. His complaints soon die down at the feeling of the cool damp rag pressing against his chest.

“Thank you.” He whispers, moulding back into the pillows. The chill it brings against his flushed skin was very welcomed.

“Shh, just relax.” You coo softly and it isn’t long before he’s drifting back off to sleep. His hand entwined with your own, your rings glistening underneath the soft candlelight, not willing to let go even in his unconscious state.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾

[i2sunric]

HYUNG LINE WHEN THEIR S/O IS INSECURE

𓆩♡𓆪. alternatively — where you are scared of them leaving you.

warnings: mentions of death, guns, overthinking. NOT PROOFREAD.

published: 5th May 2024

wc: 1.2k

taglist: (permanent) @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @jwnghyuns @heelvsted

𓆩♡𓆪. LEE HEESEUNG

You woke up all sweaty, your breath uneven and rushed as you sat up on the bed, Heeseung’s strong arms still wrapped around your waist.

You blinked your eyes, bitter tears rolling down your cheeks. The scene of your dream unfolding right before your eyes, ripping your heart apart.

Your sudden movements caused Heeseung to stir awake, his dear eyes opening “Baby?” He asked, his voice slurred with sleepiness

You dried your tears with your hand “Yes?” You said, trying your best not to give away the shakiness in your voice.

His brows knitted and he sat up beside you “What’s wrong?” Heeseung’s arms wrapped around your shoulder.

A pained sob escaped your lips as you snuggled close to his chest, his expression turning worried “Baby… Talk to me, what’s wrong?”

“I—“ You tried to say but your whole body quivered as you sobbed in his arms. He just rubbed your back, whispering soothing nothings to your ear as he waited for you to calm down.

And when you finally did, you raised your head to meet his gaze, your puffy eyes and red nose making you look so cute.

“I had a bad dream.” You answered, his thumb carefully dried the tear stains under your eyes and cheeks, “Mh? What happened in the nightmare?”

You gulped down, just the thought making you shiver, “We were at the mall and some random guy came with a gun and you protected me when he started shooting.”

Bitter and hot tears burned their way down your cheeks again “You were laying there, bleeding and I could do nothing, I couldn’t move.”

Heeseung’s expression softened and he placed one hand behind your head to pull you on his chest, his arms protecting you in a warm embrace “It was just a dream, Y/N.” He said gently.

“But it felt so real…” You shook your head, gripping his shirt as if he was a lifeline “I’m here, baby, I’m here with you.”

He took your hand and placed it on his cheek to let you know he was alive and there with you. His lips brushed your knuckles, your breath hitching.

“I won’t leave you, but if I ever die protecting you,” Heeseung helped you lay down again, placing the blankets back on your embraced figures “Then I’d die happy.”

He placed a sweet kiss on your forehead “Because you are my life, Y/N. And if there is no you, I don’t want to live.”

𓆩♡𓆪. PARK JAY

There were many sleepless nights where your thoughts wouldn’t leave you a break, making you overthink every choice and every little detail of your life.

No matter how hard you tried, your worries and anguishes never truly left you alone.

And that was how you found yourself standing in front of the large window at yours and Jay’s apartment. With only a thin robe to cover your nightgown you let the cold weather hit your body as you hugged your own arms.

It was in one of those nights that you started questioning wether you truly deserved such a perfect life. Jay was the best thing that ever happened to you, he was like a dream coming true.

He cooked for you, helped you doing the chores, bought you any pretty things you wanted without ever complaining.

He was perfect. Too perfect for someone like you.

Sometimes you thought you didn’t do anything, compared to all the things he did to you. You weren’t good at showing your emotions, at letting Jay know you cared for him the same way he did.

Your stream of consciousness was interrupted when you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist, “Angel?” Jay’s sleepy voice filled your ear as he snuggled his head on the crook of your neck, hugging you from behind.

“What are you doing up?” He slurred sleepily, caressing your stomach with his thumb.

“Can’t sleep.” You just replied, the feeling of safety Jay brought you only adding to the anguishes making your stomach twist.

With a soft chuckle, Jay tightened his grip around your waist. "Come on now, don't lie to me." He paused, his breath hot on your skin as he sighed. "I know that there's something on your mind again — you're always overthinking, hmm?"

He truly knew you better than anyone else “You got me.” Jay hummed “What’s got you troubled?”

Seeing that you weren’t replying, Jay spun you around so you were facing him. You drank him in, his dark eyes ever so filled with love, his hair all messed from bed and his face puffy.

You smiled sadly and ran your fingers in his tangled hair “I don’t think I deserve you.”

Jay’s eyes widened “What?” He asked, not sure if his mind was playing some trick or if he had heard you correctly.

“I feel like I’m too much, Jay, like I’m always asking you for things just to never give you anything in return.” You sighed, dropping your hand “And I can’t stop overthinking, because maybe you truly deserve someone better than me.”

Jay felt a hundred daggers pierce his heart at your words. How long had you been feeling that way? And how come he had never realised? If anything, he was the one you didn’t deserve.

“No, baby.” He shook his head, his voice rushed and worried. He put his hands on your elbows, needing you close “You are not too much, nor you’ll ever be.”

Jay started, pressing his forehead on yours “I love you more than anything and I couldn’t ask for more than your love.” You let out a small sigh, his words sinking in your head, painting your heart red.

“You’re my girl, the person I want to spend my life with, the woman I want to marry.” He pressed a kiss on your forehead, then down on your brow, “Don’t doubt my feelings for you, you’re everything I could’ve wished for.” He kissed the tip of your nose.

“I love you, Jay.” You whispered, needing him to hear your feelings “I love you too, Y/N. So much.”

𓆩♡𓆪. SIM JAKE

It was just a slip of tongue, something Jake didn’t mean to say to hurt you— just a small detail he had noticed.

It wasn’t even your fault that Layla apparently seemed to like Jake’s ex more. It wasn’t even a big deal, then why were you crying in the bathroom?

You weren’t very in synchrony with dogs, or animals in general since commitment wasn’t your best attribute but you were trying your best to take care of Layla when Jake wasn’t home.

Apparently, you weren’t trying enough because even Jake noticed that Layla didn’t seem to enjoy your company. She’d bark at you and just completely ignore you when you wanted to play or take her out for a walk.

With tears making their way down your pretty face you felt extremely stupid. Why would you even be crying over something so small?

“Baby?” A knock on the door distracted you, making you bit down on your lip to stop your whimpers “You’ve been there for a while, you okay?”

You cleared your throat and replied “Yes, I’ll be out quickly.” You got up and washed your face, trying to get rid of the red marks on your face.

You then opened the door and showed Jake a good fake smile. But he knew you better, he could sense something was wrong.

“Were you crying?” He asked, widening his eyes as he took in the sight of your swollen and red eyes.

His eyebrows shot in surprise and scanned your whole body in search of any injury “Are you hurt? Did you do something?”

“No, no.” You shook your head “I’m fine.”

Jake looked at you with an expression that said he wasn’t believing your bullshit “You clearly aren’t.”

Your lips formed a thin line, “It’s something stupid. Just forget it.” You tried to dismiss it.

He let out a small sigh, “It’s not stupid if it makes you cry.” His voice was barely above a whisper.

“I just have been trying to work it out with Layla.” You looked away, ashamed “But then you said she liked your ex more and I think it brought me down..”

Jake’s eyes widened more, if it was even possible. He had been foolish to make such remark when he knew you were struggling to build a good relationship with his dog.

“Oh, baby.” He wrapped his arms around you, brining you into a tight hug “I’m so sorry I said that, it doesn’t even matter if Layla doesn’t like you yet.”

He caressed the nape of your neck, thumb gently brushing against your skin “You need some time, and you need to stop overthinking this, mh?”

You looked up at him and slowly nodded your head “Good, because you’ll be her mother when I marry you.”

𓆩♡𓆪. PARK SUNGHOON

The pain in your chest made it hard to breath as you watched Sunghoon laughing wholeheartedly with someone— a girl that wasn’t you.

Everyone at Jay’s birthday party seemed to be happy, enjoying themselves while drinking and dancing. But even the loud music was clouded from your negative thoughts.

Sunghoon’s dimples showed with how much he was smiling at the pretty girl, she was so stunning you probably understood why he chose to be with her and not spend time with you.

No— Sunghoon was your boyfriend, why would you ever doubt him? The truth was that you weren’t doubting him, but yourself.

So many insecurities and unspoken worries filled your head until Sunghoon felt your gaze on him and turned his head to face you.

He showed you a warm smile that soon turned into a frown when you didn’t reciprocate it. Ashamed with yourself, you watched the two for the last time before rushing out of the room.

Sunghoon quickly excused himself and ran after you, he went outside and searched for you.

“Y/N?” He asked, looking around for a few seconds before he saw you, curled on yourself as you hovered on the ground, hugging your knees.

He sighed and walked to you, taking off his jacket to place it around your shoulders “Hey.” He kneeled down in front of you, showing you another gentle smile

When he saw you avoided his gaze, he took your chin in his fingers and lifted your head, finally looking into your eyes “What’s the matter, pretty girl?”

You let out a small sigh and shook your head, not wanting to voice out the storm inside your mind.

Sunghoon’s thick brows knitted, his lips forming a thin line “Y/N, what happened?” He asked, his hands on your shoulder, his gaze desperate “Did I do something wrong? Did I mess it up?”

You were quick to shake your head “No, of course not.” He seemed taken aback “Then… Why are you sad?”

Sunghoon was always so sweet and caring with you, he was still trying to get himself to show you how much you mattered, and even if he struggled, he always managed to make you feel like the only girl in the world.

You took a deep breath, your demeanour filling with regret “I’m sorry, Hoon.” You murmured, your gaze falling on the ground again but his fingers brought it back up, gently tapping your chin “I saw you with that girl and I couldn’t help but feel… miserable.”

“Miserable?” Sunghoon asked, his tone quiet “You did nothing wrong, It’s my fault… I keep thinking you’ll eventually leave for someone better.”

Sunghoon helped you stand up, one of his arms sneaking around your waist, brining you close. He used the other to brush a strand of hair out of your face “I understand it’s hard to believe someone cares for you, I do.”

His voice was so gentle “But please baby,” He held your face in his palm “Believe me when I say I never want anyone else, and if I get to have you for the rest of my life, I could never ask for more.”

Your breath hitched at his oh so romantic confession, making the air taste sweeter. He pressed a featherlight kiss on your lips, just to deepen it.

The kiss held all your unspoken feelings, making the worries disappear with its magic “Let’s go home now,” Sunghoon murmured on your lips “I want to hold you and cuddle until we fall asleep.”

[misserabella]

Bestie I NEED angst enemies to lovers reader gets hurt on patrol. These always make me froth at the mouth 🙏

cw; +18 content minors dni!, wounds, blood, cursing, weapons, fighting, arguing, kissing, making out (n up 😋), teasing, dirty talking, dom! ellie x sub! reader, praising, hair pulling, praise kink, oral sex (r receiving), cum eating, fingering (r receiving)…

“ellie, shut the fuck up!” you muttered through gritted teeth, groaning as you placed a hand on your gushing side, blood pouring from the cut and making you feel dizzy.

“fuck. fuck. fuck. i told you to stay close! but as fucking always you do whatever the fuck you want!” she was a mess, frantic eyes and shaky hands looking for bandages on her backpack. “keep pressure on it!” you were loosing a lot of blood.

they had come out of nowhere. those fucking bandits… they’d tried to steal from you, and once you’d stood your ground they had put a blade through your stomach. by the time ellie had gotten to you, you were standing on both your wobbly feet with a dagger stuck into your skin. the feeling of the metal moving and cutting as you moved made you feel lightheaded. but you knew you shouldn’t take it out or you’d probably die. she had shot the two men in a mere instant, getting to you as you groaned in pain.

now that she had pulled you to a safe place, she could see the extent of the damage. it was no good.

“quit moving!” she grunted and you almost punched her.

“you try stay still with a blade on your stomach and then we’ll fucking talk you dumb fuck!” yeah, it hurt. and you knew ellie was just trying to not let you die, as much as she hated you, she wouldn’t like to be the one held accountable for your death (and she knew she wouldn’t hear the end of it from maria…).

“take a deep breath.” she instructed, her hand wrapping around the dagger, and your eyes shoe open.

“don’t. don’t pull it ou-!!!!” your breath got punched out of your lungs when she extracted it, the messy sound of spluttering blood making your vision go blurry.

you moaned in pain, sweat dripping down your shin. you’d never experienced such amount of pain before.

ellie was quick to push bandages on it to stop the hemorrhage. your hands gripped hers as you looked into her eyes, scared. the floor was now pooling in crimson. were you gonna die?

she pulled your gaze away from the blood.

“hey. look at me. you’re gonna be okay, alright? i promise. you’re gonna be okay.” you nodded. “but to stop the blood i need to sew you up.” your breathing was ragged. your life depended on someone that hated you. someone that always got on your nerves and made you crazy. you were on the hands of ellie williams. an fuck if that didn’t scare you. but you’d seen the way she had shot those men, how she was looking at you, how she promised that you’d be alright. and you wanted to believe in her. you pressed on the wound as she got out alcohol, thread and needle from her first aid kit. “ready?” you nodded, although you were looking awfully pale, hair sticking to your forehead in a cold sweat. “i’ll try to be as fast as i can.” she promised before moving your hands away and exposing the wound. it was deep, but it didn’t seem to have reached any important organs or caused irreparable damage. “this is gonna hurt.” she said, and your ears rung when the alcohol made contact with your skin. you screamed, nails digging on the hardwood floor at the sudden need to push her away. your lip broke due to how hard you were biting it, and your vision was getting more and more blurry.

you were gonna pass out.

“i’m sorry, fuck, i’m sorry.” she muttered, threading the needle to start sewing you up. “y/n?” she inquired when she saw just how lost you looked, your hazy eyes and slowing breathing. “y/n!” before you knew it your head was thudding against the floor as your consciousness left your body. “fuck. shit. hold on, please.” she fought with the shake on her hands as she punctured your skin. “i’ll fix this. i promise. just hold on…”

-

“woah. you look absolutely dead.” you groaned, rolling your eyes at the barging in of the nicest person walking on this rotten earth. notice the sarcasm.

“nice to see you too, ellie.” she smirked, coming to the side of your bed and leaving food that joel had cooked for you.

“it’s always nice to see me. have you seen me?” she inquired, eyebrows arched and you scoffed.

“grab an extra chair for your pride ellie, ‘cause holy fuck…” she chuckled, grabbing a chair of the infirmary in which maria had had you resting for a couple days now to have your infection under control.

and you tried not to look at her. tried. but not hard enough. she was right. she was a nice sight. her hair was on a low bun, freckled face flushed due to the cold, which she fought with the help of a grey sweater and black jeans.

ellie had always been pretty. really pretty. it was the first thing you’d noticed about her before she came and ruined everything by opening her mouth.

“joel made you some food. wouldn’t recommend you eat it. man can’t cook to save his own life.”

“thanks.” you muttered, readjusting yourself on the bed.

“how are you doing?” she inquired, curious (worried).

“you mean apart of dying of boredom?” you chuckled. “i’m doing amazing.” you sighed, voice full of sarcasm. and your body jolted when you felt one of her hands softly land on your thigh.

“you seem stressed.” your eyes were on her hand, softly rubbing circles on your skin to calm you down.

“i am.“ you gulped, “this is horrible. maria doesn’t let me move from the bed. i need to move, ellie. it’s killing me. i feel… useless.”

she stared at you, until her lips parted in a soft mutter. “i could help…” she leaned in just the slightest, her hand trailing upwards on your thigh, and you shivered.

after a few minutes in silence, you slowly nodded, and her tongue wetted her lips.

she got up from her seat, and climbed into the bed. you felt a bolt of electricity running up your spine when her breath hit your face.

“you sure about this?” she inquired, eyes on yours.

“just shut the fuck up and kiss me, ellie.” your whole body shook when her lips met yours.

oh shit.

she pulled away to take a look at your face, making sure it was alright. that this was alright.

you looked into her eyes, into her beautiful green emerald eyes. and before you knew it you were cupping her face to bring her back to you.

this felt amazing. too good to be true.

you hummed against her mouth, her hands on your hips, making sure not to put her weight on you and your wound.

you opened your mouth for her tongue, gasping.

“shit. been wanting to do that for years.” she muttered and you whined.

“ellie…” your hips bucked against her, and she cooed.

“shhh, i got you. i got you baby.” you felt her hands push down your pajama pants, one of her hands cupping your cunt, which was quickly pooling with slick. you always ended up soaked while around her, secretly touching yourself to the though of her late at night when no one would catch you. “all pent up, hm? you just need a little relief it’s all…” you nodded, and moaned when you felt her lips trailing down your neck, to your chest, your stomach, your panties…

“fuck!” you sighed in a choked out moan when she left a wet kiss to your clit, peeking at the wet patch that was forming on your underwear. her tongue flattened, tasting you though that thin layer of clothing. she hummed, and your hands tugged on her hair.

she started to eat you out through your panties, teasing you, making you squirm and beg.

“ellie, please…”

“what is it, princess? use your words for me, come on.” she caressed your inner thighs, making you squirm and your hips buck against her face.

“please stop teasing me. need you. need your mouth.” you pleaded, and she kissed your knee, your thigh, your mound… before tugging from your panties.

“atta girl. speaking up for me so well…” you moaned, feeling her middle and index finger spreading you open for her, slick strings sticking to your lips. your eyes rolled to the back of your head when you finally felt it, her tongue licking a fat strip up to your clit, slurping at your juices. and then her middle finger, pushing inside your tight walls. you let out this beautiful moan that made her groan against you. “taste so good… best pussy i’ve ever had.” you felt your face and neck burn. ‘cause holy fuck, she knew how and what to say to make you shake. she started thrusting in and out, making you whimper and your back arch. “come on baby, relax for me.” you were so tight… you tried and breathe deeply, relax for her. “that’s it… open up for me. good girl.”

“just like that. oh shit, ellie. don’t stop please…” she smirked.

“yeah? you like that?” she added another finger, curling them and making you gasp. she grunted at the harsh tug of her hair. “you keep doing that i’ll fuck you stupid.” she warned, and you shivered, a broken moan rasping your throat. “but i bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” you nodded, listening to the wet squelches your pussy made for her. you were so wet… “of course you would.” you cried out when her lips sucked on your clit. she could tell you were close by the way your thighs were shaking at the sides of her head, how your walls were clenching around her fingers. “you close?” she inquired, and you nodded, tears pricking your eyes. “fuuck. can’t wait to drink you up. cum for me. cum on my mouth, princess.” her fingers sped up, got harsher, and you couldn’t help but follow her orders, coming all over her face, soaking her chin and cheeks and lips. she slurped it all up, humming and grunting, eating you like a starved woman tasting food for the first time in months.

she helped you ride it, sucking on your clit and curling her fingers against your g spot until you were nothing more than a panting spent mess.

you tugged from her hair when the overstimulation became too much, and she looked at you, from her spot between your legs, not knowing that that view would become your favorite from now on.

-

[garoujo]

✩ ˛˚ . NAGI SEISHIRO ; — nagi’s never been one who cared about running late before, so why does he now?

ஜ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ warnings! none, fluff, early date scenario. ♡ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ note! these random writing ideas are haunting me istg! why is my brain suddenly trying to work again :< back w my baby <3

nagi seishiro has never unnecessarily ran for anything in his life

call him a slacker, lazy.. he never felt the need to exceed more energy than required — always looking for ways to get him out of everything that he found bothersome.

so why is he running now? casting glances at the screen of his phone between strides because he said he’d meet you at 1pm and he’s got 3 minutes but he’s 5 minutes away. he can remember the way your smile twitched at the sides and the little, subtle glow your eyes held when you asked if he’d like to visit a new cafe with you and he shrugged his shoulders with his ‘kay. hes thankful that the messy mop of snowy hair that falls over his features helped to hide the way the tips of his ears flushed that day.

but why’s he remembering that now? what a pain.

nagi huffs as he slows at the crossing, panting softly before he’s tapping his phone screen again. he’s almost there but he’s sweating hard.. he could really go a bath, maybe he would’ve worn something a little lighter than his usual oversized clothes if he knew he was going to be running through the streets.

the crossing turns green & nagi’s off again, another few blocks—a few heavy breathes and it’s like a relief when he’s turns the corner to see you’re still there. still waiting.

“nagi?” you question suddenly as his tall figure shuffles its way towards you, his hair is more disheveled than usual and you think it’s amusing how suddenly wobbly he looks—urging you to reach to steady him as he catches his breath.

“ah, sorry..” nagi’s words are breathless as he finds himself leaning his weight onto you, just enough for him to balance himself before he takes another deep breath. “i think i’m gonna die.”

although you’re still curious.. and concerned, he could’ve been running from some mob or wild animal for all you know. “are you okay, what the hell?”

“nah, i kinda fell asleep.” nagi manages and you really try to hold in the giggle you can feel bubble through your throat. but you still let a grin twitch at your lips as he gives you a sleepy look.

“you’re only 2 minutes late.”

“ehhhh, really? so bothersome.” that’s when you really laugh as you feel him drape more of his weight on top of you, self-consciously you think.. but maybe it’s because he can just pass off the pinker flush of his skin right now to exhaustion but also a little embarrassment.

“oh, uh. i brought you this.“ nagi speaks again after a few more moments, reaching in to rummage around in his hoodie pocket before he’s pulling out a crumbled little package and placing it softly into your palms.

“a vitamin jelly?” you ask earnestly and there’s something charming about the way he shrugs before sending you a starry-eyed look then suddenly looks away when you meet it with your own.

“uh.. yeah, i thought you’d be hungry i guess. the store was busy so it was a hassle.”

“are you hungry?” it’s an honest question and you can see nagi humming it over in his mind for a few moments before he’s shrugging again, “a little. i’m sweaty, wanna take another nap now.”

although you think he seems a little perkier now as you let yourself grab onto the hem of his sweatshirt, urging him to follow behind you as you send him a pretty smile from over your shoulder that makes him burn.

“it was probably all the running, big guy. let’s get you some food.”

“hey, i just didn’t wanna make you wait.”

nagi thinks it was worth it though because you’re beautiful when you’re caught somewhere between a smile and a laugh— still holding onto the vitamin jelly he brought you and everytime his hand brushes against yours he can feel the urge to intertwine it with his own.

“are you sure you weren’t just excited to see me?” that really gets to him because he swears the rate of his heartbeat spikes like he just ran around tokyo twice, it’s unfamiliar—he’s not used to stuff like this. how’s he supposed to act? what does this even mean?

“don’t tease me, ‘ts no fair. ‘m too sleepy to fight back now. wanna carry me?” nagi drawls out lazily and he’s a little surprised when you actually laugh. another brush of his hand against yours as you walk and he thinks that maybe he’ll let it linger with the next one.

“no, but i can buy you lunch.”

“hm, ‘kay.”

© 2023 GAROUJO. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

[papipedroo]

Rupture (Joel Miller x Reader)

Part Five of Whiskey Tears

Rated: Angst | Sexual Innuendos | Assault | Mentions of Rape | Violence | Torture

Summary: You, Joel, and Ellie have been a trio from the start. You were a family, but you find your relationship with Joel withering when he starts to pull away. Now a new comer makes her way into Jackson and into Joel’s heart…

Joel was drowning. Not in the metaphorical sense that he has experienced from time to time, feeling as if the weight of the world was pressing down on his lungs… No. Actual drowning.

“Again.” Heather had four men shove him backdown into the river.

There was barely any time to gasp for breath with each shove back under the icy frost. It was as if he grew numb to the freezing temperatures each time his head went under water. He was going to start getting hyperthermia soon.

“Bring him back up.” Heather ordered and once again he was brought up to the surface from the icy depth.

Joel coughed up water, finally able to catch his breathe. His clothes were soaked to his skin and the rim of his eyes were rimmed red.

Heather crouched in front of Joel. A long sigh left her lips as she spoke, “We’ve been at this for a while… Are we going to talk now or do I have to bring Ellie out here? Tell me Joel, have you taught her how to swim yet?”

It was a known fact by anyone that Joel’s looks could kill any threat in his path. There was a promise looming in his gaze, one that only told of impending murder. Two of the men had tightened their grip on his arm and shoulder from the way Joel tensed.

“What.” He stated as if he wasn’t trying to catch his breath moments ago.

She crouched in front of him. Three steps and his shotgun was the only thing between them.

“It took three days and now this town and everyone in it, is mine.” She stated.

“Good for you.” Joel gruffed out, the least bit interested.

“You know what I want, Joel.” Heather was becoming irritated now, “I want your allegiance. I want your loyalty. I want you.”

He didn’t dignify her with a response, his glare the only thing keeping her from feeling empowered.

She sighed, “You know that your brother and his wife refuse to cooperate… For days now, my friends have talked about shooting them… They make a good point that it would put your family out of their misery from living in the way that the world is now. Especially with a new life that will be coming soon.” Her gaze flickered to the gun as Joel began to struggle against the four men in an attempt to ring her neck.

“I decided against that though. I knew it wouldn’t make you happy so I locked your family away instead. I promise you that they are safe…” Her hazel eyes looked past his glare and into his broken soul, “If you cooperate that is.”

Joel didn’t like the way her mouth curled into a condescending smile. She knew that she got him.

The warmth of the fire did little to create a comforting warmth in your body as you cried out into a soiled cloth from the overwhelming pain. Mikel’s hands worked to clean out and stitch the wound he caused to your leg as you faded in and out of consciousness.

“Just a little more, love.” His tender words did nothing, they were nothing, and he would never be anything to you.

You wanted Joel… You wanted your little Ellie… You wanted to go home… You missed your family and you regret that the last words spoken to Joel were of anger. You regret that you couldn’t see Ellie’s face that morning. You regret not having tea with Maria. You regret not helping Tommy surprise Maria with a baby crib.

“Why won’t the bleeding stop?” Mikel’s voice held panic, “I need to cauterize your wound.”

I shook my head faintly at that, but it meant no difference as he left and returned with a blade scorching hot from the fire.

There were so many regrets that you couldn’t amend and now… Now you might die without seeing what could have been.

“This is going to hurt.” Mikel said as he gently place a cloth in your mouth.

You screamed as soon as the blade touched your skin. It hurt more than the pain of the gunshot as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Your body shook before slacking against the bed.

Your vision blurred as your mind went dark.

It took two days before you were able to gain your bearings. The pain in your leg was dull as long as you didn’t move it around too much. Your eyes tracked the motion of Mikel’s shadow pacing just outside of the cabin door. His words were set in a hush whisper as he spoke to someone else. Someone you didn’t recognize. You strained your ears to listen to what they were discussing.

“So… Jackson has been overtaken.” Mikel asked, “Are the townspeople alright?”

“Yes.” It was the voice of another man, “Heather did what she said she would and it…” You strained your ears to hear, but missed part of what he said. You did however hear him say the word, “Success.”

“That’s good.” You could hear Mikel’s sigh of relief, “I hope that with time my love and I can return. I want us to be able to live peacefully…”

“We are glad to have you apart of our group. I will see you and your girl soon brother. Let the red dawn rise.”

“Let the red dawn rise.” Mikel repeated and a pair of footsteps traveled away from the house.

You quickly lied back down and pretended that you weren’t eavesdropping on their conversation. Mikel stepped inside the hut, snow falling off his coat as he removed the cowboy hat from his head.

“I know that you’re awake little pisi.” He said. The sound of his boots traveled across the room as he walked closer.

You weren't sure if the last word was an endearment or not, but it made your stomach twist in knots. You felt nauseated at how quickly he tell into the role of a lover with the high expectation of you doing the same. You wondered if that could be your safest way out of here.

Maybe playing along with his delusion will help let his guard down before making your escape. It was the only option you had being as you were wounded and he had the antibiotics to help you and if you just shot him that would do you any good.

Yes, you would have control over yourself and medicine, but how long would you need antibiotics for your leg to heal and with Jackson being overrun… How were you supposed to get more? No... This was the safest option. You just had to play your cards right… For now at least.

"Who was that?" You spoke with a scratchiness to your voice from being in and out of consciousness these last few days.

Mikel's quick observations had him getting you a glass of water before you even had the chance to ask for some. It seemed he was a little too observant. Something that you had to be wary of.

"A new friend from town." His answer was vague, something that you had already expected. Of course he didn't trust you enough to divulge any information from the que that was staged.

"They've taken everything haven't they?" You asked another question or more of a statement.

He looked away from you and towards the fireplace, "It's better this way."

"For who? For you?" You scoffed before taking a sip of water. You didn't realize how thirsty you were until the cup was empty in less than a second. You continued, “Clearly you have gotten everything that you desired.”

"I did this for us." He snapped back, a glare held in his blue eyes as he got up from his stood as stormed to the fireplace to place some more logs in, “This is better for us. This place will be our home until you have settled in to our new life. Everything that we have and will receive soon is a happiness more than we can ever imagine.”

"How?" You muttered, "Everything was fine before. The townspeople were happy… I was happy. We were all comfortable and at peace in our own way. There was no reason for any of this. You took my choice away from me."

"But there was a reason." You could see the way his fingers gripped around one of the logs. You could tell that you were pushing his temper, “He was not good for you. Everyone could see that. He hurt you, discarded you, betrayed you. He did everything that I will never do to you…” Mikel gently traced his fingers over the bandage on your leg, “Again. I promise.”

You kept your mouth shut, afraid to set him off. He was clearly trapped in his own delusions of what could be and saying anything towards the two of us would clearly make him angry. Instead you focused on talking about the people who took him in. Who he once considered friends.

"How could you betray everyone?" You spoke quietly, "The people who took you in and gave you a home? You took their trust and ripped it to shreds Mikel."

"I didn't!" He threw the log across the room. The wood crashed against the wall before knocking over a crooked picture frame, the two crashing to the ground.

At least that was better than him crushing your leg.

"Tell that to the ones whose corpses litter the streets.” You replied, your voice still soft, but making its point across.

The room filled in a deafening silence.

Light flickered in through the cracks of the jail, creating enough light for Ellie, Tommy, and Maria to see. The raiders didn't care enough to turn any of the lights on for their prisoners, but at least they remembered to bring food and water.

"Bitch." Ellie exasperated as she pulled against the old bars of the jail.

"Language Ellie." Maria sighed as she rested against the back wall.

"I think this predicament calls for a little language sweetheart." Tommy murmured as he check the strength of the cell bars on the other side.

"Those bars were made to hold, you know this." Maria explained.

“I know sweets. I just want to make sure we’re not missing anything.” Tommy explained gently.

Maria nodded, "I know dear, it’s just… You both need to save your strength. We need a solid plan to get out of here."

Tommy thought for a long moment as he concocted a plan to safely get out of here.

"We'll wait till one of em lets their guard down." Tommy spoke quietly once a plan formulated in his mind

He stepped back from the bars, his military training kicking in as he spoke, "I've been watching their movements. They only care about how much damage they can inflict with the biggest weapon. They don't seem trained or vigilant. Their shift changes are every twelve hours. Group B is more docile, they’re tired from the day and are easily deceived. We can make our move towards midnight when they are exhausted.”

He looked at Maria, “This is where you come in dear. I need you to pretend that you are going into labor. Scream as loud as you can. Ellie, I need you by her side at this point and I need you to be loud and panicked. Once they opened the cell, I can get one of their guns. Then it'll be easy to get out of here. We have four hours left until shift change so we just have to be patient and don’t set off group A." He looked towards Ellie.

She raised her hands up in surrender, "What?"

"Ellie." He pressed.

"Okay okay." She sighed, "No setting them off. Got it."

And there it was. It was small and had barely a percentage of working, but it was a plan that could just as save their lives. As long as they played their cards right that is… Tommy sat next to his wife, wrapping her in his warmth to keep her from the cold. At least these raiders kept the blankets in here. He watched as Ellie curled into one to try and get as much rest as she possibly could. Tommy made a silent promise to himself that no matter what happens, he would keep his family safe.

He could only hope that his brother had everything under control on his end... If he was alive for that matter.

"My family." Joel huffed as he was shoved with the tip of a rifle.

"Follow me." Heather walked through the streets.

The snow was gently falling now making it easy to see, "You'll see them when I can trust you again."

“You’re the one who broke that trust.” He pointed out.

Heather of course didn’t like that as she huffed, “I did what I had too.”

No. You really didn’t.

Joel didn't reply as he quietly assessed the four men that were guarding him. He knew that Heather could handle a gun, but he can take her easily. The two to his left looked to be brothers with the way they mirrored each other, they were both to upbeat as if they enjoyed this kind of work. They would be easy to take down. The one on his left was skinny with a shaky hand and a frightened look in his eyes. Joel knew that if he took the two out on his left first then that one would go off runnin. Now the one behind him with the crooked nose and a nasty snarl... He was going to be a problem.

"You will be kept under guard here.” She said.

“My. Family.” Joel repeated. His was a man of few words, but he was persistent.

“They will be able to live here with you once I know that you can be trusted. Wouldn’t want you to get the band back together and ruin my entire plan, would we?” Heather gave him a look, “No more talk of this. Now get inside and change. I have plans for you and I don’t want you dying from hyperthermia.”

With that, Heather left and the four guards remained. One of the upbeat brothers shoved him inside the home. The three young men headed inside with Joel while the tough looking one kept guard just outside the door.

“I reckon don’t need to show ya where the shower is.” Link laughed as he took off his coat.

Joel didn’t give him an answer and began to make his way upstairs.

“Oh! And we found all yer weapons so don’t even think about looking old man.” Link’s brother Preston said as he pulled off his beanie, his short dirty blonde hair tussled.

Joel had an urge to punch that kid in the face. But he resisted as he reached the top of the steps and out of their sight.

“Don’t even think he’d be able to reload the damn gun even if we gave him one.” Preston laughed.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that Link.” The younger, scrawny looking one spoke.

“What?” Link wrapped his hand around the back of his neck that was covered by his shoulder length brown hair, “You scared of an old man Mathias?”

“All I’m saying is that I wouldn’t get too comfortable.” He said quickly moving himself away. Joel could hear the three of the shuffling to the living room.

“Yeah right.” Link rolled his eyes, “I could kill that old man with one hand tied around my back.”

The sunlight was beginning to drown in the dusk and Joel knew that if he wanted to get to his family alive then he would need to be smart in his next moves.

Joel carried himself up the steps, worn out and tired, but a plan formulating in his mind. He walked past each room, all of them open and ransacked. The bedroom to his door was wide open, the same chaotic mess dawning his floor.

A floor that hadn’t been tampered with. Maybe the heavens were on his side. He hoped that this same luck would stay on his side.

Joel only halfway shut his door. He didn’t want to make any noise for what he would do, but he also needed them to hear the creak of his door. He made his way to the bathroom, his boots hitting the floor rougher than usual to have them think that he was an old man, one that made noise wherever he went.

He turned on the water to his shower before silently walking back to his room. With the stealth of someone even a clicker wouldn’t hear, he retrieved a 9mm pistol and a tactical knife from under the floor board. It was the weapons that he got for his firefly and he silently thanked her for keeping them hidden here. He checked to make sure it was loaded before heading back to the bathroom to take a much needed shower.

He needed the cover of night to exact his plan.

“How did an old man like that even pull someone like her?” Preston wondered as he took a sip of the whiskey he swiped from Joel’s cupboard.

“I don’t know man, but I went by Mikel’s cabin the other day.” Link said.

“Mikel has a cabin?” Mathias wondered, “He’s a new member like me right? Does this mean we all have the choice to leave if we want to?”

“Mikel’s barely apart of this group and I ain’t tellin you where that cabin is.” Link shook his head, “You get any ideas of leaving, you know where your body is gonna be.”

“Dude, he has the life out there. I got a peak of her before he closed the door and let me tell ya, even half dead she’s a peach. I swear either he railed her so hard that she couldn’t move or that gunshot wound is really getting the best of her.” Link laughed with his brother chuckling along with him.

“Romanians man, they sure know what they’re doing.” Preston replied as he and his brother clinked their glasses.

Joel wondered if his favorite color was red with how much he has been seeing it lately. He silently creeped along the hallway and down the staircase, not one creek in the floorboards as he drew closer to the laughing hyenas in his living room. He wanted to kill them.

“You shouldn’t talk about women like that.” Mathias interjected, “That girl could be seriously hurt you know.”

“What would you know, you virgin?” Preston scoffed as he poured another glass of whiskey, “I bet you haven’t even seen a woman naked before.”

Mathias continued over stuttering words, “Just because I haven’t seen a woman naked before doesn’t mean I don’t know right from wrong. It’s not right to disrespect them.”

Joel briefly thought about sparing the kid. It seemed to him that he had no idea what he was doing with a group of blood thirsty raiders. If Mathias played his cards right then maybe he could survive.

“Sometimes… You really show your age kid.” Link shook his head.

“How about you come talk to us like real many when you’ve got your cherry popped alright?” Preston’s voice boomed in laughter, “I’m going to go take a leak.”

The other two though… There was no mercy left in Joel. He wanted to tear them apart until their guts painted his carpet his favorite color… But he thought against that because his firefly picked out that carpet and she would hate it if it got ruined.

Preston was easy as Joel waited in the hallway by the stairs. He was covered by the shadows that Preston didn’t even have a chance to scream as Joel dragged his into the darkness, a hand around his mouth and a knife imbedded deep into his neck.

And then he waited as patiently as he watched his next victim fall right into his trap.

“Yo Press! You get lost or somethin?” Joel heard Link yell.

When Link didn’t receive an answer from his brother, Joel knew he got him. He heard Link stand up as fear rippled down the raider’s spine. Link’s hands quickly grabbed his rifle as he called out again, “Preston!” And he listened intently for the response of his brother.

“You don’t think…” Mathias’s voice trailed off as he gulped.

“No. We would have heard that old man walk down the stairs if he were up.” Link shook his head, “He probably just can’t hear me, the drunk bastard. Go take a look.”

“What?” Mathias’s eyes widened in fear, “Why do I have too? He’s your brother. You should go see if he’s alright.”

“Because I’m the one with the gun and what I say goes.” Link pointed it towards the kid, “You want me to remind you of the last time you disobeyed me?”

Mathias shook his head in fear.

“Good. Now go take a look.” Link motioned to the hallway.

Joel listened as he heard Mathias trudge slowly to the hallway. Joel noted the kid didn’t have a gun, leaving him to believe that his was most likely by the front door.

“Preston?” Mathias stuttered out as he ventured further into the hallway. He was terrified, his hands shaking because he knew that something had happened and here he was being sentenced to death by a mad man.

“Please—” Mathias thought it would be best to try and plead for his life, but before he could finish, Joel’s hand was wrapped around his mouth.

“You don’t want to die right?” Joel spoke low, barely above a whisper.

Mathias struggled to shake his head no from the tight grip that Joel had, but he got his point across.

“Then go out there and distract him. Keep him from looking towards the hallway.” Joel commanded, “Do as I say and you live to see another day kid.”

Mathias gulped as he nodded. Joel let him go and watched as the kid tried to get his footing. Mathias straighted out as he tried his best to look normal.

“Anything?” Link asked as soon as Mathias appeared.

Mathias walked around him and waited till Link’s back was facing the hallway before he explained.

“I found your brother passed out in one of the guest rooms.” He lied. From the corner of his eyes he could see Joel creeping out from the shadows so he continued, “He probably thought that you and I could handle the rest of the night on look out.”

“Like hell I’m going to stay up. You and that big oaf out there is going to keep watch. I’m heading to—“ Before Link could finish speaking, Joel hit him across the head with the blunt end of his gun.

Mathias blubbered his words as he looked between Link and Joel.

“The man outside. He loyal to your cause?” Joel asked.

“Yes.” Mathias answered truthfully and he knew that he just condemned another one of his squad members to death.

“You gonna run?” Joel asked.

“No sir and…” Mathias spoke quickly, “I’m not loyal to them. I just want to survive, I swear. I barely know this group.”

“I know.” Joel took his knife out of his belt loop, “Tie him up in the kitchen. Ropes in the closet.”

With those orders, Joel left out the back door with one mission in mind. Embed his knife as deep as he can into the skull of the raider outside.

That left Mathias alone and he listened to Joel’s orders. He found the rope where Joel said it was and dragged Link to the kitchen where he heaved him up on one of the dining chairs and tied him to it.

“You know you deserve this.” Mathias muttered whether to convince Link or himself, he didn’t know, “I’ve sat by long enough as I watched you and your brother pillage, rape, and torture to get your way. You deserve this.” He made sure to tighten the ropes.

Joel rounded the corner of his house, his eyes focused on the man who stared straight ahead. He was alert as he sat in his chair, gun held securely in his hand. Joel prepared himself for an altercation as he veered closer.

With his knife raised, Joel took one more step just as the man clocked in on his position. The large man popped up from his seat as soon as Joel embedded the knife into his shoulder. With a grunt the man charged, trying to lift his rifle to aim, but the gun was too long and Joel was too close. Joel quickly grabbed the gun as they tussled on the front porch. Thankfully the tall muscular man didn’t try to yell or scream for help. I guess he figured he could take care of Joel himself.

Oh how wrong he was…

Mathias could vaguely hear the sounds of Joel and Kent fighting outside until suddenly it was quiet. He wondered with a racing heart who had won and if he should run? If Kent had won then maybe he could play victim? Say that Joel was the one who tied Link up. Should he hurt himself too? Try to make it seem more convincing? Before he could make a decision, the front door opened and in walked Joel who dragged Kent in behind him.

“He awake yet?” Joel asked calmly as if he didn’t just kill another man.

Mathias shook his head, “No.”

Joel set the lifeless body by the other one, both in sight of where Link was knocked out. Joel didn’t have time however, to wait for Mathias to wake up. He needed to find out just where this cabin was. He had enough, lying low now that he had all the information he needed about his family.

Joel stuffed a dish towel in Link’s mouth before shoving the knife deep into his leg. That was the quickest way to wake him up.

Link woke up with a scream as he felt pain rippling from his leg and throughout his body. His head was pounding and the world seemed fuzzy, but he could make out Joel leaning over him like a monster you would tell your children about.

“You’re going to tell me how to find my girl or you’re going to end up just like your brother over there.” He pointed towards the lifeless body, Preston’s shoes barely peaking of the hallway. He took the gag from Link’s mouth.

Link raged as he struggled against his ties, now he was fully awake, “You fucker! I’ll kill you!”

“Answer.” Joel twisted the knife.

“I ain’t tellin you nothin.” Link spat with venom.

Joel glanced over to Mathias, “Get me a bucket of water and another towel.”

Link’s gaze followed Joel to Mathias who was standing in the archway, “You’re with him? After I took you in? You dirty fucking little traitor. After all I’ve done for you, I should have skinned your ass when I had the chance!”

Mathias ignored him as he went on to collect the things that Joel asked for.

“Don’t look at him. Look at me.” Joel drew his attention back to him with the twist of this knife causing Link to groan out in pain. Joel spoke slow so that every word could sink in, “I am going to drown you. It’ll be slow and it’ll be painful. Or you can tell me where my girl is. The choice is yours.”

Link glared at him as anxiety and fear rippled through his body. He could see it in his eyes that Joel’s words rang true, “I don’t know.” He stated quickly as Mathias returned.

“Well now we both know that is a lie.” Joel placed a towel over his face, “Lean the chair back.” He ordered Mathias.

“You should tell him.” Mathias suggested.

“Fuck you.” Link spat back at him.

Mathias leaned down close to his ear, “You already did that, remember? Against my will.” Link shuttered from fear at Mathias’s next words, “You deserve this.”

Mathias leaned back up and nodded towards Joel, “Do it.”

The night was long with each pour of water, with each gasp for breath. Joel felt no remorse drowning a man with no morals and no regret.

“I don’t remember!” Link gasped as soon as he was allowed breathe.

“Try again.” Joel stated before dumping water on him as he struggled for breath against the soaked towel.

“Okay!” Link gasped, “Just please. Please stop! I’ll tell you! I’ll tell you!” Joel held out a map and a pen, “You’re going to point to where it is on the map.”

Mathias set the chair back on the ground. Link’s breath was ragged as he took the pen between his teeth and marked a spot a few hours away from Jackson. Once Joel was satisfied with that answer he glanced towards Mathias.

“He’s all yours.” Joel took a step back and motioned to the knife.

Link looked between them with wide eyes before settling on Mathias, “No. No. No. No. No. Wait. Please! Wait. I’m sorry! No! Please! Don’t!” The last words that fell from his mouth were blubbering pleas as Mathias shoved the blade deep into Link’s heart.

“Now you can’t hurt anyone anymore.” Mathias whispered as he watched the light fade from his eyes.

Mathias stood still for a moment as he tried to catch his breath and calm his racing heart. He felt numb, but he also felt free. He had a choice now as he turned to Joel.

“How old are you kid?” Joel asked as he grabbed the whiskey bottle from the table. He took a long sip as he waited for Mathias to answer.

“Nineteen.” Mathias answered as he looked away from his once abuser.

“I…” Joel’s words felt empty as he struggled to say them, “I’m sorry for what happened to you.”

Mathias didn’t give him an answer and Joel understood why, “Where are we going next?” Mathias asked instead.

Joel’s eyes widened slightly from Mathias’s question. He didn’t really understand why the kid wanted to tag along with him, but he didn’t refuse. Joel set the empty bottle down before handing over Kent’s rifle, “We’re going to get my family back.”

“Okay.” Mathias nodded as he took the gun. His green eyes shined bright with determination. It was as if he finally had a true purpose now and it felt exhilarating.

[genshinluvr]

Final Moments

Pairings: Various Honkai Star Rail Men x Isekai'd!Reader

Summary: You're somewhere alone, bleeding, and on the verge of death. Everyone is scrambling to reach out to you, but you're not picking up your phone, and no one knows where you are. Not even Nanook knows your whereabouts. You didn't think you could die in a universe you didn't belong to, but you were wrong. At least you were able to hear their voices in your final moments, right?

Note: I haven't written angst in so long. This is probably not the best angst I've written. This is an answer to an ask I received not long ago. I'm not sure how I feel about this mini-fic, but I think something sad happening for once is somewhat good for a fanfic one-shot series. To be really honest, it doesn't feel like angst to me. Idk if it's because I wrote it or if it's because it's not sad enough. Who knows. I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: Major character death, blood, probably my worst angst

Word Count: 3.9k

Your connection with Nanook has been severed. Whenever you sleep, you and Nanook communicate while you’re asleep. When you’re unconscious due to being knocked out by a flying prosthetic arm, Nanook is there— while you’re physically unconscious. You and Nanook have always been connected through body and mind since your arrival to their— Nanook, your Astral Express, Stellaron Hunter, Xianzhou Luofu, and Jarilo-VI companions— universe. However, this is the first time you realize you and Nanook are no longer connected to each other.

In the state of unconsciousness, you’re in the void. Only this void is different from the one where Nanook is covering the sun and sky. This abyss you’re in is pitch black, and you’re the only living being in the endless darkness. There’s no sky, no sun, no stars to light a path along the way in the void. At first, you’re uncertain whether you’re physically in this void or if you’re just unconscious.

That is until you hear ringing in your ears, and light starts flooding in. You gasp aloud as if you finally made it to the surface after being underwater for more than you can handle. Your lungs hurt, and so does your head. As a matter of fact, now that you have regained consciousness, your entire body aches, and you’re tired. So tired. Your eyelids threaten to shut, but you’re trying your best not to lose consciousness again.

Where are you? 

What happened?

You push yourself upward and slump against the wall, choking out a gasp and breathing heavily. Your heart hurts— you didn’t think it was possible for you to feel your heart hurting to the point where you want to cry. Your vision is blurry, and you try to rub your eyes, but you can’t feel your arms. Exhaustion soon overtakes your body, and you fall unconscious.

Meanwhile, on the Astral Express, everyone is crowding around on the Parlor Car, their phones facing upward on the table. Everyone has been trying to call you, only for them to get a voicemail, or the call would fail to go through. The monotonous beep haunts their minds as everyone frantically tries to reach out to you.

“Are you sure the signal is good? Maybe we can’t call them because of the awful signal on the Astral Express,” Caelus comments, chewing on his nails.

March ignores Caelus’ comment. She presses her phone against her ears, listening to the ringing. If the signal was terrible, then how come the phone call was going through for her? The ringing stopped briefly, making March gasp, startling everyone on the Astral Express.

“Hi, this is [Y/N]! Sorry, I can’t come to the phone right now—”

March groans, ending the call. “Never mind. I thought they answered my call, but I was wrong,” March sighs in defeat, sliding her phone on the table.

The lights on the Astral Express flicker, and the door slams open. Nanook steps into the Parlor Car, his gold eyes scanning the Parlor Car, searching for your face. Nanook sighs and stays close to the entrance, running his hands through his hair. Just as Nanook feared: you’re not on the Astral Express either. 

Welt furrows his eyebrows at the Aeon of Destruction. “Nanook. Your presence is sudden,” says Welt.

“Where is [Y/N]? Are they not on the Astral Express?” Nanook asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Unfortunately, they’re not on the Astral Express. We,” Jing Yuan gestures to him, Blade, Luocha, Luka, Sampo, and Gepard, “were contacted by the Astral Express in hopes that [Y/N] is on the Xianzhou Luofu or Jarilo-VI. To everyone’s disappointment, they are nowhere to be found.”

After hearing Jing Yuan’s explanation, Nanook starts to visibly panic. The Aeon of Destruction paces back and forth, taking deep breaths and muttering something under his breath. Everyone on the Astral Express gazes at Nanook worriedly. This is the first time they see him act this way. Nanook has always had this cool, calm, and collected exterior. Nothing can phase him, and only you can get a reaction out of him.

Sampo raises a finger. “Hold up. Why are you asking us where [Y/N] is? Aren’t you the one who can communicate with [Y/N] inside their dreams?” Sampo asks, crossing his arms over his chest and raising his eyebrows at the Aeon.

“Nanook, have you been able to contact them by any chance? We’ve been hitting countless dead ends, and we’re really worried about them,” Gepard says, looking at Nanook pleadingly.

Nanook sighs and stops pacing. He looks at the people on the Astral Express with a deep frown. While Sampo is correct about him being able to communicate with you through your dreams, the people on the Astral Express, Xianzhou Luofu, and Jarilo-VI aren’t the only ones whose struggling to get into contact with you.

Nanook wasn’t able to contact you through your dreams prior to your disappearance. When Nanook brought you into this universe, Nanook made sure to form this connection with you— this unbreakable bond between you and him. But despite creating this unbreakable bond, it somehow severed, and he can no longer contact you through your dreams and unconscious state.

This bond is supposed to be a way for him to track you anywhere in this universe. No matter how out of reach you are from him. Whether you’re in the Astral Express, on Jarilo-VI, the Xianzhou Luofu, the void, etc., Nanook should be able to feel your presence somewhere throughout the universe. Nanook mutters something, closing his eyes and pulling at the roots of his hair with frustration.

“What’s Nanook saying?” Himeko whispers, not taking her eyes off the anguish Aeon.

Luka whispers, “He’s muttering something about [Y/N] and the bond between them. I can’t hear what Nanook is saying, but those are the things I can pick out.”

Dan Heng stares at his phone intently, staring at your contact picture while listening to the monotonous ring. This is the fourth attempt. The fourth time he’s tried to call you, only for there to be a voicemail or just constant beeping that’s shaking him to his core. You can be anywhere in the universe, and finding your precise location without you telling them where you’re at will be the most challenging thing they deal with.

“Are they still not answering their phone, Dan Heng?” Luocha asks, approaching the black-haired man.

Dan Heng sighs, ending the call when he hears your voicemail through the speakers. “No,” Dan Heng mutters, shaking his head.

Blade stares at the panicking Nanook, frowning deeply. Blade sighs, rubbing his temples with shaky hands. As much as Blade wishes he was mishearing the things Nanook was muttering to himself, the more Blade thinks about it, the more it makes sense. Nanook is the one that brought you into this universe— he should know your exact location no matter what planet and fleet you’re on. Nanook should be able to communicate with you through your dreams or unconscious state, and because Nanook is visibly panicking and stressing out over your whereabouts, Blade concludes that—

“Your connection with [Y/N] has been severed, isn’t it?” Blade asks, breaking the tense silence in the Astral Express and bringing Nanook out of his thoughts.

Nanook clenches his jaws, nodding. “It has been severed, unfortunately. I do not know how it happened, and I’m sure [Y/N] isn’t the one that severed it. There’s no way for them to sever the connection,” Nanook replies.

Everyone stares at Nanook in horror. If Nanook is unable to contact you, then it’s very unlikely they’ll be able to find you sooner. You, [Y/N]. The same person not from their universe, the same precious star everyone holds dear to their hearts— whether as a best friend, little sibling, or a small crush that developed into something bigger— the same star that shines the brightest in the universe. You’re somewhere out there in the universe, exposed to dangers you’re not used to handling. Heck, everyone didn’t plan on letting you be exposed to any hazards that exist in this universe, but now?

“So, you’re saying there’s no way for any of us to contact [Y/N]?” Welt asks, raising his eyebrows at Nanook.

While Welt looks calm on the outside, the man is freaking out internally. How did this happen in the first place? You were supposed to be safe and sound under his watch, but you suddenly disappeared without a trace, and no one was able to reach out to you or track you down. Not even the Aeon of Destruction is able to track you down, and the Aeon has connections with you— well, had a connection with you.

“What are we going to do now, Mr. Yang? Searching for [Y/N] seems impossible at this point,” Caelus says, plopping down on the chair and running his hands through his hair.

Jing Yuan shakes his head. “I’ll have Yanqing lead the Cloud Knights to search throughout the Xianzhou Luofu,” Jing Yuan says, taking his phone from the table and sending rapid texts to his blond retainer.

Gepard nods. “And I will have the Silvermane Guards patrol the Overworld and the Underworld. If they see [Y/N], their duty is to detain [Y/N] until we arrive to get them,” says Gepard as he grabs his phone to message Dunn.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Detain [Y/N]? As in, keep them in cuffs and behind bars?!” Sampo exclaims, propping his hands on his hips, and looks at Gepard with disbelief.

Gepard, Welt, Nanook, and Dan Heng sigh simultaneously, rubbing their temples and pinching the bridge of their noses after hearing Sampo’s question. March snorts, rolling her eyes. The door to the Parlor Car opens. Pom-Pom waddles into the room, his eyes scanning the Parlor Car for a familiar face other than the ones that are present. 

Pom-Pom sighs with disappointment. “I see that none of you have found [Y/N],” Pom-Pom says, crossing his arms over his chest.

Himeko gives Pom-Pom a sympathetic look. “Sorry, Pom-Pom, but we still haven’t found them. They’re not answering our texts or phone calls, and not even Nanook can contact them,” Himeko replies.

Pom-Pom sighs and waddles to the Phonograph, pressing his forehead against the machine. A dark stormy cloud looms over Pom-Pom’s head as he lets out a string of whimpers and sniffles. Everyone on the Astral Express nearly forgot about how close you and Pom-Pom are. The closeness between you two is adorable, and Pom-Pom treats you like his favorite passenger on the Astral Express. Well, you are his favorite passenger. There’s no denying it. Sometimes, when everyone is asleep, you would keep Pom-Pom company and spoil him with his favorite snacks.

Of course, that was before Nanook became a passenger on the Express. Now you would keep Pom-Pom company on the nights you can’t sleep or when Nanook isn’t on the Astral Express due to his duty as the Aeon of Destruction.

“Pom-Pom?” March asks softly.

Pom-Pom turns to face them, his eyes blurred with tears. “How could all of you fail to protect someone that protected me!?” Pom-Pom wails, tears cascading down his cheeks. “What if we never see them again? They could be in danger!”

Everyone looks away, their shoulders slumping. Pom-Pom’s right. They did fail to protect you— this is the second time they failed to protect you, and they wish they could turn back time and prevent it from happening.

“There’s nothing to worry about. We’ll find [Y/N] and bring [Y/N] back to the Astral Express, alright?” Luka says, kneeling in front of Pom-Pom and patting the conductor’s head.

Pom-Pom whimpers. “But what if they’re injured?” Pom-Pom whispers.

“Then I will do everything in my power to heal them,” Luocha answers.

You’re rudely awoken by the sharp pain in your lower abdomen. You gasp and sit up, letting out a strained gasp and whimper. You look down at your body, now realizing the state you’re in. You don’t remember what exactly happened, but the more you look at your surroundings, the more you start piecing things together. You were attacked by the Mara-struck. It happened so fast that you weren’t able to comprehend what happened before it was too late.

And now you’re here, on Cloudford, bleeding out, going in and out of consciousness, with no cell signal to call or text your traveling companions. You can’t even contact Nanook due to the severed connection between you and the Aeon of Destruction. No matter how many times you lose consciousness, Nanook isn’t there— even if you scream his name, bloody murder. You will always be in the void, alone and searching for the Aeon that brought you into his universe.

You sprawl out on the ground, digging your phone from your pockets. Your vision blurs every few minutes, making it hard for you to do your task. You turn your phone on, attempting to call the first person on your contact list. Blade.

You tried to call Blade, but the call didn’t go through. You tried calling every person on your contact list, but the call continues not to go through. You push yourself off the ground, nearly slipping on the pool of blood beneath you. It’s a miracle that you manage to hold on for so long. The question is: how much longer can you hold on? Black dots dotting your vision, you’re extremely tired, your eyelids are threatening to close, and your legs and arms are tingling.

“I can do this, I can do this,” you chanted, limping as far away as you can. “I’ll be okay. I’ll be okay.”

You’re not sure if giving yourself a false sense of hope is going to do any better. Still, it’s better to do that than lay in your puddle of blood, watching the time tick away and your life slipping from your fingers. With each step you take, you feel your strength slipping away. You’re exhausted, and everything hurts. The Mara-struck did not go easy on you until they assumed you were dead. 

As much as you wanted to blame yourself for not being careful enough, there’s no one else to blame. Not even yourself. People will blame you for not being careful and watching your surroundings, but is it really your fault? The Mara-struck are ruthless, and they’ll attack anyone and anything that is alive and not Mara-struck like them.

You’re brought out of your thoughts and self-pity when your foot gets caught over the other, sending you to the ground with a loud thump. You let out a screech of pain and remain on the ground as every part of your body is stinging and throbbing with pain. The small cuts on your body reopen as fresh blood oozes from the wounds, spilling to the ground.

“Please, just end my misery,” you whisper, tears rolling down your bloodstained cheeks as you slowly drift in and out of consciousness.

The faint sound of buzzing coming from your phone wakes you up. You gingerly turn your head to see the screen of your phone lighting up and vibrating. You reach for your phone and roll over on your side to see Blade calling you. You swipe to the green button and hear a faint scream and frantic voices coming from the other end of the call.

“Blade?” You croak, wincing when you feel how dry your throat feels.

Blade sighs in relief on the other side of the call. “Thank the Aeons, you’re okay. Where are you? Are you safe?” Blade asks.

You chuckle bitterly, close your eyes and continue to lie on the ground. At least you’ll be able to hear their voices one last time, right? It’s better to listen to their voice before…. Someone calls your name, grabbing your attention.

“Huh? Sorry, I didn’t catch onto what you were saying,” you mumble, squeezing your eyes shut and fighting back a whimper that’s crawling up your throat.

“[Y/N], please tell us where you are. We’re very worried about you,” Dan Heng says.

You sniffle. The pain is beginning to feel unbearable. Everything hurts so much, and you want someone or something to end your pain and suffering already. You shouldn’t have played dead when the Mara-struck attacked you for who knows how long. You should’ve let them end you right then and there so you wouldn’t have to continue to suffer like how you are right now.

“[Y/N]? Are you still with us?” Caelus asks, his voice crackling through the speakers.

Fuck. Is the connection starting to act up?

“Yeah, yeah. I’m still here,” you reply, black dots dotting your vision. Is it normal to see a small burst of stars in your eyes each time you blink? “Sorry, I’m not feeling well right now.”

The other end of the call falls silent after hearing your response. As of now, Jing Yuan and Gepard haven’t received any reports from the Silvermane Guards and Cloud Knights about finding you. 

The General of the Xianzhou Luofu and the Captain of the Silvermane Gaurds text their trusted companions regarding the search, only for Dunn and Yanqing to reply that they have yet to find out despite the number of Cloud Knights and Silvermane Guards scrambling to find you. 

Mr. Yang walks over to Blade and takes the phone from his hands. “Sweetheart, can you look at your surroundings and tell us where you are? Even if you don’t know the precise location, do you know whether you’re on the Xianzhou Luofu or Jarilo-VI?” Mr. Yang asks.

“I’m on, uh, the Xianzhou Luofu. The Mara-struck…” you trail off, closing your eyes. Your hands are shaking— you don’t think you can hold your phone up any longer. Your arms feel awfully weak, and your phone feels heavy.

Jing Yuan’s voice crackles over the speakers. “What happened with the Mara-struck?”

Jing Yuan sounds frantic.

You shrug, completely forgetting that the others can’t see you. “They attacked me out of nowhere. They left me for dead, and there’s blood. So much blood,” you whisper, cracking your eyes open and looking at your surrounding.

“[Y/N], can you turn on the video call so we can see where you are?” Gepard asks, his voice crackling in the speakers.

You sigh, gritting your teeth as you turn on the video call. Your face appears on the screen— if you weren’t bleeding out and losing consciousness every few minutes, you would be gasping in horror at the sight of your reflection. Dear Aeons, you look horrendous. You blindly show your surroundings for the men to see where you’re at, but you don’t think you’re doing it correctly. Your arm soon grew tired, and your arms collapsed beside you.

“I’m really sleepy, guys,” you whisper, swallowing the lump in your throat. You nearly gagged when you tasted a mouthful of blood. You don’t know how much more you can hold on until they find you.

“Does anyone recognize that area? We’re not from the Xianzhou Luofu— nothing looks familiar for us,” Sampo mutters, gazing at the others worriedly.

Luocha steps forward and takes Blade’s phone from Mr. Yang’s grasp. “I know this is going to be complicated for you, but do not fall asleep, alright? Keep your eyes open and try to stop the bleeding. We’ll be right there soon,” Luocha instructs.

The men hear and see nothing coming from Blade’s phone. The camera is pointed to the sky of  the Xianzhou Luofu— they see the color of your hair peeking in the corner. You rub your eyes and press your hands against the deep gash on your abdomen. You lift your head to see various cuts on your body. All are bleeding.

You whisper, “Which ones do I cover? There’s too many,” you mumble, gazing at the gashes with bleary eyes. 

You let your head fall back on the ground, attempting to cover up as many as you can. How much longer are you going to hold on? You can hear a commotion coming through Blade’s phone as you lie on the ground, your phone lying beside your head. You didn’t think you could die in a universe you didn’t belong to.

“Stay on the phone with us, alright? We’ll be there soon, we promise,” you hear Blade say through the phone.

You can’t tell if Blade is panicking or not. He sounds so far away, no matter how close your phone is to your ears. How could this have happened anyway? It was all your fault, wasn’t it? Were you reckless like last time? No, no. Last time, the Astral Express was under attack. But this time, you left the Astral Express and ended up getting attacked by the Mara-struck. And now look at you, bleeding out on the Xianzhou Luofu while trying to stay conscious.

“You’re not mad at me, are you?” You whisper, staring at the clear blue sky above you.

Luka grunts. “We’re not mad at you, [Y/N]. We’re very worried about you,” Luka replies.

Luka is trying his best to remain calm, but his heart is racing against his chest to the point he fears it might burst. 

You close your eyes, feeling nausea hitting you. “Is Nanook mad at me?” you ask weakly.

Dan Heng looks at Nanook from the corner of his eyes as they run through Cloudford, searching for you. It’s just them racing against the clock to get to where you are— racing against the clock to save you. But will they make it on time before you lose consciousness?

Dan Heng shakes his head. “I’m sure he’s not mad at you, [Y/N]. Why do you think that?”

You crack a smile. “I… Nanook and I aren’t connected with each other anymore. Did I do something wrong for him to sever that tie between us?” You whisper, tears blurring your vision. “If I did something to upset him, please let him know that I’m sorry for whatever it is that I have done to upset him.”

Nanook snatches the phone and gazes into the camera, his gold eyes searching for your face. “I’m not mad at you, little one. However, if you lose consciousness, I will be upset with you,” Nanook states.

You laugh weakly, tears rolling down the side of your face. “I’m sorry, everyone. I’m sorry for not being strong enough,” you whisper.

Just when you lose consciousness, you feel someone cradle you in their arms. Your vision slowly turns black as the voices around you fade away— almost sounding like you’re underwater, sinking deeper into the depths.

“No, no, no, no! Please don’t leave me,” Nanook whispers, pressing you against his chest.

Your head lolls back, laying limp in his arms as blood continues to pour out of your wounds. Luocha kneels before you and Nanook, frantically trying to heal the cuts and deep gashes on your body. Sampo, March, and Himeko look nauseous at the sight of the pool of blood below you and Nanook.

March looked away, closing her eyes as a stray tear made its way down her cheeks. “Please tell me [Y/N]’s going to be okay, please,” March pleads.

Nanook presses his index and middle finger against the side of your neck, frantically searching for a pulse. Nanook buries his face into your neck, his body wracking with sobs as he holds onto you tighter. You can’t be gone. Please, please, please, please. Luocha’s hands fall to his side, and he looks away. 

“Well?” Dan Heng demands, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

Luocha shakes his head, tears rolling down his flushed cheeks. Luocha grabs your cold hand and presses a kiss on your knuckles. Maybe in another lifetime, you will meet them again. But for now, stars don’t live on forever.

Note: Just because this is angst with death doesn't mean it impacts the overall HSR isekai series. This is a mini-fic, and to make it up to all of you, I will make a Nanook smut for this upcoming week! Yes, smut is finally here! Nanook got the majority of votes. Therefore Nanook is the first HSR male character to be getting smut! As I have stated in my Genshin Isekai fics, the fics in the series are like my multi-verse. Anything can happen in these fics, but it will not significantly impact the overall series. So, even if something traumatic happened to the reader in one fic, the next fic, it never happened to the reader. Some things will impact the story, but others won't be mentioned in other fics. For those who want to be on the taglist, here is the [Google Form]. For those who want to join the Discord server but weren't able to, here is the new temporary link to [Zhongli's Abode]! Please make sure to read the server rules— you can lurk, chat and hang out on the server if you'd like! If you don't vibe with the server, you can leave whenever you want ^^ To my new and/or returning readers, please keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

Taglist for the HSR one-shot series: @mompt2, @elegantnightblaze, @lunavixia, @jadedist, @reversearrowhead, @pinksaiyans, @aurelia-xyt, @lilliansstuff, @ssunset0, @starrry-angel, @kaoyamamegami, @kodzuvk, @for3very0urs, @a-cosmicdawn, @g3n0dtt, @theblades, @raaawwwr, @immahuman, @irisxiel, @siaracarroll, @crazydreamcat, @sagekun, @orichalcumthief, @dyingsweetmackerel, @rosiesareblue, @ichikanu, @hispasian-otaku, @asoulsreverie (Accounts that I was unable to tag are not tagged in this fic. Those who do not want to be tagged in a specific fic are not tagged. Remember to check your settings to see if you're allowing people to mention you/tag you in posts or not)

Read more of my works on my Masterlist / Masterlist 2 | Maybe support me by tipping me on Ko-Fi or by reblogging my fanfics! ^^ I will also be posting exclusive fanfics on Ko-Fi as well very soon! I might post all of my stories on there too, but who knows. You can also tip me on Tumblr if you'd like as a way to show support! ^^

[nackrosor]

~Warm, Soft and Alive~

Captain John Price x sergeant fem!reader

8,5 k. - Your captain comes knocking at your door in the middle of the night after the umpteenth nightmare of you dying in his arms jolts him awake.

warnings: porn with plot & feelings, light angst, emotional hurt/comfort, soft dom, light power dynamics, praise kink, sleepy sex, multiple orgasms, mildly dubcon (just because you're very eepy), dry humping (except it's very wet), first time together, underlying romantic fluff, I'm not sure if this can be counted as somno but just in case I'm mentioning it.

John has seen many people die. He has witnessed a great deal of bloodshed, both among enemy's and friendly' line. He had his own soldiers fall on missions, fine men and women giving their own lives in order to save others. Some even took their last breaths in his arms. He remembers each one of them.

Everything was heightened during the early years. Every death devastated him, causing him nightmares and awful flashbacks... But as the years went by, his skin thickened and his mind grew used to the atrocities. Nothing could get through to him anymore.

Or so he thought.

He can't seem to shake off the image of you bloody and unconscious, laying in his arms as he puts pressure on the gnashing wound on your side, trying to reduce the blood loss. He can't forget the anguish he felt while looking at you in such a miserable state. How on edge he was on the frantic ride back to camp, with you falling in and back from consciousness the whole time. Those weak groans and cries of pain that left your lips still echo in his ears. He can't forget how lost he felt as the medics took your limp body from his arms and rushed to the operating room to get you under the knife. To save your life. You had lost so much blood on the way... There was a high possibility that you wouldn't... That you... He wouldn't have been able to forgive himself if you did. Thankfully, you’ve always been so strong. One of his best soldiers. You perdured. You lived. You healed. Still, he can't forget a second of it all. The sight of your limp battered body sagged against him haunts his dreams to this day. Months after the event. No matter how many times he sees you strolling about the HQ, chatting with your mates, smiling and nodding at him as you pass by. Every night he has the same nightmare of you dying in his arms, and his mind is pestered by fear and doubts. What if he truly lost you? What if you didn’t make it?

Another nightmare has woken him tonight, robbing him of sleep. And at this point, he knows there will be no peace for him until he sees you breathing and standing on your feet with his own two eyes. He can't wait for the morning, for you to wake up. He needs to see you right now, lest he loses his mind entirely. 

That's why he's marching to your quarters through the dark hallways of the HQ. Pace hurried, heart aching in his chest, head still whirling from the dreadful images of your life slipping away from those pretty eyes of yours. He can't take it one second longer. His fist hits the metal surface of your door a bit harder than he intended to, but he needs you to hear him and come open the door as quickly as possible. 

You jolt awake at the sudden knock on your door. Your heavy eyes flicker to the alarm clock on the nightstand, a groan leaving your lips upon noticing the green light signaling 2:40 am.

With much effort, you turn on the lamp then drag your feet off the bed and towards the entrance, groggily swaying the door open.

"Who the fuck-" You're ready to protest and tell off whoever dares to interrupt your sleep, but the words die on your tongue when your half-closed eyes land on your captain.

One glance at your half-asleep, messy look and all the tension washes off of his body like soothing water. 

“Can I come in?” John’s voice sounds shaky, the relief of seeing you battling with the effects of the nightmare still lingering in his mind.

"Uhhh-" you look up at him, momentarily taken aback by his request, your mind still clouded by sleep. Why is your captain at your door, at such a late hour, asking to come inside your room? Perhaps you're still lost in your dreamworld. 

With a sluggish shrug, you eventually move aside and let him step inside. 

John shuts the door behind him, quietly. It is darker inside your room than out, but he can make you out in the darkness thanks to the faint yellow light coming from the abajour on your nightstand. 

His eyes trail down your body, checking you over as discreetly as possible for any signs of injury; a habit he’s taken on since that day. There’s an urge to grab your arms and hold you still so he can run his hands over you, check that you’re real and solid in front of him.

You don't notice his scrutinizing gaze as you rub your hands over your face, trying to wipe the sleepiness out of your features.

"Hm, cap?" you call out for him, your voice raspy and drowsy. One of your hands lazily tug at your thin top, adjusting the straps on your shoulders. "What happened?"

The way you pull at your clothes has John quickly sweep his gaze over the exposed skin. He’s seen you in a similar attire countless times before, but for some reason tonight this sight of you has his stomach flipping.

“Nothin’ happened. I just-“ he breaks off. John can’t admit that he’s here because he woke up from yet another nightmare of you bloody and broken, dying in his arms.

“I needed to see you.”

The words take a moment to register in your hazy mind, and when they do, you blink at him in confusion.

"Hm. Me... ? Why?" you ask him hesitantly, a slight frown taking form on your face. You shift awkwardly on your feet, your head tilting to the side as you look up at him with your doe eyes. Your fingers scratch mindlessly at an old scar on your bicep.

His eyes flicker to your arm. The sigh has his heart twisting in his chest. He knows all of your scars, old and new. And he remembers that one clearly, even more than the others. Perhaps because he wasn’t the one to patch you up that time.

John takes a step forward, closing the space between you two. It’s suddenly stifling in your room, and he’s hyper aware of how thin your top is and how much he wants to touch you. 

Your head cranes upward as he steps closer, your eyes unwavering from his face.

"...Cap?" you whisper softly, your frown deepening at his silence. You hold onto your arm with undisguised unease, warming up your bare skin with your palm.

John reaches to brush some of your messy hair away from your face. Your skin is warm beneath his palm, soothing the coldness in his chest. All those moments of seeing your lifeless body flicker in and out of his mind, and here you are. Warm and soft and very much alive.

He can’t stop himself. John brings his other hand up to lightly touch your shoulder, his fingers tracing the slope of your bare collarbone.

Your flinch of surprise to his touch is delayed, your tired eyes widening imperceptibly as they dart to his hand on your collarbone before moving back to his face.

You're not sure what's happening. Sleep still lingers in your mind, muffling your thoughts, slowing your instincts.

"John...?"

The way you say his name, all soft and quiet and surprised, has his heart giving a thump against his chest. John is aware he’s being too forward. He’s your Captain, he shouldn’t be here, this close to you. Touching your bare skin, in your room. It’s not right, it’s not proper. But after waking from those nightmares for the umpteenth time, all he wants to do is touch you. Reassure himself that you’re safe, that you’re real and here standing in front of him.

John can’t look away. In the low light of your room, your eyes still manage to stand out, full of life even when clouded by fatigue. His fingers trail from your collarbone to your jaw, the rough pad of his thumb brushing along the underside of your chin. The contact has you shivering and your eyelids fluttering. You lean into his touch on instinct, heart stuttering in your chest.

He’s suddenly reminded of many a night spent together on a cold ground, of times when you’d curl up beside him and he wrapped his arm around you and kept you warm and safe and alive. He doesn't know if you remember, if you've ever noticed, but he does remember. He craves that feeling again. 

John lets his touch wander down the side of your neck, feeling the quick beat of your pulse. Alive. Alive. Alive.

"What's the matter…?" you whisper drowsily, heavy eyes locking onto his again, your hand reaching up to wrap around his wrist.

He can see the tiredness in your eyes, hear it in the groggy whisper of your words. You don’t seem to register what’s going on, not like he does. The way your hand gently wraps around his wrist causes his heart to miss a beat, a pang of possessive need filling his chest.

“Just-“ he swallows roughly, trying to control the sudden urge to push you down on the bed and cover your body with his own. “Need to make sure you’re okay.”

Your brows furrow at his words, head tilting again in confusion, your doe eyes staring deeply into his.

"Why wouldn't I be?" 

That pout you make when you're confused? He finds it adorable. And you’re pouting now, staring up at him through heavy eyes, not a clue in the world about the memories or the nightmares that have been tormenting him.

John’s fingers grip your chin, holding your face steady so he can look at you. To really look at you. Your soft face, your slightly chapped lips, the dopey eyes that don’t seem to understand.

“I need to make sure,” he repeats. His voice gravelly and deep, rough in a way that even surprises himself.

You blink slowly, sluggishly, keeping your eyes on him despite the urge to close them.

"Cap, I'm all in one piece." you say softly, a hint of protest in your voice. Lazily raising your arms as if to point out that you are in fact all intact, you add, "see?"

The innocent gesture has his stomach twisting. Your top rides up, baring more skin, a slice of your stomach exposed in the dark. When you drop your arms again, the movement causes the fabric to ride up even more, the top shifting along your shoulder and causing the strap to dip down, just enough to show the upper edge of your breast.

John’s eyes fix on the sight, on that sliver of smooth, naked skin. The need to run his hands all over you, feel everything and confirm you’re here, is so strong that he releases your chin and grabs at your forearms instead, fingers curling around your soft flesh.

He pulls you a little closer, until he can look down at you easier. A rough sigh leaves his lips as he gives you a slow glance over. One hand pulls your top back into place. His fingers linger on your bare skin, brushing along the strap.

"I can see that.” 

Your stomach flips at the way he grabs onto your forearms, at the way he stares down at you with such intensity. You still can't wrap your head around what's happening; it all feels like a dream, both so vivid and dazed.

With your arms restrained by his grasp, you bend your head to one side and rub the corner of your eye with your shoulder, causing the strap to drop again. This time, he does not slide it back on. 

"Then... Can I go back to sleep?" you ask him softly, quietly, a hint of plea in your voice. A yawn escapes you right after.

John’s grip on your flesh tightens at the sight of your yawn, but it’s the sound of your slight plea in your quiet voice that makes his stomach do a flip.

“Not yet,” he mutters, not sure if he’s doing it to make himself feel better or because he’s enjoying the rush of power it gives him, holding you. “Gotta ask you somethin’ first.”

A breathy groan leaves your lips at his words. Your eyes, heavy and droopy, blink lazily at him.

"What... is... it?"

John’s fingers wander down, tracing along your collarbone again and lingering at your pulse point. You’re so tired and half out of it, that you don’t even seem to realize what he’s doing. He’s having a hard time controlling the urge to pull you against him, wrap himself around you and let the feeling of you pressed against him ease the flashbacks in his mind. You’re so soft and warm beneath his hand. The fact that he’s touching you like this, that he’s touching your bare skin and you’re letting him, is making him feel drunk on power.

“Do somethin’ f’me?”

You simply nod, slowly and mindlessly, bleary eyes drooping and resting for just a moment before you return your gaze to him.

"Whatever you need, sir..." you murmur under your breath, your words garbled from weariness.

Sir.

He nearly winces at the sound of his title coming out of your sleepy mouth. It does something to him, hearing you call him that when you’re like this. Soft and malleable and so compliant in your groggy state.

John is a strong man, but that? That makes him weak. So weak that he almost pulls you flush against him right there and then, to just hold you and feel you, really feel you. His mind immediately conjures up the many things he needs from you, some of which have nothing to do with his nightmares. You’re barely even fully aware of what you’re agreeing to, how vulnerable you are right now... But he takes a deep breath in, keeping his thoughts under control, focusing on the matter at hand.

“Need you to not be so reckless in the future.”

The words are gruff, but there’s an underlying hint of worry in them. He hates how much the sight of you lying limp and wounded in his arms messed with him, screwed with his mind. So much so that he hasn't been able to get some shuteye in months. 

"Reckless?" you parrot, looking lost. Your face lazily scrunches up in a puzzled frown, your eyes dropping to slits. Your mind is too muddled to connect the dots, to realize what he's referring to. The incident that almost took your life is so far off in your thoughts, so far off in time too, that you barely remember it happening at all. The only poignant memory you're left of the event is the large but healed scar on your side.

"Reckless." John repeats, his fingers leaving your collarbone to trace along that one little faint scar on your bicep, his mind instantly reeling with images of that nasty gash on your side he tried so desperately to clog with his hands. “You could have died.”

The rough tone of his voice seems to lift some of the fog from your mind, the words 'you could have died' resonating within you. Your hand twitches, yearning to move to your face and rub your eyes again, but his hold keeps your arms still.

"But I didn't." you whisper, your voice raspy. "And it's been months since."

John's fingers tighten almost imperceptibly around your arms. It's been months since it happened, and he still gets nightmares about cradling your bleeding body in his arms. Even months later, the sight of you being so close to death causes him to jolt awake with his heart hammering in his ribcage. Yes, it has been months, but for him, it happens again and again every fucking night. That moment is ever present in his mind.

“And I don’t want a repeat of it.” He says darkly. John glances down at you again, trying not to get caught up in the sight of you. “I don’t want that to ever happen again.”

You blink at him, his voice making your stomach churn. When he adopts that imposing tone of his, all you can do is nod and whisper, "Yes, sir."

John lets out a low huff out of his nose at the immediate obedience. That sense of power he’d felt earlier spikes, burning hot in his chest. 

He should back away. Let you go back to bed and get some sleep. You’re tired, you’re vulnerable and sleepy… and wearing that goddamn skimpy excuse for a top.

But instead, he hears himself saying: "Lie down... and let me see the wound." 

His order has your fuzzy mind spin. Your tired eyes widen in disbelief and confusion, seemingly regaining some focus.

"T-The scar's perfectly healed, cap. Why would you need to-"

The words stumble from your lips, groggy and tired, as you try to make sense of his demand. He can see the surprise flash in your weary eyes at his request, can feel the way you go to protest against his order. John’s grip on your upper arms tightens, his fingers pressing down into your soft flesh, shutting you up before you can finish your sentence.

“I'm not asking.” he says gruffly, his voice that low, authoritative tone that you’d usually instantly comply with. He moves even closer, making you have to crane your neck to keep looking at him.

“Lie down and show it to me.”

Your breath hitches at the way his grip tightens on your arms, at the way his voice drops gravely as he reaffirms his command.

You only stall for a moment, gulping, doe eyes boring into his, before you gently pull back from his hold and pad to the bed, tiredly easing yourself down onto the mattress. Your fingers roll up the hem of your top to the underside of your breasts, exposing your left side to him.

You’re disoriented and confused, mind fuzzy from sleep, but you still listen to him. You listen to his order. John’s mind is reeling as he takes in the sight of you lying on the bed. You’re obeying him so easily. So readily. And goddamnit, it’s making him feel insane. You’re following his every word like a good little soldier…

John lets his eyes rake down your form on the bed. You look so vulnerable, so soft and tired. It sparks a possessive urge in his chest. His eyes track the way your messy hair splays out on the pillow and the way your top slides up as you bare your skin to him. He follows you to the edge of the bed. His eyes keep flickering down to your stomach, to the bare skin that looks so very soft and warm and inviting.

The mattress dips beneath his weight as he sits down beside you with one knee settled on the bed and the other leg hanging from the edge.

He knows he’s being pushy, taking advantage of you like this, he knows it. You’re half out of it and clearly confused and he’s using it to his advantage. But the nightmares are too fresh on his mind, still replaying in flashes, and you looking so damn vulnerable and soft beneath him right now has all his instincts on edge.

John's eyes hungrily devour the sight of your exposed side, his eyes falling on the soft curves and the pale, fading scar; the wound reduced to a light puckered line, but nonetheless a stark reminder of how close you came to dying. How close he came to losing you.

You lie there, silently, heavy-lidded eyes gazing up at him. Your breathing is slightly altered just like the pace of your heart. Even through the drowsiness, you seem to realize how odd the situation is... The effects John's presence in your room, on your bed, so close to you, have on your tired body are evident. What you can't seem to pick up on is that strange flicker passing across his gaze as he examines your scar.

You keep silent though, simply staring up at him and keeping the fabric of your top rolled up, slightly pulling up your braless breasts with your hand as well, to push them out of the way.

John's eyes follow the way your chest slightly rises and falls with your breath. He notices the way it seems to stutter as his eyes drift over you. He doesn't know what to focus on. Your messy hair sprawled over the pillow, the soft curve of your breasts just barely exposed as you lift up the fabric of your top, your bare stomach and the faded scar. His eyes keep flickering from one part of you to the other, his mind going haywire at the sight of you, vulnerable and lying in front of him like this.

His mind begins to fill up with all kinds of thoughts. Thoughts of taking your top off entirely. Seeing all of you bared to him. Feeling your soft skin against his and running his hands all over you. Feeling your warm body under his own.

No matter how much he tries to resist, he can't refrain from reaching out with his hand and let his calloused fingers graze the bare skin of your scar.

The jolt of your body and the sound of you drawing in a sharp breath has his instincts flare in warning. But you don't recoil, you just look at him with wide, hazy eyes. Your body so close and warm and tense beneath his hand. So responsive to the touch, reacting without you even meaning to.

John's hand continues to graze over the skin of your scar, his thumb rubbing over the skin slowly, gently, feeling the way your stomach flexes beneath his touch. His eyes flicker up from the pale scar to look at your face.

"Does it still hurt?”

"It-" you try to answer, but your voice comes out raspy. That forces you to take a moment to clear your throat and wet your dry lips before trying again. "It itches or tingles from time to time... but it's nothing, really." you admit in a whisper, voice still raw as if reluctant to come out. Your fingers tighten a little on the fabric of the top, keeping it still on your chest.

"I see."

John's fingers keep moving over the scar tissue. Feeling the bumps and ridges of the skin, his eyes fixated on your stomach, on how you respond to his touch. Every breath and twitch and soft gasp makes his entire body flare up. It's a struggle to keep his mind somewhat coherent.

His eyes slowly move to your hands balled into the fabric of the top, the way you're holding on just a little bit tighter. He can tell that you're conscious of the fact that you're not fully clothed and that you're feeling vulnerable. Yet, he can't keep his hand away.

"Does it hurt now?" He reiterates. His hands continue to glide across the scar, fingers slowly tracing along the soft curve of your stomach.

You meekly shake your head in response. Your neck cocked slightly to the side, allowing your gaze to drift to his hand and watch as his fingers travel over your skin, so carefully, tenderly, yet... possessive.

"It... tingles a little." you whisper, muscles flexing again under his touch.

He's intoxicated by the sight of you underneath him, and you're responding so sweetly to his touch. Vulnerable, exhausted, but oh, so soft, warm, and sensitive. It's making him lose his mind, seeing you like this. Feeling your heat against his fingers. Seeing you in that damn top barely cresting just under your breasts.

Without thinking, he shifts on the mattress, leaning down to press his lips on your scar.

You gasp sharply, body arching at the sudden contact. Your tired eyes widen and the fabric of your top falls from your hold as you plant your palms on either side of you on the mattress, slightly lifting your torso from the bed.

John is getting addicted to your noises. To the way you gasp and arch beneath his touch. It's like a sick taste of what it would be like to really have you like this. To have you writhing beneath him, moaning and gasping because of him.

His hand tightens on your stomach. He can feel the muscles flex beneath his touch, the way your body reacts on instinct to his lips on the scar. He doesn't think. He just acts. He kisses the scar again, feeling a sense of possession wash over him at the feeling of your soft skin against his lips.

You flinch again at each kiss, soft gasps falling from your lips as you stare down at him, confused, dazed...

"C-Cap...?" you hesitantly call for him, your voice barely audible, breathless. "W-what are you-"

"Shh."

His free hand comes up to rest on your side, fingers splaying across the skin and holding you in place. Holding you down. He doesn't know what the hell he's doing. He's losing control, feeling drunk just from having you below him, reacting to his touch. Letting him do all these things... letting him take all these liberties without even fighting back.

He shouldn't be doing this. Taking advantage of you like this. But your skin is just so soft, and you're so responsive to him, and he can't stop himself. This is his medicine. His medicine against the nightmares, against the horrible memories plaguing his mind. 

Soft gasp after gasp is falling from your lips, sweet in John's ears. The sound and the sight of your body arching below him, writhing at his every touch, is driving him insane. Your fingers digging into the sheets, your body trembling and shaking in his hold, the way your chest rises and falls with your labored breaths. It's all just so damn good. A stark contrast to the sight that wakes him up every damn night. He needs to see you like this. To have you arching and writhing and gasping under him. To see you alive.

He sucks a hot, slow kiss into the sensitive skin of your abdomen, tasting the salty sweat on your skin. His fingers dig into the flesh at your side, holding you down against the bed and keeping you completely in place. His other hand drifts up slowly, tracing over the soft curve of your ribs, his fingers brushing against the bottom curve of your breast, slipping under the top.

"Oh~!"

The unexpected sensation of his rough fingers touching the delicate flesh of your breast sends your fuzzy thoughts spinning. Is this really happening? You can't think straight. And you're convinced that even without the lethargy of weariness inhibiting your judgment, you wouldn't be able to think clearly. Not with your captain kissing your tummy, cradling your breasts, and keeping you pinned to the bed. Your handsome captain… whom you secretly adore...

Your mewling gasp makes a bolt of heat shoot up his spine and all the blood in his body head straight south. The noise that escapes from your lips has his hand reflexively closing over your breast, his fingers squeezing on the warm, supple flesh. A dark, possessive part of his mind revels in the noises you're making, in the way your body shivers at his touch. In having you pinned down with his hand and mouth on your skin. No fight back, no pushing him away, no words of complaint fall from your lips as he kisses and touches and holds you down with little effort. He would pull away from you if you asked him to, he believes that strongly. He would never hurt you, even with the promise of making you feel better. But you aren't pushing him away. You are not protesting. You're not showing him any signs of objections. And it isn't only because you are worn out. He can see it in your eyes and hear it in the way you respond to his touch. You like it, you enjoy his attention. And that's enough to spur him further.

His fingers delicately caress the smooth curve of your breast, feeling the pillowy and tender flesh just beneath his fingertips. He has lost all sense of control at this point. All sense of reason. All he can think about is how soft you are, how warm and malleable beneath him, how deeply he craves to touch more of you…

He lifts his hands, tugging at the fabric of your top, revealing your chest to his gaze. He can't resist a second longer, and he pounces on your breast, attaching his lips on your hard nipple. His eyes flicker up to your face, taking in your expression, your glazed eyes, the way your back arches up, and your lips part to let those delicious moans escape.

A shiver of pleasure strikes your tired form. One of your hands moves spontaneously to his head, fingers threading in his hair, not to push him away, but to hold him there, against your chest. That provokes a pleased hum to rumble in his throat. It only serves as confirmation that you’re not trying to stop him but rather holding him against you. Encouraging him, even. And he's more than inclined to indulge you.

He's lost every ounce of his restraint at this point. He can't recall why he came to your room in the first place. What was he seeking for? Just to look at you. Or perhaps he subconsciously hoped for more. Now... There is no going back from this. And all he knows is that he's going to make you feel good, make you feel alive and to engrave the sight of you, high on pleasure, into his tortured mind so that it may take the place of any other horrible memories he has of you.

"John..." you whine softly, breathlessly, your half-closed eyes peering down at him, watching as he cradles your breasts and sucks on your nipple, scratching and tickling your sensitive skin with his beard. Your entire body is ablaze, tightening from both fatigue and yearning.

Hearing the sweet quivering sound of your voice uttering his name in the quiet night has his heart thunder in his chest. He keeps his focus on your face, watching how the mist in your eyes seems to intensify. 

He pulls away from your tits with a wet sound just long enough to speak, his voice deep and rough. "Say my name again."

John's mind is slowly slipping into a haze of lust and possessiveness. He's never heard his name sound like that ever before. It's like a drug, something that hooks over his core and keeps him there, wanting to make you utter his name again and again in that pleading tone as if you were begging for more.

He can't take it any longer. Without any warning, he's pulling back from your chest and peeling his shirt off, discarding it as if it was scorching his skin. He doesn’t give you time to register one action, before he rushes onto another. Rough hands grabbing onto the waistband of your shorts and tugging them down in one firm and swift motion.

Your muffled mind struggles to keep up. Droopy, glazed eyes try to follow his movements, your hands idly resting on the mattress, your bare chest raising and falling heavily, mouth open and drawing each breath in quick, quivering gasps. Your newly exposed thighs press together out of instinct, attempting to give you relief from the ache in your core. You can feel the dampness of your panties as they brush against the inner flesh of your thighs. You can feel how aroused you are for him.

John's eyes immediately catch the subtle movement of your legs bending at the knee and rubbing together. And his hands don't take long to follow. He's now hunched over you, his large build dwarfing your smaller, supple body. His hand travels along the inner surface of your trembling thigh, gliding over the smooth skin till his fingers reach the edge of your underwear, then slide across the thin fabric. He can feel the heat and the wetness through the material and that’s enough to trigger a deep groan from the back of his throat, a sound that's somewhere between an exhale and a growl.

This night has gone so far off course he doubts either of you will be able to look at each other the same way after this. But he doesn't care. All he cares about is being with you, and making you feel good. He's not thinking anymore. Thinking has fled his mind. 

He pushes your legs apart, letting his hands run up your thighs towards your center, feeling your muscles tense at his touch.

“Oh, my sweet girl…” he coos, gliding his palm over the expanse of your panties, making you whimper in response, trembling in delight at the contact and his words.

His voice is low, deep, and full of praise as he looks down at you, watching intently the way your body reacts to his touch.

“My pretty girl…”

He repeats the motion, this time with a little more pressure, rubbing the flat of his palm against your clothed heat, watching with a deep, possessive pride the way your thighs shiver and twitch at his touch. He can feel the dampness leaking through the fabric, the heat and the moisture soaking into his skin.

"My reckless, pretty, pretty girl…." he says, his tone firm and territorial, with a tinge of frustration edging it.

He sweeps his hand over the small patch of fabric that covers you, pressing the heel of his palm to your swelling bundle of nerves, drawing a tight circular pattern over it while relishing the way your thighs spasm and your eyelids flutter.

"Giving me such a fright…"

The firm, unyielding pressure of the palm against you sends waves and waves of ecstasy shooting straight to your core. You attempt to speak, to ask him what he means, but only whimpers leave your lips.

He drinks in the sight of you, flushed and breathless, thighs twitching and clenching, chest rising and falling with you heavy breaths, trying to speak but unable to form coherent words. You're so desperate for him, so responsive to his touch, it's making his head spin. He wants to see more of you, he needs it to forget the nightmares. He needs you. 

He moves closer, his hand still firmly rubbing against your heat, fingers curling on the drenched fabric, as he nuzzles your neck and presses scorching, wet kisses all over your skin. His mustaches and beard tease your skin, amplifying the tingling feeling that spreads throughout your body. 

His gaze burns into yours, holding you captive as he moves his palm over your heat in slow, languid circles, watching every expression and twitch of your face from up close, taking every noise that escapes your lips as a hint, making him adjust his touches until he gets the prettiest, loudest moan from you.

"Getting yourself hurt…"

He rubs his hand even more firmly, his palm moving faster and faster, applying more and more pressure on your sensitive nub, as if to emphasize every word he is saying, but it only causes you to lose more focus on his voice.

“Do you have any idea what it does to me… to see you in danger?” he whispers, his voice deep and rough. His free hand slides under your head, to hold onto the nape of your neck. “To see you in pain?”

If you were out of your mind before, you're being totally pushed out of your body now as he takes you closer and closer to the edge. You hear him, you understand what he is saying, but you are unable to form a single thought; you lack the energy to answer or apologize.

Your whole body is buzzing like a live wire, every nerve on fire, your mind blank with primal urges. 

He's watching your face, watching your eyelids flutter with each stroke of his hand, watching your lips part and your tongue slip to moisten them, watching you shiver and writhe under him, whimpering and desperate for release.

"You give me too many damn heart attacks, you know that? Keepin’ me up every night…"

“M’sorry-” you manage to cry out, gazing up at him but battling to keep your eyes open. Your hands find his tensed arm, and cling onto it for support as you feel the knot in your belly tightening, your body arching in anticipation.

Your apology is hardly coherent. He can hear the slur in your jumbled words, feel the tremors in your frame, see your eyes struggling to stay focused, your body arching and bucking and quivering under his touch, your fingers digging into his arm as if you're trying to hold on for dear life.

“I know, doll…” he croons, lips grazing the side of your jaw, close to your ear. You can feel his warm breath fanning your skin, rising goosebumps all over it.

“You’ll be the death of me… but you’re so damn beautiful-”

You look so helpless, so lovely like this. He just wants to give you what you want. His hand grinds against you, harder but steadier, increasing the pressure in a demanding and relentless motion. His eyes keen on watching the way you wriggle and arch, the way your eyes squeeze shut and your jaw falls slack as he ultimately pushes you over the edge.

"That's it, doll... that's it... come for me... my sweet girl…”

Your release is a sight to behold. Your body tenses like a bowstring before you climax, your moans and gasps turning into mewls of his name with the last shred of breath in your lungs, your eyes flying wide open and rolling back in your head, your nails sinking into his arm… then your entire body goes limp. Your legs tremble and spasm beneath him as he guides you through the aftershocks. John doesn't let up, doesn't stop moving his palm, prolonging your peak until you're left spent and boneless, breathing heavily. Only then does his hand slowly come to a halt, brushing one final time over your soaked panties as he lowers his forehead on yours. His breath comes out in ragged gasps, his gaze glued to your pretty face, his fingers leisurely rubbing the back of your head. When he moves slightly to pull back and take you in, he becomes acutely aware of the strain in his bulge, struggling against the confinement of his jeans. He quickly unzips them and lets his stiff length breathe, with him drawing in a shuddering breath as well.

He chances a look at your panties, the possessive pride in him flares up at the sight; the fabric is so drenched it’s become see-through. His fingers gently move over it, his eyes instantly flashing to your face as you protest weakly at the contact. You're still lost in the high, eyes closed, lips parted, and chest heaving heavily. He’s never seen anything more beautiful; the image is going to be forever burnt to the inside of his eyelids. Well, he hopes so. He’d gladly wake up every fucking night at the memory of this, instead.

John watches you for a moment, letting you regain your bearings. If he could, he would keep you in this state, breathless and blissed-out… but he needs more. He’s only had a taste and he’s already addicted.

“You with me, doll…?”

He murmurs the words against your lips, a small, amused smile tugging at his mouth at the way you don’t even pretend to be coherent. You were barely conscious before, he doubts you’ll be able to keep your eyes open for the rest of the night… but he needs you to be present for what comes next.

He dips in and draws your nipple into his mouth, sucking on it before gently nipping it between his teeth, like he’s coaxing you back to consciousness.

You whine softly, eyes fluttering and slowly managing to open up. Your hand instinctively reaches out for his hair. 

Your fingers pull on his short strands just the way he likes it, making his eyes grow dark. And he can’t help but chuckle as he notices your half-lidded attempt at a smile, watching your tired self struggle to lift the corner of your mouth as if it took all your strength to do so.

He reaches down, fingers curling around your jaw and gently shaking it to make sure you focus on him. “There you are…” He coos, his voice deep and gravelly. “Did I wear you out already, sweetdoll?”

You groan, eyes dropping closed again and slowly opening up a few seconds later.

“Hmm… ‘was already worn out-” you slur, voice hoarse and quiet, almost as if it's coming from someplace distant. 

You’re barely lucid, half-conscious, and yet you’re still trying to sass him. That’s his girl.

He chuckles again, shaking his head as he leans in to nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck. He’s smiling widely as he presses open-mouthed kisses to your skin, traveling up your jaw, the corner of your mouth, your cheek.

"I know, sweetheart. I know..." He murmurs the words against your temple, his fingers gently stroking the side of your face, caressing over your cheekbones, your eyelashes, your mouth.

"But you're about to sleep on me. Can't have that…"

He wraps his fingers around your jaw and gives it another gentle squeeze. “You’ll have to stay awake a little longer, sweetheart. Can you do that for me?”

He keeps his firm grip on your jaw, waiting patiently for your hazy eyes to focus back on him. The expression you wear, dazed and exhausted, is like something out of his most depraved, shameful dreams.

“I don’t know if I can, John…” 

His expression softens at the sound of your weak voice. He can’t deny that you look downright adorable right now, your eyes droopy and half closed, your jaw slack in his hand, every inch of you vulnerable and malleable in his grasp. 

He lets go of your jaw and gently runs a hand through your hair, smoothing the loose strands away from your face. “Try for me, doll. Can you at least try?”

Your head lolls tiredly against the pillow, following the movement of his hand, a quiet hum leaving your lips. "M'so tired..." Your slurred whisper is barely audible, your voice growing ever distant. Your eyes cross as your eyelids droop again. 

John sighs. He can see the exhaustion in your face, the way your eyes keep wanting to slip close against your will, how much you desperately want to give into the fatigue. You look like you’re about to pass out at any moment now.

His hand keeps on caressing your hair as he weighs his options in his mind, trying to figure out what he should do. He can’t deny that he wants to do so many things to you… One above all, peeling those ruined panties off your legs and burying his face in your wetness, devouring your cunt and every drop of your juices like a man starved and feeling your soft thighs twitch and tremble and clamp against his head. Then he would sink his cock inside your still fluttering walls and watch your spent body come alive again an again and again as he fucks you all night long.

His eyes drop to your thighs, his jaw clenching tight. He can feel his stomach twisting and his erection throb painfully in longing even only at the thought of doing all of that to you. But you’re too exhausted. Too out of it. He wants you to enjoy every second of what he plans to do to you, but in your state you wouldn’t be able to.

His eyes flicker to your face again and he leans in to gently kiss your lips. He feels you respond, even if meekly. He pulls back to look down at you again, your eyes reduced to slits but fixed on him. Your hand lazily reaches up to cradle his cheek. He smiles at the gesture, his heart fluttering in his chest.

Maybe he can do one last thing before you doze off to sleep. 

Carefully, he eases himself down next to you, lying on the mattress on his side and gently moving your body so he’s spooning you.

“Stay awake for me just a couple more moments, hm? Just a couple more, doll.” he croons in your ear as he wraps one strong arm around your middle and moves his other hand to his pants to hurriedly tug them further down, together with his boxers. 

You mumble sluggishly in response, but relax into his warmth, head lolling back, forehead brushing the rough skin of his cheek. He places a firm kiss on your temple while digging his fingers into the soft flesh of your belly and pulling your panties to the side with his other hand. He shifts, bringing his hips closer to yours and letting his hard length rub along the crevice of your ass.

“Mmh… John-?”

He squeezes you harder as he presses his cock against you, moving it up and down a few times before guiding it between your thighs and through your soaked folds. A low groan rumbles through his throat, blending with your weak whimper. His breath fans the side of your face as he gently pushes his groin into your ass, coating his length in your juices, his tip hitting the moist fabric of your panties, eliciting one more exhale from him. He pulls you flush against him until your body is molded into his. Only then does he begin to buck his hips back and forth, letting your drenched folds stroke his cock and your panties tease its head. He won't fuck you, not properly, not while you're not fully present, but he is going to steal one more orgasm from your exhausted body - and pleasure himself in the process - before allowing you to drift off completely.

“It’s alright, sweet girl… It's alright…”

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, nuzzling your skin and planting lazy kisses all over it. John keeps his arm wrapped around your middle and his hand splayed over your soft stomach, holding you in place against his body as he moves leisurely against you. His pace is so slow and steady that it feels like it's lulling you to sleep. That's what he wishes to do; he wants to ease you back to sleep by numbing your nerves with pure bliss. He wants you to collapse with his cock grinding against your cunt, stimulating your swollen nub with each slow, deliberate push.

You’re boneless against him. Moaning ever softly, body too tired to wriggle but tensing up in ecstasy all over again. He can feel the flutter of your stomach under his palm, the quick steady puffs of air leaving your nostrils. John moves his free hand to your hip, letting it glide over your smooth skin until it closes around the underside of your thigh and gently lifts it and places it over his leg. Both of you moan at the new position which lets you both feel more of each other. 

He feels your hips shake and hears your shallow breaths getting louder. He knows you’re already close. That’s good. You’re still awake for it. That's all he wanted. The hand resting on your belly glides down your mound, slipping under the fabric of your panties and touching your heat. He groans at the contact. You’re so fucking wet and hot… The pads of his fingers find your clitoris and start to rub tight circles over it. His lips press into the side of your neck, feeling your pulse, while you squirm faintly at the added stimuli. You make such pretty sounds for him. Soft mewls and moans, whimpers and gasps. Even weak and tired as you are, your body’s still so reactive to him. 

“That’s it, doll… you’re such a good girl…” he praises in a breathless whisper upon your flushed skin. “Stay with me… just a bit longer…”

When his hot breath brushes against your neck, he can feel a shudder go down your spine. He can hear your breathing getting heavier, your body twitching and trembling against him, and the whole feel of you is driving him insane.

It just takes a few more thrusts of his hips and flicks of his fingers for you to come undone again, spasming weakly in his arms - arms that hold you snugly to soothe your tremors. You cum all over his length, letting out a feeble cry so deliciously filthy that it makes his hips stutter. He halts altogether before he can over stimulate you.

“There you go, my sweet girl… There you go…” he coos in your ear, lips brushing against your cheek, before he buries his nose in your hair and drinks in your scent. 

John squeezes you tightly in his embrace until your shakes and ragged breaths subside. He watches your eyelids flutter one more time before they drop and remain closed.

He feels your body sag against his, your muscles going entirely limp in his arms. He keeps you nestled into him, his hand resting on your stomach and softly kneading soothing circles over your scar, while your other leg lies boneless over his. He can hear your breathing even out, slowly falling deep and regular, the warm puffs of air hitting his arm with each exhale. For a few moments, he remains still, listening to the sound of your breathing, feeling the rise and fall of your chest… trying to figure out if you’re still conscious, but your soft even breaths confirm to him you’ve finally fallen asleep.

He glances down at your serene expression, eyes closed and lips parted. Even in the shadows, he can see the light drool trickling from the corner of your lips. You’re completely knocked out.

John takes a few deep shaky breaths, his fingers digging into your hip. He allows himself a few more thrusts, taking care not to disturb your sleep. It’s not long before he falls apart, dumping his load inside your undies and muffling his moan with your hair.

He takes a few moments to regain his bearings, breathing deeply, getting drunk on the scent of you and him mixing together. Then, with great care, he fixes your clothes on your unconscious body, as well as his own pants, and wraps your form in his muscular arms, pressing every inch of you against him, until you're completely enveloped in his embrace.

He can’t help but notice how right it feels to hold you like this, to have you nestled against his chest, protected and secure in his arms.

A content sigh escapes his lips.

Closing his eyes, he knows this time no nightmare will jolt him awake. Not with you, warm, soft, and alive, sleeping soundly in his arms. Not with the steady drumming beat of your heart drowning out the demons in his mind.

With one more kiss brushed upon your bare shoulder, he whispers, "Sleep tight, sweetheart." before succumbing to his own exhaustion.

MORE STORIES 🥀

Please also consider leaving a tip on my ko-fi if you want to (but mostly can) support me, thank you ❤️

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Hi! Can I request a reader x xaden fic where she gets badly hurt and he freaks out. The ending is up to you. Thank you

Not responsible for this. That’s your warning. You asked.

Breathe me in

“What’s up with you today?”, you nudged your boyfriend’s shoulder as you finally managed to find him in the back room of the training hall. Xaden simply shrugged, reaching for another dagger to throw. But you quickly stepped in front of him. “We don’t do that”, you crossed your arms over your chest, “Talk to me”, you breathed.

You could tell from the way his jaw clenched that he was calculating his answer. “I don’t like the formation they are sending out today”, he said drily. “For the petrol?”, you questioned and Xaden only nodded. “We never flown over there. Ever. And suddenly we have a new location to go to?”, he shook his head in frustration. “You think it’s a setup?”, you brushed your fingers over his back hoping to give him at least some comfort. “Who knows… I doubt it, they are sending the best. Killing them off…”, Xaden trailed off. “Well, I care because you are on the list so, I ain’t looking to lose you”, you leaned forward, kissing his chest before nuzzling into him. “So are you and I guess that’s why I am so… On edge. I don’t want to bring you into an ambush”, he admitted, leaning in to kiss the top of your head. “We would give them hell”, you muttered, making Xaden let out a low chuckle, “We would but let’s hope that we don’t have to”.

Now he wished he hadn’t brought you. Wished it would have been him and the boys. Because he had lost you and Imogen when the fire had started. You all had barely flown over the valley when the sea of arrows came. Followed by flames. “Fuck”, Xaden cursed, flying over the peek. “Yn, come on love, where are you?”, he muttered scanning the fields. “Nothing”, Bodhi shouted, flying from the left side. “Nothing here as well”, Garrick shook his head. The panic in Xaden only intensified. “We will find them”, Bodhi said firmly, “They probably just took shelter in the caves”. And Xaden truly couldn’t put into words just how much he hoped that was true.

“Xaden”, Sgaeyl's voice pierced his consciousness, “boy”, and that’s when he felt her sadness seeping into him. His eyes landed on the two huge figures down by the river. He didn’t even have to motion for the two males to follow suit. But even through the sea of emotions, he didn’t let himself lose hope. Not until Imogen’s screams filled the air. Not until the sight of your dragon slumped to the side came into view. “No”, he breathed, “No, no…”, “Stay in the saddle”, Sgaeyl warned him but Xaden was already swinging his leg over her body, “Xaden”, she hissed tilting to the side so she could at least break his fall.

“Yn”, he shouted, “Yn”, his legs hit the ground and he was running. Running towards kneeling Imogen. He was going to fix this. He was going to make it better and then… then he would kill everyone who was in on this. “Yn”, he repeated over and over till his eyes landed on your limp body on Imogen’s lap. Imogen who was sobbing so hard her body shook, “I couldn’t, I can’t”, she choked out, brushing some of your blood-soaked hair away from your face.

Xaden fell to his knees, reaching for you. “Hey, baby, hey, hey”, he gathered you in his embrace. The sound of your dragon growling in pain echoed through the field. You blinked slowly and he quickly gathered your face in his hands, “Look at me, I will get you back, we will fix this”, but you simply shook your head, “Want to… die… here”, you choked out. “No, no, you’re not dying”, Xaden shook his head, “We’ll go home, okay? We will…”, “Xaden”, you breathed out.

A pained cry ripped through him as he pressed you closer to him. His hands soaked in your blood from the open wound on your back. He lifted his eyes to look at the friends. Garrick had gathered Imogen in his arms, his own eyes red from tears. Bodhi was kneeling by your dragon, trying to soothe the pain. “We need to go”, Xaden urged, trying to lift you but the pained growl that left you had him stilling instantly.

“To the river…”, you breathed out, lips rimed with blood, face growing paler. Xaden didn’t even have to think twice as he turned towards the shore where the water was running. “Pretty”, you muttered, eyes growing heavy. “Let me help, let me become I can’t…”, Xaden choked out. Nuzzling closer to you. “I… love”, your voice died with a pained cough. “Don’t do this”, Xaden shook his head, “You can’t leave me, that’s an order”, he tried to suppress the sob but that only left him shaking. “Best thing… that happened to me… was you”, you lifted your hand as much as you could and Xaden instantly leaned to meet your touch nuzzling into your warmth.

“I love you”, Xaden muttered, trying to smile at you, trying to give you that one goodbye. “Love”, you breathed out right as Xaden leaned in to carefully kiss you. Brushing his lips over yours one last time right as your body fully limped. A pained sob echoed as Xaden shouted. Pulling you as close as he possibly could. Rocking back and forth as he held you. Feeling the cold setting in. The never undoable coldness taking you from him forever.

[wenigstenshabeichesversucht]

A force more powerful than gravity

Pairing: Anthony Lockwood x fem!Reader

Summary: Soulmate AU, where you can feel the pain of your soulmate, and it looks like yours is a reckless idiot.

Warnings: angst, hurt, cliffhanger, english is not my native language

Word Count: 3.3k

taglist: @ettadear, @hakkaishiba91, @more-a-then-i, @anthonylockwoodandco111, @alexis04fangirl, @aislinrayne, @elipsisx, @tessas4, @spicybirdpepper, @wisteriaandauroras, @capailluiscedove, @fearlessmoony, @kurtsmellsliketeenspiritt, @redgummybears, @mackncheese1243, @mrsklockwood

There was nothing but silence as a searing pain pierced your left shoulder. It felt like a small object sought his way through your flesh with force. Before you could realize what was happening, the world around you exploded in pain. Panicking, you tried you gasp for air, but everything hurt so much. You couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t think, all you could do was let out a shrill scream.

Hurried footsteps sounded near you and the next moment someone sank to the ground next to you. You hadn't even noticed that you had fallen to the floor. There was just too much pain.

“Y/N where are you hurt?”, freaking out, your best friend and teammate roamed her hands over your body, searching for a wound, that would explain the pain you felt. But you knew that she wouldn’t find any. It wasn’t physical pain you felt, at least for you.

Things looked completely different for your soulmate. He got hurt, bad like it seems, and it was his pain you felt. You weren’t new to his pain. He got often hurt, and sometimes you asked yourself if he was just reckless or if he hated the idea of soulmates so much, that he intentionally injured himself. This was of course an awful thought, but when you laid in bed, crying silently while trying just to breathe through the pain, you couldn’t help yourself. What if your soulmate hated you even before meeting you? You couldn't blame him, not when you hated him sometimes yourself.

Last year alone, he got shocked with electricity, ghost touched, punched and cut in various body regions and one time it even felt like he survived an explosion. First you thought he was an agent like yourself, but after the last year you weren’t sure that he may have been involved in illegal activities.

“Y/N?”, the urgent voice of your best friend Willa, brought you back to the presence, where nothing more than a sea full of pain was waiting for you. The waves were crashing over you, threatening to pull you down and never let you go, and for a short moment you just wanted to let them take you. But you knew better than this. Sharply breathing in and out, you fought not to lose your consciousness.

“It’s him”, you managed to whisper.

“This asshole”, Willa muttered under her breath, but you heard her nevertheless. If you weren’t in so much pain, you maybe had laughed, an asshole indeed.

“I think he got shot, and then felt from a great height.”

“Fuck, that must hurt like hell.”

Indeed, it did.

“We should get you to safety before your pain attracts any ghosts. Can you stand?”

You felt like dying, but if you wouldn’t move, you could actually die. To avoid situations like this, soulmates at Fittes didn’t work at the same time. But you were pretty sure, that your soulmate didn’t work at Fittes, otherwise you would have found him long ago. Fittes even had a data bank where they could compare the pain you felt with other agents’ injuries. But so far there had been no match. That meant your soulmate was either not an agent or an agent at a small agency without access to the data bank.

“Help me up”, the pain was still pulsing through your body, made it hard to breathe, but with a soulmate like yours, you had learned how to function with pain. Breathing heavily, you let Willa pull you up from the floor. At least your movement didn’t affect the pain because it wasn’t your pain, you just felt it.

You only managed to walk three steps, before a new hot pain shot up your left arm. With an agonizing yell you staggered against the next wall. In a blink of an eye Willa was next to you.

“It’s not your pain, breath through it”, easy to say for someone whose soulmate wasn’t in this line of work and therefore wasn’t often injured. But you held back the cruel worlds, which were already laying on the tip of your tongue. Biting your teeth together, you continued your way to the iron circle your team had set up early this night. You wouldn’t let him wear you down, not today, not tomorrow.

Whatever your soulmate did that night, three days later it still hurt. Not as much as at the beginning, but enough to curse him in silence. Didn’t he know what painkillers were? For the first two days it wasn’t bearable, but tonight you would venture out in the night again to hunt some ghost.

“You will not believe what Christ just told me”, interrupting you in the research for tonight’s case, Willa plopped down next to you. Curious, you tilted your head. Chris was another Fittes agent. He and Willa weren’t soulmates, but that didn't stop them from dating. According to Willa, life was too short to wait for this one special person, who apparently was your perfect match. She wasn’t exactly wrong. Not everyone met his soulmate, some felt the pain of their soulmate their entire life without ever crossing parts, others felt a very strong pain, before they never felt anything again over this connection. You knew a few agents, whose soulmates died before meeting them.

“And?”

“Three nights ago, when you did feel this agonizing pain, Quill was apparently on a mission where an agent was shot before falling down a shaft.”

For a short moment, your heart stopped beating. Could that mean? Without minding your work, you jumped on your feet. You had to find Quill Kipps. Maybe he had the answers you were searching for so long. You didn't even dare to hope, but nevertheless your heart was skipping a beat as you hurried away.     

You didn’t know where to find Quill Kipps, you just started running and to your surprised you found him not long after. Like it was fate. Maybe he was really the missing key to find your soulmate. You didn’t want to get your hopes high, but you couldn’t help yourself. When you came to a stop in front of Quill, you were excited.

“Y/N, is everything ok?”, worried Quill’s soft eyes locked at you and for a moment you hesitated. You and Quill weren’t friends, he was Chris best friend and you Willa’s, therefore you talked a few times. Through Willa, you knew that Quill lost his soulmate a few years ago without ever meeting them. This was a fate you didn’t wish on your worst enemy. Now asking Quill about your soulmate, he might consider as rude. And you didn’t want to be rude, but you had to know!

“Three nights ago, did the agent get shot in his left shoulder?”, you blurred out and for a moment Quill just opened and closed his mouth confused.

“You think he is your soulmate?”, stunned, Quill blinked and didn’t answer your question.

“Three nights ago, I felt a piercing pain in my left shoulder followed by bone crushing pain, like I felt from a very far height”, you explained, and Quill looked dumbfounded at you, like you grew a second head. Unsure if you weren't making a fool of yourself, you closed your mouth. Maybe your theory was too far-fetched. Without realizing it, you started to play nervously with your hair.

With something in his eyes, you could only describe as pity, Quill took a step in your direction. Before he even opened his mouth, you knew what he would say. Nevertheless, it hurt, and that's why you didn't want to get your hopes up.

“I’m sorry Y/N, but he isn’t your soulmate and to be honest you can be glad about it.”

After this event, life went on. And on its way at some point Willa managed to convince you to start dating. You knew that your soulmate was still somewhere out there, on occasion you still felt his pain, but you didn’t meet. A part of you was afraid that you would never meet your soulmate and because you didn’t want to die alone, you let Willa convince you to go on a double date with her, Chris and Quill.

It was a lovely day in the late summer, and the four of you were sitting outside a small café, sipping on your lemonade. It felt strange to be on a date with someone who wasn’t your soulmate. But at least there wasn’t the possibility, that Quill would leave you for his soulmate. That thought made you feel like a bad person.

Taking a big sip from your lemonade to wash down the bitter taste in your mouth, you tried to listen to the story Quill was telling. Something about a case he and his team managed to successfully solve. But you got distracted by the appearance of a tall dark hair boy in a dress shirt. Anthony Lockwood, founder of Lockwood and Co., and a thorn in the side of all other agents in London. You had been lucky enough not to have to work with him so far, but you knew the stories. He was a reckless idiot without any sense of safety. He was also the agent who got himself at Quill’s case shot and fell down the shaft. Noticing your distraction Quill followed your gaze.

“Oh hell no”, he muttered next to you, so quiet that you almost didn’t catch it.

“Just ignore him”, you suggested, but even for you, it was hard to look away from Lockwood. He had something you couldn’t describe that was screaming for your attention.

“You are right, where was I?”, without waiting for an answer, Quill plunged back into the story. Tearing your gaze away from Lockwood, you took another sip from your lemonade.

Five boring minutes passed, Quill was still telling his story, when you suddenly felt a sharp pain in your shin. Interrupting Quill, you let out a surprised yelp.

“Sorry my Soulmate-”, you started, your mouth once again faster than your brain. Then you remembered that you were on a date and shouldn’t mention him. However, before you could apologize, you got interrupted.

“Did you just feel how I hit my shin?”, non-other than Anthony Lockwood nervously asked, after he appeared by your table. Too stunned to speak anyone was just gawking at him. Quill was the first to catch himself.

“Get lost Tony!”

“I wasn’t talking to you, stop interfering”, Lockwood shot back, before his brown eyes found yours.

“You are crashing my date, so it’s my good right to interfere!”, with a red face, Quill pushed his chair back, and it looks like both were ready to fight. But before it could escalate, you did the only thing you could think about, you pinched yourself.

“Ow, what was that for?”, rubbing his arm, Lockwood’s gaze shot to you.

“You felt it?” Slowly Lockwood nodded and you couldn’t believe it. He was your soulmate! You finally found him. But you didn’t feel happy, like you always had imagined. You just felt betrayed and angry. Only seeing red, you whipped your head around to Quill.

“You lied to me! You told me he wasn’t my soulmate.” Fighting back the tears, you slowly stood up. “Just to get me on a date?”

“Of course not, I didn't tell you to protect you. Everybody who gets too close to Tony ends up in a grave.”

Everything next happened way too fast for you to react. Lockwood spun around to punch Quill in the jaw. While Quill stumbled back, your hand burned with pain. You didn’t even know the identity of your soulmate five minutes ago, and he already hurt you again.

Before Quill could get a punch at Lockwood, you pushed between the two boys. You had felt enough pain for a lifetime, you didn’t need to feel them fight.

“Don’t worry Y/N, I will not punch him back, unlike him, I don't want to hurt you”, snarled Quill behind you, but you only had eyes for Lockwood. Under your gaze he seemed to shrink.

“My life would have been so much better, if you weren’t my soulmate”, your voice was laced with poison, and as if he had been burned, Lockwood recoiled. Without waiting for a response, you did the thing you could do best, you started running.  

   

You didn’t know how long you were running. You only stopped when no breath was left in your lungs and your legs were burning. Unknowingly, your legs had brought you to a park. Collapsing on a park bench, you closed your eyes exhausted.

As a kid, you often had imagined how you would meet your soulmate. Never would have you expect a situation like this. You should be happy, but you never felt more lost.

The wind was rustling the leaves about your head, and took a deep breath in.

You had set your trust in the wrong people, again. You had hoped for too much, again. You had been an idiot, again. Your mother always said that everyone got what he deserved. You had always asked yourself what you had done to deserve all this pain. Slowly, one single tear ran down your cheek. You could have just gotten your answers, but you ran away again, like always when things got hard. No backbone, your mother would say, if she could see you now. Lost, you wrapped your arms around your frame. Another tear dropped down your cheek. Sniffing, you wiped it off.

“Are you ok?”, his voice startled you. Surprised, you looked up, to see through your veil of tears Lockwood standing unsure next to your bench. Did you look like you were ok? A mean remark was already on the tip of your tongue, but you had already told him that you were better off without him as a soulmate, there wasn’t much more to say. Therefore, you just shook your head. Nothing was ok, but someday you would be fine with it.

“I know it’s a lot to take in. I was always hoping to meet you, but never taught it would just happen so random”, he rambled on, and your eyes widened in surprise. He had hoped to meet you? After all this pain he put you trough, he wanted you as soulmate? You always thought he hated you.

“I’m so happy to finally meet you. I always welcomed your pain with open arms, because every time I felt your pain I knew, that somewhere out there, there is someone for me, and I’m not alone.”

That was everything you had always wanted to hear from your soulmate. He wanted you. But why weren’t you happy? Why wasn’t this enough?

Standing up, you looked up to him. Although there were dark circles under his eyes, adorning his face, he appeared wide awake, and his eyes sparkled. A sparkle you would probably dim with what you had to say next.

“You hurt me over and over again. And now knowing it was you, I can’t help but think, you could have avoided getting hurt, but you didn’t care. So, tell me, why should I be happy?”

As if you had hit him, Lockwood stumbled back. You had learned long ago that words could hurt just as much as punches. And a small part of you was satisfied to cause him pain.

“I’m sorry”, he whispered and looked at you like a kicked puppy. Of course, looking at him, you couldn’t help but feel bad.

“You are right, I could have been a little bit less reckless, but I never thought about it. Can you give me another chance?”, you couldn’t say no to the look he gave you, and you didn’t want to. The bond that tied you together could only be cut through the dead of one of you. If there was even the slightest chance that this could work with the two of you, you had to try it.

“Yes, but please don’t hurt me again.”

“I will not, I swear!”

You agreed that if Lockwood stopped being so reckless and hurting himself all the time, you would go on a date after a month. He stuck to the agreement exemplary. Of course, you felt his pain every now and then, but that came with the job and was totally ok.

At the end, it was you, who brought both of you agonizing pain. It was a case at a graveyard. Besides your team were two other Fittes teams and, to your surprise, Lockwood and Co. set on this. The fifteen of you should comb the cemetery and look for the source of the spirit that terrorized the resting place and the surrounding houses.

As you discussed the division of the teams, you could feel Lockwood’s gaze burning on your skin, but you didn't dare look over at him. If your supervisor found out he was your soulmate, you would be taken off the case. You couldn't risk that. And it looked like, Lockwood understood it, because he didn’t try to approve you.

It should have been an easy case. The graveyard was, besides this one source, already cleared. It was one ghost against fifteen of you. If it hadn't been for that relic man.

As his knife pierced your skin, your only thought was Lockwood. Hopefully he wasn't fighting the ghost. Hopefully your carelessness wouldn't result in him being ghost touched. Clutching the wound, you sagged to the ground. Only your second thought was about yourself. You would die. Even while you tried to apply pressure to the wound, you could feel the warm blood running through your fingers. It was running away, and you couldn’t hold on to it. You would die before help could arrive. You would die before you could go on a date with Anthony Lockwood.

“Oh shit, Y/N, stay with me”, you’ve never had seen Willa like this in your life. Full on panic mode, she let herself fall next to you on the ground.

“Stay with me!”, without warning, she pressed down on your wound, and it hurt like hell. Yelling, you tried to push her off, but she remained stubborn.

“You will not die on me, I will not let you”, she cried, and her tears were dripping down her face and mixing with your blood. You were also crying. Reaching for her wrist, you left a bloody trail.

“I’m afraid”, you whispered, and it was true. Never in your life you had felt such fear, not the first time Lockwood got seriously hurt, and you didn't understand why everything hurt, not in your childhood when your mother yelled and yelled.

“Help is already on its way, and I will not leave your side. I will stay with you, and you will stay with me. Deal?”

You tried to smile, more for Willa’s sake than yours.

“Deal”, you lied, knowing that this was a promise you couldn’t keep.

But before Willa could say something else, hurried footsteps sounded and then Lockwood stumbled in your direction. His right hand was pressed to his lower abdomen, where you had been stabbed.

“I’m sorry”, you cried as he dropped down next to you. It was never your intention to hurt him. And nothing hurt more than losing a soulmate.

“It will be ok, you will be ok”, softly he caressed your hair, and it sounded like he was telling this more to himself than to you.

“I’m sorry”, you repeated, as you tried to fight the lightheadedness that wanted to take over your body.

“I can't lose you too, please stay with me”, Lockwood begged, and, in the distance, you heard the sirens. Help was really on its way; you just had to hold on a little longer, endure the pain for just a little longer. But you could feel your time running out. Before the darkness could take you, you forced yourself to one last smile.

“If we had more time, I would certainly have loved you”, you whispered, before you welcomed the darkness with open arms.            

To be continued       

[thebiggerbear]

A Little Future Snippet - Call My Name

A/N: Guys, I am so sorry. Chapter 1 will be posted soon, I promise. I'm shooting for the next couple of weeks. I'm just tweaking the ending scene a little because the way I originally had it...it just wasn't jiving. In the meantime, I wanted to give you guys a little something at least. I took out any specific spoilers. Here's a small snippet of an upcoming scene in the story.

All unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine.

Warnings: violence/choking; a little manipulation; language

Series Masterlist

Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187; @rieleatiel

Series Taglist: @mostlymarvelgirl; @deangirl96; @avada-kedavra-bitch-187; @ej13928; @demodemo909; @manyfanfiction

SB Taglist: @deans-spinster-witch; @birdiellie; @heartlessdelusions; @nancymcl; @brightlilith; @muhahaha303; @just-levyy

Jensen Taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat; @deansbbyx

“Well, sweetheart, anytime you want to put your tits and ass on display for Vought, give them a call, huh?” The Legend mocked you.

Your jaw tightened and you crossed your arms, fully expecting his smartassery, but Ben’s reaction was what surprised you.

Within seconds, his hand was around The Legend’s throat and he had lifted the man off of his feet, bringing him closer to Ben’s menacing glare. “You don’t talk to her like that,” he threatened in a growl. “Ever. You show her respect or I’ll get real fucking creative with what I do to you.”

“Okay, okay,” The Legend choked out. “Respect. Got it.” He clawed at Ben’s hand but the latter glanced over at you, waiting. You knew you could signal to him to let the man go, but instead you maintained your expression and stayed silent. MM and Butcher exchanged a glance and Hughie turned wide eyes from the scene onto you. 

The Legend was turning purple but still, you didn’t indicate for Ben to let up. 

“Let him go,” Hughie rushed out. Ben’s eyes snapped over to him, his hand squeezing the old man’s throat that little bit harder. 

“SB…please,” Legend sputtered as he tried to loosen Ben’s grip but was unable to.

“Fucking put him down already, you made your point!” Hughie insisted.

Butcher held a hand out to Hughie, giving the younger man a shake of his head. He clearly wanted to see how this played out. MM flicked his glare over to you but you ignored it.

“Y/N!” Hughie begged. “He’s about to fucking die, do something!”

Hearing the distress in Hughie’s voice, your gaze briefly flickered over to him and then back to Ben whose eyes were still laser focused on you. It was obvious The Legend was definitely about to lose consciousness and at his age, probably die from lack of oxygen. Not that you cared — as far as you were concerned he was still a piece of Vought and every single piece of that company could go fuck itself. But you still had a plan you needed to follow.

“We need him,” you told Ben quietly.

There was a flash in Ben’s eyes but he released his grip by relaxing his fingers, and the old man fell to the floor in a crumpled heap. Ben slowly walked over to you as Hughie scrambled over to The Legend with Butcher at his back, sharply eyeing the Supe, waiting for him to try anything. Ben could flatten them both within seconds, but that didn’t stop Butcher from being ready to fucking go should the former decide they were worth his time. You had to admire that, really.

Ben made his way next to you, turning to watch the scene of Hughie and MM hoisting The Legend up so he could gasp for breath more easily. You felt his thumb discreetly rubbing tender strokes into the small of your back through your suit.

The Legend coughed and sputtered still, his wide bloodshot eyes on both of you. He gave Ben a semblance of an understanding nod and rasped to you, “Apologies.” 

Giving him a curt nod yourself, you watched as MM and Hughie got the man to his feet and ushered him out of the room. Butcher followed but kept a wary eye on both of you as he did, scowling until he disappeared past the doorway.

Ben wrapped an arm around your waist, slipping a hand to your hip, and pulled you gently into him. He pressed his lips to the side of your head and let them linger there. His thumb began its reassuring strokes again, this time on your side.

After a minute or so of silence, he murmured to you, “You okay?”

You nodded, still staring off into the distance.

You felt him nosing in between the strands of your hair, nuzzling your ear. “I wanted to kill him.”

“But you didn’t,” you reminded him, carefully laying your head against his chest. His heartbeat picked up slightly so you weren’t that surprised when his other arm came up to wrap around you, holding you closer to him. You felt him lay his chin against the top of your head and then relax a bit.

“Only because you stopped me,” he admitted, sounding slightly disappointed. Disappointed that he hadn't killed the old man or that he had indeed stopped, you couldn't be sure, but you let him continue holding you nonetheless.

Please let me know if you would like to be tagged for this series.

dividers by @firefly-graphics

Main Masterlist

Main Tag List Submission Form

[rafesgoldrings]

I need some overstim! I feel like rafe would be the type to say “just one more for me” or like some praise kink for this 🥵

He 100% would, you’d reach your fourth orgasm of the night, clit swollen and sensitive and cunt dripping with cum, when you heard a small buzzing sound. You’d glance down at his hand, eyes wide and chest heaving while telling him you couldn’t do it anymore. He’d brush the hair out of your face and coo gently, “Come on baby, just give me one more and we’ll stop yeah?” and you being eager to please him would agree. Weakly nodding your head and preparing for another orgasm. He’d place the vibrator against your clit and watch as your hips lifted off the bed, back arching as a string of curses stumbled out of your parted swollen lips. He loved seeing you fall apart for him, always thought you looked so sexy that way. It wouldn’t take long for you to reach your fifth orgasm, legs shaking as you squirted around him. His eyes widened in amazement while pulling the toy away from you, watching as your chest rose rapidly, tits fully displayed for him. You’d close your eyes thinking he was done, hearing him stand up and start walking. You assumed he was going to be a warm cloth to clean you up or run you a warm bath like he usually did. But then you felt his strong hands grip your ankles and pull you to the foot of the bed, legs thrown over his shoulders as his tongue attached to your dripping cunt. “Rafe” you whined, trying to squirm away from him “You said one more” he pulled away from you just long enough to say “I know baby, but this pussy is too good. Can’t let any of this go to waste, just let me have one more baby. Please” he looked so pretty begging for a taste, you weren’t going to deny him that. So one nod of your head and he was right back at it, sucking your clit before moving to lap at your dripping hole. Eating you out like his life depended on it, like he was going to die if he didn’t lick every last drop of your arousal clean from your cunt. His large hands holding your hips down, the angle you were at giving him all the advantages he needed to get you to fall apart on his tongue. Your hands would tangle in his hair, holding him in place with a firm grip as you whimpered and squirmed to the best of your ability. Your eyes would roll back, feeling yourself black out when your sixth and final orgasm approached. It felt as if you had no control over what was happening, the only thing you could hear was Rafe faintly saying something along the lines of “that’s my good girl, fucking give it to me”. He’d savor every drop your generous cunt offered him, only stopping once there was nothing left. He’d pull away, watching your body drop to the bed. Your breathing was heavy, still too out of it to be aware of your surroundings, only coming back to a state of semi consciousness when Rafe grabbed you in his arms and placed you in a warm bath. “You did so good for me sweet girl. I fucking love you so much, let’s get you cleaned up and in bed yeah?” a soft kiss placed to your lips. He would push you to your limits, make you cum until you were passing out, but he’d also always take care of you after

[delimeful]

nothing in this world (i wouldn't do) (6)

warnings: captivity, restraints, panic attacks, unethical science, experimentation, wounds, injury and blood mention, character being kind of an ass, fear, bird ex machina, lmk if i missed any  

-

Virgil woke up to find he was surrounded by darkness and completely unable to move.

Seeing as the last thing he remembered was being poisoned into unconsciousness by a demon slayer with mad scientist leanings, this was about as far from reassuring as an awakening could be.

For a disoriented moment, he tried to check for the baby crow, which mostly just involved him listening closely for any loud, raspy-voiced swearing. Naturally, there wasn’t any, because he’d blacked out and the slayer very clearly hadn’t wanted Roman’s bird anywhere near him.

Bizarrely enough, he felt a little morose at the baby crow’s absence. Maybe because she was the only creature who had figured out that despite being a monster, he wasn’t actually a threat to humanity.

Or maybe it was just because being immobilized in a dark, silent place was totally freaking him out, and he would have taken any company so long as it meant he hadn’t been locked away forever or buried alive.

(Could he still die from a lack of oxygen? Would he be stuck underground, conscious and alone, for the rest of time? He couldn’t even call out for help.)

His body was unresponsive, and nothing his brain was coming up with was remotely helpful, so Virgil focused on his breathing, trying to keep his count steady as he inhaled and exhaled air that could be rapidly running out—

By the time the slayer entered the room, Virgil had already hyperventilated himself into unconsciousness a few times, each time utterly convinced he was dying.

The man didn’t bother saying anything to him or even sparing him anything more than a glance, simply walking around the space and lighting several lamps at a brisk pace, but Virgil felt a vast, sweeping sense of relief fall over him regardless.

He wasn’t buried. He hadn’t been left alone to rot away in the dark.

He was… extensively strapped down to a waist-high table in the center of the room?

A significant amount of his relief started to fade. Right. He’d been caught by a slayer who wanted him dead or worse, and was now entirely at his mercy— assuming he even had any for demons.

There was another person in the room, too, and they scurried about so quickly that it took Virgil a few moments to identify them as the wary stranger who had sent him to go find their brother. They were wearing the same uniform as the slayer, now, which answered basically all of Virgil’s potential questions about the situation.

“Subject ABN-V3, Log 1,” the slayer started, and Virgil’s eyes flicked over to him curiously. “The subject regained consciousness approximately half an hour after halting the regular wisteria toxin doses, indicating remarkable poison resilience, comparable to a Lower Rank.”

There was the distinct scratch of hurried writing, but the slayer’s hands were unoccupied as he circled Virgil’s prone form. The younger slayer must have been an assistant.

There was a muted pressure on his hand, which refused to even twitch, even as the pressure grew heavier. The slayer hummed, pulling away. “In contrast, regeneration ability appears relatively slow. Internal organ function has resumed, but exterior nerves and muscles remain paralyzed.”

His organs had been paralyzed?! Virgil’s breathing stuttered, and he wrestled with the instinctual panic for a moment. His lungs were clearly working now, so he should just keep breathing and not pass out again.

When he looked back over, it was to the sight of the slayer staring directly at his face with a detached sort of curiosity. That composed mask of his may have dropped for a few moments in the clearing, but it was fully repaired and glued in place now.

“Do you have anything to say?” he asked, which was a little startling.

Virgil blinked at him for a moment, and then very quickly recalled that blinking was about all he could do. His hands weren’t cooperating with him, and even his head felt too heavy to shake or nod at the moment.

An irritated rumble started up in his chest for a moment before dying out, and he heaved a low sigh, already exhausted. He’d burnt through all his default terror while panicking in the dark, and now there was barely anything left to scrape up for his impending dehumanizing death.

The slayer only watched him impassively for another long, silent stretch of seconds before turning his attention away.

“Subject’s nonverbal behavior remains consistent with previous encounter,” he narrated, which succinctly explained why he’d bothered to verbally prod Virgil in the first place. “No secondary manifestations present in the room. We’ll proceed with direct regeneration testing while the paralytic is still in effect.”

There was a metallic clink, and Virgil’s gaze flicked over to a tray covered with tools he could only guess at the purpose of. Most of them were sharp-edged.

At least he wouldn’t be able to feel them. Yet.

The slayer picked up a thin blade, and Virgil squeezed his eyes shut, in an attempt to not have to see whatever was being done to him.

The narration of that calm, clinical voice couldn’t be as easily blocked out, so he found out regardless.

—

His healing factor had improved a lot since being turned into a monster, but it wasn’t anywhere close to the level he’d seen from some of the other demons he’d fought, so he wasn’t surprised to find that the first thing he felt when the paralysis began to wear fully off was pain.

The wounds weren’t serious, at least. He hoped that didn’t mean they were saving more lethal ones for when he could actually feel them, but he wasn’t optimistic about his odds.

(Unsurprisingly, it seemed like most demon slayers really hated demons.)

The slayer seemed strangely perturbed by the way the methodical injuries he’d inflicted hadn’t healed yet. Apparently, vastly accelerated healing was the norm for most demons, so this was just another way in which Virgil was a freaky outlier. Virgil could have told the slayer as much himself if he’d been able to sign.

Not to say that he’d regained all his vocabulary. With his limbs strapped firmly down, his post-poison communication was limited to signs that he could form with just his hands, and no accompanying movements. Fingerspelling was tedious, but at least it was possible.

“S-L-E-E-P,” he’d signed when the slayer had been theorizing on his apparently deeply unusual slow healing. “L-O-N-G.”

It took a few repetitions for his captor to pay it any mind, but once he did, his expression immediately creased with doubt. Virgil let himself look irritated about the reaction, because really, what was the point in pretending? He was screwed either way.

“If hibernation periods could heal demons, there would be longer stretches of inactivity between attacks,” the slayer said, frowning down at him. “It would make my job much easier if that were the case, but it isn’t.”

Since when was Virgil the representative for all of demonkind? He’d barely even spoken to other demons, since generally their interactions tended to start and end with them trying to kill each other. This was his supernatural sleeping schedule, not theirs.

Generally, he only slept like that when he was injured. If he wasn’t hurt in a fight, he didn’t get tired. He signed as much to the slayer, and earned a disbelieving scoff for his efforts.

Virgil had only been dozing lightly so far, seeing as he was currently trapped and about as far from safety as he could possibly get, but the disbelief rankled, and he huffed before pointedly closing his eyes as though to prove it.

He thought maybe the slayer wouldn’t allow it— there probably wasn’t much to scientifically observe when your subject is sleeping— but to his surprise, the man only noted down the behavior and then left.

It took a good part of the first day to force himself down into genuine sleep, but being left alone in a quiet space was close enough to his usual cave naps that he eventually managed to sink into the heavy unconsciousness of one of his impromptu hibernation sessions.

A full week later, he snorted into wakefulness to see the slayer had unstrapped one arm and was inspecting the smooth skin where the incisions had been previously.

This must not have been the first time he’d removed a restraint to see if Virgil was faking his beauty rest, because his head shot up with keen alarm the moment Virgil’s eyes fluttered open.

He released Virgil’s hand and drew a thin, needle-like dagger from his side in the same moment, presumably a breath away from poisoning him back into temporary organ failure.

Virgil barely even registered the movement, his eyes still crusted over with sleep. Half-awake and triumphant, he blearily inspected his completely-healed arm and then promptly signed, “I told you so.”

“Return your arm to the restraint,” the slayer instructed, his voice brooking no argument and his gaze assessing.

Virgil made a sour face, rubbing at his eyes. “Don’t you have cuffs?” he asked, turning slightly so he could tap his free wrist to his strapped down one for the last sign. “I could at least sign in those.”

“The restraint. Immediately,” the slayer replied, firm as stone.

A low grumbling growl of complaint started up in Virgil’s chest, but there was no way he could get free of the other restraints quickly enough to try and escape, and he really wasn’t looking to get his organs shut down again for no reason.

Besides, the assistant kid was still there in the corner, watching him with wide eyes, and he didn’t like the idea of scaring them.

Fine. He’d go back to his stupid nap then.

With a petulant scowl, he closed his eyes and stuck his arm back out and allowed the slayer to pin it back into place and tighten the straps over it. He flipped him off afterwards, though, just to make things clear.

It was quiet for long enough that he pried his eyes back open suspiciously. Both of the slayers were staring at him like he’d just started abruptly juggling fish or something, and he raised his eyebrows in a display of irritated bewilderment.

For once, the slayer didn’t have some snappy annotation to spout, only glaring down at Virgil with his jaw working like he was gritting his teeth.

Was he really that pissed off that Virgil had been telling the truth about his healing? Why?

“Professor Logan—,” the baby slayer whispered, faltering when Virgil’s gaze flicked their way.

“That’s enough for today,” ‘Logan’ answered, stepping away from the table. “We’ll speak elsewhere.”

Virgil only barely managed to stifle an incredulous noise as the two of them left, putting the lights out as they went. They’d never bothered to take their rude and often horrifying conversations about him elsewhere before. Maybe he should try being right about things more often.

—

“Bastard!”

Virgil’s eyes flew open at the muffled call, his head feeling much clearer after sleeping off the last of the poison’s symptoms.

It was quiet and dark all around him, as always, and for a moment, he nearly convinced himself that he’d imagined the noise entirely.

Then, from outside the door, there was a raspy squawk and an audible ruffling of feathers. “Fiend! Fiend?”

… Just how determined to swear at him was this bird?!

He couldn’t exactly respond, and he wasn’t sure why he would want to. Logan had reacted extremely negatively to the bird existing in the same space as him last time, and he wouldn’t wager that the slayer’s attitude had changed in the past however many days.

Still, the crow was clearly looking for someone, possibly even him. He could hear the distinctive pitter-patter of little taloned feet scurrying back and forth on the floor, with the occasional inquisitive swear thrown in.

After a few long minutes of this, Virgil gave up on trying to go back to sleep, unable to tune the little creature out. He may as well try to answer in the limited way he could.

It took entirely too long, but he managed to purse his lips and whistle a long, low note.

The clicking of steps stopped dead, and then grew abruptly louder, the bird’s faux-speech taking on an excited tone.

The baby crow audibly scrabbled at the doorway for a few seconds, before evidently managing to worm her way under the door gap. From there, she made short work of the flight up to the table, where she immediately perched directly on Virgil’s forehead and peered upside down at him.

“Scourge!” she announced gleefully.

Someone certainly hadn’t learned her lesson about fraternizing with big scary demons. He whistled an amused note at her, fingers twitching in an impulse to reach up and ruffle her feathers before he remembered his situation.

Right. No bird-petting for monsters, he guessed.

The crow— wasn’t her name Fluffbutt or something?— seemed to notice the movement, though, and she traversed down Virgil’s arm in little hops. He still couldn’t really reach her scruff of downy baby feathers from this angle, but he gave it his best attempt.

Fluffbutt pecked him harshly, which, rude, and then she turned around and started picking at the straps holding his forearm down.

… No fucking way.

Virgil craned his neck to look over at the bird, his disbelief slowly melting away as he saw that yes, the crow really was tugging and prying at the corded knot holding the restraints in place like her life depended on it.

It was slow going, but as she steadily worked at it, Virgil could tell that progress was being made. He wiggled his arm testingly every so often, usually getting bit for his efforts, and after what felt like hours of agonizing waiting, he finally managed to pull through the last threads of the restraints.

He only had one arm free, but that and some time was all he really needed. Fluffbutt reclaimed her spot on his forehead, watching as he quickly tore at the restraints on his other limbs.

As it turned out, quickly sitting up for the first time in days was a bad idea. Virgil rode out the surge of dizziness and pushed to his feet, pacing back and forth in the small room until he was confident that his legs had remembered how to function well enough to get him out of there.

A simple test of the handle revealed the room had been locked, and Virgil wasted a few minutes poking through the unsettling number of medical tools in the room before realizing there was no way they’d left the key in here with him.

He could probably kick the door down if given a few tries, but the more noise he made, the more likely it was that Logan would find him mid-escape and put him right back in those restraints. Virgil had no illusions on how a second match between him and the uncannily quick slayer would turn out, which meant that stealth was currently his best friend.

He turned his gaze to the wall, wondering if they were flimsy enough that it would be better to try and punch a hole through one of those, but before he could decide further, he heard the sound of approaching footsteps.

Shit. Plastering himself against the wall, he waited tensely for them to pass by— only for them to pause right outside the doorway. There was the distinct click of a key being inserted into a lock. Double shit.

The door swung open, and the assistant slayer had just enough time to look up and see the empty specimen table before Virgil leapt at them.

Don’t freak out, he would have said if his hands weren’t currently occupied with covering the slayer’s mouth and dragging them bodily into the room. Instead, he made a series of low chuffing sounds from deep in his chest, which helped absolutely nothing about the current situation.

“Scourge!” Fluffbutt crowed, her contribution equally as unhelpful.

Hurriedly booting the door shut with his foot, Virgil only had a moment before the baby slayer gave up on trying to pry his hand away and instead went for the sword sheathed at their side.

Since letting them do that was basically a one-way street to getting decapitated, he risked releasing them for long enough to tear his claws through their belt and yank the sword free, sheathe and all, before tossing it into a corner with a muted thud.

“PRO—,” they started, and Virgil slapped his hand back over their mouth, hissing lowly in the closest approximation to a shush that he could manage. They responded by glaring and biting him, which he really should have expected after living with teenagers for a few months.

It only took a glance around the room to find a suitable cloth from the cache of cleaning supplies, and Virgil wrangled the baby slayer into a headlock for the handful of seconds it took him to assemble a makeshift gag and shove it in their mouth.

With the slayer now unable to raise the alarm, Virgil paused for a moment to think, his whole body jittering with sudden adrenaline. The easiest solution would obviously be to strap the slayer into the convenient demon-proof restraints readily available on the specimen table, but he really didn’t want to do that. The kid was already panicking hard enough, the last thing he wanted was to make them think he was going to experiment on them or something.

Instead, he tore a larger piece of linen into strips and wound them around the slayer’s wrists a few times before knotting the end of the faux-ropes intensively around one of the table legs.

The slayer started yanking against the makeshift restraints the moment Virgil stepped away, their cries muffled but still audible enough that he should really be escaping sooner rather than later.

Luckily, his cloak had been dumped on a nearby shelf with the rest of the meager belongings he carried with him, mostly ignored after Logan had finished snooping through it for bones or something. Virgil ignored Fluffbutt swooping noisily around his head as he slung the comforting weight back around his shoulders and pulled the hood up, and then stepped back around the table towards the door.

The baby slayer seemed to think he was headed for them instead, their gaze very obviously wide with terror as they scrambled ineffectively to get away from him. He stopped short, guilt swamping him.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he signed, backing up a few paces to try and give them some space. “I just want to get out of here, okay?”

The kid stared at him, chest rising and falling as rapidly as a sparrow’s. He sort of wished he had heard their name at some point, but it probably wouldn’t have made a difference. As it was, he didn’t even know if they knew sign, let alone how to calm them down.

He sighed, lifting his hands up to his shoulders in a gesture of nonaggression, and edged around them to finally get to the door. Fluffbutt settled on his shoulder, apparently content to be identified as a little feathered demon-associating traitor. 

The hall was blessedly empty when he stuck his head out to check, and so he waved a small farewell to the kid— almost certain that they would wriggle out of those haphazard bonds within the hour— and closed the door after himself.

The key was still sitting there in the lock, so he twisted it to relock the room, and after a moment of thought, dropped the key and kicked it under the door so that the kid wouldn’t be stuck if nobody else came by in the next few hours.

He’d done it. He was out— mostly, anyhow.

Now, all he had to do was stay out.

[aireia]

And now I'm burning brighter than your dreams. — He grieves for you.

Extra notes: Read part 1 here! The fic makes just about 0 sense without it unfortunately.

tw/cw: minor spoilers for chapter 261. no pronouns used for reader but uses she/her in first part. death. angst with little fluff. hurt with a little comfort. minor implications of suicidal thoughts. dreaming. mentions of blood. minor violence. blades. death. injuries. author's first language still isn't english. no beta we die like everyone. wc: 6.8K

note: This fic makes 0 sense to me. It sucks ass, but there's 2 days till my birthday so I decided to become a genshin character and send you guys a gift (angst) instead of someone sending me gifts instead. I also have no idea how to tag this. —masterlist

y/n l/n’s death has been confirmed by second grade sorcerer Megumi Fushiguro.

It’s been a few weeks since your death. Has it really been that long?

It's spring. The seasons have just shifted, and it’s still cold early in the morning. Megumi tries his best to get out of bed every morning, but the chilly breeze in the morning doesn’t help at all. It’s been like that for the past few weeks. He’d feel the cold air in the morning, and his mind would flash back to the time where he was holding you in his arms.

He remembers everything. It was especially cold on that winter night, which meant bodies got cold way faster after dying. He remembers wanting to get your corpse back to jujutsu high as quickly as possible, but that meant he would’ve parted from you faster than he would have ever wanted. In fact, if there were a choice, he doesn’t think he could ever let go of you.

Megumi remembers telling himself to hold you for just a while longer after you began to get cold, to give you the warmth you deserved. You’re a child too, just like he is, and from his knowledge, most, if not all children hated the cold. 

He doesn’t remember being a selfish person. He’s only been like that once, for all he can recollect. Although he knows how he was when he cradled your body. His lips were trembling, his arms desperately trying to keep you close. He didn’t shed many tears, no, but he remembers his throat threatening to spill words such as “don’t go” or “don’t leave me”, yet he choked on all of them. 

Megumi was certain it wouldn’t have cursed you, considering you were killed by a cursed tool, but for the short period of time you were hanging onto the thread of consciousness you had left, he was sure he would’ve cursed not you, but himself to death with his words had you heard him. 

He hasn’t been doing much either. Every single day has been a constant loop for him where he struggles to get out of bed, does a bit of training, eats a bit, and heads back to sleep earlier than he usually would. His mind keeps yelling at himself that he’s being pathetic, and that you were the same as the people who come and go in a jujutsu sorcerer’s life. Despite that, he doesn’t quite understand why every part of him refuses. 

Megumi doesn’t dream about you often. In fact, he hasn’t dreamt of you for over a month now. It's for the better, he thinks, and he hopes it stays that way. Though, there's a part of him that wishes he could see you every time he closes his eyes, then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. No, actually, screw that. Your name has rotted in everyone’s mouths. It tastes like vomit and dust on their tongues. 

“They didn’t even give you a proper burial,” Megumi thought to himself before his eyelids finally closed. He doesn’t know what they did to you after he turned your corpse in. He doesn’t want to think about any of that either. 

Thinking too much was going to be the reason he died, he swore of it. 

-

Megumi can hear the sound of soft grass swaying. Wasn’t he in his room just a few moments ago? For once, he can breathe the air normally without feeling like he doesn’t deserve to, and the sunlight is kissing his eyelids so beautifully, so much more gently compared to the morning breeze that pricks his skin.

He opens his eyes, and Megumi finds himself in a field of blooming flowers. He softly reaches out to touch the petals before standing up. He walks around the place, the sound of the grass rustling as he walks around now the only thing in his ears. 

Megumi stops and takes a large breath of fresh air. If he could, he’d live here forever, he thinks. 

Then he spots a butterfly fluttering around him. It’s pretty, a shade of deep purple and black, and he can’t help but follow it as it flies away from him. Suddenly, he feels like he’s three again, and although he doesn’t remember most of his childhood, he vaguely remembered that he would play like this with his mother. 

He loses the butterfly a little while later, and he’s greeted by falling sakura blossoms. He reaches out to touch the pastel pink flower, only for it to dissolve as soon as it comes in contact with his hand. 

Megumi walks up to the tree, looking up at the flowers to see the sunlight that bled through the gaps. Then, he spots someone else. Someone who’s also wandering around, lost, like a child without direction. 

-

His eyes shot open. Megumi touched his face. It was covered in beads of sweat, and his hands lightly trembled, he swears he saw you in the distance. You weren’t facing him. He walked around the field, aimlessly wandering around while admiring the violet butterflies that danced around the flowers, just as he did.

He walked up to you, and there you are. That’s when he woke up. 

“2am..” Megumi sighed once he looked at the clock on his nightstand. You’re in his dreams. Damnit. He’s not saying you weren’t before you died, but then, everything was simple. He dreamt of your futures together, not what this was.

He wasn't able to fall back asleep after that, tossing and turning on his head, only thinking of the image of you in the field of flowers. You looked so beautiful, and he wondered for a moment if it could be reality. It’s selfish, but he really wants it to be.

-

“Woah Fushiguro! You look more tired than usual today. You sure you don’t wanna sit this one out?” Yuji asked the next morning, clearly concerned. Of course he was. Anyone would be if they saw the dark circles under his eyes.

“I’m fine. Let’s go,” he replied, stretching in hopes of getting rid of the tiredness he felt. Each step he took after that felt heavier than the last, and Megumi felt like crumbling to the ground and falling asleep, but the world continues to spin no matter how he feels, so he decides to continue taking missions and working himself to the bone. 

At first, it’s fine. He easily distracts himself from the thoughts of you, but with each second that passes, he finds it harder and harder to do so. He’d thought that he would be able to forget you, but it seems to haunt him more and more now. 

He doesn’t get it. He remembers when Yuji died for a few weeks after he met him, and he easily got rid of the heavy feeling in his stomach, but now you’re gone forever, and if he’s honest, he never knew much of you, or had that much time with you, and it was a single dream, so why can’t he return back to his normal self?

Despite all the thoughts that plagued him, the day passed by quickly… He thinks. 

It felt like a long time when they were battling, but everything before and after that is a blur of memories he couldn’t bother to recall. Maybe it’s the injuries the curse inflicted on him that’s messing with his mind. Or it’s just like any other day, bleeding and merging into each other. 

-

“Another dream…” Megumi thought to himself when he opened his eyes to see the dark sky. He’s lying on something hard. The floor, probably. He stretched his arms and sat up, only to get startled by you, who’s holding up a lantern in front of him. He stares at you for a while, trying to process finally seeing you, and you cupped his cheek with your free hand. 

“It really is you. You disappeared just as I was about to call out for you last time,” you said, smiling. You set the lantern down and hugged him tightly, and Megumi couldn’t help but feel a little odd at the warmth of you. He’ll remember this feeling, he tells himself, because at least, he wants this nice, warm feeling to replace the final time he touched you before this, when your skin was cold to the touch.

“Where are we?” Megumi asked as you helped him up after you parted, and you picked the lantern back up. You looked in the sky, where the clouds swirled and drifted. “I don’t know,” you answered with a cheeky smile. You’re just the same as ever. 

You grabbed one of his hands and began running towards the nearest door. “I guess we should explore, right?” you laughed, entering the manor, both your footsteps now echoing through the empty halls. 

The walls were mostly lined with paintings of people you both recognised. Gojo and Shoko, along with a painting of a male with long, dark hair. The both of you slowed down to admire the art, and as you walked along the halls, you realised that the mysterious person’s paintings had been torn, namely the large gash that ran along his forehead. 

As you kept going to what seemed to be an endless gallery, Gojo’s paintings also seemed to be growing weirder and weirder. His were stained with crimson, and eventually, his paintings too shared the same destruction as the ones beside him.

Shoko wasn’t in the frame of her paintings anymore. 

Megumi was about to push the door to the next room open when you suddenly asked, “How’s everything been?” and his hand froze. 

“It’s not been the best,” he answered, not wanting to go too much into detail. You didn’t want to push him, but if only you did, because right now, you miss him too. 

The door opened to a garden, casted over by the shadows of the plants and trees. There’s a table in the middle of it, with tea and coffee and snacks. It seemed like too much of a set up for a date. Megumi wonders because it’s his dreams, maybe this is what he wanted when you were alive? To take you out to a coffee shop, one where there were barely any people so you could focus on each other. 

Without thinking, he pulled you over to the table and pulled the chair out for you, before walking over to one of the bushes and plucking out a rose for you. He goes back to you and slips it into your hair, brushing some of it out of your face to admire your pretty eyes. You’re the same as ever, and he thinks it’s the best thing that he’s felt in the past few weeks. 

Megumi pours a drink for you before sitting down to sip on his coffee, shyly biting into the cookie that you offered him with that pretty smile on your face. 

He doesn’t know how much time has passed in this dreamland before the both of you finally get up and start walking around again. This time, you’re looking at the many flowers grown in the garden, and by the time you reach another door, you’ve woven a flower crown and placed it on Megumi’s head. 

The both of you stared at the wooden door in the middle of the garden. Considering its location, it was safe to assume that this was the pathway back to the real world. You felt his lips brush against your forehead before he opened the door, and then he was gone. 

-

Megumi awakens this time from the sound of knocking on his door. He looks at the clock on his bedside. It’s already 9AM in the morning. He lazily throws himself out of bed, before rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, then opens the door.

“Wow. Look at this guy.”

Nobara pointed at his bed head. Her and Yuji were both dressed in casual clothing, ready for the day as compared to him, who still looked half asleep in his dark, long sleeved shirt. Megumi listened to the duo talk for a while before they focused their attention on him. 

“Fushiguro! Did you not listen to anything we said on the way back from our mission last night?” Nobara asked. 

“I was asleep.” 

“Then go get ready or something!” she half yelled, and pushed Megumi back into the room. 

Once Megumi stepped back out, he was immediately dragged off to Shinjuku, where they continued to pull him around while shopping for sweets and clothes and just about anything. Just for those few hours, his mind was lifted from the thoughts of you, and he felt a little at peace, even though you were still in the back of his mind. 

He felt a little guilty. Even though his expressions don’t show it, he feels so, so happy for the first time in weeks with his friends, but you aren’t here to feel it with him, and he can’t help but feel like he can’t feel what he does, because he wants you to be beside him too. 

He looks at the sight in front of him, drinking in how Nobara and Yuji looked trying to win a plushie from the claw machine, his own breathing the only sound in his ears as the chatter of passer-bys drown out every other sound. The two are raging over a rigged machine, the sensitivity of the claw set just a little too high for it to be able to tightly grip the plushies. 

And then, he thinks of you. 

Through his eyes, he can picture you laughing along with them. You would’ve loved this. You would’ve loved every part of the life they lived. 

After they successfully managed to bag two plushies, they continued their journey, running around Shinjuku before they ended up at a mall, where they took Megumi to a photobooth. 

Yea. You would’ve loved this.

That night, Megumi pulled out the drawer of his nightstand where he kept your photo and compared it with the new photo in his hand. He noticed that Yuji had a few new scars on his face, Nobara looked a little bit more mature, and he… Still had his eyebags. And the most noticeable difference, you weren’t in the picture anymore. 

He places both of them into the drawer and shuts it. He wants to take another picture with you again. Just the two of you, together. 

-

“What’s it like being dead?” Megumi blurted out. He was dreaming again. You take your eyes off the cloud like fish that turn into mist at every touch. A whale swam by just then, turning into smoke and mist the moment Megumi reached out to touch it. 

You stared at him, mind wandering. You fixed your gaze back on the creatures around you as you walked through the aquarium, and finally responded. “I’m just… There? I guess.”

“That isn’t an answer,” he said, slightly side-eyeing you, and you laughed. “I can’t say. I haven’t been dead for long, have I?” but that’s only to you. To Megumi, it’s been a lifetime without you, and hearing you say it again reminded him of just how much he’s grown to lean on your shoulder when he felt weak. 

“Or maybe it’s because I’m waiting for someone that I’m putting off finally laying my soul to rest,” you said, pressing your finger against the glass of the aquarium tanks and watching as curious sea creatures gathered. 

“Who?” Megumi asked, only for you to turn around and boop his nose with your finger. 

“You, obviously.” 

“You want me to die early?” He questioned again. What? Where’d he get that type of idea? 

“Silly boy,” you laughed, grabbing his arm before running towards the exit of the aquarium, the stray animals around you disappearing as you ran through them, leaving large trails of mist behind you, as if you were deconstructing Megumi’s dreams for him, leading him back where he belonged. 

“I’d wait an eternity for you, so don’t come here too early.”

-

When he woke up again, the rain outside was as heavy as ever. With the way it’s pouring down, it looks like there’s clouds of mist everywhere. That would explain why he dreamt of… Whatever that was. He pressed his finger against the panel of the window, wondering if there was even the slightest chance for him to create shikigami that resembled the ones in his imaginations. 

Actually, nevermind. That sounded stupid. 

Megumi got ready for his day. For once, he felt just a little bit more energised. Maybe it was because he felt reassured. You’re waiting for him, and he won’t be alone. Even if he can’t see you now, but still! He knows now that if he does somehow die, which you wouldn’t be happy about, at least he’d be able to have all the time in the world with you. 

The grief doesn’t feel as heavy anymore, now replaced by his hopes that you’d keep visiting him in his dreams, entering his mind and pulling him out of his own, it felt almost as if it were him who was in your dreams, and not the other way around.

-

It’s been a few months now, and he’s dreamt of you so, so many times. Each time he left those dreams meant that he made new memories with you– something you weren’t able to do in the real world. Megumi can’t help but find himself wanting to be with you more. He wants to make up for the lost time, for every second he wasn’t able to be by your side. If anyone knew, they’d call him obsessive. Hell, they’d say anything, but to him, this felt like hope he seemed to have lost.

He sat in his bed, reading one of his novels. Actually, reading… Wouldn’t be the right term here. He found himself mindlessly staring at the words and flipping through pages he hadn't read as he thought and dwelled on memories from when you were still alive. 

Megumi looked out the window of the classroom. It’s autumn again. The trees have begun to turn a shade of orange, the wind has gotten just a little colder, and everything seemed a little bit duller. 

Today, grey clouds covered the skies, and he looked at the front of the class. It seemed just like the day you first stepped foot into campus, where one day they’d all get permissions and have sleepovers and drink hot chocolate, and he can’t help but feel a little saddened.

Now all the memories he has of you are from the figments of his and your imaginations. Is it so wrong for him to wish to see the stars with you again? Is it so wrong for him to wish for you to take his first kiss in the winter on the roof again? 

Megumi wants nothing more right now than to relive each of those memories, and with each passing second, he finds himself wanting to do those things in his dreams, even though he can’t control any of them. 

-

“It’s almost winter? Brings back memories,” you breathed out, walking ahead of him. “I wanna play monopoly with you guys again. I was so close to winning last time.”

“Why couldn’t we have ended up like that?” Megumi asked you one day.

He was at a beach with you this time. When he opened his eyes, you were dancing in the cool water, freer than any bird with your arms spread wide to welcome the breeze and sunlight that kissed your skin. 

He was mesmerised by the way you moved, and before he knew it, you pulled him by his arms to dance with you, the warmth of your hands surrounding his skin. And then, you sat by the ocean with your feet in the water, your head resting on Megumi’s shoulder. 

“It would’ve been selfish,” you replied to his question, closing your eyes to listen to the sound of the waves. 

“It’s okay to be,” he retorted. “We could’ve been so much more.” 

Silence took over, and you think for a moment. He’s right. You could've been everything. 

“There wouldn’t have been a point to it with what I was.” There was bitterness in your voice. “And besides, I don’t have the right to feel that way.”

“I should’ve been more selfish for you.”

You looked at the water splashing over your legs and stood up, slowly making your way to the deeper parts of the water. Maybe it's your fault for showing up so much, but you miss him just as much as he does, and you're unsure of how to get him to stop, or for you to let go, too.

“It’s time for me to go. See you?” 

The uncertainty in your voice made him feel worried. He got up and tried to reach out towards you, wanting to do anything to keep you from leaving again, but the waves had consumed you before he could, and suddenly, his eyes were open, and he’s awake.

He doesn’t like how quickly the dream went by.

He doesn’t dream of you again after that. You’re always on his mind, just like usual, but he can’t seem to speak to you or dream of you. Each day spent was a day spent in disappointment, and he doesn’t want to stop trying.

Megumi could walk down the streets and see various flowers and plants, or a pretty bird you’d like, and he’d want to talk to you about it. 

Despite how strong his desires are, he can’t find you anywhere. He swears he’s about to start writing letters to heaven and somehow hoping they get to you. He’s dreamt of you so much now he’s starting to think you’re alive again, and more often than not, he finds himself picking his phone up and clicking on your contact in hopes of being able to text you about his day, and for you to respond to him, but that won’t happen, and he knows it.

And then all of it repeats. He’s going to bed earlier and earlier, hoping that by some miracle that he was going to see you in the fog of illusions his brain made.

But you never showed up, and he was getting tired of it. He found it harder to concentrate on missions, because there were just so many things he wanted to tell you, and he kept telling himself to remember because he’ll see you again, and then he’ll get to tell you of everything he’s seen, because you were never able to see them.

He’s so full of you, you, and you, and all the heart he has for you, so please, he begs, for once he's found something he can look forward to, why won’t you just comfort him again?

-

“Megumi…”

His eyes opened abruptly to scan his surroundings. Another few months have passed, and a year has probably passed since you first started appearing in his dreams, he’s finally heard your voice again. There’s nothing around him. It’s pure darkness, and he can hear your voice echoing somewhere. 

Megumi started following the sound of you, and eventually, the ground crunched with each step he took. He looked down. He’s stepping on white snow, then he looks up again, and there’s a trail of blood.

And he hears your voice in that direction.

He gulps and freezes. His legs are physically impaled into the ground, as if something were holding him down, and he can’t find it in himself to move. And then he thinks, and thinks, and you’re in danger, and suddenly, he takes one step, and then he’s running towards you. 

The trees seem to become blurry as he increases his speed, and he doesn’t know how long he’s been running. One moment it’s dark, and then there was light as he stepped into the snow, and now, the sun has set, and he’s running in hopes of reaching you before he fails you again. 

He’s panting heavily, his legs are about to give out from the running, and he finally sees you. The blood on the ground he saw earlier had gotten thicker with every step he ran, and he sees you laying in the cold snow again, with your arm extended towards the skies. There’s a star you’re hoping to grasp, to reach and it’s shining so brightly, so radiant and pretty for everyone in the world to see as you finally realised– It’s always been out of your reach.

Megumi ran towards you and pulled you into his arms. He wondered to himself just as he did it, what is he doing? Why does he have to experience this again? It’s completely the same, and he can feel how cold your body is. 

He feels like he’s on autopilot, vision shaky and blurry as he holds your freezing hand up to his cheek, and he can feel his heart thumping in his chest, his mind running thousands of miles per second, and yet just one word from you snapped him out of all of it.

 “I’m sorry.” 

For some reason, Megumi dreaded that you’d apologise. He didn’t want an apology. He knows you felt guilty for the pain you’d caused him, but he’s over it. He could never hate you, because why would he? How could he hate you when you gave him company, love, and comfort? How could he hate you when he’s himself? 

He doesn’t respond to you. Not this time. Instead, he looks up to see the moon, and just as he thought, there wasn’t any moon again, because why would there be when it was right beside him? And for how much you loved the sun, isn’t it cruel that it never shone upon you? 

-

His eyes shot open again. It feels even worse now. He knows it’s just a dream, but you were dying, and he’s awake, and he wonders if he was still there holding you so you felt warm before everything went dark. He stares at his hands. It’s not stained with blood. Not anymore, for he washed it off over a year ago, so why does it feel so devastating knowing it wasn’t real? 

Perhaps it was the feeling that he’s failed you again, and there wasn’t anyone by your side, or maybe he’s thinking from your perspective. Maybe he was never beside you and he’s invisible in his dreams, and you think you don’t deserve the grace of a little mercy, just a little bit of company and kindness when you die. 

The tight feeling in his chest from the day he woke up after your passing was back again, and he can’t help but think it’s only gotten worse. 

Megumi wipes the sweat off his forehead and gets up. He has a solo mission today. He can’t mess up again. Not when you’re no longer around to have his back. 

Once he’s ready, he meets up with Ijichi, who briefs him on his mission while driving. It seemed easy enough. Worst case scenario, he’d run into a grade two curse, which he wouldn’t have that much of a problem defeating. 

So why exactly was he being stared down by such a creature now? He can’t help but feel a sense of deja vu. This exact thing has happened before, but at least you were there at the time. Now, he’s alone, trapped in a veil with no way to contact the outside world, and with the way the curse looks, he feels that he’s about to be beheaded. 

He snaps out of his thoughts when the curse swings at him, and he barely dodges the attack. He’s convinced he would’ve been turned into minced meat. He can’t do this. He can’t, not alone. 

He needs you, but you aren’t there again. 

He knows he can’t keep dodging forever. His stamina would run out soon, but every single attack he tried to deliver just wasn’t working. Nothing was. Every hit given was just another dent in his blade. It’s near its breaking point too, he can tell. 

Megumi’s eyes close as another impact lands on his weapon, and he doesn’t process it, but another hit, and everything hurts. He’s not sure if he’s broken a bone or not, or if anything inside his body is bleeding, but he’s very, very sure that he’s bleeding out. He’s tired. 

He doesn’t want to do this anymore. He can’t bring himself to get up. He can only stare at the curse before he finally blacks out.

-

“Hello?” he hears a voice sing out, and his eyes flutter open. “You’re awake, finally” 

You’re looking down from above him.

“What… Where am I?" Megumi questioned you, looking around the blank space around him.

“The border between life and death. I'm just here to make sure you don't die early, that's what partners are for, right?” you crouched down and flicked his forehead.

“You’re dwelling on me too much. It’s been a year, you know?” you looked straight at him, noticing that he was avoiding your gaze. “...It’s because I've been appearing in your dreams, haven't I? That's what's holding you back.” Megumi finally looked at you at the mentions of his imaginations. Yes, you have been in his dreams. You are his dream, but he doesn’t want you to feel bad because of it.

“I don’t want to let go.” 

You sighed at his words and sat down next to him. “Megumi, you have to understand that I’m only a small chapter in your life. I’m not much of a psychologist, but that chapter has ended– Our chapter has ended. You’re still young, Megumi, there’s so much you can experience, so don’t end it all–”

“You were young too,” he blurted out. “You had a lot you could’ve experienced too, but you couldn’t.” 

“I wanted to live beautifully too!” you suddenly snapped at him, and everything went silent.

The tension between you two only increased with each passing moment, and you both sat in silence for a while. Truthfully, you were wondering how much time had gone by while Megumi was unconscious. You felt like there was a weight in your heart, a lump in your throat, something that prevented you from speaking. 

You finally decided to speak up after some time. You needed a way to get him out of this place one way or another.

“Say, Megumi. What do you see me as?” Once you asked, he didn’t hesitate to respond. 

“The moon.”

"Even after so long you're still looking at me as if I were the moon," you chuckled. 

"...It's unfair." You whipped your head to face Megumi when you heard the crack in his voice. "What's unfair?" You shakily reached out for him, but stopped when tears began to stream down his face. 

“Megumi–”

"Not just the moon," he interrupted through his hiccups. "I wanted to make you my entire universe."

You sharply inhaled, and pulled him towards you. He clung onto you. You noticed how his hands were tightly gripping onto your shirt, and you gulped. “I’m sorry,” you choked out. “I’m sorry,” you said again, running your hand through his hair. 

“I never properly apologised to you for hurting you, did I? I’m sorry.”

The next few minutes were filled with apologies, his tears staining your sleeves. You pulled away after he stopped crying, your hand now tightly wrapped around his. “Megumi, listen. You have unfinished business. You need to get up and go, or I'll kill you myself.” 

“Don't steal my lines,” he weakly croaked out in between sobs.

Megumi sighed and wiped his tears away, finally standing up. He couldn’t help but notice your hand tightening around his just a little after he helped you stand.

“I’m gonna miss this feeling once you go,” you confessed to him, fingers now running over his calloused knuckles.

“I have a request, Megumi,” you said, smiling at him. “I know I told you to move on, and I won’t appear in your but remember me every once in a while, okay? Somehow, I feel that there isn’t another soul that’ll remember me for anything good I’ve done,” and he bites his lips at your words. It’s true, everyone will forget you.

“Hey, wait,” Megumi says before you pull away from him. “Do you think I’m going to be alone when it’s my turn to die?” he asked. 

You wondered for a while, then responded, “You won’t,” you said as you interlaced your fingers together. “You’ll be surrounded by so many people, and they’ll be there to help you live on for so much longer, I’d doubt you ever died,” you continued. 

“Even if you are, and you feel alone” you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him goodbye one last time. “I’ll be here to kiss your lonely soul,” you teased, and he smiled before you detached yourself from him and turned around to walk away. 

“Don’t take that as an invitation to come here early!”

“Oh! And let’s meet up on that mountain again. Under the tree!” you waved. 

-

Megumi’s eyes opened. He looked around him. There were remnants of curses that weren’t there before he became unconscious. 

“He’s awake!” Yuji shouted, and Nobara came over to help him walk to the car they came in with Nitta. 

“We got worried about you since you didn’t come back,” the pink haired male said, helping him into the car before the both of them got to (aggressively) bandaging him up. He looks at the clock at the front of the car. It’s late. 

Once they got back, Megumi got out and began walking in the direction towards the cliffs. “Hey! We need you to get checked by Shoko! She’s been waiting ever since we started searching for you!” 

He groaned, but begrudgingly followed them, and all the way throughout his check-up, he’s only been thinking about everything you’ve said to him. The minute it was over, he darted out the door and ran for the cliffs. 

Megumi was panting slightly when he got there. He went right after the mission, with blood still staining his uniform. The moon hung high in the sky, watching as he summoned his demon dogs and began digging the spot under the tree. Megumi began clawing at the soil using his hands at one point, getting dirt stuck in between his nails and fingers. He only stopped when he found a slightly rusted metal box.

The boy didn’t know what to expect inside, taking a deep breath and gulping before his shaky hands lifted the cover of the box. 

Megumi saw a few pictures of you and him, some of the accessories you wore, a book, and a piece of letter that had been neatly folded. 

He sat down under the tree and unfolded the letter, and began reading.

My blessing,

Truthfully, I don’t really remember my first day at the school anymore, because when I stepped foot into campus, my goal was to get information from all of you, acting like a shadow that didn’t exist. I know that I felt alone before that, but before I knew it, I had been shone upon by stars that burnt brighter than even the sun, but yet, you seemed to be the darkest shadow among all the students.

I planned to die from the first day, but I only made it worse by getting closer to all of you. Had I not done so, you wouldn’t be feeling any of the grief you do. 

I’ve only been in your life for a few months, Megumi. I want to think I’ve made a change in your life., because I’m looking back on it right now, and you’ve made such a big impact in my life. All of you. 

Come to think of it, we never got to see spring together. Next time we see each other, let’s meet in spring, so we can have picnics at night while wishing upon the stars, just like children do.

And I’ll make sure I’ll be the one to greet you first, because you were the one who waved to me first in this life. 

Let’s meet again in a more forgiving world.

-

He held the letter in his hands after he read it, trying to figure out what he felt about it. His eyes are blank, and he’s cried so much for you that he doesn’t know if he has the energy for it anymore. 

A heavy feeling settles on his heart as he sets the letter down and picks the book up. It was a book he’s wanted for a while, something he mentioned to you once while you were stargazing, but he never brought it up to you again afterwards. 

Megumi flips open the cover, and there are wilted sakura blooms pressed flatly against the blank page, along with your handwriting. 

“They bloomed early this year, Happy Valentines Day, Megumi.”

He continued flipping through the pages, and you had annotated the book, highlighting everything you felt he would look back at, the cute moments between the people in the book that reminded you of the both of you, and a bookmark made of wilted flowers that bloomed all year round on the page of the couple’s wedding.  

Suddenly, he feels tears in his eyes again, and they overflow and drip onto the pages, slightly staining them. You told him to move on, but how could he? It was obvious you were lying to him again. You never planned to die. Even if you did, it’s obvious you never wanted to die. You wanted to spend your life with him. You wanted to swim in the ocean at night together, you wanted to wake up next to him, go on dates to carnivals just to ride the ferris wheel and admire the view of Tokyo.

And then it finally sunk into his soul that he’d never see you again. Not now, at least.

His hold around the book tightened, and he hugged his knees close to his chest. He wished on every universe that you’d somehow appear beside him and wipe his tears away, chasing away the heavy feeling in his heart. He knows the feeling is temporary, and it’ll go away in a while, but he feels so alone. 

By the time he finally stands up, his legs ache from how long he’s been sitting on the ground, and the sun is peeking through the horizon. He’s been consumed by his own thoughts for hours, and he thinks maybe it’s in his mind, but just as he turned around to walk away, a breeze of air went by him, and it felt as if something hugged him, just for a second. 

The universe is watching over him after all.

-

February 14th, two years after your death.

Megumi’s back at your spot again. This time, there’s a grave he had made for you, with a few plants planted beside it, and the ribbons tied around the stems sway in the wind. He sits down beside it and his fingers graze the tips of the soft grass. 

He closes his eyes, and he realises he can no longer remember what you look like. Well, not really. He remembers clearly what you look like. He still has the picture all of you took at the mall together, and he holds it dearly, but all of them have grown, and it’s not enough to remember you anymore.

There are new scars around their bodies, they’ve grown taller, become stronger. Megumi wonders what you would’ve looked like if you stood beside him now.

He looks around him, and maybe that’s his answer. The grass is greener, the trees have grown taller, the waves of the ocean are just as if not even more calming now…

You would’ve turned out just fine.

He can’t remember how many times he’s reread the book you’ve given him, but he finds himself turning to the page where the two lovers separated. 

“Do you think we’ll be like this forever?” the protagonist asked her partner, and you highlighted the phrase, a small note made in the gaps between words.

“Not forever, but definitely for a long time.”

-

Year ????

A young male with black coloured hair is walking through a park in Tokyo. The sun is shining brightly, and there are sakura flowers blooming. Some petals have fallen onto the sidewalk and grass, and he inhales deeply before stopping to admire… Everything. 

The world looks especially pretty today. He doesn’t know why, but the sky seemed to shine just a little brighter. 

A rare smile graces his lips, and he spots his friends and teacher waiting for him under one of the trees, all set and ready for a picnic. Someone taps his shoulder just before he takes a step forward, and he turns around to face someone with a face that seemed too familiar. 

You.

He sees you. You, who’s waving at him with that smile on your face that he adored.

by user @ aireia, do not plagiarize and/or translate.

[mssorceressupreme]

hiii, i really love your minho ficc, its just so good 😭. and i wonder if i could make a request? anw, im sorry for my bad english 🫠

it's minho x fem reader, when the reader is her gf and the one who caught the flare instead of newt when trying to save him from wicked

hiii thank you bae 🥹🫶🏼 of course, I’m delighted to write this for you!! I wasn’t sure if you wanted said reader to live or die for this but for the sake of a happy ending I’ll make a her live LMAOO but I’ll still make it angsty-ish?

——

Lose You

Pairing: Minho x Reader

Summary: in which you caught the flare, and Minho will do anything not to lose you.

Warnings: mentions of blood, collapsing, injuries and explosions

——

The Last city was chaos—fire and smoke filled the air, the deafening sounds of battle surrounded you. You clung to consciousness, your vision blurring as you fled WCKD’s facility.

Thomas, Newt and Gally were ahead, their figures barely visible through the haze, but Minho stood right beside you, his grip on your hand tight and reassuring.

“Keep moving guys!” Thomas shouted over his shoulder, though he paid a little more attention to you as he knew about your condition. Minho on the other hand, was oblivious.

You guys had just escaped the facility, no way were you going to break the news to him so soon. Especially since you knew that he would hate himself for not being able to keep you safe given his protective nature.

You nodded, trying to keep up with Thomas, but each step felt like a monumental effort. The adrenaline that had fuelled your rescue mission was fading, replaced by a deep, gnawing fatigue.

Your breaths came in ragged gasps, and a sharp pain throbbed in your chest. The world around you spun, and your injuries from fighting the WCKD soldiers previously were worsening.

The boys came to a halt and the five of you stopped behind a pillar, shielding yourselves from the gunfires and erupting explosions temporarily.

“We’re almost there, just need to wait for a clear coast.” Gally affirmed, glancing to you swiftly to check if you were alright.

You gasped, inhaling for air, before your legs gave in, “Minho…” you weakly called out.

Minho caught you in his arms to stop your fall, gently stroking your head, “Y/N!” His voice was frantic while he held you upright.

You tried to speak to reassure him, but the words didn’t come. Instead, you looked up at him, your vision dimming and saw the panic in his eyes.

You felt your chest tightening and your lungs closing in on you, breathing was a struggle but you continued panting and gasping for air and coughing.

Minho was saying something but you found it hard to focus. All you could see was the way his face twisted in fear and concern.

Another bomb exploded near you, causing the five of you to stumble.

“Stay low guys!” Newt yelled out, “Don’t breathe in the smoke!”

“Y/N stay with me,” Minho begged, while sitting on the floor to get a firmer grip of you, while you rested in his lap. Thomas helped lower you down to prevent you from getting injured further.

Minho glanced down at your arm, and his eyes widened in horror.

You followed his gaze and saw the dark, web-like veins spreading all over your arm. Your heart sank as you realised how quickly the virus had spread, you felt that your chances of surviving were now slim.

“No,” Minho whispered, his voice trembling, “No, no, no….”

“Minho…” You managed to choke out.

He lifted you into his arms, cradling you against his chest. “We’re going to get you out of here,” he assured, “I’m not losing you, do you hear me? I’m not losing you!”

Newt came to check up on you, his eyebrows furrowing in concern, “Brenda has the serum, we’ve got to get to her now!”

“How long has she been like this?…” Minho whispered to Newt, not wanting me to hear.

Thomas answered before Newt, “She’ll be alright, let’s just get her to the serum. She’ll be okay Minho.” He put his arm on Minho’s shoulder as a form of consolation.

“We need to move now!” Gally commanded, helping you up from Minho’s lap.

“I’ll carry her! You guys cover me!” Minho shouted, while picking you up bridal style, holding you closely to his chest.

The battle raged around you, but Minho moved with a single-minded focus, dodging gunfire and explosions. You could feel his heart pounding against you, his breath coming in sharp bursts.

Thomas and Newt reappeared, “How is she holding up?”

You were still breathing heavily and rapidly, gasping for every bit of oxygen.

Minho lifted your sleeve, “It’s spreading like wildfire…” his voice wavering slightly.

“We need to get her to the Berg now.” Thomas firmly said, loading up his gun before running through the battling city again.

As Minho ran, you could feel your consciousness slipping. The edges of your vision darkened and your body felt heavier with each passing second. You tried to keep your eyes open, to stay focused, but the flare was growing stronger, darkening your mind.

“Stay with me, Y/N,” He whispered, “Stay with me baby.”

Just then, your mind became total blackness.

A violent shudder wracked your body, a guttural growl escaped your lips. Your limbs twisted in unnatural angles, feeling an overwhelming urge to lash out. The world around you turned red and you shoved Minho with inhuman strength, causing him to drop you from his arms.

“Y/N, NO!” Minho shouted, voice filled with horror and desperation.

You growled at him again, black blood dripping from your mouth. Eyes bloodshot, veins popping out from your neck and arms.

You then lunged at Minho, nails sharp, a snarl escaping your lips. Your mind screamed at your body to stop, but the flare had taken over, turning you into a crank.

Minho dodged the attacks, eyes filled with a mix of sorrow and pleas, “Y/N! It’s me, Minho!”

You ignored him and continued to attack, trying to lunge at him with a knife.

“Gally, Thomas, Newt! Run ahead and get the serum from Brenda now!” Minho shouted, the other three fleeing as a result.

“I’m not fighting you! I refuse to!” He yelled, dodging every hit.

“Y/N, fight it!” He pleaded, dodging yet another swipe.

“I can’t…” the human side of you managed to whisper, before the flare occupied your mind again.

“I know you’re in there. Fight it!” He managed to pin you down, being on top of you.

Your body moved on its own, a primal urge to destroy and fight everything in your path. Minho blocked your attacks, eyes filled with tears.

Minutes felt like hours as you fought, each movement filled with pain and sorrow. Just when you thought you would lose yourself completely, you heard footsteps approaching.

Thomas appeared clutching the serum, “Catch!” He tossed it to Minho.

Thomas threw the serum to Minho. With one last sorrowful look at you, he plunged the needle into your arm. The effect was immediate.

The red haze lifted, and your body went limp. Darkness consumed you and you collapsed into Minho’s arms. Total darkness.

——

You slowly opened your eyes, the chaos was gone. You sat up and checked your surroundings, to your surprise, you were lying in the Berg, its engines humming softly. There were around 30 kids here, along with your fellow gladers.

Minho sat beside you, his hand clasped tightly around yours.

“Minho?” You croaked, your voice weak.

His eyes snapped to yours, relief flooding his face. “Y/N! You’re awake!!”

“I…I thought I lost you.” You whispered, tears streaming down your face, “I had a dream we fought and…oh, I’m so sorry…”

He pulled you into his arms, “It’s alright baby. You’re safe now,” he said, “We’re heading to the Safe Haven. We made it.”

You smiled weakly, heart swelling with love and relief, “I love you, Minho.”

“I love you too, Y/N.” He replied, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

As the Berg soared through the sky, you knew you had a long road ahead, but with Minho by your side, you felt ready to take on the next challenge. Together, you would find a way to survive and build a new life in the Safe Haven.

[bouncybongfairy]

Literally love you, hope you're taking requests! Could you do the bayverse boys with a goth stoner?

Smoke Sesh

TMNT x Fem Goth Stoner Reader

Summary: After ditching class for a smoke break, you're approached by two men with bad intentions. The TMNTs help you escape the alleyway you're cornered in, you guys have a smoke sesh in their van.

Word Count: 1.0k+

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

It was second period and the monotone voice of your English teacher was putting everyone to sleep. Even the teacher wasn’t into it, just reading aloud from the book while sitting at her desk. Not even bothering to look up as she did so. You picked up your bag before quietly walking out of the classroom. As long as you were quiet, the teacher didn’t care or notice if anyone left. There were a couple of security guards that you had to pass, you would feed them an excuse about going to the nurse’s office and usually, they bought it. As you walk past the front gates of your school, you pull your black cardigan closer to your body. You didn’t realize it was so cold outside, your nose was becoming sensitive and runny. Stopping in a narrow alleyway between two apartment buildings, you rummage through your bag.

Your older sister woke up late for work this morning and was only able to take a couple of puffs out of the blunt she rolled before leaving. You took advantage of this and hastily threw it in your bag before leaving. Luckily it wasn’t bent or damaged to the point of being unsmokeable. After you finally find the lighter you put it into your blunt and take the first drag. It was like you could feel the weed pushing the anxiety out of your body. The rain was getting heavy but it didn’t bother you one bit. Not only were you being kept dry from a fire escape above you, on colder days, but your make-up also lasted much longer because it wasn’t exposed to extreme heat. You were wearing a long black maxi skirt and a thin long-sleeve, both in black; along with black riot boots. Not being able to resist, you take a couple of pictures. 

“I bet those pictures came real nice,” a voice growled from the left of you. You jumped and whipped your body to see who spoke. Feeling your heart drop into your stomach, you slowly start to back up; trying to gain as much space between each other.

“Oh, my dad is actually about to pick me up, I have to go,” you lied as you began to walk away, you were walking backward because you were scared to turn your back to him.

“So soon, I’m sure you can be a little late,” the creep said, starting to charge you. As he did so you turned but were stopped by a truck that broke directly in front of you. 

“Get in,” one of the passengers said as the sliding door rolled open. You didn’t even look at who was in the vehicle, you were so desperate to get out of the current situation that you didn’t think twice. You took a deep breath and tried to calm yourself down but it was hard considering the severity of what could have happened. After a few moments and tears, you looked up and realized who was in your company. When you saw the turtles you passed out momentarily. When you came to, one of them was fanning you. You immediately sat up but Donnie asked you to calm down. 

“Woah woah, don’t sit up too fast. You had a vasovagal response which means you lost consciousness due to a lack of blood flow to the brain. You are totally okay though and your vitals are normal. Did anything happen in the alleyway that might cause you to need medical attention?” Donnie said, lifting his goggles up so you could see his eyes. 

“No, I’m just shaken up a bit,” you said, sitting up on a seat in the back of the van. 

“I’m sure, glad everything turned out okay,” Donnie said. 

“Yeah because you’re way too hot to die,” Mikey said, plopping down next to you.

“Mike! Sorry, he has impulse control issues,” Raph said as he drove. 

“Dude! Don’t say that in front of my new hot, spooky, witch girlfriend,” he whispered, blocking your view of his mouth in an attempt to stop you from seeing what he said. 

“Is it okay if I smoke in here,” you asked? The van got quiet, the boys looking around at each other without saying anything. 

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” Leo said.

“I don’t know, she just went through a traumatic thing. If she’s used to smoking then maybe she needs it to help her calm down, you know?” Mikey said. 

“What about contact high?” Raph asked. 

“Technically the effects would not be significant unless she was blowing the smoke directly in your face or the car filled with a dense enough smoke,” Donnie explained. 

“So is that a yes?” you asked, putting the blunt into your mouth and waiting for a response before lighting it. 

After nobody disagreed you lit it again and took a drag, you laughed when you noticed that they were all looking at you. They looked away for a second but it didn’t take long before all their eyes were on you again. At this point Raph parked the van and opened the windows. You were making subtle conversation, asking them if they ever smoked before. As expected, they all haven’t and were surprised when you offered them the blunt. Mikey went to grab it without hesitation and Leo stopped him. After a little persuasion, Mikey grabbed it and took a drag. The blunt in your hand was still pretty big but in his hand it looked like a tiny little twig. He immediately started coughing which made his brothers look around in a worried way. The effects were immediate and he started laughing and joking more than usual if that’s possible. This hummored his brothers, lightening the mood of the situation. 

“I just want to thank you guys again for saving me from that situation,” you said again, putting out the roach. 

“No worries girl, I'd always be there for my goth girlfriend,” Mikey said, wrapping his arm around you. 

“I appreciated that,” you joked back, giving him a kiss on his cheek; leaving a black lipstick mark.