#unable to think of a background rip

[fickleartdump]

prophet and catalyst

[randomwords247]

Me after finishing my latest commission: Man thank goodness I don't have to deal with strict perspective anymore I love doing backgrounds but having to rely on vanishing points can really make my head hurt and I'm just glad I don't have to do that anymore and can take a break a-

literally me right after with the next artwork I'm working on:

At least its not 2 point perspective but still gosh darn it why do I keep DOING THIS TO MYSELF

[vanteguccir]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤCAR CRASH * MATT STURNIOLO

SUMMARY　::　where an amazing date night leads to a devastating car accident, leaving Y/N severely injured and Matt hospitalized and feeling extremely guilt.

FEATURING　Matt Sturniolo x reader　REQUESTED?　yes.

WARNINGS　::　Car crash, blood, gore (nothing too extreme), mentions of surgery and death.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

The night had been perfect. The kind of night that made Matt wish he could bottle up every second and live it over and over again. As they cruised down the road, Y/N’s laughter filled the car, bubbling up with a joy that made his heart swell. He stole a quick glance at her, unable to resist the smile tugging at his lips as he watched her eyes crinkle at the corners.

It was all almost too serene. The road was deserted, stretching ahead like a long, winding ribbon through the dense forest. Trees lined both sides, their dark silhouettes swaying gently in the cool breeze. The glow from the dashboard lights bathed Matt’s face in a soft blue hue, highlighting the way his jaw clenched whenever he concentrated on the road.

Matt’s hand rested gently on Y/N’s thigh, fingers intertwined with hers. The music in the background was just soft enough to allow their conversation to drift through the air. Their fingers were laced together like they had been for years, her thumb softly brushing over the back of his hand in a way that always sent a thrill through him.

"You know." Y/N started, turning to look at him with that familiar, teasing sparkle in her eyes. "I still can’t believe you almost choked on that dessert tonight."

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head.

"Hey, those strawberries were huge, okay? It’s not my fault they didn’t fit in my mouth." Matt chuckled, his voice low and slightly raspy as he lifted her hand to press a soft kiss to her knuckles.

"Sure, that’s what she said." She quipped, sending a playful wink towards the brunette.

His laughter echoed through the car, his eyes crinkling at the edges.

"Hey, babe, we should-"

But before he could finish his sentence, Y/N's heart jumped to her throat as she noticed something.

"Matt!" Y/N’s scream pierced the air like needles.

Matt’s heart seized, his veins flooded with pure adrenaline. The world seemed to slow down, the seconds stretching into infinity as he turned his eyes from Y/N to the approaching car. It was swerving uncontrollably, zigzagging across the two-lane road, headlights blinding and erratic.

Panic gripped him like a vice. His instincts kicked in, hands flying to the steering wheel as he yanked it to the right with all his strength, desperate to avoid a head-on collision. The tires screamed in protest, the smell of burning rubber filling the car as the vehicle veered off the asphalt, gravel spraying against the undercarriage like bullets.

The seatbelt bit into his chest, and Matt let out a guttural grunt as the force of the swerve tried to rip him sideways.

"Hold on!" He shouted, the words raw and choked with fear.

But there was no time to process, no time to think. In the chaos, Matt’s vision narrowed to a tunnel. He could barely make out the blur of trees and darkness as the car skidded off the road. The other car blazed past them, its horn blaring like a scream of rage, disappearing into the night as if it had never been there.

Matt’s heart hammered in his chest, every beat like a drum of dread. He tried to correct the car’s course, but it seemed to be impossible with the velocity of it, and the steering wheel slipped under his frantic grip. The headlights illuminated nothing but shadows and thick trees ahead, and before he could even register what was happening, the world exploded into chaos.

The impact was instant. The front of the car crumpled like a tin can as it collided with the tree, the force of the crash sending them both jolting forward. Y/N’s scream was cut short as her side of the car bore the brunt of the crash, the airbags exploding around them in a cloud of powder.

Everything went black.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

A few seconds - or maybe minutes, Matt couldn’t tell - passed before he came to. The first thing he noticed was the sharp, metallic taste of blood in his mouth, his head throbbing like it was being split open. His vision was blurred, darkness and flashing colors swirling together as he tried to blink them away.

"Y/N..." He croaked, his voice barely a whisper. Panic seized his chest like a vice grip as he turned his head, trying to see her through the haze. "Y/N!"

She was slumped against her seat, her head tilted unnaturally to the side, blood smeared across her forehead where she’d hit the window.

"No, no, no, no!" Matt’s voice came out in a broken sob as he reached for her, his hands trembling violently. Pain shot through his ribs with every movement, but he ignored it, his vision blurred with tears. "Y/N! Wake up, please, wake up!"

But she didn’t move.

"C'mon, please. Please- fucking shit!"

He could barely breathe, his chest tightening as though an invisible hand was crushing his lungs. Warm blood trickled down his temple, but he barely noticed it. All he could focus on was Y/N, slumped lifelessly beside him.

"What do I do? What do I do?" His bloody hands flew to his head, smearing it all around his skin. "An ambulance, I need-need to call an ambulance."

His trembling fingers fumbled with his phone, hands slick with blood and sweat, and his vision blurred with tears. He couldn’t think straight; everything was a whirlpool of noise, pain, and terror. As he finally managed to dial 911, he searched for Y/N hand, squeezing the cold, unmoving member, his other hand shaking so hard it almost dropped the phone.

"911, what's your emergency?"

Matt could hardly get the words out, his throat so tight it felt like he was being strangled.

"We-we've been in an accident! Oh god, please- please help us! I... I don’t know what to do!"

His voice was a broken sob, the words tumbling out in a chaotic rush, barely coherent. He was gasping for breath, panic clawing at him with icy fingers. He kept glancing at Y/N, hoping, praying that she would suddenly move or blink or give any sign that she was okay. But she was too still, her face shining with blood, eyes closed, and her chest...

He couldn't even tell if it was moving.

"Okay, sir, I need you to try to stay calm. Where are you? Can you give me your location?"

Matt’s mind was spinning, the world around him a dark blur. He tried to remember where they were, but it was like every thought was slipping through his fingers.

"Uh- I, I don’t know! Somewhere near... near Elm and... I think we’re by a park or something. There’s glass everywhere, and- she's not... she’s not waking up!"

As he spoke, Matt’s voice cracked again, his words coming out in choked sobs. His free hand kept shaking Y/N’s shoulder, trying to rouse her, to pull her back to him.

"Alright, I’ve got your location. Help is on the way. Sir, I need you to focus for a moment. Is anyone else in the car with you?"

Matt’s voice broke into a desperate wail.

"Yes, yes, it’s my girlfriend. She-she’s not moving! I tried to wake her, but... but she’s just lying there, and she’s bleeding. Oh god, there’s so much blood!"

He couldn’t stop his crying, his entire body shaking as if he were freezing. Maybe he was.

"Okay, I understand. Help is on its way, I promise. But I need you to check if she’s breathing. Can you see if she’s taking any breaths?"

Matt let out a strangled noise, almost animalistic, as he leaned back to try to see. His hands were unsteady and he wiped furiously at his eyes to clear his vision. He leaned closer to her, straining to see if her chest was rising, but everything was too dark and chaotic.

"I-I can’t tell! I’m trying, but she’s not moving! Please, just help her!" His voice rose to a scream at the end, cracking under the weight of his despair.

"We're doing everything we can, sir. You’re doing great, okay? Just stay with me. Take a deep breath. I need you to look at her chest. Is it rising and falling, even a little?"

Matt tried. He really tried. But all he could see was blood. Blood on her eyes, her lips, her collarbone. He could barely make out her features through the darkness and the horror of what was happening.

"I don’t know, I don’t know!" He cried, his voice breaking into another sob. "It’s too dark, and her hair- there’s so much blood on her face. I’m scared to move her, I don’t want to hurt her more! Y/N, baby, come on. Please, don’t leave me." He begged, his voice raw with desperation.

He reached for his own seatbelt, fingers fumbling as he tried to undo the latch, but it was jammed. Tears blurred his vision constantly, frustration and fear boiling over as he yanked at it, the metal digging into his palms.

When the seatbelt finally gave way, he turned his attention back to her face.

"I’m here, I’m here." He whispered, pressing frantic kisses to her forehead, ignoring the cold of her skin and the taste of blood hitting his tongue. "I’m not leaving you, okay? Just stay with me."

"You’re doing the right thing by staying with her, sir." Their voice made him remember that he was still with the call on-going. "Just keep talking to her, alright? I know it’s hard, but you need to stay calm for her. What’s her name?"

Her name. God, her name was everything. It was the first thing he thought of when he woke up and the last thing on his mind before he fell asleep. He let out a shuddering breath.

"Y/N... Her name’s Y/N." He whispered, his voice raw. He cradled her face with his free hand, gently brushing the blood-streaked strands of hair away. "She’s so cold. Why is she so cold?"

"Y/N is going to be okay, sir. We’re sending an ambulance to you right now. I need you to tell me: are you hurt? Are you bleeding anywhere?"

Matt’s mind was short-circuiting, the edges of his vision tinged with black spots. But he couldn’t focus on himself. He couldn’t care less if he was bleeding or broken.

"N-No, I’m fine. It’s just her. She-she hit her head so hard." His voice broke into a whisper at the end, as if saying it too loudly would make it more real.

"I understand. But you might not realize you’re hurt because of the adrenaline. Can you check if you’re bleeding or if you feel any pain?"

Matt’s eyes darted frantically between his phone and Y/N. He couldn’t think about himself, couldn’t even process what they were asking.

"I told you, I’m fine!" He screamed into the phone, his voice cracking with a desperate fury. "I’m fine! It’s Y/N! Just... please save her! She’s... she’s everything. I can’t-" His words broke off into a series of harsh, broken sobs.

"I hear you, and I promise we're doing everything we can. Help is almost there, okay?"

Matt nodded frantically, even though they couldn’t see him. He clung to Y/N’s hand like a lifeline, pressing it to his lips, whispering her name over and over.

"Please, baby, stay with me... Please. You’re so strong. You can get through this. Just keep breathing for me, okay? Please..."

Outside, the wailing sirens grew louder, the red and blue lights flashing through the shattered windows of the car.

"Please... don’t leave me." He whispered one last time, the sound of his door being ripped open sounding muffled before the darkness around him finally swallowed him whole.

The last thing he felt was Y/N’s cold hand slipping from his grasp as the world went dark.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

A slow, rhythmic beeping was the first thing Matt became aware of as he drifted back into consciousness. His eyelids were heavy, as if weighed down by invisible anchors, and when he finally managed to pry them open, his vision was blurred, everything around him a hazy mix of white and blue. The smell of antiseptic stung his nostrils, making his head spin, and the low hum of machinery filled the air.

Matt blinked, trying to clear the fog from his mind. The room was dim, a soft light glowing from a corner lamp, casting long shadows across the pale walls.

There was an IV taped to his arm, the clear tube connected to a bag hanging from a metal pole beside the bed. His body felt like it had been crushed, every breath sending a dull throb through his ribs.

It hurt to move, but he turned his head slowly, trying to get his bearings. That’s when he noticed the figure slumped in an uncomfortable-looking position on a small armchair near the bed.

Chris.

His brother was fast asleep, his face drawn with exhaustion, dark circles etched beneath his eyes. The armchair seemed to have been pushed so close to the bed that it almost touched it, like Chris had wanted to stay as close to him as possible.

Matt’s mind was sluggish, like wading through thick mud. He couldn't remember how he’d ended up here. Why was he in a hospital? What had happened?

As he lay there, trying to piece together the fragments of his memory, a flash of vivid color cut through the fog like a lightning bolt; Y/N’s face, pale and covered in blood, slumped in the seat next to him.

The memory hit him like a truck, and suddenly everything came rushing back at once: the crash, the panic, the desperate phone call. Y/N’s lifeless body beside him.

"Y/N!" The name ripped out of his throat, raw and broken.

Adrenaline flooded his veins, pushing away the pain as panic seized him. He tried to sit up, ignoring the sharp agony that shot through his side and the dizziness that made his head sway. The only thought in his mind was finding her, making sure she was okay. He had to see her. He had to know if she was still-

His hands scrambled at the IV taped to his arm, trying to yank it free.

"No, no, no... C'mon, I need to find her!" He gasped, his voice frantic and uneven. His vision blurred with tears, anxiety closing in like a vice around his chest.

Chris woke with a sudden start, his eyes snapping open. For a split second, he was disoriented, but then he saw Matt struggling on the bed, clawing at the IV line.

"Matt! Hey, stop. Stop!" Chris practically leaped from the couch, crossing the short distance to his brother in a heartbeat.

Matt barely registered Chris’s presence.

"Let go of me! I need to find her!" His voice was wild, a desperate, guttural scream. He shoved at Chris with what little strength he had, the effort sending another stab of pain through his ribs, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was Y/N. She was out there somewhere, alone, hurt. He had to get to her.

Chris’s heart twisted painfully at the sight of his brother in such a state. He grabbed Matt’s hands, trying to stop him from tearing the IV out.

"Matt, listen to me! You need to calm down!" His voice was steady, but there was an edge of panic in it, fear for both Matt’s physical and mental state.

He pushed the call button for the doctor frantically, knowing they needed help, now.

Matt was beyond reason. He was sobbing, his voice breaking as he shouted like crazy.

"Get off me, Chris! Please, I have to find her! Y/N- where is she? Where’s Y/N?!" He thrashed against Chris’s grip, raw terror coursing through him. His mind was a whirlwind of worst-case scenarios, each one more terrifying than the last.

Chris used every ounce of strength he had to pin Matt’s hands down against the bed, his fingers digging into Matt’s wrists. He leaned in close, his face inches from Matt’s, forcing him to make eye contact.

"Matt, you need to stop!" He shouted, his voice cracking. "Listen to me, please! Nick is with her, and they’re taking care of her! You have to stay here and let them help you, okay? You’re hurt, too!"

But it was like Matt couldn’t even hear him.

"No, no, no! She’s not okay, she wasn’t moving! I need to see her, Chris! Let me go!" His screams were hoarse, filled with a raw, primal agony that tore at Chris’s heart.

Before Chris could say anything else, the door burst open, and a doctor, along with two nurses, rushed in, their expressions tense and focused.

"What’s going on?" The doctor demanded as she approached the bed, her gaze flicking between the brothers.

"He’s trying to rip the IV out." Chris said breathlessly, his voice shaking. "Please, he won’t calm down!"

The doctor nodded sharply, gesturing to one of the nurses.

"We need to sedate him before he injures himself further."

"No!" Matt screamed, thrashing even harder against Chris’s grip. "Don’t you dare! I need to find Y/N!" His voice was broken, desperate, his eyes wide and filled with terror.

Chris's hands tightened around Matt’s, holding him down as the nurse prepared a syringe. Tears streamed down Matt’s face, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.

He was looking at Chris with an expression so lost, so utterly heartbroken, it nearly broke Chris, too.

"Matt, listen to me." Chris pleaded, his own voice breaking. "She’s going to be okay. But you’re going to hurt yourself if you don’t stop. I promise, I promise I’ll take you to her as soon as they say it’s okay. But you have to calm down, okay? Please, Matt..."

Matt’s eyes were wild, searching Chris’s for any sign of a lie, any hint that he was just trying to placate him. But Chris’s face was so full of anguish, so full of love and sincerity, that Matt’s resolve wavered for a moment.

The nurse took advantage of that brief second of hesitation, quickly inserting the needle into Matt’s IV line. Within seconds, the sedative began to take effect. Matt’s thrashing slowed, his screams dying down to broken sobs as the world around him began to blur again.

"No... Chris, please... It was my fault... Y/N..." Matt’s voice was barely a whisper now, his eyelids drooping as the drug pulled him under. The last thing he saw was Chris’s tear-streaked face, mouthing something he couldn’t quite hear before the darkness swallowed him whole.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The darkness that had pulled Matt under before slowly began to recede, but this time, it was different. Darkness enveloped him in a terrifying nightmare, pulling him under like the tide dragging him out to sea.

He was back in the car. The smell of gasoline and blood was suffocating, the crunch of broken glass grinding beneath his legs as he struggled to move. Y/N was next to him, her face ghostly pale, her eyes closed, blood streaming down her forehead and pooling beneath her. Her body lay limp, lifeless against the car seat, and no matter how many times he screamed her name, she didn't stir.

"... Y/N, please! Wake up!" Matt’s voice was raw, his throat burning with the force of his screams. He shook her shoulder frantically, his fingers slick with blood. "No, no, no... please, Y/N, don’t do this to me!" But she remained still, her head slumped to the side, blood trickling down her delicate features.

The world around him was spinning, the sound of sirens in the distance growing louder, yet somehow they never seemed to get closer. His breaths were short, and frantic gasps as he clutched at Y/N, his tears falling onto her lifeless body.

"God, no! Please!" He was breaking, unraveling, his heart tearing apart as he held her close, praying for a miracle that wouldn’t come.

"Matt!"

The voice was distant at first, barely cutting through the thick haze of his panic. But it grew louder, more urgent, like a beacon trying to pierce through the storm in his mind.

"Matt! Come on, wake up!"

But Matt couldn’t make sense of it. His eyes were still glued to Y/N’s lifeless form, his hands desperately trying to stop the flow of blood, his heart shattering with each second that passed. The voice was there again, louder this time, sounding so familiar, so achingly real.

"Matt, it’s okay. You're safe. Matt, listen to me!"

The scene in front of him wavered, flickering like a glitch in a broken film reel. The wrecked car, the blood, Y/N’s unmoving body; all of it seemed to blur, like someone was tearing the nightmare apart at its seams. Matt blinked, his vision shifting between the nightmare and something else. A figure - blurred, indistinct - hovered above him. He could hear that voice again, so much clearer now, so desperate and familiar.

"Y/N?" Matt’s voice was a hoarse whisper, his eyes darting around frantically. But his mind was still caught between the nightmare and reality. He could feel Y/N’s cold body beneath his fingers, could see her blood staining his hands. "No, please! Don’t let her die! God, please, don’t take her from me!" His voice broke into anguished sobs, raw and heart-wrenching, as he pleaded into the darkness.

The figure above him froze, and then, in an instant, arms wrapped around him. Matt was pulled into a tight embrace, warmth pressing against his trembling body.

"Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m here. Matt, it’s me. You’re safe." Chris’s voice was thick with emotion, his own tears spilling as he held Matt close.

The youngest dropped to his knees beside the hospital bed, leaning over Matt’s shaking form, one arm cradling the back of his head as he tried to bring him back from the brink.

"Shhh, it’s okay, Matt. Y/N is okay. I promise you, she’s alive. It was just a nightmare." Chris whispered desperately into Matt’s ear, his grip tightening when he felt his brother’s body shake with gut-wrenching sobs. He rocked them both slightly, his own chest heaving as he tried to keep it together for Matt’s sake. "I’ve got you, alright? I’m right here. She’s okay. I swear."

But Matt couldn’t process the words. His mind was still stuck in that twisted nightmare, where Y/N was cold and still beneath his hands, where he’d failed to protect her.

"No, no... I have to get to her." He choked out, struggling weakly in Chris’s arms. "I can’t lose her... I can’t..."

"Matt." Chris said more firmly, his voice breaking. He pulled back just enough to look Matt in the eyes, his hands cupping Matt’s face, thumbs brushing away the tears streaming down his cheeks. "Listen to me. You’re not in the car anymore. You’re in the hospital. Y/N is okay. She’s being taken care of. She’s safe."

Chris’s words were slowly, agonizingly, starting to sink in. Matt’s sobs grew softer, his breaths still ragged and uneven, but the desperate thrashing stopped. He could feel the warmth of Chris’s body, the steady pressure of his hands holding him down, grounding him in the present. The nightmare was slipping away, reality clawing its way back into his consciousness.

Matt’s fingers, which had been gripping Chris’s shirt with bruising force, gradually loosened. He blinked, his vision clearing enough to see the hospital room around him. The blinding lights, the beeping machines, the sterile scent, all of it slowly registered, pulling him further away from the nightmare’s grip.

"Chris...?" Matt’s voice was small, broken, like a lost child. His wide, tear-filled eyes searched Chris’s, looking for confirmation that this wasn’t another twisted dream.

"Yes, it’s me." Chris whispered, his forehead pressing against Matt’s. "You’re safe. I’ve got you."

Matt collapsed into Chris’s arms, his body going limp with exhaustion. The adrenaline that had kept him going drained away, leaving him weak and trembling. He buried his face in Chris’s shoulder, his hands clutching at his brother’s back like a lifeline.

"I thought... I thought I lost her..." He sobbed, his voice muffled and choked. "I couldn’t... I can’t lose her, Chris..."

"I know, I know." Chris murmured, tears streaming down his own face as he held his brother tighter, laying his cheek above his head. "But she’s alive. She’s okay. And you’re okay. We’re all here, Matt. You’re safe."

Slowly, so slowly, Matt’s sobs began to quiet. His breathing evened out, but that only brought the pain to control. Each breath sent a jolt through his bruised ribs. His head throbbed, the pain pulsing behind his eyes, and his skin was clammy with cold sweat. He shivered, his body exhausted and aching, but he let himself lean into Chris’s embrace, the warmth of his brother’s presence keeping him grounded.

Chris continued to murmur soothing words, his hands rubbing circles on Matt’s shoulder, trying to calm the tremors that still wracked his brother’s body.

"You’re okay, Matt. You’re safe. I’ve got you."

Matt let out a shaky breath, his body finally beginning to relax, the nightmare fading further into the recesses of his mind, the steady rhythm of Chris’s heartbeat against his ear helping to calm the storm inside him.

For the first time since waking, Matt felt like he could breathe again. He was still in pain, his body battered and broken, but Chris’s comforting presence kept him anchored, keeping him from slipping back into that dark abyss.

"Can... can you call me the doctor?" Matt whispered hoarsely, his voice barely audible.

"Are you feeling pain?" Chris asked worriedly, receiving a small nod as an answer. "Okay."

Chris brushed back the damp hair on Matt's forehead while pressing his free hand against the red button.

"Chris." Matt croaked out again. "Y/N... how is she?"

His younger brother's face crumpled, and he let out a shaky breath. He looked away for a moment, trying to collect himself before turning back to Matt.

"She... she was in surgery." He said quietly, every word seeming to cost him. "Nick told me... she had internal bleeding, and they had to go in to stop it. She hit her head super hard, too. But... the surgery went well. She’s stable now and probably still asleep."

Matt’s heart shattered at those words, a cold, sick feeling twisting in his stomach. Internal bleeding. Surgery. Y/N had gone through so much, and it was all because he couldn’t control his own damn car. If he had just been paying attention... He clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms as he struggled to hold back the tears.

"Can I... can I maybe see her?" He asked, his voice so small, so broken, it almost didn’t sound like his own.

Chris stared at him for long seconds, his eyes searching Matt’s face, like he was trying to read the thoughts swirling in his mind. And maybe he could see it. Maybe he could sense the guilt that was eating Matt alive. But Chris didn’t press him. Instead, he sighed heavily, searching for his hands and stopping him from hurting himself further.

"The doctor is the one who has to let you." He whispered, biting his bottom lip hard. "You know... I was really scared, Matt. I thought... I thought I was going to lose you forever."

Matt watched the pain swimming inside Chris's blue eyes.

"I’m sorry, Chris." He muttered, his voice cracking. "I’m really sorry for scaring you. You and Nick."

Chris looked down at him, his eyes shining with tears, and shook his head.

"No, Matt... no, it’s not your fault." He said, his voice fierce despite the tears. "I just... I’m just so glad you’re here. That you’re alive."

Matt swallowed hard, his throat tight. He didn’t deserve Chris’s relief, not when Y/N was still out there, hurt because of him.

Before he could say anything else, the sound of the door creaking open echoed, and a doctor stepped in, clipboard in hand. Behind her were two nurses, ready to assist with whatever was needed.

Dr. Patel, a middle-aged woman with gentle eyes, gave Matt a small, reassuring smile as she approached his bedside.

"Good to see you awake and calmer, Mr. Sturniolo. How are you feeling?" She asked, her tone soft yet businesslike.

Matt swallowed, his throat dry and raw from the crying.

"I... I’m in pain." He admitted hoarsely, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Everywhere."

Chris squeezed his hand reassuringly before turning to the doctor.

"Is there something more you can give him for the pain?" Chris asked, his voice thick with concern.

Dr. Patel nodded, her expression turning more serious as she flipped through the pages on her clipboard.

"We’ve been managing his pain with a mild dosage to avoid any complications, but given that he's more conscious now, we can adjust his medication." She gestured to one of the nurses, who immediately set about preparing a new injection.

Matt’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment as he tried to focus on breathing through the pain. Each inhale felt like it was slicing through his ribs, the weight of his guilt and worry making it even harder to catch his breath.

"Doctor, can... can I see her? Y/N, I mean... please." He pleaded, reopening his eyes before looking at her.

Dr. Patel paused, her gaze softening as she looked at him.

"Let’s take care of your pain first, Matt." She said kindly, her voice a steady anchor in the chaos. "I promise, as soon as you are stable enough, we’ll let you see her."

The nurse approached with the syringe, and Matt turned his head away, too drained to watch as she injected the painkiller into his IV. Moments later, a cooling sensation spread through his veins, slowly dulling the sharp edges of his agony, but it did nothing to ease the turmoil inside him.

As the medication began to work, Matt’s eyelids grew heavier, but he fought against the sleep that threatened to pull him under.

"I'm fine now... please." He begged, his voice wavering. "I'm fine, I need to see her. I... I have to make sure that she’s okay." His breath came in shallow, slow gasps, and his eyes darted to Chris, silently pleading for help.

Chris stepped forward, placing a calming hand on Matt’s shoulder.

"Hey, hey." He whispered, trying to soothe his brother. "Let the doctor decide if you're stable enough, okay? I promise you’ll see her soon."

Matt shook his head stubbornly, the panic still clawing at his chest.

"I promise that I'm feeling okay now, m-my pain is gone." His words sounded slurred, his eyes blinking slowly while trying to keep himself awake, looking at the doctor with determination.

Dr. Patel’s face softened as she listened to Matt’s broken pleas. The room was quiet for a minute, save for the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor. She glanced at Chris, who was holding his brother’s shoulder tightly, as if trying to anchor him to the present moment.

"Please... I have to see her." He whispered again, the words more of a gasp now. "I just... I need to know she’s really okay."

The doctor sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. She understood his desperation, his need to see Y/N with his own eyes. It was a common reaction, patients often believed that seeing their loved ones would somehow confirm their survival would make it more real. And judging by the fear and panic still etched into Matt’s face, this was something he desperately needed.

Dr. Patel turned to the nurse beside her, exchanging a brief, silent conversation before she turned back to the brothers.

"Alright." She said finally, her tone gentle but firm. "We can take you to her room, Matt... but only if you’re in a wheelchair. You’re still recovering yourself, and moving around too much could set back your progress."

Chris’s head whipped toward the doctor, a glimmer of hope lighting up his tired eyes.

"Wait... you mean... he can see her?"

"Yes, but only for a few minutes." Dr. Patel clarified. "And he must stay seated. We’ll have to monitor him closely."

Matt’s entire body seemed to sag in relief at her words. He would have agreed to any condition at that moment if it meant seeing Y/N, even if it was just for a second.

"Yes... yes, please. I’ll stay in the wheelchair. I promise." He breathed, the frantic edge to his voice slowly easing into something softer, more hopeful.

Chris nodded gratefully at the doctor, his eyes glassy with unshed tears.

"Thank you." He whispered, his voice thick. He turned to Matt, squeezing his brother’s shoulder. "Okay, Matt... just breathe, alright? We’re gonna see her."

The nurse quickly wheeled in a padded, adjustable wheelchair. Chris helped Matt shift carefully from the hospital bed into the seat, wincing with every grimace of pain that crossed Matt’s face. Matt tried to hide it, but his stiff movements and shallow breaths were enough to betray just how much he was still hurting. Once seated, Matt clutched the arms of the chair with white knuckles, willing his trembling legs to steady.

Chris crouched in front of him, locking eyes with Matt.

"Are you sure you’re good to go?" Chris asked softly, his voice laced with concern. "If you start to feel worse, we can turn back, okay?"

"No." Matt said quickly, shaking his head even though the motion made him dizzy. "I need to see her, Chris. I won’t... I can’t rest until I know she’s a-alive." His voice was nothing more than a hoarse whisper now, but it carried a weight that cut Chris to his core.

The small entourage - Matt, Chris, the doctor, and a nurse - began their slow journey down the fluorescent-lit corridor. The sterile scent of antiseptic filled the air, and the occasional sound of distant monitors and hushed conversations drifted from other rooms. Chris stayed beside the wheelchair, his hand on Matt’s shoulder the whole time, a steadying presence as they moved.

Matt’s heart was a wild drum in his chest, each turn of the hallway only ratcheting up his anxiety. He felt like he was caught in a nightmare that he couldn’t wake up from, the fear that he might find Y/N still and lifeless on a hospital bed eating away at him.

Finally, they stopped outside a door marked with Y/N’s name on a small placard. Dr. Patel turned to Matt, giving him one last assessing look.

"Remember, just a few minutes." She reminded him gently. "She’s stable but still heavily sedated. It might be a while before she wakes up."

Matt nodded, barely hearing her as his eyes locked on the door. Chris leaned down to give his shoulder one last reassuring squeeze before opening it. The soft creak of the door seemed to echo through Matt’s mind, the sound like a gunshot in the quiet hallway.

As they wheeled him inside, Matt’s breath hitched. There she was, his Y/N, lying so still in the bed, surrounded by machines that beeped and hummed softly, tubes and wires connected to her fragile form. Her face was pale, bandaged in places, and her chest rose and fell in the slow, steady rhythm of sleep. But she was breathing. She was alive.

Before his eyes could drink in every detail of her condition, his attention was pulled to another figure in the room.

Nick.

Nick’s head shot up at the sound of the door, his eyes widening in surprise. Relief washed over his face, softening the lines of exhaustion and worry that had been etched there. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days, his hair disheveled, eyes red-rimmed.

"Matt." Nick breathed, his voice trembling with emotion.

He quickly crossed the room in a few long strides, his eyes scanning his brother’s face like he couldn’t quite believe he was awake and here in front of him. Without a word, he dropped to his knees beside the wheelchair, wrapping his arms around Matt in a tight, desperate hug.

"Oh God, Matt." Nick’s voice cracked as he held on tight, as though letting go would make this moment disappear. "I thought we lost you... I thought..."

Matt weakly lifted one arm, patting his brother’s back as best as he could manage.

"I’m okay." He whispered hoarsely, though the pain in his body begged to differ. "I’m here, Nick... I’m here."

Nick pulled back, his eyes shining with tears, but he quickly wiped them away with the back of his hand.

"You have no idea how scared we were, Matt... but God, I’m so glad you’re awake."

Chris, standing close by, put a comforting hand on Nick’s shoulder, giving him a small, reassuring squeeze.

"He’s okay, Nick. We’re okay." Chris murmured, nodding assuredly.

The doctor and nurse patiently waited for the brothers to have their moment before gently nudging the wheelchair forward.

"Let’s get you closer to her, Matt." Dr. Patel said softly.

As they wheeled Matt to Y/N’s bedside, all the noise of the hospital seemed to fade away. All he could hear was the soft, steady beep of the machines monitoring her vitals.

Matt’s eyes welled up with tears as he took in her pale face, the bruises peeking out from under the bandages on her forehead and the soft rise and fall of her chest.

He reached out with a trembling hand, his fingers brushing against hers. Her skin was cool to the touch, and a sob tore through him. Without hesitation, he leaned forward, bringing her hand to his lips. He kissed her knuckles softly, over and over again, his lips lingering on every bruise and scrape he could see.

"I’m so sorry." He whispered, his voice raw with anguish. "I’m so, so sorry, my love. Please... please forgive me. I love you so much, Y/N. I need you. You have to wake up soon. Please."

He kept pressing gentle kisses to her hand, his tears slipping down and wetting her skin. His heart ached in ways he never thought possible, the guilt eating him alive. This was his fault. If only he had been more careful...

Nick watched silently, his own eyes filled with tears, and Chris had to turn away for a moment, pressing a fist to his mouth to stifle a sob. The sight of their brother - usually so composed - completely broken over the woman he loved was almost too much to bear.

Finally, Matt’s strength gave out. His body, already weakened and worn from the medication, was quickly reaching its limit. He slowly leaned forward, resting his head gently on the edge of Y/N’s bed, his cheek pressed close to her hip. He stayed there, clinging to her like she was his lifeline, his breaths coming in soft gasps as he struggled to stay conscious.

"I’m here, Y/N... I’m right here." He whispered, his voice barely more than a breath. "I won’t leave you... I promise."

The pain was slowly fading, his body seeming to finally allow the medication to work its way through his system. Matt’s eyes grew heavier, his body sagging with exhaustion. But he didn’t want to sleep. He wanted to stay with her, to watch over her, to be there when she finally opened her eyes.

Dr. Patel watched him with a soft, sympathetic gaze. She could see how much this was costing him, but she also understood that this was what he needed.

"We’ll let him stay for a little longer." She said quietly to Chris and Nick, who both nodded gratefully. "But you must agree that, if anything changes, if he starts showing signs of distress, you call for me immediately.”

"We will." Chris promised, his voice low and earnest. Nick nodded in agreement, his eyes never leaving Matt.

With that, the doctor and nurse quietly exited the room, leaving the three brothers alone with Y/N. The room was dim and quiet. The only sound was the soft beeping of the monitors and the occasional muffled sniffle from Nick or Chris.

Matt finally let the exhaustion pull him under, his breathing evening out as he drifted into a fitful sleep. His fingers were still wrapped loosely around Y/N’s hand, and his head rested against her side as if he could protect her even in his sleep.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Several hours passed in quiet vigil. Chris and Nick stayed sat on the small couch by the wall, watching over Matt and Y/N like silent guardians, their hearts heavy with worry but relieved that, for now, their family was still holding on.

As the soft light of dawn began to creep through the tiny window in Y/N’s room, there was a faint stirring.

The world around her was a hazy blur, everything out of focus and spinning, like she was caught in a dream she couldn’t quite wake up from. There were distant beeps and muffled voices, but they all seemed so far away, like she was listening from underwater.

A faint, familiar smell flooded her nose. Matt. Or is it Nick? It was something like strawberries or maybe coconut. She couldn’t tell, but it was comforting enough. She tried to move, to lift her heavy eyelids, but her entire body felt like it was weighed down by an invisible force.

After what felt like an eternity, Y/N finally managed to blink her eyes open, the harsh bright lights above her making her squint. The ceiling was white and sterile, and as her vision adjusted, she could make out the faint sounds of machines beeping rhythmically around her. Her mind was foggy, like a thick cloud had settled over her thoughts, and it took her a moment to realize where she was.

A hospital. She could feel something tight around her ribs, a dull, throbbing pain in her head, and an odd numbness throughout her limbs that made it difficult to move. Her throat was dry, like sandpaper, and when she tried to swallow, it sent a sharp ache down to her chest.

Panic started to bubble up in her chest, her heart rate quickening as fragmented memories began to resurface - the blaring headlights, the screech of tires, and the sudden, jarring impact that had stolen her breath away. She let out a small, pained whine, her chest tightening as she tried to remember more, but it was all so blurry, so confusing.

A voice cut through the haze, it sounded quiet but rough, like it had been scraped raw.

"Y/N? Hey, it’s okay... you’re okay."

She turned her head slowly, every movement feeling like she was wading through thick mud. The face that came into focus was familiar, a face that brought her the feeling of home amidst the confusion.

Nick.

Y/N’s eyes blinked slowly, struggling to focus on the two faces in front of her. She was still groggy, the world around her hazy, but the concerned expressions of Chris and Nick gradually came into focus. Her brows furrowed slightly, confusion clouding her tired gaze.

"N-Nick...? Chris...?" She mumbled, her voice rough and barely audible. Her throat was parched, every word scraping against the dryness.

Nick let out a shaky laugh, tears gathering in his eyes.

"Oh my god, I was so... I'm so glad you're back." He whispered, his voice breaking with a mixture of relief and emotion. He stepped closer, reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair away from her face.

Chris nodded, his face lighting up with the first real smile in what felt like an eternity.

"We’ve been really worried about you, Y/N." He murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "You’re a fighter, you know that?"

Y/N tried to smile, but even that felt like lifting a mountain.

"What... what happened?" She asked, her voice weak, her words slurred from the medication and anesthesia coursing through her veins. "I... I remember the crash. I remember..." She trailed off as she recalled the moment of impact, the way everything had gone black in an instant. "It all happened so fast."

Nick’s eyes filled with tears, and he traveled his hand from her hair to her shoulder, squeezing the covered skin tightly.

"It was... it was really bad. But you are here now, okay? You made it through the surgery. You’re safe."

"Surgery?" The word sent a chill down her spine. She tried to remember, but everything after the crash was a blur. "What... what happened to me?" She asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Nick took a shaky breath, his grip on her tightening as if he needed the contact to ground himself before connecting his eyes with Chris's, begging for him to answer her.

"You had internal bleeding caused by some broken ribs." Chris explained gently, cleaning his throat to disguise the emotion in his voice. "You’ve been out for at least 15 hours after a four-hour surgery. And... and you hit your head really hard. But the doctors said the surgery was a success, and your concussion is mild. You’re going to be okay."

Y/N let out a shaky breath, the reality of it all crashing down on her. Surgery. Internal bleeding. The thought of how close she’d come to... She couldn’t finish the thought, the fear overwhelming her.

"Where... where’s Matt? Is he okay? Oh god, he was driving-"

Chris’s eyes softened, and he exchanged a glance with Nick.

"He’s right here, Y/N." Chris reassured her gently, pointing towards Matt's figure with his head.

Y/N’s gaze flickered downward, and her breath hitched when she finally registered for the first time Matt slumped over on the edge of her hospital bed, his head resting beside her hip. His brown hair was disheveled, and his face looked paler than she had ever seen, decorated with a variety of bruises and cuts, but he was breathing, his chest rising and falling steadily.

It was then that she noticed the weight of his fingers against hers, holding her hand firmly as if she could disappear at any moment.

"He’s been by your side from the minute he woke up..."

The sound of the boy's voice, combined with the familiar touch of his girlfriend, pulled Matt from the depths of his medication-induced sleep. His eyelids fluttered, a groggy groan escaping his lips as he slowly stirred awake. For a moment, he looked confused, his eyes unfocused as he blinked against the harsh lights.

But then, as his gaze settled on Y/N’s face, now wide awake and staring back at him with teary eyes, everything clicked into place. His heart leaped in his chest, and any remaining fog of sleep vanished instantly.

"Y/N?" He croaked, his voice raw with disbelief. His eyes widened as he looked at her, truly seeing her awake for the first time. "Oh my god... you’re... you're awake."

Y/N managed a weak smile, tears gathering in her eyes as well.

"Hey, baby. I'm here." She whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "You look like you’ve been through hell."

Matt let out a choked laugh, a mix of relief and joy bubbling up inside him. He quickly pulled himself closer to her, his hands shaking as he reached for her face, brushing his thumb tenderly over her bruised cheek.

"I thought... I thought I had lost you." He confessed, his voice breaking. "God, Y/N, I was so scared. I... I couldn’t-" His words were cut off by a sob he couldn’t contain, and he buried his face in her neck, pressing desperate kisses to her exposed skin, his curls tickling her chin in a grounding way.

Y/N’s heart ached at the sight and feeling of him so broken. With what little strength she had, she squeezed his fingers, trying to comfort him.

"I’m here, Matt." She whispered. "We’re okay. You don’t have to worry anymore."

Matt shook his head, his tears soaking her neck.

"I’m so, so sorry." He choked out between sobs. "I’m so sorry, Y/N. I should’ve protected you... I couldn't even-"

Y/N’s brows knitted together in confusion as she tried to process his words. She lifted a trembling hand to stroke his messy hair, trying to calm him down.

"Matt, baby, hey... where's this coming from?" She asked, her voice soft and full of concern as her eyes traveled momentarily to Chris and Nick, searching for an answer in them that they didn’t seem to have.

Matt just kept shaking his head, his sobs growing louder, muffled by her skin.

"It’s my fault... it’s all my fault." He whispered, his voice breaking. "I should’ve seen the car... I should’ve done something... God, you wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me. I'm really, really sorry..."

Y/N’s confusion turned to anger as she realized what he was saying.

"Matt, look at me." She demanded, her voice suddenly stronger despite her weakened state.

He slowly lifted his tear-streaked face from her shoulder to meet her gaze momentarily, his eyes red and puffy.

"How can you blame yourself?" She asked, her voice tinged with disbelief. "You... Matt, there was nothing you could’ve done. A crazy driver was coming to our direction. You didn’t cause this."

"But... but I should’ve seen it sooner. I should’ve done more." Matt insisted, his voice cracking terribly. He couldn’t meet her eyes for more than a second, ashamed of the guilt that had consumed him. "You got hurt because of me... I should be the one lying in there, not you."

"Don't you dare say something like that, Matthew." Y/N said firmly, her fingers gripping his hand as tightly as she could manage. "Listen to me. It was not your fault. There was nothing you could have done to stop it." She let out a shaky breath, her eyes softening as her free hand traveled to his face, softly brushing away the tears from his cheeks. "I’m okay, Matt... because of you. You were there. You kept me safe until help came."

Her words only made Matt’s tears flow harder, dripping directly where her fingers met his skin, his sobs causing his body to tremble and his ribs to ache, but there was a shift in his eyes, a flicker of something like relief. He didn’t fully believe her, but hearing her say it, seeing the sincerity in her expression, it was like a balm to his raw, bleeding heart.

"You did everything you could, baby. You saved my life. If it wasn’t for you..." Y/N couldn’t even finish the sentence; the thought was too painful to bear. To lose a life with the love of her existence.

Matt sniffled, pressing the side of his face against her palm and wiping the other side of it with the back of his hand, still holding on to Y/N like she was the only thing keeping him afloat.

Nick and Chris watched the whole scene unfold in silence, their hearts heavy with the raw emotions in the room. Chris discreetly wiped away a tear while Nick stood there, his arms crossed over his chest as if trying to hold himself together.

"I love you so much." Matt whispered, nuzzling against her hand. "I can't even picture a life without you."

"I love you too, Matt." Y/N murmured back, her fingers weakly squeezing his. "But you don’t have to picture anything. I’m right here."

Matt let out a shaky breath, nodding.

"Now, why don't the both of you rest a little bit more?" Nick's voice seemed to remind them of the brother's presence. "It will do good for your healing process." Y/N's eyes lifted to the oldest momentarily before nodding slowly.

As the room settled into a comfortable silence, Matt gently laid his head back down on the bed, still holding Y/N’s hand as if it was his lifeline. Y/N stroked his hair softly, her heart aching with love and relief.

For the first time in what felt like forever, they could finally breathe. They were together, alive, and that was all that mattered.

© vanteguccir

[cafterdark]

I don't think y'all truly grasp what fucking a god would be like.

Not only are they beings who can shape reality like clay, but they have such a massively different conception of time, morality, and existence that they become alien to you

For example, let's say you are a normal guy:

One moment you're looking at yourself in the mirror, the next in a quiet field. Before you even have a chance to react, a voice rips through your tissue paper body. It is multilayered, unable to stick to one voice, but is it smooth and alluring and almost feminine.

"I have chosen thee to be my temple." The voice says.

"W...who are you?" You stutter out.

The voice doesn't answer. For a moment you wonder if you've gone insane, then she begins. A thousand hands of light touch you, some delicate and precise, some wild and rough. They grab and grope and tear and claw and brush and pinch and slap all over, all at once. One hand grabs your short hair and forces you to look up in the air and she says:

"Let me show you your purpose."

You are launched in time to a temple, backwards or forwards, you don't know. It is lit by candles, showing that you're at the feet of a massive marble statue of a nude woman. The hands force you to your knees, all while feeling up your boiling body. You look up and only catch a glimpse of her beautiful thighs before you're unstuck in time again.

You feel yourself dragged back to reality. You're in a woman's body, being fucked by two other women in a dingy hotel. One hold the leash to a collar around your neck, the other holding your legs as she fucks you with her dick. The hands are still there and guide you, teasing each moans from your throat and buck of your hips. You've never felt this good ever as you start ascending the mountain of arousal. The collar chokes you enough for a momentary blackout

You're back in the temple, still looking up. You catch a glimpse of her hips, grabbable, with curves in just the right spots. You blink in awe and find yourself in another woman's body, actually no, a robot woman's body. You're connected to a machine made of tech so powerful you can't comprehend by series of wires and plugs throughout your body. A woman, dressed in lab wear smiles, kisses you, and starts the machine. You feel a jolt of pleasure shoot through you. The woman's smile widens, then a notification appears on your HUD

Sensitivity increased 150%

A soft glide teaches down your back and you feel your entire body kicks in response. You ascend further up, climbing step after step towards orgasm. Each touch the machine simulates makes you skip ten steps. The woman's laughs at you makes you skip more. The heat is unbearable, your fans spinning at Max speed, their noise filling the background. You get a warning notification about overheating and you're back at the temple.

The hands keep your arousal steady as the hand tilts your head further up still. You're enraptured by the most perfect pair of tits you have ever seen. The last bit of thought you we're holding onto is wiped away by their glory. But before you can properly worship them, you're thrown back in time.

You're in another temple, hazy and thick with the perfume of incense. You're in a priestess' body slick with oil, prepared to worship your goddess with your other priestesses. You look around and see the rest of your order staring at you and approach. After a long moment, you realize that you're the offering. The other women attack you with kisses and teeth and hands and nails in just the right spots. Each blow brings you closer to the peak. They pin you down and begin fucking you with their trained tongues and you blank out. You're so close now you can see the peak. You pray to just be allowed to reach it.

You're set back to the temple again and with one swift yank of your long hair, brings your eyes to the statues face.

It's you.

You don't know how you know. It looks nothing like you, but it's you. And you're gorgeous you can feel the orgasm coming, it's so so so so close now. The world stops, your body freezes.

You find yourself stuck one step before the peak, staring at your beautiful features and unable to do anything about it. You're stuck there for a long time. An hour? A year? A Millennia? A second? You don't know. But by the end, you're asking Her to let you cum. She responds:

"Do you know your purpose?"

"Yes... Goddess," you pant out. "As your temple... Where your followers... Worship you"

"Good Girl" She says.

Those two words bring you over the edge and you find yourself cumming harder than you've ever done before. Each convulsion rips away a part of your past life, what you ate for breakfast, your job, your hobbies, your name. If you could think through the tsunami of pleasure, you wouldn't care. Goddess will provide, she always will. But for now, you are drowning in devotional ecstasy.

After an eternity, you finally feel the afterglow bleed in. The hands let go and you collapse to the floor, letting the darkness consume you.

You wake up on the bathroom floor and groan. Was it really just a dream? You get up and look in the mirror and see you. Not the fake you that you wore before, but the you Goddess crafted, her masterpiece. You smile and dance in your body, that statue turned flesh, and laugh a beautiful laugh to celebrate and thank Her.

"You know your purpose and are trained in it," She says in the back of your mind. "Begin."

"Yes Goddess"

You leave the bathroom and begin your new life. After all, what's a god without her temple?

[l0vergirlwrites]

always, forever ; jj maybank

synopsis: after the events in morocco, you can’t help but think about how you almost lost the love of your life.

warnings: general angst themes, mentions of blood & death & weapons & alcohol, established relationship with jj, spoilers of s4 ep10

note: obx season 4 actually didn’t end the way it did btw!! this is how it should’ve ended!!

the warm night air at poguelandia was filled with laughs, cheers, & various conversations between the pogues as the radio blasted in the background. it was a pogue style celebration for getting the crown, for fighting tooth & nail, & for being a team.

while the rest of the pogues were on the upper level by the hammocks, feet pounding against the wood with each jump or dance move, you had situated yourself on the main level’s porch, your eyes trained on how the current in the marsh moved, the way the willows bent to the wind, and the fireflies floating through the atmosphere.

you should’ve felt more happy, bursting with joy with each beer you nursed, dancing by jj’s side like there was no tomorrow. but part of you just couldn’t shake the near death encounter you both experienced.

*~*~**~~*~**~*~**~*

the sand was everywhere, whipping at your bodies quickly as you ran through narrow pathways. jj’s hand was tightly holding yours as you led the two of you, his other securing the blue gemmed crown to his waist. gunshots & yelling men could be heard in the background, making you run faster out of fear.

“turn right up ahead!” jj yelled through his bandana covered mouth, squeezing your hand as a signal.

you turned, coming face to face with a wooden door which seemed promising. one minute, you were opening the door. the next, you were in the arms of a dangerous man.

groff had a knife to your neck, pressing hard into your skin as a warning of what he was really capable of. you struggled to breathe in his hold, chest rising up & down frantically as you stared at jj.

the blonde moved slowly towards you, negotiating a trade off between him & the man who’s supposedly his real father. in a swift motion, the crown was in groff’s possession & you were safe in jj’s embrace.

you remember his lips pressed against the shell of your ear, his broken voice assuring you that you were okay when your fingers dug into the clothing on his back.

however, this moment was short lasting because jj let you go so he could face groff one last time.

once you saw groff’s blade twitch in his hand, you pulled jj back as groff moved forward. his knife luckily didn’t go deep into jj’s side, & you had kicked it out of groff’s grip. soon enough, groff was kicked into a ditch below & jj had clutched his side.

the cut was easily remedied by your caring hands, ripping off some of your clothes to press into his side. you were crying by this point, being comforted by jj’s voice & hands as he slid down against the wall. your hands pressed into the wound to keep pressure on the slow bleeding, trying to remind yourself that it was mild & it could’ve been worse.

it could’ve been way worse.

**~*~*~***~*~~**~*~~**~*~*

“was wondering where you went, baby”

you blinked hard, running a hand over your face before turning to the blonde. you smiled at him as he sat down beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder to pull you into his embrace.

“i didn’t go far” you mumbled as you pressed a kiss into the skin on his shoulder, lips touching an old scar of his while you squeezed his knee.

jj couldn’t help but smile at the sight of your hand on his knee wearing the ring he stole for you on your ring finger. “knew it’d be the perfect fit” his thumb pad ran over the silver ring, turning his head to look into your eyes.

you didn’t say anything else, just needing to kiss him because words were too difficult. “i really love you” you breathed out against his lips, unable to hide your smile when he kissed you harder at your omission, his hand on your cheek holding you in place.

jj repeated those words back to you as he pulled away, his thumb running across your bottom lip in thought. he could tell the events from morocco were weighing down on you, he could see it in the way you looked at him.

you were scared that he might vanish somehow after coming so close to it. the thought of it weighed down on him too.

“i’m not going anywhere, you know that right?” he spoke softer now, eyes trained on yours despite his hand pulling one of your free ones to his heart.

with your palm pressed against his chest, you could feel his heartbeat beneath his skin. it made you tear up involuntarily. “i know,” you nodded, clutching the material of his shirt. “i just… m-my mind won’t let me forget it”.

your eyes drifted to his left side, where you could see some of the medical bandaging you had put on earlier peeking out from under his shirt. his cut was healing, he was okay—but you knew it was gonna leave a permanent scar.

jj nodded understandably. he himself had his own internal battles with what happened, the small injury he had sustained.

“if it weren’t for your quick thinking, i—“ he stopped himself from saying it. “you saved me, baby” jj smiled, wiping the stray tear that fell onto your cheek without a second thought.

“well, you saved me first—“ he shut you up with a kiss, brushing his nose against yours.

“we’re always gonna save each other. i know that” you whispered against him when he pressed his forehead into yours, his arm around your shoulders securing you to him—to remind you that nothing will come between you two.

“always” jj agreed, a sappy laugh escaping his chest when you hugged him, your face seeking comfort in the crook of his neck.

he melted into your touch, breathing in the scent of your perfume like a vice as he let out a few tears of his own.

“it’s us against the world for life. always, forever” & you couldn’t agree more.

[fruitsywriting]

Invincible Variants x Civilian!Reader (Pt.1)

I would love to write for ALL the variants but there’s quite a bit of them where we were unable to figure out their personalities because they were just in the background so I am going to be writing for the ones who actually talked. The reader can be seens as gender neutral, male, or fem. Each variant will have their own warning.

Characters: Sinister, Mohawk, Viltrum, Shiesty, Omni, Full Mask, Maskless, Cowl/Cap, Target/Empire, Prisoner, Lensless, Prime/Mainstream, Retro

Characters in this part: Viltrum and Sinister

It was supposed to be any other normal day. As normal as it can get when you live in a world with heroes and villains, and live in a city. Often, cities are targeted for attacks, that’s why you find yourself living on the outskirts of the city. Close to being out of the targeted zone, but not fully out. You grab your laundry as you put in airpods to listen to some RnB music. You hum along, occasionally swaying your body to the melody, while you put your clothes into the washer. You completely tuned out the world, that is- until you were forced to look reality in the eye.

There’s a slight shake to the apartment building, it has you wondering if it’s an attack or if it’s an Earthquake. You had no time to think over which one is worse when you hear a faint screech. You take out the airpods and realize that the evacuation alarms are ringing in the apartment building. You grab your phone, and a pre-prepared bag full of valued items and you don’t look back as you rush out my front door. Finding yourself in the midst of a frantic crowd running as well, as the alarm loudly yells and flashes to warn you: you need to evacuate.

When you all get to the staircase, the building shakes again. Legs go weak and a few fall down the stairs. The windows shatter as glass flies over the others heads. You can hear a little girl crying, and your heart wants to immediately check to see if she’s okay. However, your brain takes over- telling you she’s with her family and she will be okay. You stumble down the steps, avoiding running over the bodies in the stairwell as you run outside. Instantly, you knew it was a bad idea. Debris is filling your vision- You can’t see where to run. You can hear screaming to your left and you can hear what sounds like a snapping noise to your right. You can’t even turn around to go back into the building. Maybe living alone was a bad idea, right now all you want is your family.

Viltrum Mark:

The debris slowly filters into the air, the cloud is pungent as it clings on to anyone who runs out of the disaster- painting them in grey and white. It sticks to them, making them easy to target. However, that is not necessary. He came here and did what he promised to do. He caused destruction, and he watches as the building groans. It’s about to go down anyways, there’s no point in taking extra lives.

The groaning gets louder and it halts for only a minute before the sound becomes almost deafening as the building collapses on itself- sending a new toxic and deadly wave of debris. Another major city is destroyed, his work here is done. He debates on whether he should leave to destroy another or wait for the heroes to arrive so he can rip them apart- to show them that it’s useless. This is going to be their future anyways when Viltrum shows up to conquer them, he’s just giving them a small sample of what’s to come.

He allows his body to glide backwards, to fully view the damage he has done when he notices something in the corner of his eye. A hero coming to help perhaps?

He launches his body full force to the speck that was moving and lands before them, causing a smaller wave of gravel and debris to kick up. He looks down and he’s almost disappointed. This isn’t a hero, it’s just a civilian that managed to survive.

-

You cough harshly, causing the rawness of it to spread quickly up your throat as small pebbles and debris launch directly in your face. You can barely see through your eyelashes caked in the concrete’s powder. It’s no use to even try and wipe your face, and you continue to blink violently as you look up to see what crash landed in front of you.

Your stomach drops farther than it has in a long time. When you can see an outline of a male in front of you, and by what you can make out- his stance doesn’t scream that he is here to help you. In fact, by the way his body is tense and looking down on you- you can assume that he caused this attack. And so, this is how you die, at least that’s what you told yourself.

“You survived.” He said it in a tone of voice that sounded like a mix of annoyance and being impressed.

“For now,” You rasp out before you cough again. You can’t even make out his face, as the sun glares down from behind him and the fog over your eyes.

“If your body is able to move, I suggest doing so now- your lungs will collapse if you stay here any longer.”

You wanted to bark out something like ‘oh, thanks for the tip, I’ll get up right now!’ but your body and throat were burning. You could only wheeze in response to him.

He harshly grabs onto your arm and yanks you out of the dust and broken concrete, causing you to scream out in pain from just how rough his touch was. He falters for a moment, perhaps he forgot how weak humans are. He gently but firmly swipes his hand over your face, brushing out the debris so you could see better, and so he could make out your features. When you blink away the particles invading your vision, you realize how handsome he is. His plump lips, his thick arched eyebrows, his surprisingly soft eyes.

“Oh. You look different when you’re not caked in debris”

“Uh, thanks?”

He pulls away and begins to hover off the ground, slowly backing up. “Consider this a good deed, don’t go to the major hospital in this city. It will be targeted next and stuffed to the brim with survivors. And leave the city. If you make it, perhaps we will see each other again.”

Was that a threat, or a promise?

-

It was a promise. You had gotten basic treatment at a smaller medical facility before waves of patients were sent there- bombarding the overworked staff. You walked, not knowing where to go now. Shelters were full, your home was gone within the blink of an eye, who knows if your family is alive. Factors on what to do run over your mind over and over again until you see a figure hovering over you, in the moonlit sky.

“You survived. Impressive”

All you could do was stare. You couldn’t yell profanities at him, you valued your life too much but you couldn’t exactly thank him. He did little to actually help you. However, he was expecting a thank you. He lowered himself down to the ground, his movements graceful and elegant.

“A thank you would go a long way.”

“... thank you.”

He takes meticulous strides forward. “I am not here to hurt you.”

“Then why are you here?”

He thinks it over.

“Perhaps I feel responsible-”

You cut him off, without thinking, “Oh really?”

His mouth moves into a thin line, “Don’t make me regret this.”

“Regret what?”

He slowly presses your body next to yours, and you have no time to react. You squeeze your eyes shut, assuming he was going to hit you but no. Soft lips press against yours, and it feels so good. Perhaps you are just seeking comfort, you just want to have a shoulder to lean on after the events of today.

Whatever it truly is, you let yourself kiss him back. It’s sloppy, uncoordinated, and frankly- it’s quite feral. His kisses are rough like he’s never kissed someone before, but it’s raw and desperate. If you are his first kiss, it worries you slightly. What did he see in you that it was enough to kiss you?

You find yourself trying to find a happy medium with his kisses, he at first was just trying to show his dominance in the kiss, but slowly lets you take the lead when he realizes you’re finding a nice pace. Your hands reach behind him, and you give his butt a light squeeze. He pulls away and gasps, looking at you like you’ve offended him- but he doesn’t seem opposed to the move. In fact, he hasn’t moved your hand from his rear.

“You’re quite bold.”

“It’s kept me alive so far.”

He hums in response before slowly letting his body move upwards away from your arms.

“You have been proven to be enticing enough, strong enough to survive day 1, and you're bold enough to cooperate with my kiss. I see you as a worthy mate, and after this is over- I will be taking you to Viltrum.” And just like that, he’s gone. Wait, what the fuck did he just say??

Sinister:

Warning: Graphic depictions of violence

He isn’t interested in civilians at all, unless they get in his way. This destruction is to lure out big heroes, what he deems as worthy opponents. He tunes out the screams from civilians, like they’re just annoying ringing noises of tinnitus. Or perhaps a mosquito making a high pitched hum that isn’t an actual threat. Just annoying.

He lands on the ground when he sees heroes and first responders approaching. Perfect, maybe one of the heroes in this world are more competent than the ones in his world. He steps over the pile of rubble when he hears a wet crunch and a loud strangled scream. underneath he sees a body of a person, and by they wrenching sound they made- they’re still alive and he just broke their leg. Their face contorts in pain as he steps off the large piece of concrete and stands right next to them, slowly tilting his head.

-

You were hoping the worst of it was over. You wouldn’t be discovered by any of the variants- and rescue would eventually find you. But apparently you have a big target on your back of sorts, or maybe a family curse. For him, a variant of Invincible here to fuck up your city, to find you was a garunteed death sentence. You can’t even find the energy to turn your body halfway to see how bad your leg must be mangled now. If you’re lucky, you’ll be able to walk again.

“Tsk, tsk. You were in my way.” He hums, like he’s annoyed by your very existence. Honestly, how dare you be in his way, he had important shit to do.

You don’t want to look at him, but you get yourself to. His suit is reminiscent of a bee- no, a wasp. One that can sting multiple times, with a rigid body. You can hear heroes in the distance, but you know it’s no use. Invincible is obviously strong, and this variant is very cocky- and probably has the prowess to back it up.

You try to blink the dust and debris away as he continues to stare at you, not bothering to look behind him as the voices grow near. His gaze is calm, but in a bad way, in a sinister way. You blink, then there’s blood clouding your vision. It sprayed all over your face, it’s warm and drips slowly down your face before you can even process.

A hero tried to attack but within an instant, Invincible ended him. You try to suppress the urge to gag and vomit. You have to close your eyes to avoid the gore in front of you. Invincible quickly kneels before you and gets close to your face- a feeling of him just hovering. Studying.

“What are you willing to sacrifice in order to live? And how much pain are you willing to endure?”

The question caught you off guard. Excuse me? You can barely think as your brain swims with a fog- the concussion was making your head pound and the pain in your leg was distracting to say the least. You try to open your mouth a few times but no words form and spill out.

He doesn’t seem pleased. He grabs you roughly by the ear.

“Hey, dipshit, answer me now.”

“I- I don’t know!” You plead, hoping that maybe there is something in there to appease his humanity- even if it is wishful thinking. Faith is all that can keep you going at this point- or maybe it’s like wishing on a dim, pointless star.

“Not good enough. How about this,” he says steadily, adjusting his squatted position to get more comfortable- not letting go of your ear.

“Are you willing to sacrifice your leg?”

You pitifully squeak out, “yes…”

He smiles, pleased with this answer. Is this a game?

“What about… hm, let’s see…” An idea pops up, “what about the living civilians within a mile radius”

This question catches you off guard, your life doesn’t mean more than everyone around you. But, is it selfish that your life is more meaningful to you? That deep down, maybe you’re scared of what lies for you beyond death. This torment seems to please him enough to not get mad. He doesn’t rush you, he’s just waiting.

“I… I think on a grand scale… my life is not that meaningful. But… to me…”

He listens to your hoarse but hushed voice murmur out this answer, and he grins like a maniac.

“So you’re selfish?”

“I-… maybe”

“Good.”

You look up, confused. “Huh?”

“How else do you think I got here? It’s by being selfish, YOU always come first in your mind.” His words make you realize how much of a piece of shit you sound like. But, apparently you amuse him enough for him to spare you. To let you live for another day, come hell or high water. He lifts the rubble off your leg and tosses it aside like it’s nothing- not caring if it hits someone. He hums and grabs you by your mangled leg.

A screech shreds through your throat as he begins to hover himself off the ground, higher and higher. You jerk your body upwards to at least catch a glimpse. Your leg is so broken, mangled even, that it looks like it could rip apart like a wet paper towel.

“Say, is this pain unbearable? Or do you think you can endure it for another 20 minutes if it means you get to live?”

You cry, wrenching out raw and wet sobs. You plead, “please, don’t.”

“Don’t what? Kill you? It’s either I drop you from here- letting you squish below, or I carry you like this to a safe spot. Might take a while though”

You scream and cry out, hoping that some miracle would come and help you from this mess. But nothing does- so you have to choose.

“I want to live! Pl-please.” A wet strangled noise comes from the bottom of your throat when he raises you higher to throw you over his shoulder. The pain doesn’t stop, your leg is still mangled, but at least the blood stopped rushing to your head and he isn’t gripping your leg anymore. He rubs your back roughly, the weird gesture making it obvious he has never comforted someone before. He kisses your earlobe he assaulted earlier and says in a smooth and cruel voice.

“I’ll take good care of you. We’re similar after all..”

[nanaslutt]

thinking about Shiu secretly getting off to you sucking Tojis cock while he’s on the phone with him :3

minors and ageless blogs dni (18+)

the poor overworked man has been crushing on his clients pretty little girlfriend for so long, craving to touch you for so long. each time you run up to the divorced black haired man in your short little skirt to greet him after a hard job, he’s unable to stop his eyes from dropping to your ass when the man lifts you up into his arms and spins you around. of course Tojis girlfriend didn’t wear shorts under her skirts..

so when Shiu had to make a last minute call about a job for toji late a night, he was surprised when the man called, and even more surprised to hear you gagging on his cock in the background. your noises were so loud and vulgar, it was like you weren’t even trying to stay quiet.

“y-yeaahh, yeah i’ll take the job, sounds easy enough.” Toji said nonchalantly, his voice deeper and more relaxer than usual. “what about you baby? you think I should take this job?” Toji asked you, who was currently occupied with his fat cock stuffed down your throat.

Shiu honed in his ears, not wanting to miss a single sound. he prayed the shuffling in the background would quiet down so he could hear you gag on Tojis cock better, giving him a more vivid fantasy to work with as he groped himself over his pants, his cock leaking precum inside his boxers.

a muffled answer could be heard from the other side of the phone, followed by a loud gag and a cough, making Toji groan before he laughed. “yeah, my girl thinks I should take it too.” Toji said, emphasizing a few words that could be taken as suggestive in the right context.

Shiu felt like his head was spinning, he gripped his cock harder through his pants, wrapping his hand around the outline of his cock harder as he imagined your hand in place of his instead. Shiu let his head tip back against his sofa, his legs spreading naturally as he got more and more involved in his fantasy.

“hey, you still there?” Toji said, his voice making Shiu jolt back to reality, his hand ripping away from his crotch like he had just been caught touching himself. “Yeah i’m here. I’ll let ‘em know you’re takin the job.” Shiu responded, thinking quickly.

“sounds good, thanks in advance.” Toji said cockily, knowing he would already succeed in his job. Shiu was just about to answer Toji’s irritatingly confident response when he heard your familiar voice whispering on the other side of the phone. “give it to me, cmon fuck me.”

“Yeah yeah, no problem man.” Shiu forced himself to speak, desperately trying to think of something else to talk about so he could hear you whine longer, but his dreams were cut short when Toji said something along the lines of “I’m ending the call now” sending a shock of disappointment through Shiu’s body.

Shiu said his goodbye and listened closely to any other material he could use to get off while thinking about you. His efforts paid off, as he pressed the phone tightly against his head and scrunched his eyes in focus, he heard you speak again, “gonna give me ur dick now? want it so bad.”

Shiu let his hand still tightly gripping the phone fall agains the outside of his thigh, his other arm covered his eyes as he sighed heavily, feeling his cock twitch needily behind the confines of his pants. With a groan. shiu unconvered his eyes and was faced to look between his thick thighs at the massive hard on he was sporting from perving on his clients girlfriend.

Shiu placed his hand over his sensitive, neglected cock and began rubbing while he worked on his belt with the other. It was looking like another night of jerking off to the thought of you bouncing on his cock while he watched some cheap, shit porn video on his couch.

[yanderemommabean]

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE POST SOMETHING ABOUT THAT TOJO RED ROOM THING YOU JUST POSTED 🙏🙏🙏

I can just see him watching you writhe while he sips on whiskey or sake, asking why you thought it would be smart for you to try and leave the country.

He's a powerful man. He can get you whatever you need. And you go, and try to get a secret plane ticket out of here?

You writhe and whimper, unable to speak as the toy inside you makes your toes curl and your back pulled tight, another orgasm ripped from you.

Honestly, how could you try that?

"That's about what, your third one? Fourth? I still have half a drink I'm nursing so, I haven't been paying full attention. Listening to you just makes for a soothing background noise. Makes it easier to think and lose myself in thought." You can barely respond, hearing a whirring and clicking noise that made the toy speed up, not giving you a single moment to catch your breath or even let you understand what the hell he was going on. Your walls are clamping and sucking in the toy more, the device rubbing against every spot perfectly, mixing with pain as the pleasure takes over and your eyes roll back, hands tugging at the restraints.

"There we go. That's it baby, let it out." Tojis timbre voice purrs, laying his drink down as he stands up, playing with the remote in his hands. "See, like this, you behave. Almost like I'm training a pet." he states, flicking a few more buttons that have you arching and taut, breaths leaving you in short, desperate hisses.

"You'd like that right? Leaning how to obey? To just be loyal to me, only me? Letting me take care of everything else?"

He doesn't need an answer. It doesn't matter what yours would be. What he wants, he gets, and he'll always find a way to take it.

"It's a good thing I have this room for a few days. I think we could really use this time to get my message across. Teach you who you belong to."

(-Mommabean)

[ilium-ilia]

Daughters with Soft Underbellies

john price x fem!reader | cowboy/outlaw x preachers daughter | masterlist

Chapter Seven: shopping spree

tw: alcohol, peer pressure, background ghoap, non-con kissing

It takes two more days of travel before you reach Little Wood. 

The weather stays sensible throughout your travels, offering fluffy clouds overhead to block the sun, yet nothing dark enough to spit and bite at you like the storm from the other day did. Jester—the large beast that he is—has grown accustomed to your presence, almost annoyingly so. The capricious horse will often seek you out during meal times, or even during your sleep if you don’t hitch him to a tree or some dilapidated fence. You’ve been stirred awake by a wet nose more often than you’d care to admit. 

Yet, you find your mind occupied by something else. Something more troublesome. As you sway along on Jester while the two of you mosey behind the group, you find your eyes flickering to John’s back. There’s not much to see except for his simple white shirt and leather vest, but your gaze pierces through the fabric. 

You can still see it—his scars. It’s all you’ve been able to think about since you caught him crouched over the fire in the morning. The memory of it is strong enough to even rid you of the sullied sensation that lingered on your skin after he ripped your corset and dress off of your body. Though the idea is macabre, a part of you wonders what could have caused scars like that. Those long, skinny strikes and those small, circular wounds. 

What could he have done to deserve such a punishment? 

The caravan comes up on Little Wood two hours after lunch time, and you are taken aback by how akin it is to your sleepy little Penmosa. Large pins for goats and cattle leave blemishes along the land as John has everyone wander through the wilderness, and eventually he stops at the foot of a small hill. Bushes and skinny trees offer enough cover for a small camp, but you can still make out the quaint buildings in the distance. 

“Boys, you three stay here to set up camp. You can head into town afterwards, but we need this up before dark,” John orders once all the horses are unloaded. It isn’t long before his eyes find you after the men all nod in understanding. “Lamb, you’ll be coming into town with me.” 

Ears perking, your hand rubs along Jester’s flank. “Alright.” 

Water moistens the earth and makes it plenty pliant underneath the horse’s hooves as the two of you trot off towards town. Adjusting your hips on the saddle, you breathe in the scent of animal feed and some far off bakery as fresh yeast wafts in the distance. You’re excited to be here—to have an evening that’s not full of late night riding. The insides of your thighs burn from the countless days you’ve spent on Jester’s back, and the chafing on your skin is less than kind. 

While most of the buildings in Little Wood are simple, two story structures, there is one that towers over the rest of them. A church—you’d recognize a steeple anywhere. Painted pristine, pure white, it looms over the town, casting a shadow over the winding streets as it bares its cross high in the sky as if attempting to return the sign of Christ to God Himself. The bell at the top glistens as the sun moves lower along the horizon, and your stomach twists at the sight. 

Unable to bear facing your sins, you look down at your nearly healed hands. “What are we doing?” you ask instead, excited for a distraction. 

“Buying you a hat,” John hums. He leans back comfortably in his saddle as his eyes scan each of the shops you pass by. Townsfolk flitter from place to place to buy their daily items, while others sweep the never-ending dirt that seems to accumulate on the porches. “Between the sun and the rain, I’m surprised you even lasted this long riding without one.” 

Blinking, the reins suddenly feel too moist in your grasp. “You don’t have to do that. I’m fine with just my scarf, really.” 

John looks over his shoulder at you with a raised brow. “I said I’d buy you one. I don’t go back on my word, little lamb,” he reminds you. 

It doesn’t take long to find the general store. Several horses line up hitched outside of the establishment as small flocks of patrons wander in and out with baskets of food and clothes in hand. You keep Jester close to John’s horse as you dismount, shoes digging into the muddy streets. Humming, John shoves his thumbs behind his belt buckle as he hops up the steps onto the porch. 

“C’mon, Lamb,” he urges. 

There’s an array of items that greet you the moment you step foot through the door, and it has your head spinning. Candies lie in a colorful assortment on trays, small bandages sit on shelves next to hunting and cooking knives, there’s even coffee grounds packed tight in a can (something John makes sure to swipe off the shelf the moment he eyes it). A mother argues with her two children in the back of the store about the toys that she doesn’t want to buy while an inebriated gentleman bickers with the storekeeper about the price of canned corn. 

“Goodness,” you murmur as the door swings shut behind you. “There’s loads more here than there is in Penmosa…”

“It’s a deceiving name. Little Wood isn’t so little,” John chuckles. “Hats are over here, love.” 

Leading you to the leftmost wall, you and John approach a wall adorned with racks of various types of hats. Sun hats, derby hats, cowboy hats—you don’t think you’ve ever seen such a large selection before in your life. You hum to yourself as your fingers ghost over the brim of a wide sun hat. Thatched fibers weave together seamlessly into an item that’s surprisingly soft. A bright yellow ribbon wraps around the bowl as if it attempts to hold the piece of the sun itself. 

“This one’s pretty,” you coo. 

John picks it up and swipes it out of your grasp as he turns it over in his hands. “Pretty, but not practical.” 

You raise a brow at him. “How is it not practical? Wouldn’t a sun hat do plenty fine against… the sun?” 

“Well sure, but it won’t do you much good for riding,” he says as he returns it to the rack. “It’s too floppy. Wouldn’t last a second in any strong wind without bending the brim, and without a string, if it blows off you’re stuck dismounting every ten minutes to pick the damn thing up. It wouldn’t last you to Grand Hollow.” 

Nodding your head in understanding, you turn your attention back to the hats as you think for a moment. Grand Hollow. The ride. 

Freedom. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something, John,” you admit. “What exactly is the plan for me when we reach Grand Hollow?” 

He hooks his thumbs behind his belt buckle again as he stares at you from underneath the brim of his hat. His eyes are always intense this way—when he tilts his chin down and looks at you through thick brows. It’s severe enough to make you want to look away, but you keep steady as your fingers tap against the side of your thigh. 

“I have a friend of sorts who owns a hotel there,” he explains quietly. His eyes wander, wary of eavesdroppers, but his guard lowers when he realizes no one in this store seems to care about him or his plans. “She dabbles a bit in the organized crime rings there, but her hotel, The Twin Rose, acts as a safe haven of sorts.” 

“A safe haven?” you repeat. “From criminals?” 

“That, and the authorities,” John shrugs. 

Scoffing, you turn your attention back to the endless supply of hats. “I don’t believe it.” 

“Law men are no more morally right than the rest of us, Lamb,” he chuckles lowly. “The only difference between them and anyone else is that they’ve got a shiny badge that inflates their head to twice the size of Texas. Turns out, if you make a sizable donation to them every now and then, they don’t care too much about what goes on behind closed doors.” 

“Alright,” you huff. “So, I just… stay there, then?” 

“If you want. I’m sure Laswell wouldn’t mind the extra help with housekeeping. I hope you’re good at cleaning up blood.” 

John says those words as if they’re meant to be a joke, but you find your teeth biting into your lip. “I’m better than most at it.” 

If your father could hear you now, you’re certain he would berate you for your sinful pride, but you know you’re only speaking the truth. Years of scrubbing your own blood from wooden floors has given you a keen eye for unsightly stains. At this point, you’re just as good at covering violence as you are at detesting it. 

“Well, then you can either stay there, or Laswell can find you a job elsewhere,” John continues, making no comment on your mumbling. “There’s lots of things to do in Grand Hollow, little lamb. More opportunity than you can even dream of.” 

The moment you brave another glance up at John, you find him leaning toward you with his arm reaching over your head. His presence is scorching—so crowding that you feel infinitesimal next to him—yet that feeling fades the moment he retrieves a hat from behind you. It’s a beautifully crafted item made of firm fibers with a dark brown tan finish. The crease is deep and even with the dips, and the crown is plenty wide enough for your head. 

Smirking, John puts it on your head before crossing his arms over his chest. “There we are. You’re one step closer to becoming a real cowboy,” he teases. 

Self conscious fingers reach up to adjust the hat as you fit it over your head. It sits plenty well enough, though you suddenly feel as if your head is much too wide. 

“Do I look okay?” you question timidly. 

John hums as he motions for you to follow him up to the counter. “No worse than usual, sweetheart.” 

The storekeeper beams when he sees you and John approach his counter, and he’s much too eager to wave off the drunkard who’s been quarreling with him for the better part of the last twenty minutes. John pays for your hat—along with his copious amount of coffee—before the two of you return to your horses to stow away your items. Afternoon slowly wanders into evening as the sun dances on top of the horizon, and Little Wood blooms to life as oil lamps flicker on to bleed through windows into the otherwise tenebrous streets. 

Jester huffs as you place your new hat onto your saddlehorn, and you lovingly rub your hand along the bridge of his nose as you wait for John to finish packing up. His breath fans warm and moist across the palm of your hand, forcing a smile to pull at the corner of your mouth. 

“Should we head back to camp, then?” you muse as Jester nuzzles into your hand. 

“Afraid we won’t find much back at camp,” John sighs once all his items are put away. 

“Why not?” 

“Well, I reckon the boys are at the saloon right about now.” 

You wish John wasn’t right, but as usual, he is. The two of you leave your horses in front of the general store as you wander through the streets to follow the sound of a legato piano performance paired with slurred chatting. You stand outside of a large building with wide eyes and sweating palms as John marches up the creaking stairs onto the porch. When you don’t follow, he turns around with his hand gesturing toward the swinging doors. 

“Fancy a drink, Lamb?” he asks. 

You shake your head. “I don’t drink.” 

Smirking, John raises an eyebrow while tilting his head. “Didn’t you buy a couple bottles of wine back in Penmosa? Right before you ripped your apron up and lost all your change?” 

“That’s different,” you murmur. Flames of embarrassment lick the back of your neck as you defensively cross your arms. “That was for communion.” 

“Well, we can toast to god then, if it makes you feel any better.” 

You have half a mind to scoff and scorn John for his impiety, but the moment your father’s words bubble in the back of your throat, you bite them back before they see the light of day. Instead, you huff and follow him into the saloon. 

A part of you expects to find Mr. Beckett behind the bar serving up drinks and smiles, but you’re met with an unfamiliar scene as the building buzzes with music and chatter. A man with a tilted hat sits at the piano where he plucks away at the keys while humming some tune you don’t recognize, and a lady with a low cut dress slings herself over his shoulder as he performs. Several men line up at the bar where they chat with the keeper as they sip on whiskey and ale while tossing coins his way, and someone in the corner is ruining a table playing five finger fillet. Your throat closes up at the noisome aroma of hops and liquor—it’s not nearly as sweet as the wine you’re used to. 

It’s easy enough to find the boys. They’ve made themselves cozy in the far corner of the saloon, just like they did back in Penmosa. Soap already looks as if he’s had a few drinks too many with rosy cheeks and mussed hair, and Kyle beams as he eyes his hand of cards with a confident grin. 

“He’s got an ace up his fucking sleeve, I just know it,” Soap rambles, pointing an accusing finger at Kyle. 

“He’s not cheatin’ you’re just pissed outta your mind. A child could play cards better than you, Johnny,” Riley barks. He manages to sneak a not-so-gracious drink of his whiskey from underneath his bandana before his eyes find you and John. “Come to join the party?” 

“Oh, I know better than to gamble against Garrick,” John chuckles as he takes his seat. 

“You might not, but no one else here does,” Kyle grins. As you take the seat between him and John, he makes sure to flash you a small wad of cash—something he was able to easily score off of the drunkards who were too far in over their heads. “Who needs to live the life of an outlaw when you can just take advantage of the poor sods who can hardly tell a six from a nine?” 

Their bickering pulls a laugh from your throat as you stiffly settle into the wooden chair. Soap mocks Kyle’s words—seemingly a poor loser—before he slaps his hands down on the table and stands from his seat. 

“I’m dry,” he announces. “What’re we drinking?” 

Everyone rattles off their answers, words overlapping with one another. Soap nods as if he’s understood before his gaze lands on you. “Oh, nothing for me.” 

He smirks. “Sure thing, Lamb.” 

He comes back with five drinks, one for each of you. You stare down at the amber liquid in front of you with your lips curling in on themselves. Someone bumps into the back of your seat and you feel a petulant ache gnaw at the base of your skull. Their eyes bore into you as they await for your first ever run in with—as Soap puts it—true alcohol. 

“Just do it quickly,” Kyle coaches. “Just one quick swig and then a gulp.” 

“You shouldn’t have started her out on whiskey,” Riley mumbles. 

Giving in to their pressure, you raise the glass to your lips where you attempt to do as Kyle instructed. A swift swig coats your tongue and your face contorts as the burn settles into your teeth. The men chuckle as you choke the liquid down and slam your mostly-full glass back onto the table. 

“You drink this for fun?” you question as you push the glass away from you. 

“Usually,” John chuckles. “We’ll make a cowboy of you yet, sweetheart.” 

Evening wanes into night, and things only get more nauseating. Kyle attempts to teach you how to play poker, but Soap keeps interjecting to debate on the rules. The clamor of the saloon only grows more cacophonous by the minute, and a dull throb begins to pulse behind your eyes. Somehow, more people continue to crowd the building and the combined heat forces your body to produce more sweat than you think you’ve ever made in your entire life. 

Eventually, the crew begins to break apart. Riley leaves to relieve himself—or, as he puts it, he leaves to take a piss where he hopefully wouldn’t happen across any other wandering lambs—and Soap follows behind not too long after mumbling something about helping him hold it. Having run out of partners to play cards with, Kyle offers to check up on camp before he vanishes off into the night, leaving you and John alone together. 

“You gonna finish your drink?” he prompts, pointing to your glass. 

You shake your head. “I feel bad about wasting it but I… I can’t stomach it.” 

John chuckles as he slides his hand across the table. Thick fingers wrap around the glass before he gestures in your direction with it. “Don’t worry, there’s never a drop of liquor that goes to waste around here.” 

Without another word, he knocks back the rest of your drink and you try not to pay attention to the way his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he gulps. Glass rings out as he slams the cup back on the table with a sharp exhale. He gives you a tight lipped smile.

“Tired, Lamb?” he asks. 

“It’s been a long day,” you say, side stepping your answer. 

Nodding, John pushes himself back away from the table, causing the legs of his chair to squeak against the wood floor. “Will you be alright here if I leave to wrangle Soap and Riley up?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Good.” He stands to his feet and squeezes your shoulder as he walks by. “Stay put.” 

And you do, like any obedient lamb does. There’s not much else prey can do when given a direct order from a predator, and when someone with sharp teeth tells you to freeze, then you listen. 

Much like when you’re told to kneel in the pews—you obey before you raise your hands up ripe for the picking of your father’s favorite form of punishment. 

It’s been quite a while since you’ve been able to think about your father—to truly think about him. More than just the disconnected thoughts that wander through your mind as you try to fall asleep at night. He would often lock himself in his office for an hour after supper before retiring to bed. The stars are out to play, twinkling brightly above Little Wood as if blessing it—you wonder if he’s asleep now, or if he’s up thinking about you. 

You’re not sure if you would feel better or worse if he was worried about you. 

“Howdy.” 

An unfamiliar voice yanks you out of your thoughts, forcing your gaze away from the table and up at one of the countless patrons that flood the saloon. He looks to be a few years older than you with an unkempt mustache and bloodshot eyes. Florid cheeks illuminate his face more than the lamps on the walls do, and the scent of beer rolls off of him thicker than manure in a cow lot. 

“Oh, hello,” you respond stiffly. 

Swaying, the stranger points a finger at you. “Are you a workin’ girl?” 

“A working girl?” you repeat with drawn brows. You swallow. “Well, I work but I’m not sure what you-” 

Before you can continue, the man nods and steals the seat that used to belong to Kyle. He leans so far back in the chair you swear he’ll topple over like the Tower of Babel. “You’re awfully pretty.” 

“I-I… thank you?” 

“Usually the workin’ girls we get ‘round here aren’t like you, all pretty-like,” he drones. Then, he sits forward in his chair, suddenly crowding your space. You’d lean away from him if the back of your chair wasn’t pressing into your spine. “I’d pay real well for you. Enough to pay all your expenses for the week. What’dya say?” 

“I-I’m sorry,” you stammer. “I don’t understand what you’re-” 

Alcohol coats your tongue, silencing your confusion before the words can fully manifest. Then, there’s something sour. Rancid and sickening, your stomach protests and contorts as your eyes screw shut at the flavor. 

It isn’t until dull teeth bite into your bottom lip that you realize this stranger is kissing you.

follow @mother-ilia to be notified of updates

[quitesins]

Dragon!Reader Pulls Out Her Teeth

Masterlist | Part One | Part Two

Tags: 18+, Sfw, Short, Female!Reader, Non Mc!Reader/Reader is not Mc, Current timeline, Self inflicted injuries [Reader pulls out her teeth], Sylus is somewhat physically aggressive and infantilising, Mc is in this!! Say hiiii!!!

This is a biiiiggg jump in time. Reader is a lot more comfortable with not just Sylus but also Mc and the twins. And yes every snippet so far has just been reader tearing herself apart and sylus having to deal with it… sorry everypony…

There was a good two months where you couldn’t speak at all. Not that you were particularly talkative in the first place, mostly communicating in immature huffs and nudges. But now the few words you did use, came out in garbled sounds, barely comprehensible.

You’d pulled out half your teeth on whim while Sylus was away. Your human teeth had started to push out by bigger, sharper ones, and now they’d finally fully grown in. You hated them. They were disgustingly jagged, jaw too small to even fit the majority, and you’d cut the inside of your cheeks far too many times already, leaving you to deal with the unfortunate ulcers.

It was from pure frustration did you extract your claws— a skill Sylus definitely did not teach you for this— and started ripping out each tooth.

The twins found you first, face a bloodied mess, calling Sylus quickly. They got their share of a scolding over the phone.

You’re over the sink when Sylus returns, a cold cloth stained red in your mouth. Sylus yanks you by the jaw, his hold harsh. Like the pain tries to get away from him, it shoots up to your head, making you hiss. He grins smugly.

“They don’t grow back as fast the first time round.” The bastard enjoys your self sabotage. “You’ll have fun drinking all your meals from now on, won’t you little dragon.”

There’s a low growl at the end of that word. You’ve come to realise he only calls you it when he’s pissed. Spitting it out like a slur.

You ignore his vitriol, coming to understand what he actually means. With no teeth, you can’t chew. The shock on your face makes the twins cackle in the background, still bitter from their earlier reprimand.

Sylus shuts them up with a look, clutch softening for a second. You think he’s about to let go when his fingers trace the cloth, but he just snatches it out, the force dragging you with it. He catches you in your stumble, but doesn’t let you rest, fingers thrusting into your mouth and prying it open.

“Don’t fuss now.” His inspection is demeaning. “You did this to yourself.”

There’s no gentleness in Sylus’s examination, his irritation clear in each tug and press. You’d been so good recently. Listening eagerly as he taught you to disguise your draconic features, instead of trying to get rid of them entirely. He’d thought you were over your proclivity for self mutilation, but the exposed and still leaking gum proved otherwise.

You take momentary relief when he unexpectedly lets go, shifting away. But you’re unable to compose yourself when you realise why.

It’s Emcee. Walking in with a plushie larger than herself. Her eyes make contact with yours first. Suddenly a horrible embarrassment falls over you.

You want to hide from her the most. Emcee was the only person you liked really, the only person you didn’t feel obligated to interact with. Unlike Sylus, conversations with Emcee felt real, like she wasn’t trying to subtly prod information out. Sylus was always too greedy, as if he was seeking something in you, something you weren’t even sure existed. Emcee made talking comfortable, enjoyable, her snarky jabs at Sylus having nothing to do with it, of course.

And now you were stuck, jaw clenched as much as you could with a bunch of broken teeth, humiliated that she’d caught you in such a state.

Sylus doesn’t do anything to stop Emcee from rushing over, concern evident in her voice. He knows how much you like her. He can see it in your eyes— that you beg for him to take her away, settle her distress and return to whatever outing they were on. But the opportunity is too perfect, to teach you a lesson through your own mortification.

“Sy…” Emcee says, still fretting over you. “You’ve got to take her to the hospital.”

You make a muddled sound in protest, shaking your head wildly. Your hands are over hers, the ones that rest gently on your cheeks, trying to convince her that you’re fine, it’s okay. She looks at you with humbling pity. You stop your shaking, not wanting to argue.

“Well then, little dragon,” Sylus speaks, self-satisfied, already knowing the answer, “Shall we go.”

Looking through the scrunch of your brow, you feel the worried stare of Emcee, even the twins peer over in expectation.

You concede, nodding your head in bitter acceptance.

Hopefully this makes sense… grahhh… anyways, I like writing sylus a bit mean because I miss main story sylus… the romantic indulgence is fun n all, but ouuuu there was sumn abt him looking so annoyed all the time that did it fa me…

The next stuff in this au will probably be set before this scene, this really is wayyyy later in the tl in ma head..

[nieceeee]

“WANNA BE”

Bestfriend!ony x reader

P/S: “Not trynna hear you tell nobody that I’m just a friend. Just trynna make sure I’m the body that you call your man…” Ony is your best friend and its been that way for years. He was your safe haven as much as you were his. You've always shared a connection with one another that many didn't understand. But recently Ony has been struggling with his feelings for you. Things that he used to feel don't quite feel the same anymore. And he's forced to come to terms with reality...

• fluffy fluff fluff •

A/N: Well… I’m back😂🫶🏾. I know I been gone. Don’t hate me.

Nighttime stood still, sounds of the city buzzed in the background as the neon lights of the fair flickered casting long shadows on the sidewalk. You and Ony walked through the parking lot, having just spent the entire night stuffing yourself with snacks and riding rides. You stood a bit closer to him than your normally do as your friends around you joked and pulled you into conversation. Ony walked next to you with his hands in his pockets, listening to the melodic sound of your laughter.

He glanced over at you. You. His safe haven. His best friend. The only person who truly could understand everything he thinks without him having to utter a word. The person who accepted every failure and flaw. You were his constant in a world of every changing cycles. But recently, he’s felt a shift. Every since that night.

He couldn’t pinpoint it. Was it your smile? Had it changed and become brighter in recent days. Or your touch. Soft as a feather yet strong enough to send a chill down his spine each time you gently pushed him or touched his face. Was it your eyes? How they widened when you were excited and seemed to glow with passion. There were so many things. Things he didn’t used to notice before and he couldn’t shake the feeling of the fact that something had changed.

“Oh Onybunny. I’m going to go ahead and ride with the girls and just meet yall at the apartment.” You say to him, breaking him from his thoughts. “Oh. Okay. That’s cool pretty girl.” You scrunch your nose at him sweetly and he couldn’t dent the beat skip that thrummed in his chest. It was a pit in his stomach that was only growing deeper.

You smile up at him and it feels as if the world halts on it's axis. He blinked a few times to collect himself, swallowing the lump in his throat. You tilt your head gently to the side. “You ok Ony?” You ask him, concern etched across your face.

He nodded his head, attempting to maintain the lie. He was fighting something inside, fighting the pull of something he wasn’t ready to face. Light reflections bounced off of the puddles near your feet, reflecting in your eyes. Swirls of color wrapping around your beautiful features entranced him.

“I’ll see you later?” you asked, your voice softer than usual.

And just like that, it hit him—hard. His breath caught in his throat. That wave of heat washed over him, spreading from his chest to the tips of his fingers. He felt it—the rush in his ears, the pounding of his heart, the heat flooding his face. He stared at you, trying to process the overwhelming feeling.

And as you released him from your embrace, your eyes shifting up to meet his, he felt it again. That rapid thrumming in his ears. The heat that made his skin burn like it was on fire. His body was tense, rigid, like every nerve was on high alert.

He stared down at you, his pulse racing. Fuck. He thought to himself. Was this what he thought it was? Nah, that couldn’t be right. You were his best friend. That’s all. He couldn’t possibly be feeling this way…

“See you later?” You asked again, smiling at him like everything was normal. Like you weren’t ripping apart the small fraction of life as he knew it and birthing something new.

Unable to speak, he nodded, his throat tight, mind still processing the fuzzy, overwhelming feeling that clung to him. He stepped back, watching you as you walked away, still laughing with your friends. Your voice drifted back to him as you waved goodbye.

He watched you until you disappeared, frozen in time by your touch. His chest constricted and heart beat pounding against his ribs.

That feeling... it wasn’t something he could just ignore anymore. He had known, deep down, that something was changing between you two, but he couldn’t admit it. Not even to himself.

"Damn bro, you good?" Eren’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. Ony shifted his gaze to his friend, who stood beside him, watching him with concern in his eyes.

Ony blinked, his breath coming out in short, uneven bursts. He looked at Eren, then back at where you had just been. "Yo, Ony? What’s up, bro?" Eren asked again, slapping a hand on his shoulder, trying to pull him from the coma like state.

Ony opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t find the words. He was trying to process it all—the weight of the realization, the sudden clarity. His heart hurt in a way he wasn’t prepared for. The tears that stung the back of his eyes weren’t ones of sadness. Instead they built from the weight of something deeper, something more painful. A truth he couldn’t run from.

“I…” He swallowed, his voice rough. His mind screamed at him to keep it inside, to push it down. But it was like the words were clawing their way out of him, too loud to ignore.

“I’m... I’m in love with my best friend,” he whispered, barely able to hear his own voice over the pounding in his head.

Eren’s eyes widened. "Wait, what?" he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

"I’m in love with Y/N, Eren," Ony continued, his tone thick with a mixture of frustration and confusion. "I didn’t want to admit it, but I can’t stop it anymore. It’s... it’s driving me crazy." He ran his hands over his head and slipped them down his face, groaning aloud. "She’s taking over my mind. I’ve tried E. I’ve tried to ignore it but I can't. Eren. She’s my best friend bruh, what the fuck.”

Ony’s mind was spiraling and Eren stood next to him trying to process what to say.

“I mean this wouldn’t be the first time.” He says after a moment. Ony looks up at him in confusion. “You’re not the first person to fall for your friend. Trust me. I know.” He shrugged. “Yeah, but…” Ony paused before letting out a deep sigh. “What if I fuck it up? I can’t lose her Eren. Y/N is my world in human form.” His chest felt tight at the idea of not having you near. “Yeah, but you got to face that shit. You either try or you don’t. But if you don’t, you might actually lose her for real. Better safe than sorry.” Eren encouraged softly.

Ony stared off into the distance, his thoughts a whirlwind in his mind. Could he risk it? Could he put his heart on the line and confess what had been slowly eating away at him for months?

As hIs mind conjured visions of you again, his heart ached with the truth he couldn’t deny. Maybe the fear of losing you would never go away, but the fear of never knowing what could be between the two of you... that was the one thing he couldn’t live with.

With a deep breath, Ony made a decision. It wasn’t going to be easy. But he was done pretending. It was time to stop running from what he felt, and finally face the truth.

"Fuck, man. Ok," he muttered to himself, a faint but resolute smile crossing his face. "I’ll tell her."

And with that, Ony made the decision in his mind and his heart, finally setting on the path that would either change everything or shatter it forever.

[duckcrumbs]

Leo had anticipated a lot of different problems coming up when he accepted this mission.

Getting lost in space, offed by a harsh alien environment, or knowing his brother, eaten by some extraterrestrial creature that Mikey tried to adopt.

Turtle luck was unforgiving to the Mad Dogs and Leo had stressed a ton and a half, leading up to this trip, on the many ways they would attract trouble.

What he did not anticipate was the absolute anxiety he’d feel once immersed in the silent inky black sea.

He remembers when he used to spend hours talking about what’d be like to explore the starry seas like Jupiter Jim, with Don.

How they would save galactic princesses and fight alien baddies then enjoy some pizza on their super cool rocket ship. And if it weren’t for recent events Leo thinks that this experience would probably be the best thing to ever happen to him.

But this was too close. Too similar to that place.

Leo had felt the growing panic when he first set his eyes on the celestial void from within the safety of the genius built ship.

The glass barrier being the only thing between him and the deadly cold of space.

Now here he was, dragged along by his excited brothers to take their first excursion outside the ship none of them the wiser to Leo’s hesitance, not that he’d share his thoughts with them.

Who knows! Maybe its just the anticipation of the unknown putting him on edge and once he’s metaphorically ripped off the bandaid he’ll actually enjoy it. Maybe he was just being silly, This was something he dreamed about all his life after all. Maybe it would be fine.

Maybe.

He stepped out of the bay door, feet landing on nothing. At first all he felt was the recognizable strain of trying to gain a centre of balance like when he was first learning how to ride his skate board. Arms flailing out and legs kicking to propel himself in any direction.

He looked over and noticed that the youngest turtle with his natural acrobatic talent had already figured out the technique and was summersaulting through the open real-estate giggling to himself with unrestrained glee.

Donnie, being the smarty he was, had the advantage of his battle shell, using the jets to propel himself towards Raph who couldn’t stop his nauseating spin cycle and seemed to be suffering from motion sickness. The techy turtle proffered his Bo for the snapper to grab onto for stability.

Turning his eyes back to the endless stretch of nothing, Leo let his body relax into a starfish position. ‘This is different’ he thought to himself.

The twinkling of dying stars reminded him of their absence in the Prison Dimension.

Turning his head back slightly gave him a glimpse of their ship in the background. The LoggerHead. Not the Technodrome.

And if he listened outside of the static in his ears, he could hear his brothers voices over their shared comms.

He wasn’t there.

But the cold clung to him.

Despite the Thermal layer provided by Donnie’s tech allowing them to survive the atmosphere without wearing those clunky space suits, Leo still felt the frigidness deep in his bones. His body, unable to properly move the way he’d like, was slowly turning to ice.

This, Was exactly like the Prison Dimension. It was the same arctic nothingness. It penetrated Leo’s entire being.

His lungs constricted at the comparison. Taking a deep breath and holding it, Leo willed himself to not start spiralling.

He had to stay present. This mission would end up a bust if he can’t overcome something like a lack of solid ground and floating in zero gravity.

Just like in the Prison Dim- ‘Stop it!’.

He shook his head in an attempt at getting rid of the thoughts plaguing him. He felt a hopelessness invade his heart.

Before he could continue down that slippery mental slope, his view of the eerie darkness was blocked by Mikey gliding overtop of him in swim like strokes.

The Orange themed turtle was a stark contrast against the desaturated environment and brought a gentle smile to the sliders face.

Anata wa Hitorijanai.

With the Hamato Clan’s motto firmly situating itself in his core he looked into himself and felt for his family’s signature Ninpo. The familiar warmth of red, purple and orange began chasing away the the cold of his memories.

He wasn’t there. He had his family with him and though he didn’t feel like that instantly removed the problem, it eased the tension he carried on his shell just a bit.

And that would be enough.

So in a wave of courage, the blue leader moved. Turning his body away from the vulnerable open expanse at his back and facing his brothers, he kicked his legs and clumsily reached for his family.

He had a team to lead and a mission to accomplish.

[anotherfcknschlattsimp]

heyy! i was thinking about how schlatt is generally a private person, so could you please write about what it would be like trying to hide the relationship and the eventual reveal? thank you!

he's so absurdly paranoid

at home? always has to be touching you

holding your hand, sitting with your legs touching, little kisses all over your face, neck, arms, anywhere he can get to

but with the blinds closed and all cameras facing away from you two

date nights are either inside or with a third person so you can brush it off as three friends hanging out

but he plays footsies with you under the tablecloth because he can get away with it

would avoid flirting with you on camera, which leads to people noticing the different way he treats you, how he looks at you like you hung the moon and the stars, how he laughs genuinely at all of your jokes, how he just stares at you when he doesn't think he's in frame

and then one day you're both at let's say mizkif's house because when is that man not recording, you both think you're safe and out of view, but then another streamer decides to sneak up on you guys (shushing their audience and everything) and ends up capturing you two in a sweet kiss

schlatt holding your hip with one hand to pull you closer, the other used to lean against the wall and cage you in to keep you there

the cleanup for the slip was EXHAUSTING

took all of your mods about 3 weeks to finally calm down the angry simps and the obsessive shippers

couldnt take the clip down, you finally got one down and three more appear

he's still not comfortable with pda, but he does calm down a bit about how strict he is about it

finally having 2 person dates (rip Ted probably)

everyone calls you jambo and [ERROR]'s mom, regardless of your gender

speaking of gender

he has another mass purge of followers, but this time anyone who says anything bad about you being a woman/man/nb/cis/trans/etc.

minecraft wedding

the rocks in your background are all from him and his few trips outside

(lots from Japan)

NSFW

some people notice a little big something in schlatt's pants when he looks at you too long

everytime you two have to stream all day, or are otherwise unable to get a moment to yourselves to sneak a kiss, he makes absolutely SURE that he makes up for it

going for hours, making you cum at LEAST 5 times

every position you two can get in

he doesn't care how many times he finishes, or if he even does

he just wants to show you how absolutely LOVED you are

AAAAAAAA FIRST EVER FIC/HCs/ANYTHING, PLEASE LIKE IF YOU LIKE IT, COMMENT, SEND REQUESTS, ETC.

p.s. my keyboard doesn't have a caps lock cause im on a fucking chromebook

[katnipp]

cooper’s watching— aeri uchinaga

genre: FLUFF!?!?

synopsis: aeri holds y/n’s stuffed raccoon hostage over a goodnight text..

warning: aeri being a dramatic gf, playful threatening, mentions of cooper😳

—

you’re lying in bed, staring at your phone, when a facetime call from giselle lights up your screen. a wave of warmth fills you as you swipe to answer, and there she is, looking cozy with her messy hair and soft pajamas.

“hey, babe,” you greet, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“heyyy,” she replies, her voice teasing. “so… i’ve got a request. well, more like a demand.”

you laugh, leaning against your pillows. “oh no. what now?”

her face leans closer to the camera, a smirk playing on her lips. “you better pinky swear that you won’t fall asleep without saying goodnight to me.”

you blink, the surprise making your voice shake just slightly. “what? aeri, i’m not going to just—”

“oh, you will fall asleep,” she cuts you off, her tone now dangerously playful. “but if you do… well, i’ll just have to make cooper rip ringo apart.”

you freeze. your heart races a little as the words register. “wait, what?”

“i’m serious,” giselle says, holding her phone in one hand as she dramatically raises the other. in the background, you can see her dog, cooper, walking around, his big eyes looking as innocent as ever. “if you fall asleep without saying goodnight, cooper will take care of ringo for you. and trust me, he’s got some real strong teeth.”

you stare at the screen, wide-eyed. “you wouldn’t. not ringo. he’s just a stuffed animal, aeri. you can’t—”

“i can and i will,” she interrupts, voice low and threatening. you can hear the amusement in her words, but there’s a real edge to it. “i’ll leave him right there on the floor, just within cooper’s reach. and before you know it, you’ll wake up to pieces of your precious raccoon scattered all over the room.”

you groan, rubbing your eyes in exasperation. “are you serious right now? you’re going to sic your dog on my stuffed animal?”

she gives you a sly look, then waves ringo’s plush figure in front of the camera like it’s a weapon. “you think i’m joking? i’ve got cooper trained. if you break your promise, he’ll make quick work of your poor ringo.”

you can’t help but laugh, but the thought of your beloved stuffed raccoon being torn apart by her dog fills you with panic. “babe, you can’t—he’s been with me for years!”

“i don’t care how long he’s been with you,” she teases, her smile so sweet it’s almost evil. “i’m talking about ringo’s future here. cooper will decide his fate tonight.”

you groan dramatically, unable to hold back your laughter. “alright, alright! fine! i pinky swear i won’t fall asleep without saying goodnight. please don’t let cooper destroy ringo.”

she beams, satisfied. “good. that’s all i needed. now, no excuses. if you leave me on read, i’ll have to call in backup. and you know what happens then.”

you can almost hear the menace in her voice as she points at you through the screen. “cooper’s paws will be the least of your worries. ringo is done.”

you dramatically stretch out your pinky, half-laughing, half-panicked. “i pinky swear. no falling asleep without saying goodnight. you’ve made your point.”

giselle holds up her own pinky through the screen, her face now softening. “good. now, i trust you’ll keep your promise… or else.”

you smile, feeling a sense of warmth wash over you as you link your pinky with hers. “no worries. i won’t forget.”

you can see the satisfaction in her eyes as she leans back, letting out a mock sigh of relief. “i’ll sleep easier knowing you won’t let me down.”

after a few more moments of sweet conversation, the call begins to wind down, and you hear giselle yawn. “alright, babe. i think we’re both about to pass out soon.”

“yeah, me too,” you reply, your voice softer now, your eyelids heavy with sleep. “goodnight, loser.”

“goodnight, love. don’t forget your promise.” she winks at you, her smile teasing. “and don’t make me call in ringo’s worst enemy.”

you laugh, shaking your head. “you’re evil, you know that?”

her grin widens. “i’m just protecting my stuffed animal property.”

with one last soft chuckle, you close your eyes, feeling the warmth of her voice and the safety of your promise, knowing full well that giselle, with her playful threats and exaggerated dramatics, is the one you look forward to talking to every night.

you only hope that cooper is as innocent as he looks.

—

[hurtblossom]

Jealous ln4

Pairing : Lando Norris x ex!Driver!Reader (Female)

Summary : She's jealous of the way hes happy without her. Or she thinks he is...

Warnings : angst, saddness, tears, terrible english, did i mention angst?

Masterlist

Labyrinth Jealous

The paddock was buzzing with the usual pre-race excitement, but I could barely focus on the chatter around me. My heart was somewhere else, trapped in the past where Lando and I used to be. We had shared so much in such a short amount of time, and yet here I was, watching everything crumble before me.

"I just can't do this anymore, Y/N," Lando had said, his voice breaking as he looked anywhere but at me. We were in his apartment, the place that had been our haven, now suddenly feeling cold and unfamiliar. I wanted to ask him why, to beg him to stay, but I could see it in his eyes—the decision was made. There was a finality in his tone that I had never heard before.

"What do you mean? We were fine… we were happy," I stammered, desperately searching for any sign that this wasn’t really happening. But he didn’t meet my eyes. Instead, he stared at the floor, his hands trembling as he tried to hold himself together.

"I'm jealous of the way you’re happy without me," I whispered, echoing the lyrics of the song that had been playing in the background. It felt like the universe was mocking me, as if the words were ripped straight from my heart.

But Lando didn’t hear my whisper. He just nodded, perhaps thinking I was accepting his decision. And then he left, taking with him the future I had dreamed of. The door closed behind him with a finality that echoed in the hollow silence of the room. I stood there for what felt like hours, unable to move, unable to process what had just happened. The life we had built, the love we had shared—it was all gone in an instant.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: * :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

I hadn’t seen Lando since that day. Our teams kept us busy, and I buried myself in work, trying to forget him. But every time I saw him on TV, or heard his name in the paddock, my heart ached. The pain was a constant, dull throb that refused to go away.

When I was around others, I wore a mask—smiling, laughing, pretending that everything was fine. But inside, I was broken. The nights were the worst. Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, I was haunted by memories of us. His smile, his laugh, the way he used to look at me like I was the only person in the world.

We met again at the FIA Awards Gala. I was there to celebrate my first season as a Formula 1 driver, but all I could think about was him. I spotted him across the room, laughing with our mutual friends, looking as happy as ever. My chest tightened.

"I'm jealous of the nights that I don't spend with you," I thought to myself, the lyrics looping in my mind. I wanted to be the one making him laugh, the one he looked at with those bright eyes.

I tried to focus on the celebration, on the people congratulating me, but my eyes kept drifting back to him. He looked so carefree, so at ease, like he had moved on without a second thought. And when our eyes finally met, it was like time stopped. I forced a smile, but he quickly looked away, turning his attention back to the group around him. It was like I didn’t exist.

The rest of the night was a blur. I mingled with the crowd, nodded at the right moments, and even laughed when expected, but my mind was elsewhere. I couldn’t shake the image of him smiling, the way he seemed so happy without me. It tore me apart.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: * :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

The final race of the season, and I was more focused than ever. Racing was my escape, my way of channeling all the pain. But as fate would have it, Lando and I were once again side by side on the grid.

As the lights went out, I pushed all thoughts of him aside and focused on the track. But even as I raced, weaving through the turns, I couldn’t help but think of him.

"I'm jealous of the love that wasn't here," I sang softly in my helmet during a quiet moment on the straight. Our relationship had been perfect, or so I thought. But now, all that was left was this hollow feeling, the lingering question of what went wrong.

We had started out as friends, both young and eager, navigating the pressures of Formula 1 together. Over time, that friendship had blossomed into something more. I had fallen for him so hard, so fast. And I thought he had fallen for me too. We had shared everything—our hopes, our dreams, our fears. But now, as I raced, all I could think about was how it had all been an illusion.

We both finished the race in the points, and as I pulled into the pit lane, I saw him a few cars down. He was smiling, celebrating with his team. I wanted to walk over, to congratulate him, to tell him how proud I was, but I stopped myself. What was the point? He didn’t need me. He didn’t want me. Instead, I pulled off my helmet and looked away, pretending to be caught up in my own debrief.

But as the adrenaline of the race faded, the reality of my situation hit me like a ton of bricks. Lando was happy. He was thriving, and I was just a distant memory. The pain was unbearable, but I swallowed it down, plastering a fake smile on my face as I went through the motions.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: * :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

The end-of-season break came, and with it, the unexpected. We were both attending a charity event, and this time, there was no avoiding him. The tension between us had been growing, but neither of us had made the first move to talk about it. Until now.

He approached me when I was alone, sitting by the garden at the back of the event. The night was cool, the air crisp with the promise of winter. I had been staring at the stars, lost in thought, when I heard his voice.

"Y/N," he started, his voice soft, almost hesitant.

"Lando," I replied, trying to keep my tone neutral, even though my heart was racing. I didn’t want to show him how much I was still hurting, how much I still cared.

He sat down next to me, leaving a small gap between us. "I’ve been thinking about us," he admitted after a long silence. "I didn’t handle things well."

"I’m jealous of the way you’re moving on," I found myself saying, the words slipping out before I could stop them. I hadn’t planned on being so vulnerable, but there it was. The truth.

He looked at me, his eyes full of something I hadn’t expected—indifference. "Y/N… I need to tell you something."

My heart sank as I watched him struggle to find the right words. "What is it?"

"I’ve met someone," he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Her name is Magui."

The world around me seemed to tilt, and for a moment, I thought I might be sick. "Magui?" I repeated, as if saying her name would make this nightmare real.

He nodded, unable to meet my eyes. "She’s… we’re together now."

"I'm jealous of the way you're happier," I thought, the lyrics stabbing through my heart like a knife. I had held on to hope, believing that we could somehow find our way back to each other. But that hope was gone now, shattered into a million pieces.

I forced myself to nod, to keep my composure. "I see. Well… I hope you’re happy, Lando."

He finally looked at me, and there was a hint of sadness in his eyes, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to heal the wound he had just inflicted. "I am," he said, and those two words broke me in a way I never thought possible.

We sat in silence for a moment, the weight of his confession hanging heavy in the air. I wanted to scream, to cry, to beg him to take it all back. But I knew it wouldn’t change anything. He had moved on. And I had to live with that.

"I’m glad you found someone," I managed to say, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to stay strong. "I really am."

"Y/N, I—" he started, but I cut him off.

"Please, don’t," I said, standing up and taking a step back. "I need to go."

He didn’t try to stop me, and that hurt even more. As I walked away, I felt the tears streaming down my face, blurring my vision. I had lost him. Truly lost him. And there was nothing I could do to change that.

As the year came to a close, I couldn’t help but think of the lyrics that had been my constant companion throughout this rollercoaster of emotions. "I'm jealous of the way you're happy without me," I had whispered months ago, and now, here we were, with him completely moving on, leaving me behind.

As I lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, I let the tears fall freely. I cried for what we had lost, for the pain I had caused myself by holding on to hope, and for the love that would never be again. I cried until there were no more tears left, only an emptiness that I knew would take a long time to fill.

Lando had moved on, and now I had to find a way to do the same. But deep down, I knew that a part of me would always be jealous of the life he was living—one that didn’t include me.

And as I drifted off to sleep, the lyrics played in my mind one last time, a haunting reminder of what could never be: "I'm jealous of the way you're happier without me."

Charles version

[amutamika]

Shang Qinghua was trembling, although he felt so hot, that he would have ripped his clothes off if he had the strength. But he hadn’t. He felt miserable. His whole body aching. One would believe that the common cold couldn’t pester one in a novel about cultivation. And most cultivators only got ill because of poison or qi derivations. But Shang Qinghua had caught a cold. At least that was what he thought. Surely, it wasn’t a qi derivation. To get that he would have had trained his qi, which he didn‘t. Although, what he did do, was over exert himself. Basically splitting himself in half to satisfy the lazy Peak Lord of An Ding Peak and to serve the ice demon prince without anyone catching him.

His body had simply shut down. Last night he felt a little more tired than usually, but Shang Qinghua didn‘t give this too much thought. But as he woke up this morning, way later than usual, he felt terribly sick. He was feverish and felt weak. His first thought was too visit Qian Cao Peak to get some medicine so that he could get his work done, but as he wanted to get up, his legs gave in.

Now he was laying on the floor right beside his bed, curled up and unable to move another muscle. He had managed to pull his sheets over him, but he was trembling like a barren branch in the wind nonetheless. His mouth felt dry and his stomach was aching. He wasn‘t even sure how long he was laying there.

No one would miss him. At least not in the near future. Shang Qinghua hadn’t any friends at the sect. He always felt more like an on-watcher, even though he was now part of the story. And making friends would make it even more difficult hiding his work as a spy. So he preferred to keep to himself. And he tend to vanish quite often under the guise of doing some missions for the sect. Not even the Peak Lord would notice his absence.

He laughed. Would he die here? Surely not, the System would have intervened if that was the case. Wouldn‘t it. Shang Qinghua wasn‘t sure… But there was nothing he could to either way. He only could lay there and whimper in pain. He was drifting in ad out of consciousness, losing his grasp around reality. Sometimes he woke up and was sure that he was back in his original life, where he could hear the the air con buzzing in the background and smell the salty scent of instant noodles. But in the next moment he was back in his small room at An Ding Peak.

It reminded him of that one time in his first life where he also caught a cold in his apartment without anyone there to help him. He suffered for many days, unable to call for help or to even get some water. He was sure, that he would die there. Only to be found weeks later because the smell became to pungent and annoyed the neighbours. But that wasn‘t what had happened. He had woken up in the hospital where someone explained to him, that they had found him due to a welfare check. Someone had anonymously called the police, alerting them that he hadn’t been online for a few days. No one could tell him, who that caller was. But Shang Qinghua had been incredibly thankful for that person. Even though he was a little bit concerned how someone got his home address.

After that he had to apologise to his readers. Many comments had complained about the lack of new chapters. First and foremost Peerless Cucumber. At least on the first day. Because on the second his comments had been a little concerned. On the third he was actively fighting other commenters that Great Master Airplane probably had become sick, and that no one should see it as a given that he was producing chapters on the daily. It warmed his heart and he felt greatful that at least his biggest anti-fan seemed to think about him as a person. Of course, Peerless Cucumber wrote a whole paragraph about how bad the chapter was and that it contradicted a line from 200 chapters prior, as soon as Great Master Airplane had uploaded a new chapter.

But this time there wouldn’t be a Cucumber who would worry about him, and no anonymous caller to alert someone. He felt incredibly lonely. He started weeping and calling for his mother - something he hadn‘t done once in this second life of his. And it was like he could feel her placing a cold, damp cloth on his forehead, speaking to him in a gentle voice. Just like she always did it when he was still a little boy and his parents didn‘t fight all the time. Tears were streaming down his face as his fever dreams tortured him with the images of a caring mother.

Mobei Jun had been shocked as he had entered the small room. The human was laying on the cold floor, his breath heavy as if it was hard for him to breath. He looked disheveled, his hair hanging in messy locks all around him, some strands sticking to his face drenched in sweat. The sheet over him was only warming half of his body. The demon prince had tried to call out to the young cultivator, but to no avail. He didn‘t even notice that someone was there.

So Mobei Jun gently swooped him up, placing him on his bed, tucking him in. He wasn‘t quite sure, what was wrong with him. Especially because he didn‘t know the slightest about human ailments. But he decided that rest and something to drink and eat would surely help. He quickly got water and some simple rice congee out of the kitchen of An Ding Peak. He had to sneak there in bright daylight, but Shang Qinghua was more important than some disciple noticing a weird looking guy here. Luckily he didn‘t get caught.

He sat beside the still trembling young man who had tossed around in his fitful sleep so much that his bed sheets were all crumbled up next to him. Mobei Jun slightly probed him up, trying to give him at least a little bit of water. HE sighed in relieve as Shang Qinghua drank it, even without being fully conscious. But he refused to eat the rice congee. Mobei Jun had tried spoon feeding him, but Shang Qinghua’s body was rambled with coughing fits whenever he tried to feed him. So he settled on just giving him water for the time being.

After that he laid next to him on the bed, gently pulling the human into his arms. He seemed to like the coldness of his body. But at the same time Mobei Jun was careful not to freeze the patient. He let him cuddle up to him, while Mobei Jun was keeping the cold out of Shang Qinghua‘s body. And soon the trembling subsided. And even his whimpering became less, although he was still mumbling „Mom… Mom…“ from time to time.

Mobei Jun wasn’t sure how to care for him. No one ever cared for him either. But he did his best, staying by his side, making sure he was washed and dried, fed and held warm.

As Shang Qinghua awoke for the first time from his delirium it was already noon of the second day Mobei Jun had taken care of him. He had blinked confused, looking around and taking in all of the details of his room. As his eyes rested on Mobei Jun, the spy smiled. „My king, what a nice surprise dreaming of you.“ SHang Qinghua giggled before cuddling the bigger demon. Mobei Jun hadn’t had the heart to tell him that this wasn’t a dream. He contemplated, but as he wanted to speak up, he could already hear the soft breaths of Shang Qinghua sleeping.

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