#“In another life we are more than our wounds. In a other life you come out of nowhere and I do not flinch away. I let you touch me...

[britcision]

Okay so this is also actually super interesting for chemistry reasons too and historical reasons so like, nerd hats on

1) we have evidence of silver mining around 5000 years ago, in 3000BCE, but some suggestions that it might go back up to 1000 years earlier

Take a moment and do some math and think about what has happened in the latest 1/3 of your life. That’s our vampire’s issue

2) silver is actually scientifically interesting for a number of reasons, but our MAIN problem for our erstwhile vampire is… it’s relatively common

It’s the 68th most abundant element in the earth’s crust, according to Berkley

(Most of that is found as compounds with other minerals, but you do just get pure silver hanging out on its own)

You don’t tend to find huge deposits and a lot of it is often found as byproducts of something else, or alongside other mineable metals like copper and lead, but the issue here is that you can’t just Buy The Silver Mine

You have to Buy All The Mines, because you can’t predict where the silver comes from - and you don’t know you have to look for it until you’ve already found it, so a single vampire is very limited by the area they can affect

(Especially pre-tech)

But. A society of vampires, possibly hive mind style, could mobilise EXTREMELY quickly, around the world, once they know that silver is a threat

Vampires have to take over ALL the mining, because silver’s a nasty little slut that slips in everywhere and sometimes just washes up in rivers

And, well, having dominion over all that occurs deep in the bowels of the earth already works great for creatures who must avoid sunlight

But here we get to point three!

3) silver has another extremely valuable trait: it’s naturally antibacterial

The reason cutlery is also called “silverware” is because before we got real good at soap, making your utensils out of silver meant you were less likely to get sick and die since it was semi-self cleaning

Silver has been used for wound cleaning and water purification for centuries at this stage, in one form or another

(Apparently we still just deadass don’t know exactly how this works but it kills us way less than it kills bacteria so we just use it)

(They are studying this it just doesn’t seem to have reached a definitive conclusion yet)

This is also why silver is said to kill supernatural beings! Because it destroys bad things on contact, literally

(Vampires as big bacteria yes please)

Garlic is also antibacterial

But people have known for a very long time that silver in some way will protect you from harm, even if that harm was only vaguely defined

So if the vampires are late to ANY of the parties and locals of the area were already working out that silver made their water safer…

There will be legends and scraps of lore left behind, stories of a mystical substance that was taken away by the vampires, snackos for our protagonists to cling to

Because see, there is another direct consequence of silver being removed from history because of this property:

Lifespans will be significantly shorter

People will not have one of the most basic safeguards from disease we have ever accidentally stumbled across

Now, copper is also antimicrobial, and has also been used for things like water treatment for a very long time too… but copper mining is actually one of the more common ways that silver is discovered

They go together, so to control the silver, the vampires Must control the copper

And how much testing are they willing to do? Do they share all the metals except the silver?

(Is copper, which is indeed still antimicrobial, also toxic to vampires, but to a lesser extent?)

And that’s where we get into how quickly vampires could “remove” knowledge of silver mining from a population; less old people around to tell the story works well for them, so we can put an upper limit on lifespans as low as 30

Illnesses would also be more common in areas that offended the vampires, causing them to withhold copper… or get nasty and replace it with lead, which is also poisonous to humans

The cultural implications of displeasing the vampires skyrocket from “they will murder you and maybe your family violently” to “they will cease to come and trade and your Whole Goddamn County will fall to plague”

As always, the more history and science you learn… the more intricate and explosive and devastating your impacts can be

👀

pro-tip: don't ever use the sentence "thousands of years" in your worldbuilding unless you really know what a thousand years is like

[quickestgold]

Okay but LISTENNNNN. Reader and Jack having feelings for eachother but he pulls back (she’s still new , too young , etc) he’s been cold and she decided to take that day off work and go to Pitt Fest and …oh no…. (Still lives but it’s BAD)

Strip Her: Dr. Jack Abbot x Reader

Synopsis: Amidst a mass casualty event, Jack’s medical instincts clash with his personal life when the woman he loves risks her own life to save another. Is he about to watch you die?

Warnings: Canon-typical depictions of trauma/gun violence, mass shooting, GSWs, blood; Reader basically does what Santos did, but in the field hah! > No "good girl" energy from Jack, just anger for putting yourself in danger lol

Word count: 2k+

A/n: Thanks so much for sending this in, so sorry it's taken so long!! Lmk what you think!! ♡

This is not exactly in our mass casualty plan.

Blood is for the ones we can save.

Ten other patients will die if you put all of your energy into saving this girl.

Jack’s own words haunt him, playing through his mind on a torturous loop.

He looks at Robby, pleading for something. Then back at you, watching you fight for your life.

"Hi, handsome."

"Wanna come over after your shift?"

Read.

You huff out a humorless laugh. The old man really left you on Read.

You know Jack isn't a big texter, making the age-gap between you hilariously obvious. But today it gets to you.

Jack isn't your immediate superior, but you wonder if this is why he's been acting cold. More than usual.

The ER staff love to talk. Of course they do. But neither Jack nor you care about that. You’ve made it clear there’s an undeniable connection between you.

So, you’ve acted on it.

The last couple of months have been bliss, an unspoken understanding of exclusivity.

But now, Jack's been distant. Swapping shifts, avoiding working with you.

Was it something you did?

You've already double texted him today, wishing him a good shift and letting him know that Robby's asked you to 'babysit'.

How embarrassing. But you draft another.

"Heading to Pitt Fest now, will be up for some fun when you get home... ;)"

You delete the last part. God. Don't show your age!

"Heading to Pitt Fest now, see you soon."

You hit send.

Code Triage. Emergency Department Now.

The mass casualty event is in full swing. Patients come and go. Green. Yellow. Pink. Red. Black and White.

It's a haze of coordinated chaos.

Jack keeps trying to reach you in-between treating patients, leaving you countless voicemails.

Of course he would.

"Hey, Y/N. It's Jack. Call or text me the second you get this message, okay?" His voice trembles. "She's not picking up."

"I can't reach Jake either." Robby mutters.

"I'm sure they're ok." Dana offers gently.

Time slips away, minutes turning into hours. Their shift was supposed to end a while ago, but they've stopped keeping track.

"I'm going to check on triage." Robby announces, stepping out to help Shen and Ellis assess incoming patients. "No pulse. Black and white. Pink zone. Strong pulse. Unresponsive. No obvious GSW. Red zone GSW left chest."

A familiar voice cuts through the noise. "She was talking when we first got into the truck. T- There was so much blood."

"Jake!" Robby's at his side in a flash.

"Robby! Leah got shot. It's really bad...", Jake cries out.

Robby is at a loss for words, his medical instincts fighting the fatherly ones in a gruesome match.

"I've been putting pressure on the wound the whole time", Jake stutters.

"That's good. You're good", Robby reassures him, more for himself than Jake.

The team rushes Leah into the ER. Jake follows closely behind. "You can't stay with her. There's no room and we need to work on Leah right now", Robby says firmly, getting to work immediately.

Jack spots them and hurries over, panic rising in his chest.

"Where’s Y/N?" he asks, voice tight.

"I- I don’t know," Jake mutters. "She stopped Leah’s bleeding, then went back in."

"What do you mean?" Jack growls, trying to keep his voice calm.

Robby looks up, taking in Jake's words. The lines on his forehead growing deeper.

"People were screaming. The shots were so loud. She- She went back to see if others needed help." Jake's eyes well up, before he is wheeled off to get treated.

Of course you would put someone else's safety over your own.

Others might see it as noble, but Robby and Jack think it's reckless.

They exchange a look, knowing there's nothing they can do to reach you. To make sure you're okay.

Jack is called to another patient, while Robby proceeds to work on Leah.

Despite their best efforts, it's not enough.

Minutes pass. Jack watches Robby closely, his desperation becoming more evident by the second. Dana gives Jack a knowing look, recognizing the only person who can reach Robby right now is him.

Jack steps closer, glasses off, his voice gentle.

"The bullet tore through her heart", he says softly, giving Robby time to process.

"Anyone else with a wound like this is pronounced dead in the field. You can't keep up with the blood loss. If she was our only patient, we'd do a thoracotamy, maybe ECMO. But even then, I doubt we'd get her back." Jack's words hang heavy in the air, but he continues.

"We're gonna lose ten other patients if you put all your efforts into saving this girl." Jack doesn't let it show, but it pains him to see Robby hurting like this.

Robby does one final pulse check. But Leah's heart is no longer beating, the realization shattering his own.

"Okay, we're done", Robby whispers, breaking.

"We stopped at 19:47", Dana declares. "Move her to Pedes?", she asks gently.

Robby just nods.

"You want me to go with you to talk to Jake?"

He shakes his head. "No. No, thanks. I got it."

But another gurney is wheeled in. Robby notices first.

"Jesus Christ", he mutters. "What's going on?"

"Female. 30s. GSW to the right inguinal region. Retroperitoneal bleed", Dr. Mohan declares. But there's someone else kneeling at the end of the gurney, holding the patient's leg up. Robby and Jack's eyes widen, when they meet yours.

"The bullet must have tracked north and hit the external illiac", you state nonchalantly, ignoring the stunned looks from your colleagues.

It was supposed to be your day off.

"Dr. Y/LN did a REBOA in the field to stop the bleeding", Samira continues.

"You did what?!" Robby gasps, incredulous but unable to hide his pride.

Jack is by your side in an instant. "Are you shitting me?"

"Hello to you too, Dr. Abbot", you smile weakly, still focused on the patient’s wound.

Another time, your smile would’ve lit a spark. Not now.

Jack's anger is palpable.

You’ve seen it before, his cold, stone-faced demeanor, always one existential crisis away from breaking. But never directed at you.

"Are you hurt?" Jack’s voice is dangerously low.

He's scared.

Robby and Jack scan your blood-soaked clothing. You quickly dismiss their concern.

"Uncontrollable bleeding from a pelvic artery, no other options. I blew up a balloon in the aorta to stop the bleed. Going in a few inches, zone three, below the kidney. I just needed to hit the femoral artery."

You hesitate, but go for it anyway.

"Piece of cake", you grin, weaker than usual, but you hope they don't notice. They do.

"Radial's stronger." Mel confirms.

Robby and Jack both notice your uneven breathing but chalk it up to the stress and trauma you've experienced.

"Also, GSW to the chest, left hypochondriac region. Probable internal bleeding", you continue.

"No. That's not true-", Samira objects.

You direct everyone's attention to your own chest, your breathing becoming erratic.

"What?!" Jack's voice cracks, disbelief, shock and fear hitting him all at once.

You feel like you can hear your own heartbeat, the ER growing eerily quiet at your confession.

"Okay. Let go of her leg", Robby orders in an intimidating tone.

"Gurney!" Jack barks.

"I need to lock the balloon first." You stare directly into Jack's eyes, knowing he won't budge. You turn to your friend and mentor, pleading.

"Robby." He knows you're right.

"Do it." Robby nods, ordering Whittaker to check the wound once you're done.

"BP's 110, by palp", Donnie announces.

Jack remains frozen, his mind racing a million miles a minute.

"The balloon can stay up for an hour max. Get IR and Vascular on the case." Robby directs, before drawing everyone's attention back to you.

Your patient is stable.

You've done what you can.

But the blood loss is catching up with you.

"I- I think it's a through-and-through. My back hurts like hell and my legs feel funny." Jack snaps out of his trance, his training kicking in.

Robby lifts your top, shocked at the severity of the injury. Jack shuts his eyes, unable to stomach the sight.

It must be bad.

But it doesn't hurt too much.

Not a great sign.

"Okay. Stabilize her", Robby orders, multiple hands are on you immediately, steadying you. Grabbing the base of your neck, your shoulders and hips, securing you in place.

You're still sat on the gurney, but have now let go of the patient's leg.

"Strip her", Jack commands, voice low and firm, eyes dark and unreadable.

You try to lighten the mood. "Gee, buy me dinner first, won't you?"

A few giggles from the team, but Jack's lips are tightly pressed together in a fine line, facing downwards.

Dana cuts through your top, leaving only your bra. Unusual. But you're relieved to not flash your coworkers. You'd rather like to maintain the mysterious vibe you've got going on.

"Cowards", you tease. More chuckles, but worry growing on everyone's faces.

You whisper to Jack, "I'm sorry."

He doesn't respond. Can't look at you. Instead he orders a chest tube and a unit of blood.

A sharp gasp rips through you, the weight on your chest suddenly making it hard to breathe. "Fuck, that hurts." Any last traces of playfulness vanish, replaced by something else.

Fear.

Jack realizes he has to save his anger for later. "Hey. It's okay", a slight smile now tugging at his lips. "I've seen you worse", but the vulnerability in his voice betrays him.

Shit. It must be really bad. He's cracking jokes now?

Your anxiety spikes.

Is Jack about to watch you die?

You shiver at the thought. Or maybe it's the blood loss. Probably both.

Your vision blurs. Your thoughts get foggy.

"J-Jack?" You're not sure he hears you. Or anybody really. Did the words even come out?

Your eyes flutter shut. There are no more thoughts.

Only darkness.

Robby orders Jack to step back, the roles tragically reversed.

This is not exactly in our mass casualty plan.

Blood is for the ones we can save.

Ten other patients will die if you put all of your energy into saving this girl.

Jack’s own words haunt him, playing through his mind on a torturous loop.

He has been distant with you. But not because of your age, or your careers.

No, it's because letting you in means risking losing you and he knows he can't survive that kind of pain. He’s seen too much death, too much loss. And loving you only makes that fear stronger.

He looks at Robby, pleading for something. Then back at you, watching you fight for your life.

"I know." Robby is laser-focused, but shudders at the thought of Jack up on that roof again.

Painfully aware of the inevitable cost of losing you.

They won't. They can't.

Monitors and machines beep in a faint rhythm.

You wake, eyes heavy. A familiar figure is propped up in the armchair beside your bed.

He looks like shit.

Jack's wearing the same bloodstained scrubs, dark circles beneath his eyes, hair dishevelled. On second thought... it's a look.

"Hi, handsome", you whisper, unsure if it’s the relief of being alive, the pain meds or just seeing Jack, but a wave of comfort floods you.

He leans in, eyes wide with tenderness.

"Hi, beautiful."

His gaze radiates a warmth that kept you alive, even when your skin grew cold.

"How are you feeling?" His voice is soft. So unbelievably soft. The anger has subsided, but you know there’s a conversation you’ll have another day.

He takes your hand in his, squeezing it gently.

"Peachy", you exhale, giving him a warm and genuine smile. He returns it, his shoulders relaxing more with every steady breath you take.

You hesitate, but finally go for it. "So, about you leaving me on Read." Your smile turns into a familiar smirk. "You know only old people leave voicemails, right?"

Jack's breath catches in his throat, caught off guard. He chokes out a strangled laugh.

"You're unbelievable", he says, before leaning down, his lips brushing gently over yours.

The grip this man has on me I swear... Also, I'm still in shock from ep13 and I fear it's only getting worse... Jack being so rational about letting Leah go was So Painful, so writing this was very cathartic. Pls comment/share your thoughts below. ♡

[hitlikehammers]

POV: when you overhear your boyfriend’s bandmates who ⛔️do not like you⛔️ talking to him—about YOU

“Be real though, Ed. Harrington? You can’t actually be serious, here.” Steve doesn’t like to eavesdrop, like, on principle. Which is to say he totally does it. He just doesn’t wholly approve of it, or think it’s a very good habit to have, while still doing it. “You got me,” Eddie sighs, longer and deeper than can be taken wholly seriously. “I’m running my longest successful con to date.”

rating: t ♥️ tags: post-s4, established relationship, corroded coffin, as in: the gang’s all here and being VERY JUDGEMENTAL of eddie’s taste in men, and maybe steve had to pick eddie up from practice today so he overhears it WHOLLY WITHOUT INTENDING TO OKAY?, no one ever REALLY want to hear what the people they love really think of them when said people don’t know who all’s actually listening, true love, declarations of feelings, it’s actually really fucking hard to stand up to your friends, happy ending♥️

for @steddielovemonth day ten: "We are all a little weird and life's a little weird, and when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall in mutual weirdness and call it love." —Dr. Seuss

also! Unnamed Freak is Doug for the purpose of this fic because the book can fuck itself I say so 🖤

“Be real though, Ed,” the voice that filters through, and holds Steve’s hand from pushing the car door shut loud enough to notice, is fairly reasonable, like trying to talk down a suggestion absurd enough to send someone to the ER—which means, of the subjects at hand? It’s gotta be Jeff.

“You can’t actually be serious, here.”

Steve doesn’t like to eavesdrop, like, on principle.

Which is to say he totally does it.

He just doesn’t wholly approve of it, or think it’s a very good habit to have, while still doing it.

“You got me,” Eddie deadpans, but it’s like, venom-laced. It stings just to hear and Steve’s struck with how much his life’s changed since Spring Break, and more still since…well.

Since Eddie.

Because Steve is well aware the man can cut glass with how sharp his tongue can get, they did go to high school together whether they ran in the same circles or not.

It’s just strikes Steve in the moment that not once since Vecna, has Eddie turns that tongue on him.

Now, other uses of his tongue—

“I’m running my longest successful con to date. Yep, totally pulled it over on all you bitches,” and where it could be playful, every single word is sharpened to stab, to pierce, to drag the wound out so it bleeds, like a shiv to remind someone where they fucked up, in perpetuity.

“Please applaud.”

And oh, even Steve flinches at that tone, and he’s not even the target. Hell, he’s still in the driveway—he doesn’t make a rule of crashing band practice, no matter whose parents’ garage they’re using; Eddie’s van is just regularly in the shop for one thing or another, so he’s gotta come get his man. But he doesn’t, like, push his way in. Sometimes doesn’t even get out of the driver’s seat. He knows Eddie would more than welcome him; has the handful of times he’s ventured to step in to apologize for interrupting but remind him they have to pick up the shitheads. But one: Eddie is alone in his welcome, and like, the polar opposite of the other three guys, who range from staring daggers at Steve to sneering so scrunched up to the nose that it’d give Carol Perkins at her snittiest a run for her money.

And Steve wouldn’t have made it this far if he didn’t know how to recognise where he’s not wanted, and learn how to make the calculated decision of whether to walk or push his way in. And much as he loves Eddie? Steve actually wants his friends to eventually come around from probably, like, muttering ancestral curses under their breaths at him or something.

Plus, from what Steve understands? Jam sessions are personal. Sacred. Eddie had blushes and stammered the first time he let Steve listen in on works in progress; and Steve had rewarded him for the gift of it liberally and with genuine gusto. It’s earned him repeat performances on the regular, but Steve gets it’s a private thing in general. And these guys don’t know him, don’t presently care to—don’t trust him.

He figures it’s like…masturbating in front of someone. The art thing, the depth of making music and stuff. Showing your soul a little bit, losing control for the betterment of the final product.

Now, he and Eddie definitely have masturbated together, it’s actually fantastic foreplay, or even just a deliciously sloppy go on its own. But that’s neither here nor there. And also totally fucking different.

Steve really doesn’t want Eddie masturbating in front of anyone other than him, ever again. Steve’s sure as shit not looking to on his end; definitely not with the other members of Corroded fucking Coffin.

The metaphor might have gotten away from him. But you get the picture.

“No, man,” and that’s, that’s Gareth’s voice, Steve’s almost sure. Sharper. Concerned but also caustic on the undertow. “It’s just,” he snorts, the disbelieving sort: “this can’t be real.”

Okay, yeah. Tone plus actual words add up.

“Yeah, just,” Doug laughs a little nervous, like of all of them, Eddie’s verbal attack had the most weight in tempering his response of the three of them; “blink twice if you’re being held against your will.”

They all chuckle, but it’s toned down the whole way around—even Steve can clock that. These guys are boisterous when left to their devices, Steve’s taken note of that. Mostly watching from the sidelines—almost exclusively when they don’t know he’s there to watch.

Again: does not condone eavesdropping.

Does not try at all to refrain from doing it.

“I mean, you don’t expect us to believe you’re actually fucking him,” and oh, yeah, okay: Steve was pretty sure he was the topic conversation here, and despite some of the setbacks of recent years, he’s not insecure when it comes to relationships especially.

He’s definitely the only one fucking Eddie. And Eddie’s the only one fucking him.

And while he doesn’t really hold it against these guys for being wary of him—he wasn’t really a perpetrator of their high school woes, but he definitely didn’t do anything to make them less…woeful—so he’s mostly bummed about it for Eddie’s sake, and on principle, but like, seriously.

Doubting Steve successfully scoring Eddie Munson? Like, Eddie’s a catch, Steve of ll people is well aware, but. Steve’s also been long past fishing the shallow end of the pond, y’know?

Give him some credit.

“Right,” Steve narrows back in on what’s happening in the garage that he’s definitely feeling less guilty bout, seeing as he’s definitely a subject of the debate unfolding, but Eddie sounds…angry. Pissed off in that way he gets when he’s fed the fuck up.

“I’m out,” Steve hears scraping of equipment, the guitar case flipped open; “can’t actually make it next week,” he adds like a footnote.

It’s clear within a second he’s the only one who takes it with that same…energy.

“But we have to practice before the open mic—” Jeff, ever the voice of reason, sounds baffled; on his way to ticked off but not quite there yet.

Eddie, however—as is his wont in this type of mood—could not give two shits where the people around him land on the anger-o-meter; he’s exceeded them, even if only in his own head, and they are all therefore irrelevant to his very responsible decision to put distance between himself and doing something stupid he can’t take back.

It’s not the nicest way to deal but, honestly? Steve’s mostly just proud of Eddie for sticking with a coping mechanism that, while not without consequences, generally works better than most.

“I’ll see you guys in two, then. Probably.” And the case clicks shut, definitive, and Steve’s proud of that too; that Eddie’s not digging a hole when the guys re trying to bait him, intentionally or not, over Steve.

Steve doesn’t need Eddie to complicate his band, his friendships, over what the two of them have. One, it’s not their fucking business. And two?

Steve doesn’t thing he’s being self-important in saying he and Eddie…are bigger, and more, than even the very beat high school band.

Not that Steve would ever ask Eddie to choose or some bullshit like that. And he really does believe Eddie’s going places, if that’s what he decides he wants. But…there’s that.

Then there is them.

Different, like, stratospheres.

“What the fuck came up that you can’t make it next week? When we’re staring down our first actual shot at Battle of the Bands this year,” and yeah, of course, if anyone’s gonna try to drag the whole thing out, it’s Gareth. Kid’s got a fucking temper.

“Something more important.”

Which yeah, that’s what was going through Steve’s mind, basically, but—

“The hell could be more—“

“I have plans,” Eddie hisses, viper-quick and fucking deadly, shuts them all right up for it, but then he spins a 180–preens so big Steve swears he can hear his shoulders go back and his chest puff out:

“It’s my anniversary.”

So…yeah. Just because it was where Steve’s head had just been at doesn’t mean his whole chest goes all gooey to hear it said out loud.

And in front of Eddie’s band, who…they aren’t hiding from, but they have discussed keeping kinda mum around. For the same kinds of reasons Steve’s been privy to just in the past couple minutes.

But then Eddie’s voice follows the feeling in Steve’s chest like they’re tethered there, and honestly, more times than not?

Steve thinks they just might actually be, and he’s not proven wrong with the way Eddie halfway coos:

“Our anniversary.”

“Your what?”

Jeff, again, is that middle ground: actually confused, laced with being angry that Eddie’s ducking out.

“Six months,” Eddie answers, soft-like, a little dreamy but in this way that’s rooted somehow still, and in being struck all over again by a level of shock Steve understands, sometimes feels in reverse, but still doesn’t understand being felt so deep as it sounds, now, when it’s applied to…him.

It’s wild y’know?

“I’m like,” Steve hears Eddie’s curls brush against something as he shakes his head—Steve’s money’s on him crouched by his case, or having it already slung over his shoulder:

“Never thought I’d get something to celebrate like that in the first place, but get to keep it, that long without fucking it up?”

Steve, again, wants to give up the pretense and walk the fuck in there and kiss the shit out of his boyfriend because one, same, but two?

Dumbass.

Steve goddamn adores him.

“You mean, with Harrington?” Gareth’s spitting and Steve just shakes his head, a little sad—he doesn’t know what’s crawled up that kid’s ass about him, man; he’s not so much younger that Steve never saw him or didn’t know of him but godDamn: the circles he ran in at the time weren’t the ones doing shit yet when they were in the same elementary school, Steve was barely popular in middle school, and come high school the worst anyone he knew did to the frosh was bang them into a locker—not great, but.

Not worth this shit. And the worst part is if he doesn’t know what’s crawled he did to really piss Gareth off this bad? He can’t even try to Harrington-charm his way back into the guy’s tolerable category. Like, even his best fucking not-pot brownie recipe didn’t sway the fucker.

“Yes,” Eddie is answering, the answer emphatic, like he’s brimming with feeling over it, but then clipped too, like demonstrating that he was brimming and is now being forced to clip it all backis very much the intent: “of course I mean with Steve, who the fuck else?”

It’s not lost on Steve how Eddie says his name. Ever. All the name.

But right now, how he’s making a point to say it in that warm, kinda…beloved way, when anyone else uses his last name in a way that’s anything-but.

“You cannot be—” Gareth scoffs, Steve can imagine him throwing up his hands, that sort of deal, but then Eddie comes in, and it’s a tone Steve’s only ever hear when he’s about to run a campaign into the ground where the characters may never recover, and if somehow manage it, they’ll wish they hadn’t:

“Oh, I am deadly serious.”

Because it’s not Steve’s character, but in defense of Steve’s relationship, that tone trickles something molten through his veins and prickles up his spine and…he’s gone have to stick that one in his back pocket to explore at a later date, for sure.

“Six months?”

Jeff—and Steve kinda likes Jeff, and not for the reason his bandmates would like, that he kicks around Hawkins after graduation, too, but more because Steve knows why; that’s to make more money for a college outside Indiana, and Steve thinks that’s fucking cool—but it’s here where Jeff dips fully away from being angry to being stupefied. Steve lets himself smirk at nothing because fuck yes: him and Eddie.

Six whole goddamn months.

“I was actually gonna ask you guys to come over soon, introduce him properly and stuff,” Eddie says, the disappointment in his voice again; Steve’s niggling desire to go and hug him from behind, maybe kiss under his ear a little, back in full force.

“He picks you up from practice, we see him,” Doug pipes back up, likewise confused, but Steve just takes the useful confirmation that no one did catch on that he pulled up ages ago, now.

“We know who Steve Harrington is—” Gareth snaps, protests in the way that betrays his eye-rolling, his thin-wearing patience.

“No!”

And that comes out of Eddie fierce enough to echo down at least half the block they’re on—seems like Eddie’s patience was worn out a while ago.

“You don’t!”

And everyone is silent in that way Steve knows all too well: when shit’a gone down but now you’re waiting in the edge for the worse thing to hit.

Then it does:

“And it’s a good thing I didn’t bring it up because you dipshits aren’t ready,” Eddie snaps, says dipshitso different from how he does with the Party, theirParty, their kids; he says it here with something real fucking close to disgust.

“Asking hostage questions, fuck off,” he huffs, and Steve hears Eddie’s footsteps, can’t tell if he’s gonna leave it at that, come find Steve and know he’s been standing there but that’ll be fine, it’s not like Steve wasn’t going to let him know as soon as they left—but then:

“Look,” and Eddie sounds the way Steve sounds when he’s pinching the bridge of his nose to fight a growing migraine, the sting of tears for all sorts of pain behind his eyes, and that hurts to hear from his boyfriend, like, a lot.

It fucking hurts.

“I am not just fucking him,” Eddie growls through the bridge-pinching pain; “I mean, fuck yes, I am, but,” and Steve hears the way he swallows all the way down the drive:

“I’m in this for the long haul,” Eddie tells his bandmates like throwing down a gauntlet; “and if you can’t respect me enough, and my choices, that stings,” Steve knows Eddie shrugs then: “but I’ll live.”

Steve’s about a millisecond from saying fuck it, opening the door just to slam it to announce his approach, and then going to physically grab his boyfriend, drag him to the car, and park in the abandoned lot down from the Wheelers’ neighborhood to kiss him senseless because that’s the closest place he can think of and he doesn’t think he’ll make it to either of their homes before he can’t fucking handle himself.

“But if you are gonna disrespect the man I love, no. Absolutely not.”

Eddies voice is a deadly sort of whisper. Steve would cower at it, the way it washes through a person, if he hadn’t just…said.

That.

“You love him?”

And for what Steve thinks is the first time since he climbed out of the car and committed to listening where he wasn’t invited, Gareth sounds…muted. Genuinely asking a question.

Steve, for his own part, kinda expected that he’d be more breathless, heart racing and shit, to hear the answer but in reality?

“Of course I love him.”

Steve already knew that in his cells, in his bones.

In his steady, not all-that-fast but particularly-especially-happily beating heart.

“Have you guys, like, said it and stuff?”

And of course Steve already knows that answer, both the literal one and the one that matters more, but he does perk up a bit, curious to hear what—if anything of note—Eddie chooses to give away here.

“He has,” Eddie says, and now…now maybe Steve should stop listening because this part, the way Eddie says that as flat fact—Steve doesn’t knowthis part beyond speculation. But…

“I wanted to, like,” and eddies voice can’t hide the way he’s gotta have that soft smile, the one he used to hide behind his hair before Steve started pulling it back to see in full, so now he only brings his hair out just to tease, to okay.

“I don’t think I’ve wanted much in my whole life, but he’s,” and Steve thinks he hears how Eddie chews his bottom lip for a second, in the subtlest click of how it slips free before Eddie takes a deep breath and—

“He doesn’t know what he’s worth,” Eddie starts, a little mournful almost, even, and Steve is unexpectedly glued to the spot in his fucking Nikes.

“He doesn’t understand that I’d sell the sun and the moon just to keep him,” Eddie’s saying, and with passion. With whole-ass honesty. And here, maybe, is where Steve gets to have some of the heart:fluttery feeling after all:

“He comes out the gate with the whole you don’t have to say it back and I just,” Eddie sighs, sniffs a little before heaving another breath deep enough to stretch his shirt, which Steve’s not imagining or anything, at all;

“I couldn’t say it, not right then, and risk him everthinking it was something I’d done to like, match. Like that I didn’t mean it with everything I’ve got, when I mean it with everything I’ve got and then also everything else. Like, anywhere. Ever.”

Steve realized he’d stopped breathing at some point when the little dots start floating in front of his eyes and he sucks in a shaking breath because: he’s known Eddie loves him. Unshakeably.

But, but all this—

“I couldn’t say it and have him ever wondered if I wouldn’t rip my heart out of my chest just to keep his safe.”

And of-fucking-course Steve’s pulse is running fucking riot about how much he’s in love right now, make no goddamn mistake. Jesus, he—

“Fuck.”

And Steve has never heard Gareth Emerson pushed just this side of speechless but: that’s the best way Steve can describe the kind of breathless wonder he says it with, like watching a rare bird take flight.

“You mean it.”

And Steve can pick out Eddie’s huffs and categorize them, on demand at this point: he doesn’t need to see the eye-roll to know Eddie’s deemed the expression of pure shock to be so beneath him in this specific context that he’s deemed it unworthy of any more attention.

His heart’s not jumping that loud to have missed it. So.

Steve just kinda grins toward the blacktop under his shoes.

“Why didn’t you,” Doug starts, still—usually, really, in Steve’s limited experience at least—the peacekeeper, the one who’s most invested at the human level when he’s not getting swept up in whatever the rest of the gang has deemed the cool thing to laugh at or make fun of at any given moment.

The huff Eddie gives this time is his incredulous one, which allows for just the slightest bit more consideration:

“The fuck do you think?”

The slightest bit, being the operative point.

“I’d hoped you’d take it better but,” Eddie adds, and there’s less drama in it than Steve might have expected. He’s being serious with them, and he sounds…disappointed.

Steve kinda want to make some kind of noise, give away his position, and just…hug Eddie tight from behind, if nothing else. Be there. Solid against him, wrapped up around him. Never wavering. Always at his back as much as at his side.

But Eddie’s not done:

“I’m not even asking you to like him, just be decent,” and it sounds like it hurts him to say as much, and Steve knows why; he genuinely despises when anyone thinks Lea with a the very beat thing about Steve. Steve believes this to be n unreasonable standard, and has expressed as much to Eddie who nods and smiles and kisses Steve’s forehead and does absolutely nothing to change his stance, but deep down?

Steve fucking feels so…loved for it.

“And like I said,” Steve can hear the judgement in Eddie’s tone clear as day; “you’re not ready, and I’m not putting him in that kind of situation.”

Steve sucks on the inside of his cheek, lest his grin at the way Eddie is not just defending him, but…protecting him, not his honor but his heart…

No ones ever even tried that before. Steve may not need it, or maybe he just learned he couldn’t survive needing it.

Getting it now…now it’s just…

Wow.

“And I’m in this for keeps, like, this is a forever type thing, so long as he wants it,” Eddie saying, explaining the color of a sky to a small child like what these words are that fundamental, that unalterably true. “So—”

“We’ve known each other forever, man,” Gareth eventually mutters, sounds indignant, but mostly gutted.

Steve knows before it happens that it’s not gonna make a difference.

“And we can still know each other. Just not everything, anymore,” and Eddie does sound a little sad but he’s…he’s a monolith, unshakable. “I don’t trust you with the parts that revolve around him, yet,” and Steve feels more than hears the ways his friends deflate, maybe shrink for being deemed so…insufficient. In the eyes of their ostensible leader, no less.

“Eddie, we didn’t,” Jeff starts, slow, and he doesn’t sound remorseful but—Eddie has all those coping mechanisms for a reason, right?

Because he’s quick to feeling, good and bad, and sometimes neither is fit to the moment.

Steve can’t help but be kinda glad Eddie doesn’t bother with those mechanisms just now, though, if it means he gets to hear this part:

“I know you didn’t, that’s the fucking problem,” Eddie groans, Steve can see the way he lens, bends at the knees and throws his body around a little in sheer, undiluted exasperation. “

“Because I could tell you he’s changed since school, and that’d be true, but that’s not even it,” and there’s more of the frustrated stomping round, Steve can hear it, but he’s…he’s ready distracted by that thing in his chest that has to has to be tied up in Eddie’s, too, that thing tugging on him to pay the fuck attention.

And who is he to ignore it?

“he was never who we thought he was in school in the first place. He is,” Eddie licks his lips, just to snack them loud:

“He is kind and funny, and goofy, and such a fuckin’ nerd, and he’s smart in these incredible ways where he’s sees what everyone else misses, and he’s protective as fuck and he’s got a heart of gold,” and Eddie’s voice only gets more heartfelt in its own right that longer he goes and Steve just, he’s, it’s—

“And I would tear my skin off just so it doesn’t get so much as a scuff on it,” Eddie ends with the most scathing delivery imaginable: he fucking meansthis shit. And Steve is going o live and die next to this man, scuffed heart still kept safe to the fucking end, he will swear that shit to anyone who needs to hear it.

He is going to have a whole fucking life with Eddie Munson, and love him for every single breath of it.

“And I don’t trust you guys yet not to tempt me to tear off my skin,” Eddie says finally after enough silence to catch his breath, and temper his tone just enough to sound tired; a little dejected. “I don’t trust you with him, and until that changes, we’re still friends,” Eddie sniffs, breathes out long; “you just won’t get to know about that part of me.”

He says it so simple, like he’s not half-cutting off some of the longest, closest friendships he’s ever had, and for Steve.

Steve doesn’t know if it makes him a person, or a really selfish one or whatever, if he doesn’t feel any urge to talk Eddie down, to make him walk it back just a little.

He doesn’t think he cares, though, either way.

“Seems like a really big part of you,” Doug says, deflated entirely.

“It is,” Eddie answers, unapologetic in a way that swells and sparkles in Steve’s ribs. “He is.”

“You’d walk from the band?” Of course Gareth asks, but it’s the first time he sounds small in his words. Like he maybe knows the answer, and isn’t so okay with how he got around to it even before Eddie wishes all doubt:

“In half a fuckin’ heartbeat.” Boom. Done. No hesitation whatsoever.

Less than half-a-fuckin’-heartbeat.

“That’s not what I’m saying I’m doing right now, but,” Eddie laughs a little, and that probably cuts deeper than anything for the boys, Steve suspects, especially when Eddie makes it unquestionable:

“It’s not even a question.”

And…maybe that drives a knife deeper for the band, but for Steve?

Steve kinda wants to…giggle, or some shit. He hadn’t realized just how much he wanted someone who answered a question like that, exactly like that, who talked about Steve exactly like that, without anything to gain, just because they…believed it.

“Jesus,” Gareth mutters, sounds kinda blindsided, kinda thrown and then some.

“If we,” Jeff clears his throat after a long period of quiet; “if we do better, could we meet him someday?” And the way he says it, earnest and shit:, like he wants to at least think about, at least maybe try:

“Like, really meet him?”

Like Eddie means enough that he’ll try, and that sings sweet in Steve’s veins because goddamn straight, his Eddie deserves that from the people hecares about. No matter who or what Steve is, Eddiedeserves that much, and so much more.

But he sounds like even just this is something amazing, Steve can hear the smile in his voice:

“Yeah, man,” he answers Jeff, claps him audibly on the shoulder; “I look forward to it.”

And shit, y’know what?

So does Steve.

“See you in two weeks,” and Eddies footsteps follow, guitar slung over his back for the way his weight falls with each one, but then:

“Eddie!”

That’s Doug; the footsteps stop close to the edge of the garage door as another set rushes to catch up, where he’ll see Steve if he walks much farther, where Steve’s got his hand on the door handle of the car, slowly inching it open to push shut and look wholly-unsuspicious now that Eddie might be followed out to his ride:

“Get him flowers. For your anniversary,” Doug says, tone low like a secret; “I know, like, it might seem like guys wouldn’t want flowers, but,” and Steve actually has to strain to hear the next part:

“My mom gets my dad flowers on his birthday every year, and he lights up like the Fourth of July.”

Steve remembers the first time he ever got flowers. His favorites, even if he thinks he only knew it subconsciously because they were handed to him with the stammering explanation of I don’t even know if you like flowers, or like these ones, but you look at them when we’re out, like, just walking or something and your eyes linger, and these ones just remind me of you and—

Apparently, Steve loves hyacinths. And sunflowers make Eddie think of him.

Because of course Steve’s first gift of flowers came from Eddie.

“Thanks man,” Eddie sounds the lightest, most genuine Steve’s heard him since he pulled up and got out of the car; “they’re already ordered.”

And Doug chuckles, and Steve?

Steve bites down his smile to less exploding-star levels—if he’d just pulled up he doesn’t have a reason, save that Eddie is enough of a reason in Steve’s eyes, his mind, the way his chest expands just thinking on him—as he pulls the car door closed again, loud enough to be noticed.

For Eddie to walk out of the garage fast as anything and meet Steve with a smile of his own that justifies the fuck out of where Steve’s had started, anyway.

All star-bright and everything.

♥️🎸♥️

✨also on ao3✨

btw this is either titled ‘halcyon shoegazing’ or ‘heart in your shoes’ so if you have an opinion you should maybe tell me or something, my brain’s tired and is resisting decisions rn

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @ajeff855 @askitwithflours @awkwardgravity1 @bookworm0690 @bumblebeecuttlefishes @captain--low @depressed-freak13 @dragoon-ze-great @dreamercec @dreamwatch @dreamy-jeans137 @estrellami-1 @goodolefashionedloverboi @grtwdsmwhr @gunsknivesandplaid @hiei-harringtonmunson @hbyrde36 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @kimsnooks @live-laugh-love-dietrich @mensch-anthropos-human @nerdyglassescheeseychick @notaqueenakhaleesi @ollyxar @pearynice @perseus-notjackson @pretend-theres-a-name-here

divider credit here and here and here

[yanderefarm]

yandere crime lord x sadistic male reader

cw;; torture, burn wounds, blood, gore, stockholm syndrome, yandere, drugs, kidnapping, murder, smoking, cruel reader

here he is.... my most fucked up bby girl. i wrote this a little differently than the others... i had a different vibe in mind.

achilles is the eldest son of a notorious mob family, the second most powerful in charge right under his father. he makes lots of big decisions, like his recent attempts to take over a smaller gang with cruelty and force. unfortunately being a sexy big shot comes with its own little vices, achilles likes smoking for instance. nasty habit especially for someone in his position, doesn't he realize how vulnerable he is when he's taking a smoke break? so easy for you to drug.

you flick some of the cigarette ash towards the man in question. he's on his knees arms tied behind his back and duct tape over his mouth. he keeps shooting you dirty looks. it's funny.

"such a waste..."

you run a red room service on the dark web. essentially, anyone with enough money can hire you to kidnap and torture whoever they want. some people hire you to make elaborate snuff videos with their desires all written out for you, other people let you and your audience decide what kind of torture would take place over your live streams. that's where the handsome man in front of you came from, the gang he'd been destroying had bought your services.

you had already explained that to him, as well as mocked him for his cigarette habit. now you were letting one of the cigarettes burn before your stream actually started, you didn't actually smoke it choosing instead to let him watch you waste it. his scowl was hot.

his screams were hotter. the first hour in, you had him covered in cigarette burns and his stomach flinching away from your touch. the second hour in, he had multiple gashes all over his trembling body. the third hour in, he had finally started to sob and his body was covered in lovely bruises.

"sorry guys, we can't kill him yet. but that means we get a toy for a little while!" you gripped his hair and brought his tear stained face up to the camera. "say goodbye to our friend!"

and that ended your first stream with your new toy. you cleaned him up and brought him to his new room.

"you'll probably be the show tomorrow unless I get another job. eat up." you gave him a nice dinner and pulled the duct tape off his mouth.

"... when will I die?"

"dunno. good work chilles, sleep well. I'll most likely kill you in the morning."

that's how it began. the guy ended up being your show about half the week for the next two months. never enough to kill him and every day you cleaned up his wounds and took good care of him. he never cursed you or complained about his place he would ask you questions and thank you for the food. it was pleasant conversation, he was a nice companion in your otherwise drab life.

it was halfway into the third month when you got news that those gang members who hired you were dead. you'd been waiting the whole time for them to pay for you to kill achilles and now it was never coming. at least you made good money from your streams in the meantime.

"you're free to go." you stood in the doorway of achilles's room.

his eyes looked at you, slowly widening as he realized what you said. "wh.. why?"

"m gonna drug you up and drop you in front of your house. you won't know where you were but I'd really appreciate if you didn't try to come after me at all. "

"why are you letting me go? did something happen?"

"you should quit smoking by the way. maybe i won't be able to get you-"

you saw something in his eyes snap. those eyes that had been practically blank the whole time even when the torture made him lose his voice from screaming. now they were dark and hazy, significantly more threatening than he'd been before. he crawled on his hands and knees to your leg and looked up at you with tears in his eyes.

"why....? am i not.. did i do it wrong? i can be a good toy."

you were caught off guard by his reaction. "uh... well uh the guys who hired me like... they died without paying me to kill you. so like... i don't have a reason to keep you?"

"how much?"

"huh??"

"how much do you need to keep me?"

you reached down and gently carded your hand through his hair. "you don't want to stay here, dumbass."

"yes I do." he nuzzled his head into your hand.

"you really want to stay here and get tortured until you die? use your brain."

his darkened eyes looked up at you with the most pathetic look. "i want to stay with you."

"fuck" he's cute? he's cute. "ok...jesus, lets do this. you go home, get reunited with your family, try to get back to normal life. and I'll contact you so if you still want to be LITERALLY tortured over living your normal life I'll bring you back. ok?"

"you'll actually come get me, right?"

"yeah. I'll get you and I won't even make you pay."

"I'll be back soon." he rubbed his head against your leg. "please get your favorite tools ready."

[worldlxvlys]

I HAVE A IDEA (MR CRABS I HAVE AN IDEA)

yk the new song ari came out with (we can't be friends) Chris fic were the reader and him are best friends that always flirt and they made out drunk at a party and have not been talking for a week untill Chris shows up at her house and they makeout and maybe some smut? Idrk

Anyways that's all 💋

we can’t be friends

chris sturniolo x reader

warnings: angst, mentions of drinking/being drunk, smut, fingering, oral (fem receiving), squirting, cursing

a/n: i’ve been absolutely OBSESSED with this song and itching to write about ittt

i hope you enjoy

i let out a heavy sigh at his last text, before throwing my phone onto my bed.

of course i wanted to fight for us, but this was about more than just our friendship . this was about what was best for us individually.

for as long as i could remember, i always put chris’ feelings before my own. i spent so long chasing after him, just to end up heartbroken.

i watched him constantly pick other people over me, blissfully unaware of how deeply he was wounding me.

but no matter how much i wanted to, i couldn’t blame him. it was easier to point fingers at him than to accept the fact that this was partially my own fault.

i let him continue to hurt me, over and over again, never telling him what he was doing to me. and if i didn’t tell him, how would he know any better ?

so, even though it killed me to act so cold and distant toward him, it was time to look out for myself for once.

i needed to take the time to love and take care of myself before expecting someone else to do so.

sure, he’d be upset for a short while, but once he got over me he would easily move on to the next girl. that’s all i was to him, after all. just another girl.

i was pulled from my thoughts when i heard my front door open and close suddenly, followed by quick footsteps toward my room.

i waited behind my bedroom door, quick to swing my arm out in front of me when the person made it to the doorway.

i was met with chris, who immediately caught my wrist in his hand.

we stared at each other with wide eyes, neither one of us speaking. i blinked up at him, watching his eyes trail down to my lips.

“don’t do that” the words flew out of my mouth before i could stop them.

his eyes immediately shot back up to mine, a curious expression taking over his features.

“don’t do what?” he asked, loosening his grip on my wrist to let it slide down, intertwining our fingers.

“chris, we aren’t doing this. i meant what i said earlier, we’re better off not being friends”

“you keep saying that, but you won’t tell me why. you gotta talk to me baby” he spoke.

“i don’t want to” i spoke back, shaking my head as i backed up slightly to create more distance between us.

“how am i supposed to know what i did wrong if you don’t talk to me?”

he was right, of course he was. it was unfair of me to just cut him off with no reasoning. but the second we start talking about it is the second it becomes real. i didn’t want to come to terms with the fact that i was trying to end one of the most important friendships i’d ever had in my life.

“you didn’t do anything, chris” i answered. he wasn’t having it. “no, tell me. i’m not letting you just end our friendship like this, not without a reason”

“i just can’t be friends with you”

“why? what is so wrong with me that you don’t want me in your life? and completely out of nowhere” he spoke, his voice rising slightly.

“see, that’s the problem. i don’t want you out of my life, i want you in it forever. but you clearly don’t want that, and it’s ok.”

“who the hell said i didn’t want that?” chris asked, his brows furrowing.

“chris, it’s fine. you don’t have to try to make me feel better-”

“so you don’t believe me?” he cut me off.

“i mean, i don’t know, i just…” my babbling trailed off as i tried to find the right words.

“let me prove it to you” he whispered as he toyed with the strap of my tank top.

my breathing grew shallow as he moved the fabric down my arm slightly, pressing his lips to my shoulder.

“chris….we shouldn’t” i whispered, but tilted my head to the side, allowing him more access as his lips moved up my neck.

“really? you weren’t complaining a week ago” he spoke against my skin.

i slapped his chest lightly at that. “yeah, well we were also drunk”

he bit down on my neck, harshly enough to leave a bruise and elicit a moan from me. “so, you don’t want this?” he asked.

i let out a deep sigh, “of course i do, chris. but do you?”

he looked as though he was going to say something, but i stopped him “don’t tell me yes just because you want sex. i don’t want you to just want somebody, i want you to want me. if you’re just gonna fuck me and move onto the next girl, then forget it” i spoke.

the more i thought about it, the more i convinced myself that he didn’t really want me.

“hey” he spoke softly, cupping my jaw. “this isn’t about the sex, this isn’t even about me wanting you. this is about me needing you. this is about me not being able to live without you. yes, i’ve been with other girls. but there’s a reason that you’re the only one that’s always been there”

“i was so sure you didn’t feel the same, so i tried to move on. but i couldn’t, because none of those girls are you. and i’m so sorry that i hurt you, i’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if i have to”

chris looked at me as though he could cry. his blue eyes shot back and forth between my own, his thumb caressing my jaw gently.

“so make it up to me” i whispered, pulling his lips to my own.

one of his arms smoothly slid behind my back, supporting my weight as i found it hard to keep my balance.

he kissed me like he had waited his whole life for this moment. his lips felt so soft against mine, unlike our last kiss.

this kiss made our drunken one feel sloppy and desperate, like two people who were just horny, but this was more than that. it was eye-opening, sweet, gentle, it was everything i didn’t know i needed.

but chris did, he always knew what to say or do to make me happy. i couldn’t stay mad at him even if i wanted to.

“let me make you feel good?” he asked when we pulled away. “yeah” i let out breathlessly, nodding my head.

“lay down for me” he said, leaving another kiss to my neck. i did as he said, getting onto my bed and laying on my back.

he wasted no time in crawling over me, his hands placed on either side of my waist. “can i?” he asked, lightly tugging at the hem of my top.

i nodded at him, lifting my upper body up as he pulled off my top. without a word, he attached his lips to my nipple while caressing the other with his hand.

i let out a loud moan at the feeling, beginning to squirm underneath him.

“shit, chris” i sighed out, his eyes immediately looking up at mine.

he swirled his tongue around the hardened bud, watching as my body melted into his touch.

he sucked on my tit until the skin turned dark, moving to the other to give it the same treatment.

“god, chris. feels so good” i moaned out while he continued to work my sensitive nipple with his tongue.

“you look so pretty like this” he rasped as he soothed my boobs with his hands, “can’t believe i have you all to myself” he mumbled to himself.

he moved his face downwards, leaving gentle kisses to my rib cage and abdomen. he paid special attention to every birthmark and scar he found, pressing a kiss to each one.

his fingers rubbed small circles into my skin as he ventured further and further down my body.

he stopped at the waistband of my shorts, leaving a kiss to my crotch area. due to the thin material or the shorts and my lack of underwear, my hips shot up involuntarily at the feeling.

“no underwear? such a dirty fucking girl” he spoke, smacking his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

he licked a long stripe up my pussy through the shorts, eliciting a long whine from me. “chris, stop teasing me” i spoke as i squirmed under him.

“you just make it so easy, baby” he spoke, before continuing to leave kisses down my thighs and calves.

“lift up” he spoke as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of my shorts. i raised my hips, allowing chris to pull them off.

i let out a sigh at the feeling of my heat being exposed to the cold air of the room.

chris stared down at my glistening pussy, mouth hung open slightly as he pulled my folds apart, spreading me open.

“my god, you’re so gorgeous” he spoke, blowing cool air onto my heat.

“hold your legs apart for me, beautiful” he spoke, his lips inches away from my core.

“so wet” he mumbled before running his tongue along my thighs, just missing where i needed him.

“chris, please. i need your mouth so fucking bad” i whined. “where, baby?” he asked, teasing me some more.

finally having enough, i wrapped my legs around his head, pulling his face into my heat.

he let out a long moan into me, his eyes rolling back as he licked up every drop of my slick.

my head fell back at the feeling, legs loosening around him to let him pull back if needed, however he stayed right where he was.

the words that fell out of my mouth sounded like gibberish, but i didn’t care about that. all i could focus on was chris.

the way he groaned into me, his needy tongue lapping me up like i was his last meal. his piercing eyes never left mine, only making the tight feeling in my stomach grow.

my arousal covered his flushed cheeks, making me even wetter.

there was something that i found so incredibly hot about how messily he was eating me out. it was like all he cared about was me finishing.

he moved his face from my legs, making me let out a whine at the loss of contact.

he stuck his tongue out, his spit dripping down onto my pussy.

“what do you think about when you touch yourself? ” he asked suddenly while he brought his finger down to my core to rub me.

“i- oh” i cried out in surprise at the feeling of his finger entering me.

“holy fuck, you’re so tight” he whispered as he pushed his pointer finger in and out of my tight walls.

“oh my god” i whimpered when he pushed another finger in.

“if you don’t answer me, i’m stopping” he spoke.

“this! i think about this!” i rushed out, eyes screwing shut at the feeling of his rough fingers inside of me.

“i think about how perfect your hands are. fuck- how long your fingers are” i struggled out between moans, “i think about you” i finished.

“yeah? what about my cock?” he asked as his fingers sped up.

“you think about what it would feel like for me to fuck you into oblivion? ” he asked as he curled his fingers, hitting my g-spot.

“fuck, yes! i’m so close chris” i cried out as he continued to plunge his fingers in and out of me.

“c’mon, you got it. doing so well for me, want you to make a mess all over me” he rasped out, fingers moving rapidly inside of me.

“chris, wait! i’m gonna-” i tried to warn him, but i was too far gone as my juices shot out of me.

the liquid dripped down his face, onto the saturated sheets underneath us.

“yes, yes, fuck yes” chris groaned as his mouth hung open. i leaned up slightly, watching the way his hips stuttered and his body shook.

“fuck” he let out breathlessly, as he began to shudder.

“did you just come untouched?” i asked, eyes widening slightly.

“if that doesn’t prove how much i want you, nothing will”

wait why’d i kinda eat ??? 🤭

masterlist

tag list: @lustfulslxt @flowerxbunnie @sturnssx @mattslolita @its-jennarose @sophssturn @bernardsleftbootycheek @queen161718 @cupidsword @imwetforyourmom @nickmillersn1gf @mattsneezing @chrisstankyleg @sturniolobltch @bethsturn @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ssturniolo @blueeyedbesson @mxqdii @sturniolowhore @readerakayourname @defnotayonna @urmom2bitch @rootbeerworshiper @starsturniolo @hearts4chriss @theyluv-meee @carolinalikesthings @itzdarling @chrisstopherfilmed @judespoision @sstvrnioloo @littlebookworm803 @nicksdrpepper @chrisloyalgf @robins-scoop @fandomhopped @chr1sgirl4life @bbglmfao @55sturn @nicksmainbitch @meg-sturniolo @yamamasjumpercables @vanteguccir @ineedchriscock @junnniiieee07 @breeloveschris @luverboychris

[libbyfandom]

“In This Life, and the Next. I Swear.”

Happy Holidays, have a bittersweet reincarnation fic.

Summary: Mizu may not believe in reincarnation, but you do. You'll believe in it enough for both of you. You may not be strong, but your soul is. You'll carry her to a better lifetime.

Content Warnings: Did your really think no one would die in a reincarnation fic? Hmmm?

“Next lifetime, you have to court me,” you murmur into Mizu’s neck as her fingers trace along the bare skin of your back where you lie atop her. “None of this... stoic loner act where I have to wear you down into letting me love you. Yeah?”

Mizu snorts, her other hand resting over her eyes. “Not on your life.”

Making an offended noise, you bite her collarbone in retaliation, hearing her laughter fill the inn room.

“When we come back, I want our lives to be simple,” you say as Mizu helps you down from the horse you borrowed on your escape from the last town.

Resisting the urge to let a sigh slip at this fantasy coming back up again, she mutters, “Yeah? You’d prefer to have a boring life, after you basically attached yourself to me and Ringo to escape your home?”

“Well yeah, I’m getting all of my adventuring done in this life cycle.”

“And you don’t want that again?” Mizu starts to lead the horse toward the outer skirts of the city, hoping to find a stable to leave it without being spotted.

You walk alongside her, studying her passive expression. “I do." A beat. "But I want you to have peace more.”

Her eyes dart to you, genuinely caught off guard. The openness, the honesty in your face has a bubble of overwhelming emotion welling up in her chest.

Her head turns back to the road, retreating into her silence to avoid speaking and risking her voice betraying her.

But after a few minutes of her staring off into the distance, she quietly says with a softened brow, “That’s kind.”

‘Do you regret choosing this life, knowing how quickly it will all end? Or did you walk into it blindly, optimistic for some happier resolution?’

Mizu jerks you up into her arms, apologizing frantically over and over as you scream in pain when she applies pressure to the stab wound deep in your stomach. She tenses her grip as your body tries to seize and jerk away from the splitting, hot pain radiating through your nerves from pressure on the gash. You’re too scared to look down and see your own insides peeling away from each other.

Taigen and Ringo are fending off the last few bounty hunters, the clashing of swords and knives fading into the background as you dig your bloodied fingers into her haori. “Come find-find me again,” you say with frantic eyes, swallowing back another mouthful of metallic blood forcing its way up your burning throat.

“What?!” Mizu’s attention is torn between keeping an eye on her back and wrapping a torque around your middle from the fabric she torn off your kosode.

You grab her face, leaving a bloody streak on her cheek as you force her to look at you. Her widened blue eyes are forced to look into yours with no barrier, her glasses lost somewhere in the snow from the fight. You can feel how fast your body is losing warmth. The edges of your vision are blurring, and the draw to fall asleep is growing more powerful than the burning gap in your stomach. Mizu may not know how to die, but you-

‘I’m so sorry, my love. I’m so, so sorry.’

You need her to hear you before everything stops. So you grip her cheek and stare into her panic-stricken eyes. You’re scared too, but you’re more scared of coming back to this world and not seeing her again than you are of not coming back at all.

“Come find me again.”

Mizu hates the concept of promises, and the bigger and more impossible they sound the more she avoids them. But you nose is turning pink from the cold, or from your crying. Tears are trailing down the sides of your temples, cutting through any blood stains across your face.

And she hates promises.

Tears well in her own eyes as she clenches her teeth against a violent sob.

But she hates denying you proof that she loves you more. If you pass without it… if you die with the last words in your ears being 'I can't'…

Every whisper and cry of “Onryō” she’s ever heard echo louder and louder in her head until they're all scream chanting in unison. She blinks, and for a heart-freezing moment your terrified eyes turn her shade of blue.

“Onryō!”

“ONRYŌ!”

"𝔬n҉𝔯y҉𝔬o҉𝔫r҉𝔶o҉𝔬n҉𝔯y҉𝔬o҉𝔫r҉𝔶o҉𝔬n҉𝔯y҉𝔬-"

Her hand lifts away from the rapidly growing stain of blood coming through the makeshift torque across your abdomen and settles on your cheek.

She forces the corners of her mouth up into a reassuring smile as her own body trembles.

“Okay,” her voice wavers as she blinks out tears. “I’ll come find you.” Her voice is like a child making their first vow. “I’ll, I’ll come find you again.”

You smile weakly, and despite her own forced one, her eyes fill with terror for just a moment at the blood staining your teeth.

You reach up and tug her hair out of its high bun, watching it tumble around her shoulders.

You need your soul to memorize what she looks like when she’s not hiding. For next time.

Your own smile wavers. “You have to. I won’t… I won’t forgive you if you don’t.”

The fragile look on her face crumples into despair. Mizu leans her temple against yours as the sobs overtake her, her long hair draping over both of your faces and blocking out the world. “I will. I will I will I will I will I-“

Her fractured voice fades away, and your vision swims.

But your soul is at peace.

‘It's your turn, Mizu.’

‘I ended up burying you with as many red spider lilies I could scavenge. They’ll help guide you to the next life. I made Ri( ) swear to bury me next to you with just as many. If he’s around to collect my corpse when I go. If anyone is. ( )I used to not care if anyone did, as long as I finished my mission. But now I’m terrified something happens and I can’t keep my promise.

I’m sorry. I miss you. I’m sorry I made a promise that’s out of my hands.

( )

I’m sorry.’

You stare down at the spread of papers and antique diaries written in kanji. You’re trying to organize them by chronological order based on context from the letters and diaries, but it’s becoming increasingly difficult as you go. Especially with words smudged and faded by centuries of time. You rub your eye behind your glasses.

‘She really is making this hard for me.’ You sigh through your nose as you bite down on the end of your pen.

“Excuse me?”

“Hm?” You glance to your side, surprised to be pulled from your work and come face to face with probably the most gorgeous woman you’ve ever seen. “Hello?”

“Sorry,” she smiles, lowering her head to pull her tinted glasses off. “I just saw you over here and uh-“ her expression goes a little strained as she looks for the right words. “I just, uh-”

You glance between her and the spread of antique writing from the archives. “Are you the person that checked these out last? Do you need them back?”

“No. I just-" She makes a face. Whatever she planned to say when she came over was quickly unraveling. Her eyes dart away, and land on the diaries. Her eyebrows furrow slowly, something flickering in her blue eyes.

Very pretty eyes…

She jerks her chin down at the spread of papers. “What is that?”

A little thrown off at the changes in conversation, you pick up one of the diaries. “Um, this is work for my master thesis. I’m studying unknown woman and queer history of Edo Japan.” Your fingers drum over the cover. “Came across this treasure when going through the archives. It’s a bunch of writing from a rogue swordsman to his lover after her death. But in my review of it, I’m positive I can prove that he was actually a woman,” you grin a little with pride, shifting your weight side to side with delight at getting to discuss your research.

“Lesbian samurai,” she laughs lowly, eyes warm.

“Something like that,” the corners of your lips lift up.

“Well that’s really fascinating,” her fingers trail across the edge of the table as she steps closer. “I’d love to hear more about it. Maybe… over dinner?” The corner of her mouth grimaces for a moment, her eye twitching once with frustratation at herself with that cheesy delivery.

Your lips part, eyes widening with a breathless little “Oh.”

The woman gains confidence from how your eyes light up behind your glasses as you flush. Her hand squeezes her shoulder, a nervous tic. “I’m sorry. I saw your over here and had to give it a shot.”

“No, I’m glad you did,” you’re quick to reassure her. You look up at her with bright eyes as you dig through your backpack for notebook paper.

“I wouldn’t have forgiven you if you didn’t.”

A tilt of her lips, her hand outstretched. “Mizu.”

You introduce yourself.

You hold out the pen and paper to get her number, and she asks as she leans over to scribble it out on the table, “Anything good in those letters?”

“Most of it’s pretty grief heavy,” you smile sadly. “But in a poetic and romantic way? Like, even though her love was gone, probably pretty young, she kept her memory alive as she fought through life.”

Mizu glances up at you, and something tightens in your throat and sinks into your stomach. You don’t know why you admit quietly, “The first time I read them I started crying in the archive room.”

A beat, where you feel dread creep up your neck at suddenly tanking the mood.

Her face grows impassive, deadly quiet for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

You quickly blink back tears that come on alarmingly fast. “What?”

Mizu blinks too, straightening up. “Just, sorry that it made you sad. I guess.” She smiles again, albeit a little smaller this time, and hands over the paper. “I guess I’ll see you? Hopefully soon?”

A soft laugh huffs out your nose as that melancholic moment passes. “Yeah,” your hand brushes against the inside of her palm as you take the paper. “Really soon.”

She leaves you with a satisfied grin, her nose scrunching up as she turns and walks off.

You watch her go, feeling something tighten in your stomach again at how relaxed she looks.

You look down at her number, and see that she slyly signed it with the kanji for “Promise”.

As you begin to organize the letters to skim through them again, your hesitate on the one you had just been reviewing. You hold it and the notebook paper up side by side.

The letter unfolds and a single, dried, book pressed red spider lily flutters to your feet.

Mizu perfectly copied the handwriting of the swordswoman’s kanji.

“Huh.”

[ladyoftheflowers-witch]

What's coming in love? 💓💓💓💓💓💓💓

Pile 1: 3 of pentacles, 7 of wands.

Welcome pile 1, I'm here to tell you that your love life is about to take a turn. You are so used to do everything alone that you think you don't need anyone and that a relationship could be your downfall, that you would lose everything that you have acomplished with hard labor and dedication.

But I should also tell you that with this attitude you could disdain important help from someone who secretly admires you. This person is good with details, they have the ability not only to be a great companion, but also to make you feel like everything it's easier and enjoyable to do if they are by your side.

You are about to learn that you can grow as a person beside this person and they can grow with you as well, you both are gonna support each other's goals. I'm not gonna lie to you pile 1, they have or you have a very short temple, strong character and are a little stubborn, so this relationship could require effort, understanding and compassion, as you are gonna love each other enough to work it and make it happen .

There will be mutual respect, trust and team work, give this new person a chance pile 1. They are gonna help you overcome hard times by showing their love to you.

They could be tall, have long black hair and brown eyes. They could be a capricornus or leo.

Letters or initials that could be important: F,A,T,B,P.

Pile 2: 2 of wands, 9 of swords.

Hi there pile 2, you are feeling confused and dissapointed in love, maybe you are leaving or you are about to leave a toxic relationship. This person could have lied to you many times, but you didn't let them manipulate you. With them you know that when is good it's amazing, but when it's bad it could escalate to worst in a min, and this is what signified the last straw for you.

I feel like in this moment the best thing for you is to work in healing your emotional wounds. Reflect in your needs, emotions and what you want from love. You have this deep rooted fear of abandonment, you are carring an enormous emotional load in your heart that needs to be released. Feel your emotions pile 2, cry, take that depression nap, sometimes our heart also needs fiscal rest.

You know when in the old times doctors prescribed sleep cures ? And you had to sleep for 24 hours or more. This is used in ayurvedic medicine as well, it restores the body's energetic and emotional balance, you can try meditation too. You are lovable pile 2, don't let a past relationship ruin your entire love life, you will trust again, you will be stronger than before. But you need to heal this first for you to open your heart to someone again.

I started writing this pile at 22:22 maybe you want to check that angel number.

Pile 3: 8 of wands, the hanged man.

Hi pile 3, welcome to your reading. I feel you have been doing the work to look into your past relationships and you know you need to put yourself in someone else's shows sometimes and be self critical in other circunstances. You are looking in yourself another way, a healthier way to understand the definition of love.

You don't blame the other one in the relationship anymore, you understand that we are human beings and sometimes we make mistakes, and that we can too hurt others without realizing it and the others can hurt us as well not meaning it either.

I do see a new person coming into your life, You will meet them when you have given up to something for a greater good, maybe it's a relationship, maybe it's your definition of love. I think you could meet them in a club and there is an instant connection, you won't see this coming. There is arrows of love everywhere in fact, because baybe you will be head over heals for them.

As you get to know each other you will find that this person wants to worship you like the goddess you are. They want the two of you to melt into each other in an intoxicating dance of ecstasy ( don't drinks too much alcohol) They want to lose themselves into your being they will be your supporter in everything, and should I tell you that they are well off economically ? They will spoil you pile 3.

This person could be tall, blonde, and could dye their hair to different colors. Their zodiacal sign could be saggitarius.

Letters and initials that could be important : T,G,Q,L,U.

I hope you enjoyed the readings. As a personal excuse for being off tumblr so long, I was feeling terrible and sick. But I'm back and on track again.

Hope you have an amazing day. Sending lots of love, yan 💫

Credits for the beautiful dividers to @uzmacchiato

[scarletttries]

Write A Kiss Request: Roy Kent (Ted Lasso) x Reader ...a kiss in public

(prompt list here) & 2025 Request List - requests open

...a kiss for Roy Kent in public

It had been a little disarming getting asked out for lunch by Roy Kent. Maybe it was the way he stared at you without blinking and grunted out the wordy request all in breath. Or the way that he had felt the need to formally ask you, despite the two of you often sharing a meal or a drink without ever arranging a thing. It could just be that his jaw had been tightly clenched the whole time he had been marching you both along the Thames, struggling to make conversation where it usually flowed so naturally between you. Whatever tension was stirring between you, you wondered if it had to do with the fact his hand seemed to be flexing and straining where it hung beside yours.

"Where do you want to go for lunch Roy?" You quizzed after a particularly lingering pause in the conversation, watching his shoulders rise slightly at the question.

"We're going somewhere special." He grunted firmly, nodding resolutely to himself as he finally took your hand in his for the first time. You started to realise quite why Roy had gone out of his way to ask you to lunch today, recognising his silence as a sign he had some more meaningful words he intended to share today. You couldn't help but smile and squeeze his hand in reassurance at the thought Roy Kent was building himself up to do his least favourite thing; talk about his feelings.

"Roy Kent, over here!!" You saw a flash of light as the words rang out, demanding tone immediately threatening to make the footballer on your arm see red.

"Not today mate." Roy bit back what he really wanted to say, worried any outburst would give the rest of the afternoon an uneasy feeling he couldn't risk with something so important on the line.

"Oh come on Kent, just pose for a few pics and tell me about your date!!" Roy could feel the venom rising inside him, threatening to spill out and indiscriminately wound everyone in the area.

"He said not today, so just fuck off you creep!" You stepped forward, throwing out expletives before Roy had to, the dark edge in your glare enough to send the paparazzi scarpering off in a cloud of mumbled apologies. You turned to an awestruck Roy, ready to apologise for losing your patience before seeing an unusually sincere smile spread across his face.

"That was fucking incredible!" He laughed out, beaming with pride at you as you replied bashfully,

"Well I learnt from the best." You gave his hand a small squeeze as smiled back at him warmly, the two of you now stood motionless drinking the other in. Roy couldn't hold it in anymore. His affections had been building up for weeks, and while he had hoped to name the feelings in a high end restaurant, he didn't think he could take another step without letting you know how he felt. Words still caught in his throat, he dropped your hand in favour of wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his body with effortless strength. You let out a small gasp as finally his lips closed in, more gentle than you expected from such a forceful man, hovering just over yours as if to give you the choice of where the contact could lead. Eagerly you leant forward, relishing in the soft brush of his lips against the slight scratch of his stubble. It was sweet and firm and simple, a perfect introduction to the man who had spent what felt like his whole life waiting for this moment.

"Ahah!" You heard a man's voice ring out from down the street along with an intrusive flash of light that burned your eyes even as they had fluttered shut.

"Excuse me, I need to go kill a man for interrupting our first kiss." Roy growled out, chest heaving in a mix of rage and euphoria that he finally knew what it felt like you have you held so close. You clutched his side as he went to move away, leaning your face barely a breath away from his.

"Or you ignore him, and we have our second kiss?" Roy's brow furrowed as he considered the offer,

"Fine, but if he takes a picture of that too I'm going to murder him. Slowly." You knew better than to argue, placing a hand gently on his cheek to pull him in for a kiss again.

[itneverendshere]

THE OTHER SIDE OF PARADISE - r.c (+18) - two

pairing: maybank!reader x rafe WARNINGS: violence word count: 6k...

masterlist

Neither of you ever mentioned that night again, as if it had never happened. It couldn't have happened; it must have been a figment of your overactive imagination and lack of human touch.

There was no way in hell you would have let Rafe Cameron have you on top of a dining table, living up to the derogatory "dirty pogue" nickname. You were better than that.

Despite that...you found it impossible to look at him after that, in fact, facing yourself in the mirror became a challenge, so much so that you refused his help in tending to your wound.

Self-sufficiency had long been your norm.

Growing up with Luke meant mastering the art of tending to your bruises from a young age. 

Initially, there was clearly tension between you and Rafe.

Every time your paths crossed, it dragged you back to that regretful moment—the feeling of his hands, the memory of him inside you—but there were bigger things at stake, and so, you pushed the nagging feelings aside, focusing on one thing only: getting out.

You and Rafe didn’t mix, oil and water, two stubborn bastards with heavy emotional baggage. Sometimes it was tricky to work together, but other days, it flowed so easily it confused you.

In the time that followed, you both worked tirelessly to plan your getaway, meticulously plotting every detail to ensure success and not another round of bullets.

Your job was to sit around and act innocent, while Rafe had to ensure you had a way out and enough money to pay someone off. Avoiding Ward was easy enough since he spent most of his time in Guadalupe.

Rafe scoffed; his arms crossed over his chest as he eyed the small, weather-beaten boat skeptically. "I'm not getting into that piece of shit. No fucking way," he declared, voice dripping with disdain.

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the frustration in your chest.

He was so fucking insufferable. 

"You've got a better suggestion?"

He shot you a glare, but you couldn’t help but notice how his eyes caught the shimmer of the clear night sky.

"I do," he retorted, gesturing towards a sleek motorboat moored nearby. "That one looks like it might get us somewhere without sinking halfway."

You followed his gaze, your entire face scrunching up as you took in the sight of the motorboat. It was certainly more modern and well-maintained than the rusty old dinghy you had been eyeing, but something about it made you uneasy.

"That's a bad idea," you hesitated, chewing on your bottom lip nervously. "It seems a bit...too much. We don't want to draw any unnecessary attention to ourselves."

Rafe rolled his eyes, "C'mon,” he scoffed, "This isn't the time to be playing it safe. We need to get out of here, and that boat is our best chance."

You bit your lip, torn between your instincts and Rafe's seemingly reckless impulsiveness. On one hand, you didn't want to take any unnecessary risks, but on the other hand, you knew that time was running out and you needed to act fast. Ward was coming back to the island soon enough and if he dragged Rafe away with him…you were a lost cause.

There was no third chance. 

“What about the guards?” your voice dropped to a whisper as you glanced around nervously. The last thing you needed was someone overhearing your plans.

“I’ve got it covered,” Your skepticism must have shown on your face because he stepped closer, lowering his voice, “Look, I know you don’t trust me, but I'm not letting us get caught. I’ve been dealing with Ward’s security my whole life. I know how to slip past them.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Fine. But if this goes south, it’s on you.”

“Yeah, yeah, isn’t it always?” he replied, dismissively waving a hand, “Just try not to get shot this time.”

"You think you're so fucking funny, don't you?"

"Keep your voice down."

The sleek motorboat gleamed in the fading light, its potential for escape glinting like a promise of freedom. As night fell, you both finally moved with practiced stealth and with a reluctant nod, you followed him towards the sleek motorboat.

The docks were eerily quiet, save for the gentle lapping of the waves against the hulls of the boats. Your heart pounded in your chest as you kept a lookout for any sign of the guards.

Rafe moved with the confidence that you envied, quickly untying the boat and preparing it for departure. You glanced around nervously, half-expecting to hear the shout of a guard at any moment. Every shadow seemed like a threat, every noise a potential alarm.

“Hurry up,” you hissed, glancing over your shoulder.

“Calm the fuck down,” Rafe muttered, though he did quicken his pace. “We’re almost ready.”

Your anxiety spiked. This was it. No turning back.

Rafe started the engine, the low rumble sounding like a roar in the silent night. You winced, half-expecting the noise to draw attention since it was louder than you expected. 

But luck seemed to be on your side.

“C’mon,” He whispered, his eyes scanning the area for any sign of trouble, “Get in.”

You climbed aboard, your hands shaking as you settled into the seat. 

“Go!” you urged, glancing back at the docks nervously.

Rafe didn’t need to be told twice.

The boat lurched forward, cutting through the water with surprising speed. As the island receded into the distance, you felt a little hope.

For the first time in months, freedom was within your reach. He guided the boat out of the harbor and you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. 

“See? Told you it’d be fine,” Rafe said, a hint of smugness in his voice.

“Just keep your eyes on the water,” you retorted, refusing to give him the satisfaction of being right.

He adjusted the throttle, the boat picking up speed.

"Relax, Maybank. Enjoy the ride."

You shot him a withering look, gripping the edge of your seat. "Just focus on getting us out of here in one piece.”

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, a muscle in his jaw ticking. "You think I don't know what I'm doing?"

"Frankly, I don’t care what you think you know. Just keep us moving.”

Rafe's hands tightened on the wheel, but he said nothing.

The silence between you was a common thing. The coastline was a distant memory now, the open water vast and foreboding as uou kept scanning the horizon.

"You're acting like we're about to get ambushed by pirates," Rafe finally said, his tone lighter but still edged with that typical irritation.

"Better safe than sorry," you muttered, refusing to meet his gaze.

"Always so paranoid. That's what gets you in trouble."

You whipped your head around to glare at him.

“No, your family got me in trouble. In case you’ve forgotten.”

His face hardened, “Huh, right. ‘Cause your friends are such fucking saints.”

“At least they’re not murder—”You cut yourself off before you said it, but the damage was done anyways. Rafe's jaw tightened, the muscle there twitching again as he grounded his teeth, lips pressed into a thin line. He didn't respond verbally, but the anger you could feel radiating from him was answer enough to you.

He turned his attention back to the horizon, his grip on the wheel tightening until his knuckles were white. The boat's engine roared louder as he increased the speed, the vessel slicing through the water.

The waves splashed higher, and the night air became colder, but Rafe didn't seem to notice. His focus was absolute. Yeah, he was pissed. What could you possibly say? Apologize?

There was no way in hell you were apologizing to him.

Not after everything his father had put you through. If anyone owed an apology, it was him. But you knew you'd see the world end before Rafe Cameron ever uttered those words.

It was infuriating. There he was taking a step forward, leaving his loyalty to Ward behind yet refusing to show remorse if not between four walls with you.

Never out in the open, never too loud.

You sat in silence, each lost in your thoughts, the past not letting you calm down the way you really wanted to. It was done.

And although you wished things had been differently, they weren’t. 

Despite the chill in the air, sweat prickled at the back of your neck, tension coiling in your muscles. The night stretched on, it was never ending, you hated every minute of it. After what felt like an eternity, light appeared on the horizon, signaling the approach of dawn.

You breathed a sigh, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly.

The worst was over, for now at least.

Rafe glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, “We’re almost there. Keep an eye out for any patrol boats,."

He was all focus still, that calculating side that had always unnerved you. 

You nodded, scanning the waters diligently.

The further you went, the more the reality of your situation sank in. You were out there, in the middle of nowhere, relying on a Cameron to get you to safety. The irony was almost laughable.

“Where are we heading?" you asked, voice softer, dulled by the exhaustion.

"We'll head south, find somewhere to lay low for a while. I've got contacts who owe me favors."

“Uh? We’re not going back to The Outer Banks?”

He shook his head, attention fixed on the horizon. “No. Not unless you wanna get killed.”

The Outer Banks, once your home, now felt like a trap waiting to snap shut. You should’ve figured Ward would send someone after you the minute he figured you were gone. A loose end.

Shills ran down your body as you remembered your close encounter with death. 

"Your contacts won’t sell us out?"

He smirked, though there was no humor in it. "They know better than to cross me. Criminal, remember?”

You sighed, ready to jump into the water if it meant a little space from the unbearable atmosphere. Despite everything, you couldn't ignore the nagging guilt from what you’d almost said before.

“You know what I meant.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“Listen,” you began, your voice faltering as you struggled to find the right words. He glanced at you, his expression guarded, but you continued, “I don’t care, okay? Not right now. What matters is that you’re here, not with him.”

Rafe's face softened slightly as he looked away, jaw working as if he were chewing over something in his mind. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, more subdued than before. “If you say so.”

As you drew nearer to the shore, details of the island began to come into focus. Lush greenery blanketed the landscape, punctuated by towering palm trees swaying gently in the breeze. It was oddly like the place you’d been stuck in for months, but this time, there was no sense of dread in you.

The boat slowed as Rafe expertly maneuvered it into a small cove, sheltered from prying threats by rocky outcrops and overhanging foliage.

With a soft thud, the vessel came to a stop, the engine sputtering into silence. Once he was done, he stepped onto the water, knees deep as the sandy shore still lay a little ahead.  

You blinked in confusion as he turned to you, his arms open wide in a gesture that left you momentarily perplexed. The water lapped gently against the sides of the boat, its surface reflecting the golden hues of the setting sun.

"What are you doing?" your brow furrowed in bemusement as you eyed his outstretched arms.

“Helping you.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his simple gesture of assistance. It took a moment for you to understand he was indeed trying to help, a faint blush tinged your cheeks at your slowness.

In all fairness, you weren’t used to this side of Rafe. You’d only seen it a few times and it was…something else entirely.

“Right.”

As Rafe's hand brushed against your waist while helping you out of the boat, your skin prickled in goosebumps. Traitor.

You quickly brushed off the sensation, chalking it up to nerves from the situation. With a grateful nod, you stepped onto the sandy shore, feeling the warm grains shift beneath your feet.

The island stretched out before you, its landscape dotted with lush vegetation and towering trees, it was larger than you had expected, much bigger than Ward’s private hell.

"We should find a place to sleep,” you said, turning to Rafe as you scanned the horizon for any signs of civilization.

He nodded in agreement, his gaze following yours as he surveyed the landscape. "Let's head towards the center of the island. There should be some motels.”

With a shared nod, you set off along the sandy shore, the waves crashing against the beach providing a rhythmic backdrop to your footsteps.

As you walked, the hairs on the back of your neck prickled, you blamed it on the paranoia that had become like second nature to you over the past year. After a while, you noticed a winding path leading into the dense foliage of the island's interior. Without a word, you and Rafe followed it, venturing deeper into the heart of the island.

The sounds of civilization faded, replaced by the rustling of leaves and the chirping of birds. 

Finally, after what felt like hours of walking, you emerged into a clearing. Before you stood a beat up motel, its faded paint and weather-beaten facade blending seamlessly into the surrounding landscape.

"This should do," you nodded towards the building, "I guess."

“Yeah. Good for a night or two, my contact won’t be here till then.”

As you entered the motel lobby, the air was thick with the scent of stale cigarettes and cheap air freshener, things you were more than used to.

Rafe followed closely behind you as he glanced around the room. You approached the front desk, where a bored-looking clerk sat slouched behind the counter, flipping through a magazine with half-hearted interest.

"Hi there," Rafe said, flashing a charming smile as he leaned casually against the counter. "My wife and I are looking for a room for the night."

His what?

Your eyes widened in surprise, but you quickly hid your reaction, playing along with his impromptu act. It was obvious it wasn't the first time Rafe had pulled a stunt like this, and you had to admit, he had a talent for getting what he wanted.

To pretend and lie his way out.

The clerk glanced up from his magazine, peeking over the two of you with mild curiosity. "Sure thing," His tone was disinterested. "How many nights?"

"One for now," Rafe replied smoothly, reaching into his pocket to produce a wad of cash that you hadn't even realized he had. It was a substantial amount, more than enough to cover the cost of survival for at least two weeks. 

The clerk took the cash without comment, handing Rafe a key with a grunt of acknowledgment.

"Room 203," he said, gesturing towards a staircase in the corner of the lobby. "Upstairs, second door on the left."

"Thanks," Rafe said, pocketing the key with a nod of gratitude. He turned to you. "Let’s go, baby.”

Baby?

He must've been out of his goddamn mind. 

His hand found yours, rough fingers intertwining with yours in a gesture that felt oddly intimate. You glanced at him, confused, but he simply squeezed your hand reassuringly, focused on the hallway.

When you reached the door to room, he released your hand with a reluctant sigh. That always happened with him, there was always something new you couldn’t pinpoint, but eventually got used to. The charming, panty-dropping posture was gone in an instant, replaced by his usual demeanor as he unlocked the door and pushed it open, revealing a modest but comfortable-looking room.

“After you.”

You swallowed your surprise at his manners and stepped into the room, grateful for the relative privacy it offered. Rafe followed close behind, closing the door behind him with a soft click. It was sparsely furnished, with a queen-sized bed dominating the space and a small television mounted on the wall opposite. A worn armchair sat in the corner, and a narrow window offered a glimpse of the night sky outside.

"It’s a fucking dump, but it'll do for now."

Speak for yourself. It looked better than your house.

You sank onto the edge of the bed, resting the mattress. “Nicer than my room back home.”

“Really?”

"Don't act so surprised. We're not exactly living in luxury over there."

You could see the realization click on Rafe's face as if he’d forgotten your background, “Didn’t think it was that bad for you.”

"Yeah, well, appearances can be deceiving," you replied, "But let's save up the pity for later. I'm more interested in asking you why the fuck you got one room with one bed."

“I can sleep on the floor, relax.”

You shot him a skeptical look, eyebrow raised in disbelief.

"Seriously? You'd actually sleep on the floor?"

He shrugged, "It's not like I haven't slept in worse places."

You didn’t want to delve into that. Instead, you only stared at him for a moment, searching for any hint of insincerity in his expression. To your surprise, you found none.

Moments like these reminded you that he was human, and you hated it.

“Okay.”

With a weary sigh, you rose from the bed and began to remove your shoes, the events of the day finally catching up with you. Exhaustion settled into your bones, dragging you down like an unbearable weight.

Rafe watched you for a moment before turning away to rummage through spare sheets and pillows, preparing a makeshift bed. There was no time to change clothes; you had left the little you had behind.

As you slipped beneath the covers and closed your eyes, you couldn't ignore the possibility that this was only the calm before the storm.

It felt too easy.

You heard the rustle of sheets as he settled onto the floor, making himself as comfortable as possible, “Don’t fucking snore, Cameron.”

He chuckled softly, the rare sound carrying through the darkness of the room. "Wouldn't dream of it, Maybank.”

Hours later, you woke suddenly, your heart pounding in your chest, the remnants of a nightmare still clinging to the edges of your consciousness.

For a moment, you lay there in the darkness, disoriented and trying to make sense of your surroundings. Then, you heard it—a low, murmured voice coming from the other side of the room. Turning towards the source of the sound, you saw Rafe lying on the makeshift bed on the floor, his face twisted in a grimace of pain. 

He was tossing and turning restlessly, his brow furrowed as he muttered incomprehensible words under his breath. The sight of him trapped in a nightmare weirdly stirred something protective within you. Despite everything, you didn’t like to see him in pain.

It felt so familiar, and for a second you were back home, in your room, rocking yourself back and forth after waking up in hysterical screams.

Moving quietly, you slipped out of bed and crossed the room to kneel beside him. Gently, you reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, giving him a shake.

"Rafe," you whispered trying to rouse him from his slumber. "Hey, wake up."

In the next second, you were gasping for breath as Rafe's hands closed around your throat in a vice-like grip. Shock and fear nearly knocked you out instantly but your body started to fight against his hold as you struggled to break free.

Muscle memory and all.

"R-Rafe!" you gasped, your voice coming out strangled as you clawed at his hands, desperate for him to let go. He was so lost in the nightmare, his grip unyielding as he continued to squeeze, his eyes wide and unseeing.

Panic took over you as your vision started to blur around the edges, darkness creeping into while your lungs burned for air. Frantically, you tried to call out to him again, to wake him from whatever hellish nightmare held him in its grasp, but your voice was little more than a choked rasp.

“Rafe!"

Then, as suddenly as it began, the pressure around your throat disappeared, leaving you gasping and wheezing for breath as you collapsed against the bed.

Blinking away the tears that pricked at your eyes, you looked up to see him kneeling beside you, his hands shaking as he stared at you with wide, horrified eyes.

"Fuck, fuck," he whispered, his voice trembling, "Shit, shit. I didn't mean to—I didn't know—"

His words were choked off by a strangled sob as he buried his face in his hands, his entire body shaking with the force of it.

It was a startling thing to witness, seeing the usually composed and confident Rafe Cameron reduced to this. But then, instinct kicked in again,and you reached out to him, wrapping your arms around him.

He practically dragged you into his lap, one hand wrapped around your waist and the other tangled in your hair. He only shook his head, his sobs growing louder as he buried his face where your neck and shoulder met, his entire body wracked with tremors. All you could do was hold him close, offering whatever comfort you could.

Eventually, his sobs began to subside, his breathing evening out as he clung to you.

You held him close, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head, “Better?”

Rafe nodded against your shoulder; his breathing still ragged but gradually steadying.

"Yeah," he murmured, "Yeah, I think so."

You remained silent, holding him close as he slowly calmed down. His body against yours was oddly comforting. He pulled away slightly, his eyes red-rimmed but clear as he looked up at you.

"I didn't mean to hurt—”

You reached out and brushed a stray lock of his dark blonde hair from his sweaty forehead.

“I know," you whispered. “It was just a nightmare. I have them too.”

You didn’t know why you offered him that solace.

"You do?"

You nodded, though you knew he couldn't see it in the dim light. 

"Yeah," you admitted, "They’re pretty bad too.”

There was a brief pause, filled only with the sound of your quiet breathing and the distant hum of the night outside.

Then, Rafe spoke again, "What do you dream about?"

You hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. But something in Rafe's earnest expression told you to be honest, to let down your guard just this once,

“Luke. You?”

Rafe's immediate reaction was defensive, hands pulling away from your body, “Doesn't matter."

You felt stupid for asking him such a personal thing.

He wasn't like you.

“Do you want to sleep in bed with me? It might be better than the floor."

"I'm fine on the floor. Don't worry about me."

With a sigh, you reached out and grasped his arm, turning him to face you again, "Rafe," you said, voice borderline pleading, “Just sleep on the bed. Okay?"

He hesitated, his gaze flickering between you and the bed, but with a reluctant sigh, he nodded. 

"Okay, okay. Fine."

With that, he rose from the floor and cautiously joined you. You shifted slightly to make room for him, and as he settled beside you.

“Don’t snore.”

“Not more than you do.”

The rest of the night passed with fitful sleep and restless dreams and when morning finally came, you awoke to find he was already gone, his side of the bed cold, no traces of his presence, and a messy scribbled note left behind on the bedside table.

"Picking up food and clothes. Don't open the door."

You felt relieved that he hadn't disappeared without a word and was instead putting in the effort to rely on you.

Deep down, you knew he had left as soon as he woke up, sprinting out of the room to avoid waking you and having any awkward confrontations about last night.

It was going to be a long day, especially if he was determined to hide his emotions.

You knew the old, bad Rafe Cameron would make a reappearance.

You got up from the bed and stretched, realizing you needed a shower. You stank. It had been two days since you had washed yourself properly, and the thought of having gone to sleep in such a state made you want to hurl. You’d have to ask for another set of fresh sheets.

As you stepped into the bathroom, the warm water cascading over your skin felt like a dream, washing away the previous night. The steam filled the small space, enveloping you as you took your time, allowing the water to ease the knots of stress from your muscles.

You focused on washing away the dirt and grime, letting the familiar routine ground you. Yet, even as you lathered soap onto your skin, your mind couldn't help but drift back to Rafe, to the way he had clung to you in the darkness.

It had been another reminder that despite his tough exterior, he was just as human as any of you, with fears and insecurities that ran deep.

It terrified you, because up until last month Rafe Cameron was not capable of emotions to you, only violence. 

You stepped out of the shower, the steam still lingering in the air, with a towel wrapped snugly around your body as you stepped back into the main room of the motel, feeling refreshed.

“Huh, good morning to you too.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin, “Fuck!”

Rafe stood there, leaning against the doorway, something similar to a playful smirk at the corners of his lips as he watched your startled reaction. His arms were laden with bags of groceries and a few articles of clothing.

"Didn't mean to scare you. Just wanted to make sure you were alive in there."

You stared at him incredulously, “Turn around!”

He scoffed, walking into the room as he closed the door with his foot, “Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

He said it so casually, it irked you.

As if you two hadn’t been purposely ignoring that night ever happened. You shot him a glare, snatching a towel from the nearby chair and aiming at his face, full force.

"That's not the point, Cameron," you grumbled, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment, “And you didn’t see shit. I was dressed.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, catching the towel with ease before tossing it back to you "What's the matter, Maybank? You shy all of a sudden?"

“Will you shut up?”

He held up his hands in mock surrender, his grin widening as he leaned against the nearest wall.

There was no point in getting into a pointless argument with him, especially not when you had more important things to worry about.

Instead, you focused on drying yourself off and getting dressed in the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind you. When you emerged again, fully dressed and composed, Rafe had already begun unpacking the bags of groceries, laying out an assortment of food on the small table in the corner of the room.

The sight of the makeshift spread made your stomach growl in anticipation, reminding you just how long it had been since your last meal.

“Hungry?” Rafe asked, glancing up from where he was arranging the food.

You nodded eagerly, making your way over to the table and helping yourself to a plate of fruit and plain toast.

As you ate, Rafe filled you in on his plans for the day. 

It was strange, hearing him talk so casually, without insults, without fear, or threats. For so long, you had seen him as nothing more than a spoiled, entitled rich kid, content to go through life on his family’s wealth and influence. But ever since that night, you couldn't help but feel a newfound sense of respect for him.

He wasn’t Ward.

When he finished speaking, you glanced up from your plate, “Sounds like a plan. Is your contact here, yet?”

“Nah, only tomorrow.”

“Great. So, we’re on our own for now?”

“Yeah, you and me, Pretty Maybank.”

"Hey," you began as you tried to sound casual, "Why do you call me 'Pretty Maybank'? Is there a story behind it?"

Rafe's gaze flicked up from where he was picking at his food. He seemed taken aback by your question as if he hadn't expected you to bring it up.

He shrugged, "I don't know. Just seemed fitting, I guess."

You raised an eyebrow, unconvinced, "Fitting? How so?"

Rafe hesitated, elbows dropping to the table as he searched for the right words. "I don't know," he repeated, his voice softer this time. "You just...are pretty, Maybank, everyone knows that.”

You felt like there was more to the story.

“Oh.”

He leaned back, now sat in the old chair, “Might start calling you snoring Maybank though.”

Your lips twitched, “You’re not funny. At all.”

“Sure.”

You tilted your head, studying him intently. He looked like a completely different person from last night, “Do you feel any better?” 

“About what?” He feigned innocence, avoiding your gaze, as his fingers started tapping nervously on the table.

You knew what that meant. 

You leaned forward as you reached out to touch his hand gently. “Uh—Y'know, last night, your nightmare.”

“Don’t,” Rafe's abrupt change in demeanor catched you off guard, his walls shooting up in an instant, his tone laced with defensiveness.

You straightened up as you withdrew your hand, a wall of your own rising to match his. 

"It’s not important," he snapped,"Just drop it, okay?"

You recoiled at his harsh tone, the way he spoke down at you making you want to slap him across the room. It was clear that he wasn’t in the mood to talk about whatever demons haunted him in the night, and you knew better than to push him when he was like this.

But you were feeling inspired.

“Why do you always do that?” You needed some sense of security around him, and every single time you were close to getting it, he backed out.

He stood up straight, rolled his shoulders back, and narrowed his eyes at you “Not doing anything.”

"You always shut me out," You continued, words coming out in a rush as you struggled to articulate your feelings. "Every time. You say a few words, and then bamb, gone. We’re not friends, that’s fine. But I need to know you’re someone I can rely on, okay? You can’t be doing this. One moment you’re all trusting and the other…I don’t even know what the fuck you are. You can say no nicely, you don’t need to act like a dick.”

Rafe's jaw clenched, his expression turning steely.

"I don’t want to be your fucking friend, Maybank," he retorted,"I'm protecting myself. And if you can't handle that, then maybe you're the one who needs to reevaluate things."

You felt the color drain from your face.

"Protecting yourself?" you shot back, your voice rising with each word. "From what, exactly? Me?"

He didn’t move, didn’t so much as toss a glance your way as he responded, “Keep your voice down.”

You shook your head, standing up from your seat. He'd said the same exact thing before you got on the boat and you were tired of being pushed aside like a toy.

“No, I fucking won’t. You’re the one who punched me on that ship, your guards were the ones who shot me, your father is the one who wants me dead,” your lips quirked in a small, humorless smile, “And you want to talk about protecting yourself?”

Rafe felt himself flinch, noting how his brows seemed to furrow ever-so-slightly. There was a feeling in your stomach that you couldn’t make out yet, but it was heavy and made you antsy.

"You think I don't know that?" he growled, “You act like I don't carry that guilt with me every single day."

His words caught you off guard, the emotion in his voice sending a shiver down your spine. Rafe ran a hand through his hair, frustration etched into every line of his face.

"You have no idea what it's like. To carry that weight, to know that everything you touch turns to shit.” His voice was probing, his eyes scanning your face with a scrutiny that made you want to run out the door.  “And you—Shit, you’re just searching for some confirmation that I am as horrible as everyone’s made me out to be. Newsflash, I am."

You let out a groan, the sound scraping against your throat. "I’m trying to help you! Are you stupid? Oh my god.”

"I don't need your help!" he snapped, standing taller than you, "I don't need anyone's help. I've been doing just fine on my own."

You stepped closer to him, pushing against his chest with your finger, "Fine? Is that what you call it? Living on the run, constantly looking over your shoulder, never knowing who you can trust? That's not fine, Rafe. That's not living."

His hand shot out, gripping your wrist tightly.

“I don’t know how to live. I know how to serve, that’s it.” His grip on your wrist tightened as if he was trying to anchor himself, "I just...I can't."

Can't trust you, you think that's what he wanted to say.

“Right,” You swallowed, finding the carpet of the room suddenly all too interesting, “Good enough to fuck, not to trust.”

His grip loosened slightly, his hand falling away from your wrist as if burned, “I never said that.”

“You don’t have to. Dirty pogue, remember?”

His breathing mirrored your own, both erratic, leaning in closer, breath hot against your skin as his nose brushed against yours.

“You think I’d risk my life for you if I believed that?”

“I don’t know. Would you?”

“You have no idea," he breathed, “Do you?”

"I don't understand you."

"Neither do I."

Without another word, he closed the distance between you in a single fluid motion. His hands found their way to your face, fingers tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss. His touch seemed to tingle between tenderness and roughness, as if he was unable to choose between cherishing the moment and giving in to his desires completely.

You melted into him, your body responding instinctively to his touch, it felt different from the first time you kissed. Less violent, less primal, more…intimate. As if trying to convey everything he had been keeping bottled up inside, and you welcomed it. 

He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours.

“You can’t keep kissing me to avoid questions.”

"I know," he murmured, "It's just easier than talking."

You sighed, your hand coming up to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly.

"It's wrong."

He closed his eyes, his breath hitching slightly at your words. For a moment, you thought he might pull away again, and retreat into his shell, but then, to your surprise, he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against yours in a feather-light peck.

"I know," he murmured against your lips,"But for now, can we just...be?"

You nodded, "For now, we can just...be."

Neither of you knew what you were doing nor the consequences to come. 

[the-californicationist]

Hiii

First of all I wanted to thank you for your amazing fics 🤩. They have become a part of my life and I can’t live without them anymore 🥹💖

Secondly, I wanted to ask about a fic if you would consider. 🫶

Price is injured in his thigh and we are a medic. When attending to the wound the tension rises and a little bit of teasing from our part? 😌

Also, Price can’t take us like he wants because of the wound but we can do 69?

Or maybe something more thrilling! I know you are the greatest in ideas and writing! ❤️‍🔥

Thank you a loooot. (*＾3＾）/～♡

Do No Harm

After being shot in the leg, Captain Price is put on strict bed rest by his medic: you. When he threatens to break your orders, you decide to use your rank against him.

AO3 Link

TW: female reader, face fucking, hurt/comfort, come play

When the captain got shot, all hell broke loose. Ghost and Gaz retaliated swiftly, and the bomb that Soap rigged to blow the enemy encampment was more than a little overkill. The four of them had shown up back at your makeshift base, sweaty, bloody, and exhausted. 

“What happened?” You asked the tall lieutenant, searching his face as he removed the skull mask, looking for signs as to how serious it was. 

“He took a hit to the thigh. Dead bloody center,” the tall Brit rolled his captain over, the latter of whom let out a torrid string of curses and shouts, nasty enough to make you blush. 

You inspected the wound, but his clothing was in your way. Ripping your scissors out of your chest armor, you set to cutting him out of his trousers, and you tried not to let the panic get the best of you. 

The truth was that you were keeping a secret. You were sleeping with their captain. You and John had broken a series of rules (and furniture) over the past four months, enjoying each other in the most primal, carnal way. Every night that he was on base, he sneaked into your medbay, aching with something other than pain and searching for his cure. 

You knew it was wrong. It was so far beyond protocol that you wouldn’t be surprised if they court martialed you when they found out, but you didn’t care. You were addicted to him. When he was away for too long, you crawled through the hallways and out into the common rooms with a slick problem between your legs. Something only his fat cock and filthy mouth could solve. 

He was terrible with you. Nothing was off-limits. He used you like a toy, and his fervid want was enough to burn you alive. In the darkness, his grasping hands and hot breath scorched your skin, searing across your belly, pinching your nipples, playing in your lips, all for the express purpose of making you come. It was his favorite thing. By the sixth, the seventh, when you were begging him to squeeze his pulsing rod inside of you, pleading in whispered cries for him to fuck you, he would chuckle with a dark joy. Teasing you, calling you his pretty little plaything, reminding you that you were fully at his mercy. 

It was hard to see him like this, but you were good at your job, and luckily, the bullet had gone right into the muscle. No broken femur, no arterial damage. Your predator would live to hunt you another day. 

“I need everybody out. Come back in an hour,” you commanded. 

“Yes, ma’am,” Gaz replied, leading the others out of the clinic to debrief and regroup after a hard night. 

You sliced through his canvas pants, slipping the shears through the fabric to reveal his bare skin. He never wore any underwear, which you were always quick to rib him for. Then, you inspected the wound. They had packed it in the field, and as you removed the dressings, more and more blood pooled out of the hole, obscuring your view. You worked as fast as you could, administering as much anesthetic as you had on hand, knowing that it wasn’t enough. He was doing everything he could not to writhe in pain as you threw stitch after stitch. 

“Jus’ wanted to get me alone, didn’t ya?” He teased you through gritted teeth. His voice was weak, but he was feisty, which was a good sign. 

You smiled down at him, joking around,

“You know it. But, you’re lookin’ a little worse for wear today, Captain. Might have to get my fix somewhere else.”

“Don’t even think about it,” he growled, grabbing the side of the table hard enough to make the metal frame whine when you hit a nerve with your needle, “Another man lays a fuckin’ hand on you, and he’ll wish he hadn’t.” 

“Can’t have you reopening this wound, John. I worked hard on these stitches.”

“How’m I gonna sneak in to see you tonight?” He looked up at you with softer eyes, a youthful gaze on his face. 

You pitied him, winking cheekily, 

“Might just have to keep you here for observation.”

His whole body relaxed then, relieved in a way you hadn’t expected. You had just been kidding around, but his reaction made you change your mind. If he felt better with you in your clinic, you’d add it to the orders. The last thing you needed was your headstrong man limping through the base just for a chance at some action. 

You finished up, cleaning the wound and surrounding skin, wiping down the rest of him as best you could. He was filthy, and the water in your bucket was full of sand by the time you were done. But, he still smelled like the sun and his sweat, and it was enough to make the animal part of your mind practically salver at the idea of how his skin must taste. The saltiness, full of his pheromones… you chastised yourself for even thinking about it. 

He was finally asleep, full of morphine and exhausted from his ordeal. Gaz popped back in, and you told him you’d be keeping their commander overnight. You thought you’d gotten away with your little game, but there was a knowing glint in the sergeant’s eye that told you he knew more than you thought. 

You tried not to stress about it. His men were loyal to him, and you knew they wouldn’t rat you out. But, still. You made a mental note to be more careful in the future. 

Your bedtime routine was short and easy. You slipped into some shorts and one of John’s abandoned tee shirts. Luckily, it looked like everyone else’s tee shirt, so no one was the wiser. You could always say you stole a larger one from the supply room. But, it smelled like him, and you slept like a rock when you wore it. 

You climbed into bed, and before you could even think about going to sleep, the ache between your legs reared its horny head, coaxing you to touch yourself, disguising itself as a tingle, an itch that needed to be scratched. As soon as your fingers pried apart your soft petals, you discovered the truth. You were soaking wet, and your core was hot like molten lead, giving your digits no resistance as you played with yourself, slipping them in and out of your slick folds. 

You heard a noise escape from your throat against your will, and you tried to hold it back, rolling your eyes from the slam of pleasure that rushed to your head. You were dizzy with want, and even though you tried to quiet the sound, you could hear your own wet flesh popping and sluicing with more and more of your precome, preparing you for an encounter you knew you couldn’t have. 

You came quickly, and without much warning, clenching down on nothing, biting your hand to keep from screaming for him. You peeked over your shoulder, and luckily, he hadn’t woken up. You thought about how nice it would feel to have his big body curled against you as you crashed into a deep slumber, the scent of your wet hand and his old shirt mixing together and lulling you to sleep. 

There was no way to tell how much time had passed, but when you woke, it was still dark. Your eyes darted over to the clinic table, and John was… missing?

You sat up with a start only to find him fully naked at the end of your bed, getting ready to crawl in beside you. 

“John!” You hissed, “What are you doing? You can’t be walking around.”

“Gotta have you, love. I’m so hard, it hurts.”

“You were shot in your fucking leg, Jonathan Price. Let me see the dressing.”

“Quit fussin’ over me, girl. C’mere,” he covered you with his body and grabbed your wrists, forcing you to lay beneath him, flat and vulnerable. He set to pulling away your clothes, making quick work of it, sighing raggedly when he felt your naked body beneath his own. 

But, he was in pain. You could see him adjusting and readjusting, trying to figure out how he could fuck you like he wanted to, unable to find a solution. 

“John,” you whispered, feeling his mouth on your neck, “We can’t. You’re going to hurt yourself. Don’t make me order you to stop.”

“I’m your commander,” he breathed, threatening you with his teeth, leaving a bruise on your sensitive skin. 

“Don’t…” you gasped as his fingers found your gooey center, “Don’t confuse your rank for my authority, Captain Price. You’re under my care.”

He glared at you, coming to a pause, leaving his fingers in you to play in your hole, gently pulsing in and out, teasing you just enough to keep you on the edge, 

“You want me to stop? Hm?”

The more he teased you, the more hot slick collected on his hands, sticky and clear, covering his fingers and making him harden with every moment. 

Then, he took a sharp breath in through his nose, and paused, hiding his grimace in the crook of his arm. You canted your hips, removing his hand from you, fed up with his defiance, 

“John, that’s enough. If you make me restitch that wound, I will have to do it without drugs. We’re out of anesthetic.”

“Please, love,” he held you close to him, letting you feel his hard length as it rolled against your tummy, making a trail of precome across your skin, “I need you. I’ve missed you so bad. Lemme fuck you. Put my cock in you.”

“Hold on,” you shifted your body so that he would turn on his side. Then, you lay opposite him, your head laying at the foot of the bed, bringing you face to face with his swollen, hungry cock. 

In this position, you could suck him off, and he wouldn’t need to use his thigh. 

You licked your lips, trailing them across his cockhead, collecting his salty pearls of pleasure and wearing them like gloss, suckling from his tip as softly as you could just to taunt him further. 

“Ahhh, fuck…” His sigh was delicious. All of that pain and all of the stress that had made him so tense rushed out of him, making his skin pebble with bliss. 

Without hesitation, John bent his head, pulling your hips to his open mouth, and wrapping your leg under his arm, eating your pussy and groaning with a lurid, feral pleasure. 

The feeling of his soft lips and scruffy beard against your sensitive skin flung you into a spiral of pleasure. You could feel his warm tongue prodding and exploring through you, greedily splitting you to get to your hot, honeyed center. 

You wanted more of his taste, so you went to work, stretching your jaw to accommodate his girth, taking him deeper into your throat, using your tongue to trace a wet circle around his head when you needed to catch your breath, teasing him just beneath his foreskin. When you did, his cock throbbed for you, egging you on, eager to drip its load into your mouth. 

“Fuckin’ hell, love. Gonna make me come,” he threatened. 

Suddenly, you felt his fingers dip back inside of you. He was aggressive with his fondling, shoving two of his thick digits deep inside of you, curling them cruelly to press upon your most pliant, responsive spot. 

As he fucked you with his hand, he let his tongue lap against your clit, making you whine around his dick, muffled by his shaft. You felt his hips begin to thrust forward and back, desperately fucking your throat, getting closer and closer to releasing his orgasm inside of you. 

You couldn’t wait to taste him. You wanted him to use you. You didn’t want to hurt him, but the truth was — as hungry as he was for your body — you needed him just as badly. 

You felt your body begin to tense, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before he would have you coming on his hands. He kept his pace, knowing your favorite rhythm, humming to himself as he devoured you, sucking up every drop of your wetness as if he’d never drink from your tight font again. 

Your toes curled, your legs tried to close in on themselves, stopped by his body trapped between them, and something snapped inside of your core, letting loose spiraling sparks of pleasure, breaking you apart over and over, only for each gentle lick from his tongue to put you back together. 

“Mmhm,” he praised you, “Good girl. Just like that. Rub your come on my mouth.”

You did as you were told, no longer in the driver’s seat when it came to your body, fully trained to submit to his will. You shamelessly smeared your pussy across his bearded jaw, humping lewdly against him, all for him to whisper gratefully between licks, 

“Yes, more. More. Give it to me. Fuck my mouth, love. Fuck, I love it. Fuck…”

All the while, he was thrusting into your mouth, deeper and deeper, choking you on his hardness. But, you let him. You allowed him to use you, holding onto his hips for dear life, breathing in every gap that he left, gasping for air, feeling yourself getting dizzy. 

“Are you ready for me?” He groaned, peering down at you between your bodies.

You moaned something you hoped sounded like a yes, and he turned his full attention towards you. You felt his fingers leave your pussy, only to wrap themselves through your hair, sticky and messy, making a strong, merciless grip at the base of your skull. 

He fucked you in earnest, then. It was gratifying to hear his satisfied grunts, and as you felt his cock swell even more, you knew he was about to come. Your mind wanted air, but your body wanted his load. You wanted to feel it slip into your  throat, hot and milky, pouring down your neck like a salacious prize. 

Finally, he went stock-still, and the only thing that moved was his cock. It throbbed inside of you, shooting rope after rope of heavy come down your tongue, painting your mouth white. 

He removed himself from you as quick as he could, pulling your head back up to your pillow, bringing you face to face with him, whispering in an animalistic tone, 

“Lemme see it, pretty girl. Open up. Let me… ahh, yes. That’s it.”

He dipped his finger into your mouth, gathering up his own orgasm onto the tip, smearing it around your lips like he was putting on your makeup. 

You were panting, gasping in the air you so desperately needed, and you tried not to swallow, gathering up as much of his foaming fluid on your tongue as you could, sticking it out for him, showing him what a good girl you could be. 

He took more of it onto his hand and dipped down between your legs, painting your swollen folds with his spend, mixing your come together like some ritual. 

You couldn’t help but whimper. You were overstimulated and raw, and he shushed you, bringing his hand back up to play with your soft nipples, 

“Shh, it’s okay, love. It’s okay. Kiss me.”

You felt his mouth crash into yours, and your own heady taste invaded your senses, folding in with his, making your body roll itself against him, begging him for more. 

“Leg already feels better. C’mon, love. Give us the go ahead, hm?”

“I will tie you to this bed, John Price. Don’t test me,” you looked up at him before laying your head on his furry chest, breathing when he breathed, watching his hairy belly rise and fall. 

“Promise?” He chuckled, pulling you closer and holding you there all night, unwilling to compromise, claiming you in every way he knew how. You dozed against him, sated and happy, wondering how long you could keep a secret this good. 

Sorry for the wait! Work is hellish right now, but as soon as this semester is over with, I'll be posting more. Thanks for letting me know your thoughts.

[luneboop]

₊ ⊹ 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓈𝑜𝓊𝓁'𝓈 𝓅𝓊𝓇𝓅𝑜𝓈𝑒?

✶ deck(s) used: wild unknown tarot and woodland wardens oracle deck.

remember to use your intuition and leave the messages behind that don't resonate.

𝓅𝒾𝓁𝑒 1 - country house

I was blown away by how strong this pile was. And I’m not just talking about physical strength because this isn’t about that. This energy that I felt has got so much to do with your mental and emotional strength. This pile was giving me heavy warrior vibes for some reason, regardless of your gender. This was because I got the feeling that most of you are truly wise souls that have learnt so much in your past lifetimes and this one too.

Have trust in your intuition is another message I got. Some of you may doubt your intuition but have faith that it’s stronger than you think it is. You may be able to predict things, being able to foresee things before they happen, therefore this gives you the ability to move on from situations quicker and perhaps even easier than others. It’s not only because of your intuition that you’re able to do this — you have the ability to see things from a more positive perspective. You see challenges as opportunities for growth and that is why you appreciate life for the way it is. You embrace all parts of it, the good and the bad. You may be also quite tactical and reliable because of this too. This pile has gone through a lot but somehow you were always able to come out on the other side, wounded but still strong and standing. It’s beautiful really, and people are always amazed at how resilient your spirit is. Because of this strong energy, you may inspire others and this may be part of your soul’s purpose - to inspire others to ‘rise up from the ashes’ in a way and guide them to change. Almost like a life coach, if you will. 

Your presence provides a safe space for people to be themselves in their most vulnerable state, to be able to learn from you as well. You may naturally have leadership qualities too because of your wise and strong soul. A lot of your soul’s purpose is to truly experience life for the way it is.

𝓅𝒾𝓁𝑒 2 - cherry blossom tree

There is some disconnect between your true essence and your exterior currently, pile number 2. The cards have shown me that you’ve gone through so much loss and heartbreak that I’m not even surprised that you feel the need to have a wall around you, to protect your heart. To retreat. But that’s not who you truly are, isn’t it? And I can tell that you guys know that it isn’t but you can’t help it, you just don't want to feel that hurt again. 

You are naturally very artistic, you’re able to make something out of nothing, even when it comes to manifestation. You are very gentle when you’re in your true essence, very soft, very vulnerable. But because of the things you’ve gone through, you may have a lack of boundaries with people or people may have taken advantage of your kind, empathetic nature, making you feel very guarded and defensive. You have a beautiful, vivid imagination, pile number 2 and once you’ve tapped into this energy, you’re going to be able to channel this into creating something. Everything we create from our hearts is art, whether that be writing, baking, singing, dancing, painting, etc. these are all forms of art so no matter what you’re naturally drawn to, once you’ve truly tapped into your heart centre and open it up just a little more, you’re going to feel so much more aligned with your purpose and you’re able to manifest the things that make you truly complete. 

Allow yourself to be vulnerable, allow yourself to be loved again, pile number 2. You will feel in your element once there is a connection between your heart and your soul’s purpose, you just need to have faith in love again.

𝓅𝒾𝓁𝑒 3 - beautiful berries

For some reason before I started shuffling the cards for this deck, I got such a happy grin on my face, and I immediately understood why — this pile is vibrant, outgoing and just… refreshing. 

You may approach life with a certain kind of innocence but not in a naïve kind of way but in a way that makes you feel truly excited to experience everything and anything. Even if you don’t feel that way now, that is what your soul is truly craving for. By experiencing everything, it boosts your confidence, fueling your zest for life. I was also being drawn to say that you should have the confidence to be the naturally adventurous, curious person that you are as it replenishes your life energy. You must learn to build on your self-confidence because this path that you walk is going to be met with a lot of resistance and judgement from others and society in general, which is why I was being drawn to say that this path you’ve chosen is one that is completely unique to you and that you shouldn’t be afraid to immerse yourself in it. Really. Just follow your heart and see where it leads you, pile number 3.

At times it might get a bit lonely but trust that once you step into that energy of your higher purpose, that you will start to attract like-minded people and leave those behind that don’t see what you see. No one is supposed to tie you down emotionally in that way, you’re supposed to be free, almost like a little bird. Release any past beliefs, everything that people have imposed onto you, as these are the things that are holding you back. Romanticize your life and see how beautiful life can be. You may be attracted to pursue a lot of things too. Pick something that makes you feel happy and free and it will always lead you to your highest good, pile number 3, just have faith and keep shining brightly<3

[chomping-sicknasty]

Heinz's heritage and relationship to his home culture has always interested me. coming from an immigrant family who was really poor and rural, when my family got to the us there was an effort to "americanize" ourselves. we still keep ties to our culture of course but most of us havent visited the homeland since leaving. and theres been a noticable effort to distance ourselves from our poor and struggling past. (Im sure some previously poor kids will understand or see this in their own relatives. Trying to overcompensate financially, being more materialistic/consumeristic, marrying into rich families/pressure from relatives to "marry rich") This has been going on for some 30 odd years

Heinz's homeland was a bit different from ours, but the fact is theres a lot of negative association with Childhoods and "Home". In most of his backstories there is some reference to cultural customs that he couldnt fit into, abuse/abandonment/neglect, having to fend for himself. Theres so much fear tied to Drusselstein, i would imagine. I can barely remember any scenes of the show where he shares something from Drusselstein in a positive light. And considering him living in the usa for most of his life now, im sure his style, personality, likes and dislikes, and the social norms he practices, has changed dramatically compared to when he was a kid.

His homeland is a touchy subject but not one he ever strays from mentioning. He mentions Drusselstein a LOT. And even goes back to visit (to see his abusive father no less, and give him the garden gnome they lost- both a cultural staple AND point of trauma for heinz) (and another time he goes is to retake the driving test which he is TERRIFIED of).

What i find most interesting is the fact Heinz confronts his past and the culture he grew up in pretty often. He's definitely aware to how its influenced him and hurt him. But when it comes to americanization...well lets look at Roger

Roger, who could easily pass for american-born. He has made considerable effort to rid himself of his previous accent and replace it for an american one. He has successfully imbeded himself into american society- widely accepted and loved, holding office for a considerable amount of years, always dressed professionally, wealthy. Roger has grasped american customs and fit into them incredibly well. But, unlike Heinz, he also keeps positive ties with the family. In all of Heinz backstories, it seems Roger did just fine in Drusselstein.

We also dont get to see much of Roger or get an idea of him outside of Heinz's lens. I have no doubt Roger americanized himself for the same reason many others do- to survive. But when it comes to the pair of them, i would say Roger has an easier time understanding social power and wanted to aquire that in america- much like how he had social power back in their homeland by being the family favorite and performing his social roles well in childhood.

Despite the fact that Heinz's experiences in Drusselstien were more traumatic and negative than Roger's, it seems Heinz is the one that still has the strongest tie to their homeland. It is a central part of his character and his behaviors. He has grown into american culture like most people who immigrated young, but to him, Drusselstein was like Yesterday. I would like to speculate more into if theres any part of Drusselsteinian culture he cherishes. But i cant really remember if there were any foods or traditions or events that left a positive impact on him.

Not really a solid conclusion here but overall. I really am interested by the messy and complicated relationship Heinz has with his status as an immigrant and his hometown. Its such a wound in the way only a childhood home can wound you.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Male Musume: Suu Me

Rules | Kofi | Monster Musume Masterlist

Since the implementation of the schedule, life with the monster boys was much easier. With the mere mention of the days that belonged to each of them, fights were broken up, arguments were settled, and they were more adamant about keeping each other in check. Even Smith’s appearances seemed to die down, his calls, and voicemails dwindling into much of nothing. The only thing you had as proof that he even remembered you all was the hefty grant. 

You would not be making the same mistake as Kurusu. You were getting that cheque, baby!

So far life has been good. You were expecting something soon, after all the mermaid was next. After the slime of course, but even that was an unknown variable.

In the anime, it was clear that Suu had made a conscious decision to pursue them and the girls had accepted her. Becoming close with the slime as she grew into herself and the home she’d joined. She was their friend. It’s not that you didn’t think they could make friends….it’s just that they acted like that was the most absurd thing to do.

“Alright, Pypi it’s your turn to roll! Here’s the die.”

“Darling, you shouldn’t bother. The peanut brain doesn’t even have hands, he’s not going to figure it out.”

“Milo, that’s mean! You don’t say that to your friend.”

“He’s not my friend.” “Oh yeah? Well.....you don’t even have a penis!”

“Pypi?!” “Yes, I do and I can promise I’m much bigger than yours!”

“Guys stop it!”

Too many times have you had to risk your limbs to stop one or the other from choking one another or poisoning each other or trying to throw each other out the window. It doesn’t scream an environment a sentient slime is going to want to join. The only one who had any chance of being decently friendly would be Centoreo but even he had his moments

One evening you found him polishing his daggers, in the living room. Turning to smile at you, when you asked him why he needed to polish it. Unlike in the anime, he doesn’t use his weapons as much; revealing the weaponry case on few occasions. 

“Because Milo thought he’d take a cheap shot while I was cooking,”

“What!? Are you okay? Is he okay? What happened?”

Centoreo squinted his eyes at his reflection in the metal, letting his even smile become lopsided as he smirked. 

“He’s just licking his wounds now. Touched a sore spot or something. You know how he is.”

“Yeah…I guess.”

You decided not to question further only noting how despite his gentleness with you that was far from the case with the others. Even more concerning Pypi the harpy, who was supposed to be the slime’s best friend, seemed far too focused on gaining your affection than making friends. 

“Ne bird-guy! You wanna play?”

“Oh Pypi these neighborhood kids want to play do you maybe want to play with them?”

“Pft-no.”

“...why not? You love playing sports.”

“Yeah with you and maybe with our chicks when we hatch them.”

“Well…what about practice?”

Pypi blushed and sighed, “I guess but only because you asked.”

BAM!

“Ow! Wahhh!”

“Pypi, apologize!”

It just seemed highly unlikely that the slime would be getting anything more than a simple welcome before being the subject for many assassination attempts. It’s a shame considering in comparison to the girls Suu actually represented one of the healthier relationships with Kurusu. Minus a couple instances of accidental drowning. A lot of the other monster girls had weird implications and violent repurcussions that usually left the human man with dire wounds. You would not be him. 

That being said just because you were able to avoid broken limbs didn’t mean you’re coming out completely unscathed. Being the only real peacemaker it was mostly up to you for order to be maintained. While Centoreo was great at breaking up fights he wasn’t a fair mediator and recently he’d been exhibiting a ‘pacifist’ style where—and you quote, ”Perhaps if we let the idiots attack one another one of them will get the job done!” 

All that meant for you was there was one less obstacle for somehow being responsible for the monster-men attacking each other. Thus using the usually ignored communal time to take a trip to the store you took the most reactive roommate of yours. 

“Oh Darling~We haven’t been on a date in sooo long!”

You lightly chuckled,”But your day was just a little while ago.”

“So? Being stuck fighting off those saboteurs is hardly a date!” 

He scooped you up, completely unbothered by the curious passerbys and the way you nervously tried to hide your face.

“But now we get to go out on a real date! And it’s the first one initiated by you!”

That was surprisingly true, with the possibility of Suu not arriving there was a growing chance that nothing would get better. That their violent bickering would continue to escalate and with no one to care for they’ll only be focusing on you. So to maybe flicker the kindling of a somewhat friendly relationship, you decided to remove instigator #1.

“..Yeah…I guess this is the first.”

Who were you to shatter his delusion? Not someone who wanted to deal with the fall out of refusing a mentally unstable naga–that’s who. If it meant that Centoreo and Pypi might bond or even team up against Milo, in his absence it would just be better for everyone you that you’ll take a single “date” for the team.

“Oh Darling why don’t we get a sundae! Or a milkshake one that we can share together!”

You let him pull you along into the pastel colored ice cream shop, ignoring the curious gazes of a couple passerbys. Speaking of passerbys that annoying couple Kurusu and the girls pass by hasn’t really shown themselves like at all. You can count on one hand the trips you and Milo have taken to town and off the top of your head you can’t think of anyone you encountered that resembled them.

“Honey! Can I have your wallet to buy the treats?”

“But Milo it doesn’t really make a difference—”

“Honey?!”

“Alright Alright, I’ll go get us a seat outside.”

“Thank you, Darling!”

Ignoring the concerned gazes of the employees you turned to do exactly as you said. Sat in your seat, fighting boredom as you watched Milo playfully hiss at the frightened employee. You could tell just by his body posture that he was only bluffing. Sighing and face-palming it dawns on you how much you’d truly come to know him and subsequently the others. What was it? Weeks? Months? Since you’ve landed in this world and assumed the main character’s role to the genderbent versions of his harem and to think it hardly truly begun. With tons more incidents and other monsters to go it was grounding for your only worry to be appeasing the three you have. A small part of you hoped by some divine intervention you’d only have them to deal with for the rest of your time here. 

Splosh!

Looking above you were certain that major droplet might signal oncoming rain but a quick look around disproved that. Writing off the sound as someone likely spilling something far away you returned to watching Milo in the window.

Sploosh!

Seeing the Naga already returning with an unbelievably loaded milkshake stuffed with two straws. It didn’t seem like he’s the cause of the mysterious splishing sound and no one inside the store seemed to either. You figured you’d ignore it since Milo was already pouting at you.

“Darling! You can’t daydream about me when I’m right in front of you! I mean I love being the only one on your mind but you’ve got to look at me babe!”

“Yeah yeah sorry, Milo I just thought I was hearing–”

“Don’t you worry about it, darling! Now take a sip of their infamous double decker, extra sweet, milkshake—”

PLOP!

“Eeeugh what is that!?”

A slime has appeared and it’s staring cutely at you as it dissolves the milkshake Milo just bought with your money. All its doing is looking up at you with yellow ‘eyes’, mimicking the tilt of your head as you inspected it. It truly was the most bizarre monster you’d come across. While it was a shock to see Milo and his tail mystically twirl around you there wasn’t a doubt that you were looking at was real. With Suu the fact you could see through them while they were still looking at you. It was completely amazing. 

Your concentration was broken by Milo, who was trying to pull the feasting slime off the disappearing milkshake. He was failing his hands only wafting through the unperturbed blob; repeating the action it made you laugh at how goofy he looked. That made the Naga pause letting a blush take over his face as he examined yours. When was the last time he’d seen you laugh so earnestly? The small smile creeping on his face fell when he realized the blob had turned from you and was looking at him. Bopping up and down with a rhythm of your laughter almost like it was trying to demonstrate that it was laughing too. 

Milo hissed loudly scaring away the remaining guests at the cafe’s front. Honestly that might have been better for the exchange if less people saw how angry he was getting over a simple slime. 

Instead of trying to grab the slime he just outright picked up the table, launching the slime and the glassware on it into the wall of an office building across the street. While the level of strength from Milo wasn’t a surprise to you, the fact it was being done in public made this feel wrong. Darting your head around you looked for anyone who was still around and holding their phone up. You found one—a teenager still in the cafe snickering at the video. Grabbing Milo’s hand had his countenance change in an instant; the rush of blood in his cheeks weakening to his usual blush.

“C-c’mon Milo maybe we should just head home or to the park…a secluded part in it.”

“Aw how forward, Darling.”

The feeling of his tail curling around you, felt restricting but anything to divide his attention. It took awhile but you eventually were able to lead him away from the populated area. With no sign of Suu nearby and most people avoiding the wooded area of the park, you decided to continue your date there. Which Milo was starting to make you regret.

“Oh Darling! You picked the perfect place! Not only are we alone but we’re so far from the families they’d hardly hear it if you let out a scream.”

“Milo I just took us here because of what happened at the cafe—”

“Hush hush it doesn’t really matter why we’re here. Just that we are and we’re finally alone.”

“Milo–” you started to scold him but stopped on the account of whiplash disorienting you. 

Faster than you can register Milo had flipped you on your back, propping your head up with the slimming side of his tail. Naturally you flailed allowing Milo to snatch your wrists with calculated precision, the rest of him lightly trapping your legs from kicking. Holding your wrists above your head he let his chilled noise trail from your cheek to the collar of your shirt where he paused. Looking at your frightened expression with a blush more intense than his angered face he bit at the cloth, teasingly beginning to tear downward. 

You wanted to scream. Anything to deter what was happening now! The second you opened your mouth the end of the tail beneath you shoved its way into your mouth; invasively pushing further down your throat doing much more than silencing you. Milo hummed his smile faltering as he fought back the sound threatening to come out. Other than the silent movement of your bodies against the grass, your muffled gagging, and Milo’s hushed whimpers if anyone did hear they’d do nothing to intervene. Looking into Milo’s eyes to plead only seemed to egg him further as the tip of his tail pulled out before pushing back in the curious gentleness it had before beginning to wane. Milo was getting louder and if it was possible his face was getting redder.

“Oh Darling will we do it? Oh~! Finally consummate our bond that I’ve been ~aw~dreaming of?”

He pulled his tail out of your mouth momentarily allowing you to breath. Coiling and curling tighter around as you coughed. Finally gaining your breath you tried to speak, his tail shoving back in. Transferring both of your wrists to one of his hands he smirked at you.

“Ah but you’ve been doing so much! I think it’s finally,” his hand tore the remaining fabric of your shirt; languidly tracing his hand along your stomach. In a teasing pace he let his index and middle finger walk to the buckle of your belt, ”time-for-you-to-feel good.”

He slashed through the belt. Your eyes began to burn as you prepared for what you hoped to avoid from the very beginning.

“Darling. Please baby look at me. I want you to look at me when I—Ahhh!”

In a flash of blue Suu descended from the treetops to firmly hold his blobness on the unprepared Naga’s head. It took him a moment before he had to unravel himself from you, all his limbs trying desperately to take off the blob hoping for air. Of course they were all unsuccessful making the naga writhe as he fought for the air he was gradually running out of. For once you didn’t feel the need to intervene. You already knew if you confronted him about this later he’d shrug you off or coo about the private conversation you were having. Maybe taking advantage of Suu to put the monster man in his place might be the best call. Milo holds out longer than you expect allowing you to reset your outfit as much as possible, taking your time to pout over the torn remains of your shirt. At one point he turns to you reaching out as if you could do better than he—your response being a tongue stuck out as you held up the remains of your shirt. Its after another two minutes that Milo starts to slow, barely fighting any more. That’s when the tiny eensy bitty little feeling of guilt comes in.

“Hey Suu, maybe you can let up for now?”

The blob’s eyes look to you, to stare. For a minute you wonder if they even understand you, thinking back it took Papi and the girls a minute to actually get Suu to communicate. Just as you begin to think about how you’d go about removing the slime, Suu seems to expand. Doing the exact opposit of you ask to fully engulf the torso of the naga, who’s no longer struggling.

“C-c’mon please don’t kill him! He get’s on my nerves sometimes but I really don’t want him to die.”

You try in vain to grab a hold of Suu who continues to stare as they grow. Worried that this wasn’t a matter of suffocating but actually catching and eatting prey that they were exhibiting. It’d make sense that a slime, smart enough to evolve to speak would pick up on Milo’s earlier intent to kill them and was now retaliating. 

So many thing had changed in this version of the world…

You just didn’t think it’d constitute one of the main character’s dying.

“Suu please! Don’t Suu!”

You kept your hands in them holding on to Milo as his blinking was getting slower and slower. Looking through the blue haze at the first student you housed, the finality of this moment dawning as he tried to smile at you. The quirk of his lips so small you barely noticed. The grip you had on him being the only force on Milo’s weakening body. 

Seeing the droplets fall from your face into the blob, it was then you realized you were actually crying. 

Crying for Milo who was no longer breathing.

Closing your eyes, you tried to burn the memories of a living Milo. 

You should have never tried so hard to make them into friends.

You should have never taken Suu’s arrival so lightly.

You should have never gone on this date.

“(Y/n), you’re crying?”

That whiney despicably sweet voice made you snap your eyes open. There was Milo shirtless and without the blueness of Suu’s body. You could feel his tail slowly dragging along the grass closer to you. Even barely awake he could never leave you alone.

Seeing the monster happily breathing, you look up at the blob who was just a step away. Fully transformed into something similar to Milo holding up the shirt the Naga was wearing. Wondering why he didn’t just wear it you watched him, keeping eye contact with the slime. Suu walked forward Milo still getting in front of you as a shield. Still the slime came forward presenting the shirt to you, folded and with a small dampness that remained from Suu’s person. 

“Thank you.”

The slime smiled and repeated your words just like they did with Papi, it made you smile. Seems like Suu didn’t change all that much.

Milo sneered, “This slime almost killed me! Don’t gift him with your thanks Darling!”

You glared at him, dropping the shirt to smack the naga upside the back of his head.

“Only one of you ruined my shirt and touched me inappropriately today; they are the only one who deserves my thanks.”

Milo slumped into his coils, pretending to cry because you ‘yelled’ at him.

“And along with my thanks I’d like to offer you something,” you smiled as you finished putting on the Naga’s shirt, “how would you like to live with us, Suu?”

[riamaple]

Life on Your Line (Ch. 2)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Summary: Cursed to sacrifice your life to save another, you were never able to connect with others, always meant to drift before you could belong. Death was all you knew. Then, one day in Brooklyn, you saved a young man, and for some reason, you kept seeing him again. And again. And again. No matter where you went, across decades, you always found your way back to him.

He was forced to live to destroy, you were forced to die to save—bound together in ways neither of you could understand.

Warnings: Angst (with an eventual happy ending). Death and Dying. Self-Sacrifice (Immortality / Resurrection). Canon-Typical Violence / Description of Wounds. Suicidal Thoughts. Implications and References to Child Death, Suicide, Self-Destructive Behavior / Self-Harm.

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Word Count: 4.3k

CHAPTER 2: March 1944 - March 1945

March 15, 1944. 6:23 PM

Minnie passed away a few nights ago. That old hag finally did it. She’s with Lewis now, resting while the rest of us are left to wonder if this war will ever end.

We had the funeral two days ago. It was small and quiet, just like how she would’ve wanted it. Everyone was crying, myself included. My best friend is gone and I don’t think I’ll ever stop missing her.

I didn’t write about any of this until now because I wasn’t in the right frame of mind. I was sad, but mostly angry. I’m so happy for Minnie, but I can’t help but feel jealous of her. We were both supposed to grow old together, but now she’s in the ground while I’m still stuck out here. Every day, I check to see if I have a strand of gray hair and of course, I don’t.

I did get a pleasant surprise. Becca stopped by with a whole box of pastries that her mother had made for me and Laura. It was very sweet of them to do that. They even made me some eclairs, my absolute favorite. Laura hasn't been working this week — she’s grieving over Minnie while wondering if her son will survive the war — so I promised Becca I’d bring some of the sweets to her.

This young lady has become an avid reader and she’s always asking me for book recommendations. It was slow at first, with her coming back a few months after she got her first book. She didn’t say, but I think it took a while because she was still upset about her brother leaving for Europe. But since she’s come back, she’s stopped by once a month. I don’t do it for anyone else, but I also started to let her borrow the books. As long as she brings them back in perfect condition, she doesn’t have to pay for them. Who am I to stop a young lady from reading?

I finally did ask Becca about her brother. Turns out his name is James, though everyone — even the papers — calls him Bucky. Becca calls him Jimmy, which I think is sweet. She said it’s been a bit since they’ve heard from him, but he’s now a part of the Howling Commandos with Captain America, fighting proudly for our freedom.

I was also shocked to find out that Captain America was the blonde boy with the balloon from all those years ago. That skinny, tiny kid is now America’s hero and the boy I saved is part of his unit. Funny how the world works.

You stopped writing for a moment.

I’m ashamed to admit it, but I think about James more than I want to. I’ve been living with this curse for many decades, yet he’s the only person whom I’ve saved who recognized me. I’ve done a pretty decent job of avoiding people from my past, but the very few I’ve met never seemed to recognize me. They’ve all looked at me strangely, of course, but never said anything about it in the end. Why would they? They all believed I had died.

But James… He’s the only one who saw me for me. Who looked at my face and knew that I was the one who saved him. He still is the only one.

It pained me to lie to him.

I barely know him, but…maybe, if I’m brave enough one day, I could tell him the truth. I’d love to sit down with him and chat over a cup of coffee. Give him the decency and say that, yes, I did save you all those years ago. You were right. It was me.

The bell jiggled, taking your attention away from your journal to the front door. You smiled at a woman who walked in, somewhere in her forties with brown hair, looking around the cozy interior of Riverside Bookshop.

You smiled at her warmly. “Hello. Welcome to Riverside. My name is Doris,” you said, motioning toward the shelves behind you. “We’re about to close soon, but let me know if you need anything.”

The woman smiled back, her eyes scanning the shelves as she wandered through the aisles. It wasn’t unusual for customers to stop by just before closing, searching for one last book to take home. You had done the same when you were younger—well, younger.

After a few moments, the woman pulled a book from one of the lower shelves. It was an old one, but also the kind that had been loved and read over the years. Its edges frayed and the cover was fading, but the woman still carried it to the front desk with a soft smile.

“That’s a lovely choice,” you commented. “One of my personal favorites. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.”

She chuckled, and you could tell by her eyes that she was excited to dive into it. She paid for the book, thanking you again as you handed her the change.

“Have a good evening,” you called after her, stepping back behind the counter to finish closing up for the night.

It was too late to go to Henry’s and store your journal there. For just this night, you allowed yourself to believe the store wouldn’t somehow catch on fire and burn your writing, so you tucked your journal into one of the drawers. You dimmed the lights, turned the sign on the door to ‘Closed,’ adjusted your bag and exited.

You locked the front door just as a sharp scream echoed through the night air, pulling your attention to the empty streets.

Something tugged at your heart.

You ran as fast as you could down the street until you reached a dark alley, where you saw her—the woman who just bought a book—struggling against a man who had her by the throat.

He had a knife in the other hand.

Decades ago, you would’ve hesitated—run away even—but now you were already right next to them, swinging your bag at the man. Too distracted by the woman, he stumbled back as you hit him on the head. He faltered briefly, but then lunged at you with his knife. You quickly moved to your right, letting him fall against the wall while you grabbed the woman’s hand and bolted back into the street.

Once you were further down the street, you slowed down while the woman gasped for air. You looked behind to see if the man was following, and sighed deeply when you saw that he wasn’t.

“My goodness,” the woman said, rubbing at her throat as she looked at you. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

You forced out a smile, making sure to keep your left side hidden from her view. “You’re welcome. You should head home now—before it gets too dark,” you said quietly, stepping back.

She nodded, still breathing heavily, and quickly stepped away. But the moment she began to leave, you immediately pressed your hand against your side and walked the other way. The ground beneath you seemed to sway, but you kept moving, one step at a time. The pain in your side grew unbearable, but you pushed forward.

You found a quiet alley quickly, away from the streetlights, and collapsed against the wall. Gasping, you hid behind a couple of crates as you raised your hand, examining the blood staining your fingers. You closed your eyes, letting the cool night air wash over you. The sounds of the city faded, and the sharp pain in your side became all-consuming.

You let yourself release one last breath, wondering if you needed to find a new name.

<><><>

You opened your eyes to the biting cold, immediately feeling a familiar ache in your side. You blinked awake, grimacing at the uneven, almost rocky surface you were lying on. You murmured a curse at the world underneath your breath; it wasn’t the first time you woke up in an uncomfortable place. But as you slowly took in the sky and leaves looming over you, the faint scent of pine trees mixed with the damp earth invaded your nose, and you gulped.

You immediately sat up, breathing raggedly while looking around to see that the rugged peaks of unfamiliar mountains surrounded you. This wasn’t your home. This wasn’t Brooklyn. Where the hell were you—

A deafening explosion shattered the silence, causing you to scream and scramble to your feet. You spun around to find cover, choosing to duck behind a large boulder while your breaths came in frantically. There were a few more explosions, followed by gunshots and yelling, and you couldn’t make sense of what was happening.

You had died nearly a hundred times—letting yourself get stabbed, shot, trampled for the sake of others, only to wake up a month later in your home. You were no longer afraid of death, but this was different. You had never woken up anywhere else but your home, where the familiar smell of old wood and novels greeted you. But here, only the freezing wind and echoes of explosions seemed to shake the ground under your feet.

You trembled as the gunshots came closer—you had no idea what you were supposed to do. There was no place to hide, no familiar faces, no quiet corner to retreat to. You peered cautiously over the edge of the boulder, trying to make sense of your surroundings. But then, your breath caught in your throat as you spotted a young man running in the distance.

Your heart jumped at the sight of James, his face streaked with dirt and his uniform torn in places. He heaved with a pained expression as he dove behind another boulder.

Why was he here? 

No. Why were you there with him?

James’s hands trembled as he reloaded his rifle, his eyes scanning the distance through the scope. Sweat beaded on his brow despite the cold, and every muscle in his body screamed at him to rest, though he didn’t have a second to spare. He tried to keep his breath even, but his lungs burned as he tried to spot the enemy.

He had been hiding before, silently taking down any HYDRA soldier who got too close to Steve or the rest of the Howling Commandos. He tried to be careful, but then one of the soldiers caught a glint of metal from his rifle and threw a grenade at him. James barely managed to brace himself behind cover before the explosion went off, and he was forced to run. He had no idea where his combat unit was—it was just him and a bunch of HYDRA operatives in the mountains. And as much as he was a skilled sharpshooter who had killed most of them by this point, he was getting close to his limits.

James squinted, peering through the scope once more. A soldier emerged from behind a pile of rocks and he didn’t hesitate. The shot rang out and the HYDRA soldier dropped to the ground. Quickly reloading his rifle, he tried to spot the last two soldiers before they could catch him off guard.

When he couldn’t see them, he quickly ducked low behind another boulder as he felt that his position was getting vulnerable. But then, before he could settle into his new spot, an explosive hit too close to him. The shockwave threw him off his feet and he tumbled, yelping as he rolled down the slope. 

Pain shot through his side when he landed against a tree, and he let out an anguished cry. With his teeth clenched and hands rolled into fists, he hissed while trying to regain control over his body, scrambling to grab his rifle. He saw a blur of movement in the corner of his eye and, without stopping, James spun onto his back and shot at the HYDRA soldier in the distance. He rag-dolled instantly, falling onto the rocky terrain.

Another wave of pain traveled through James’s body, making him groan while he forced himself to stand up. He staggered to the side, his vision blurring for a brief moment, and he slumped back behind another boulder with heavy breaths. He was so exhausted and every fiber of his being begged him to stop, but he couldn’t. There was one last soldier left—the one who kept on shooting explosives in his direction. HYDRA’s weapons were getting more advanced and dangerous as weeks went by, making the rifle in his hands feel a bit fragile.

But he gripped his weapon close before peering out from behind the boulder, scanning the landscape again. He cursed under his breath, because just where the hell was the last—

Another explosion went off. This time, it was too close to him and the heat of the blast threatened to sear his skin, making him recoil. He scrambled backward to avoid getting burned, but then his eyes widened in horror. He stood out in the open, staring at the soldier who was charging his giant, bomb-launching weapon directly at him. This was his plan—get James out of hiding and kill him in plain sight. He was completely exposed and couldn’t avoid this.

He was going to die.

Sorry, Steve.

With a choked breath, James braced himself, waiting for the end when a rush of movement suddenly caught his eye. He turned just in time to see the blur tackle him, wrapping their arms around his body just as the explosion went off. It didn’t directly hit him, but it was close enough to send him tumbling down the slope again. 

James yelped as he rolled over a ledge, falling briefly before landing in a large, murky puddle. The freezing water shocked him into focus and he gasped. He gritted his teeth and struggled to sit up, fighting against the exhaustion in his bones, and tried to look for his weapon.

He located his rifle and—

James widened his eyes, staring at your body in another murky puddle. Your body was twisted and you hissed in pain, eyes squeezed shut and limbs shaking as you tried to gather yourself. You had taken the full brunt of the explosion, protecting James from the burns you sustained on your back and sides. The smell of scorched fabric mixed with the damp grass, and blood trickled from the numerous burns and cuts around your body. And your breath—your breath was immensely shallow.

The young man continued to stare, horrified as he tried to process what exactly he was seeing. How could a woman who looked like she was about to go out for a stroll be in the middle of a warzone? James shook his head, leaning close to inspect the stranger.

But as you opened your eyes and he took in your face, he realized that you weren’t a stranger at all. His heart dropped.

“You…” he breathed, his voice quivering. It was you, but…it couldn’t be. No, it wasn't possible. He was in Poland—you were in Brooklyn. How could you— 

A couple of pebbles tumbled over the ledge. 

James lunged for his weapon, pointing it upwards just as the last soldier emerged. Before the operative could even raise his weapon at him, James pulled the trigger, the crack of his rifle echoing through the land. The soldier dropped over the ledge, falling face down into the wet ground. Panting, James stood up and pointed his gun at the soldier, gazing at him as if he was going to jump up and tackle him. But when the soldier didn’t move, he let out a heavy breath and dropped to his knees. He finally won his battle against the enemy—he survived.

After taking a long, well-deserved breath, his eyes darted back over your body. He grimaced, quickly crawling over to you to assess your wounds. Your skin was covered with raw, red patches, blood gushing from all over to mix with the murky water. Your breathing was quiet, but too slow.

But you continued to stare at him, your eyes barely open but still holding on.

James’s heart was pounding so hard that it felt like it was going to leap out of his chest. He couldn’t understand what was happening— how it was happening. How could you —the same person from the bookstore—be with him right now? Despite the confusion, he shook his head. 

“We have to go,” he said urgently. “We can’t stay here.”

With trembling hands, he tried to lift your body, but a horrible noise ripped from your throat the second he did. It wasn’t a quiet yelp or a soft whimper—it was a violent cry that made his heart shatter. He froze—there was no way you could recover. He wouldn't be able to get you help in time.

But that was cruel, because if it wasn’t for you, he would’ve been dead. All of the injuries you were suffering through would’ve been his instead. He let out a shaky breath, his body trembling as he carefully adjusted his hold on you. Tears welled in his eyes—if he couldn’t get help, he could at least let you pass comfortably in his arms, right?

James cradled you in his lap as all he could do was hold you, his hands slick with blood as he felt your chest slowly lose momentum. But as his eyes searched your face, examining the blood that trailed over your cheeks and soaked your hair, he found himself reliving a memory he had wanted to erase from his mind. He bit his lips, struggling to say the right things to you.

“It’s you, isn’t it?” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. “From Brooklyn… From…from when that car…”

He waited for a response, but you did nothing other than blink, the pain etched in your eyes too morbid for him to handle. He reached up, his hand shaking as he cradled your face, trying to offer some kind of comfort in your last moments.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his lips quivering. “I’m so sorry…”

You only blinked back in response and he briefly looked away from you, a wet breath getting caught in his throat. But then something caught his eye—a pendant hanging loosely on a thin chain around your neck, revealed by the rips in your dress. 

It was a locket.

He slowly reached for it and you watched him gently cradle it in his palm, almost admiring it before he opened it. Inside, there was a delicate flower etched into the metal and a tiny inscription beside it that made him pause.

“Rose?” he read softly.

And with that, as James whispered the name that was so dear to your heart, you released one final breath and went still in his arms.

His grip on your body tightened. He let go of the locket, reaching for your face again. When he felt how cold your skin was, he broke. A choked sob tore from his throat, his whole body curling over yours as he hugged you closer.

He didn’t know who you were. He didn’t know why you saved him or how you even found him, but you were real. You had been real. 

But now you were gone.

It was really you in that bookstore, from when he decided to give Becca a little bit of joy before he left home. When you looked up at him, his whole world halted from seeing the woman who had shoved him out of the way, taking the full brunt of the car. He was just walking back to his home with Steve, laughing as they carried sandwiches from what they believed to be the best deli in Brooklyn. Then he was on his knees next to your body, begging you to stay awake until help arrived, but you didn’t make it.

And yet, eight years later, he had found you again. In a bookstore that he had planned to stop by for so long, but couldn’t until the last second.

But then, when you said he had mistaken you for someone else, he wanted to believe it. He had to believe it, because how could it have been you?

You had died for him.

But…here, you were in his arms.

And you had died for him again.

James let out a wrecked cry, pressing his forehead against yours. His lips parted, but the words he wanted to say died in his throat. He continued to hold you as if it would bring you back.

“Bucky!”

James lifted his head, hearing his name in the distance. His breath hitched before he looked back at you. He didn’t want to leave you, but…he had to. He had to go.

Carefully, he lowered you to the ground, his hand lingering on your arm before he pushed himself up. He lost his footing briefly, the exhaustion trying to drag him back down, but he steadied himself. He looked at you one more time before staggering to the ledge.

Steve suddenly popped up, looking down and immediately letting out a heavy sigh of relief when spotting his best friend.

“Jesus, Buck.” He jumped down and crushed him in a hug. “Thank God. Are you alright?”

James inhaled sharply, nodding as he tried to reply. “I—” His voice cracked, but he exhaled slowly. “Yeah. I’m alright. I just—”

He looked back at you, but his heart stopped.

Because there was nothing to look back to.

The puddle where you had been lying was empty. No blood, no fabric, no sign of your presence whatsoever.

James stumbled backward, his breath coming in short gasps as his eyes darted around, searching for you. Longing for you.

“Bucky?” Steve frowned, stepping closer carefully. “What’s wrong?”

“I—” He looked down at his hands, smudged with mud and ash.

But there was not a single speck of your blood staining his skin.

<><><>

May 15, 1944. 5:10 AM

I try to write about every person I save, but I can barely remember what happened in that alley with the woman. All I can think about is James.

I saved James for the 2nd time on April 15 and I woke up with the worst pain I’ve ever had all over my skin.

For so many decades, I’ve been giving people second chances — dying for them so that they can go on living. But I have never given someone a third chance, or been sent across the world for them, or had to save two of them back to back. I was gone for 2 months and I feel terrible. Laura was angry and sad and happy when I came back. She cried so much as she believed I died for good even though that can never happen.

I don’t know how I ended up with James. I want to say it shouldn’t be possible, but I don't even know the full extent of my curse. Only the world does.

So tell me, world… Why James? I understand he was going to die, but why him? Henry was in the Great War, scared and tired and no one saved him. Why wasn’t I sent to him? Maybe this is the world’s way of making it up to me. If I wasn’t able to protect Henry, maybe I was given James to protect instead. I don’t mind that.

Because for the first time since I’ve been cursed, I don’t feel like a ghost. When James looked at me — recognized me — I felt real. Even though I had lied to him before, he still made me feel as if I had a proper place in this world. And when he whispered Rose to me, even though that isn’t my name, I felt…wanted.

And he’s the first person who has ever comforted me as I died.

So…maybe he could be the first person I saved to know the truth.

When he comes back to Brooklyn, I will tell him. He deserves to know.

<><><>

March 5, 1945. 4:31 AM

We live in hell.

I found out yesterday that James had died. Becca came in crying and told me the news before I could even ask if she was alright. They got the letter — killed in action — fallen into a ravine. They can’t even bring back his body for a proper funeral.

It’s not fair. It’s just not fair.

I was brought to him a year ago to save him. But why would the world you let me save him twice if you were still going to take him away? Rip him away from his sisters and mother and father? I would say that I can’t imagine how his parents are feeling, but I can. When my baby was taken from me, I wanted to die too.

But this isn’t just about them. James was supposed to be the one stranger I could allow myself to be honest with. But you took him away.

Why would you give me that false sense of hope? Make me believe he would survive? I had to watch Becca fall to the floor crying and I couldn’t even help her. She lost her big brother, but I couldn’t even tell her that I understood her pain without revealing this damn curse you placed on me.

You brought me to him. You WANTED me to save him so much that you sent me out there. Of all people, him. You didn’t even take me to Henry when he needed me. You could have had this whole time and you didn’t. You took me to James instead so that I could give him the chance to go home to his family.

But then you killed him. 

If I had known he was going to die, I would’ve at least told him my real name.

Damn you.

Damn you.

Go to hell.

Damn you Fuck you

NEXT CHAPTER >

General Taglist! @a-century-of-sass

Thanks for reading :)

[thebadboyfanclub]

Welcome To Our Family (Daemon x Reader)

Hey everyone, so as I mentioned before I wanted to write a throuple thing with Rhaenyra and Daemon although even on this request there was some drama involved but it was interesting to write nonetheless. Also I don’t know why but this song inspired me the most especially the part “where you go I go, what you see I see” that was the vibe I was trying to pass for our reader with daemon

Most would say that the war in the stepstones had no place for love to blossom, the reeking stench of death had overtaken and most men had no life in their eyes, the majority prayed in gratitude that they were alive while others cursed the gods for keeping them on this forsaken realm when their friend of even their kin had been killed.

That did not even grace Daemon, who was lucky enough to spend every night in the arms of his beloved (y/n), the sister of one of his soldiers that had been wounded, (y/n) had marched in and demanded that her brother will come home.

“I will be damned if I allow you to give more than an arm for this, you are coming with me”

Her brother had obeyed her, she was as fragile as a rose but her thorns stung more than anything, right then and then Daemon had become a mere slave to his emotions, something that had never occurred before.

“I wish I could stay in your arms forever”

“That would be a dream, my love, however, we are counting the days until you depart, your wife probably awaits you”

Daemon was deeply offended by the jab his lover had thrown at him, slowly he rose up and away from her arm reach to look her straight in the eyes, the fireplace burned bright and the light shined against her glistening skin.

“You are questioning my feelings for you”

“I am questioning how strong they are, you are a prince, a husband, your life seems to hold no room for me”

“Is that how you think of this? That I just wanted to bed you?”

“Do you truly wish for me to answer that?”

Silence took over them while the only sound came from the crackles of the fire, Daemon was aware of how badly this could look, she was a commoner, a mere lady, and the realm would never accept her even if Daemon had not wed another.

“You and our daughter mean everything to me”

“But nothing to the king, he will ask for my head once he finds out I am carrying your child”

“I would never put your lives at risk”

“How do you plan on keeping us safe my love?”

“Do not worry about that, I will take care of everything”

(Y/n)s belly was starting to show, it wouldn’t take long for the king and his little whisperers to demand answers, the easy route was to declare his kin a bastard but Daemon was flying on cloud nine when (y/n) announced that she was with child, no he must do right by her.

He flew with her to Pentos, far away from Viserys and people that cared most about titles and crowns than love and compassion.

“Twins, my prince, two sons, praise the mother”

“What about (y/n)”

“The lady is a warrior, she is tired but healthy”

Daemon did not speak another word to the maester, he simply passed by him and into the room to find his beloved laying in bed, a faint smile on her face as she held one of her children while the other was being held by a midwife.

“You owe me 3 dragon coins”

“It is a bet I will happily pay, how are you feeling?”

“Sore and gross but happy, why don’t you hold him?”

“I-“

“Come on love it is merely a babe, like… so”

Slowly (y/n) passed one of her sons to her lover, instructing him to hold it carefully but securely, then she reached for the midwife so she can have her other son in her arms, both of the babes were quiet in their parent's arms.

“What should we name them?”

“I was thinking of Orryn, and mayhaps… Baelon?”

“Baelon and Orryn, the two princes”

Daemon and (y/n) had grown inseparable much to his brother's dislike Daemon had scoffed at his previous marriage and took his place next to his most endearing (y/n) that had blessed him with not just two children, but with passion, and comfort, she created a home for him, without her there was no warmth, no color.

Viserys was only finding out the milestones his brother was achieving with his mistress via ravens that Daemon dared to send, the birth of his sons had scratched a wound in Viserys that was not quite healed yet, so naturally when Rhea had passed due to fever, Daemon had even dared to invite Viserys to his wedding that took place in Pentos.

(Y/n) had just given birth to another set of siblings, Alyssa and Arren, two silver-haired princesses that slept peacefully through the night and would only stay quiet if (y/n) or Daemon held them, (y/n)s parents and brother had traveled to Pentos to finally meet the children and also attend the wedding.

“You look dashing sweetling, I see the prince has taken good care of you”

“How could I not? What is more important than the happiness of my lady wife?”

“We must admit we had conflicting thoughts over you my prince, I am happy that you proved us wrong”

“I do not hold it against you, she is your daughter you want what is best for her, also you were not the only one, (y/n) was also very skeptical over my intentions”

“I had every reason to do so”

“I have made peace with the fact that you will never admit you were wrong my love, you do not have to find excuses for it”

Daemon and (y/n) were wed in Valyrian traditions, something that infuriated Viserys, how dare he wed a commoner with the sacred paths of old Valyria, it was distasteful and utterly disrespectful, Viserys had only sent a one-sentence raven scroll back

“You disgust me, never come back”

Daemon had only rolled his eyes at it and threw it in the fire, he couldn’t care less about Kings Landing, they could eat each other for all he cared, (y/n) and their children were all that mattered ever since he met with the beautiful hues of hers, he treasured everything about her and worshipped the ground she walked on, he would always hold her close and shower her with gifts.

“We received a raven, I have taken the liberty to open it”

“What is it?”

“Laenor Velaryon has passed, and your niece is requesting our presence, well yours to be specific, she said “I need you, uncle”

“You are jealous, I have never seen you get jealous”

“Is this the one you told me about, that “spur of the moment” girl?”

“Indeed, we do not have to go, besides, my brother banished me”

“No, it is the first time our presence is requested”

“My dear, you are with child and the flight is long”

“I will be fine, I know it”

Daemon was certain he could not sway her, once something was on her mind there was nothing that could turn it around, he was also aware that the reason she was so adamant was a side of hers that felt threatened, there was a ghost of his past that was requesting attention and (y/n) was not willing to walk away from this without putting up a fair fight.

At a day (y/n) and her 8 children stood next to her and her husband all dressed in black, everyone rubbed their eyes at the sight of such numerous children, (y/n) always knew she was meant to be a mother and that fact that she had Daemon as her husband made it so much easier.

Until it didn’t, they were summoned by the king after the ceremony, (y/n) felt her stomach drop as soon as she walked in the room, instinctively her one hand went over her growing belly, yet she mastered the strength to place a smile and curtsy before the king.

“What is the meaning of this brother?”

“I was hoping we could agree to some sort”

“Over what?”

“I wish for you to come back, I… will legitimize your children and wife as she has proven worthy, bringing forward 8 children with another on the way is no easy task”

“The gods have been generous to us that is correct, we are grateful for this offer but forgive me to ask, since you mentioned an agreement it seems you want something in return”

“Correct, there is no smooth way to say this but as a parent, I hope you understand that I would do anything to protect my daughter”

“No”

“Daemon”

“If you are asking us to wed Rhaenyra then you have lost your mind, I will not involve my wife and children in your scandals”

“Pardon my husband, I think you can understand the reason behind his outburst”

Daemon was left confused over (y/n)s composure that attempted to cover for his utter refusal to hide his brother's plans, he turned to observe his wife, she was calm, and her hand went to find his as their fingers intertwined (y/n) gave him a slight squeeze of comfort.

“The legitimacy of our children and our marriage is something that we are interested in, however, you can see why we might have some objections over accepting Rhaenyra in our marriage”

“You are trying to negotiate?”

“Yes”

“What else would you like to accept, please speak freely”

“I want my children to be given dragon eggs as well as meet any unclaimed dragons, they are Targaryens, they should have the pick of their dragons as well”

“Done”

“I shall also be considered Rhaenyras wife, if we were to wed I shall have the same rights as my husband”

“You are suggesting the realm accept you as the future queen's consort?”

“As you mentioned I brought forward 8 children and another on the way, the crown shall accept them as future princes and princesses, if not then there is nothing for us here”

Daemon chose to observe his lady wife than speak up, she took initiative and strived for the best option, something he admired in her but he had never really witnessed how far she was willing to go to secure the future of her family, now she was sacrificing a spot in their marriage for a seat at the table, Viserys had been outsmarted by what he used to frown upon.

“Very well, we accept your conditions”

“Well then… welcome to our family Princess Rhaenyra”

-

(Y/n) and Daemon wed Rhaenyra as they had once done while their children and the rest of their family watched, Rhaenyra had underestimated the lady, (y/n) and might not be as assertive or rebellious as Daemon but her wits and calculated movements showed a woman that walked with her head held high and every step was thought after.

The days turned to seasons and then years, everyone was holding their breaths as they took a front-row seat to one of the most important marriages and alliances within the Targaryen Dynasty.

(Y/n) was held in the best light by the small folk, “the realms mother”, and “the Alyssane reborn” as her fertility kept thriving, blessing Daemon with another set of twins soon after Rhaenyra was wed, the two beautiful baby girls were named Megaera and Valera, the first of their family to receive dragon eggs on their cradles a gift by Rhaenyra who picked them herself then came Aegon, Viserys, and Visenya, overall (y/n) had the castle of Dragonstone filled with children, 13 to be precise.

Rhaenyra was painfully aware of how those babies came to fruition, Daemon's thirst for his wife was evident and he did not even consider giving Rhaenyra the courtesy of hiding, Rhaenyra had lost count of the times she had walked in on (y/n), and Daemon lusting after one another at all hours of the day and any room that was close to them, she sometimes wondered if the legends of Rhaenys being the favorite wife of Aegon made Visenya go through what Rhaenyra was also experiencing, is that mayhaps the reason behind Rhaenyra identifying with the warrior queen?

As (y/n) and Daemon stood by Rhaenyra at court, defending her and consulting her on important matters, painting the picture of a happy marriage with two spouses that supported her revolutionary claim, the realm expected Rhaenyra to bare a child as well, (y/n) was producing heirs one after the other, Rhaenyras womb laid empty since Daemon did not spend not even one night in her chambers.

It was the first time in years that the three of them had stepped foot in kings landing, Vaemond had called the court to usurp Lucerys from his claim at the driftwood throne, naturally, all 13 of their children were present along with the three boys from Rhaenyras previous marriage, (y/n) insisted that it would show how United they are and having that strong of a number on their side would scare off any other accusations.

A solid plan, until Ser Vaemond decided to protest against the king affirming young Lucerys as the successor for the driftwood throne.

“You run your house as you see fit, but I would rather die than let that boy take over my family’s name, parading around because you are too blind to see the truth”

“You dare question the decision of a king?”

“Look at them, all thirteen of them hold the characteristics of old Valyrian, true born heirs that I would happily accept as mine even though they came from a womb of a commoner, and you ask me to accept these three boys as Velaryons? It is blasphemy”

“You are certainly bold Ser Vaemond, you have the nerve to call me a commoner when I hold the future queen and the brother of the king as my spouses, my children are not thirteen, but sixteen, and all of them hold their names with pride, it saddens my heart to see that the thirst for recognition has turned you to this low of antics”

“Her children are BASTARDS! and she. Is. A. Whore”

“Pity, you had such great potential”

As (y/n) finished her sentence Daemon had taken the liberty to end Ser Vaemonds life, a clean cut through his head right above his tongue with the great sword dark sister, causing most people to gasp while (y/n) smirked and watched the body fall on the well-polished floor.

“No one disrespects our family”

“Disarm him!”

“No need, my love”

Daemon stretched his hand to his beloved (y/n) who only turned to pinch Lucerys cheek before she took her husband's hand to walk away, only to halt and turn around again, looking back to the rest of her family members.

“Rhaenyra”

Rhaenyra was grateful for (y/n)s graciousness, there was nothing that she could hold against her, she was loving and caring to her three boys, she would listen to Rhaenyra about any concerns for hours and even now she defended and included her in front of everyone.

She should be satisfied with such, still a thorn stuck in her heart and pride making Rhaenyra feel second best when it came to Daemon's heart, it has always been (y/n), (y/n) carried his offspring’s, he gave up everything for her, took her away and gave her a life full of gifts and love, the finest of any kind was reserved for (y/n).

“Pardon my intrusion, the princess is requesting Prince Daemon in her chamber”

“It is late, can it not wait?”

“Sweetling, the poor girl cannot know, go to her, I will be waiting for you”

“Fine, take your nightgown off for me, I want us to get straight to it when I get back”

Daemon whispered deviously before he planted a passionate kiss on the lips he most adored, reluctantly pulled away with an audible gruff and followed the servant girl silently, wondering what was so important that he had to leave his precious bed and his lustful wife right in the heat of the moment.

Rhaenyra paced back and forth with impatience written all over her demeanor and face, Daemon always had an influence over her, making her feel like a little girl again, though this was a different type of anxiety, once Daemon entered the room and the servant gave them their privacy Rhaenyra took a deep inhale through the nose to ease her nerves.

“I hoped to confront you over our marriage”

“What of it?”

“Do you truly think everything is fine or are you just blind?”

“I and my wife have honored our vows”

“That is the problem, you and your wife, it has never been just your vows”

“When you wed us you were to understand your place when it came to me and (y/n), I never used her as a surprise, you called for our aid and we generously offered it”

He was right, Rhaenyra had never been blindsided by them, (y/n) was a staple of their marriage, (y/n)s strive for the legitimacy of her children was the only reason Daemon allowed their wedding to happen, (y/n) had drank for Rhaenyras cup just as daemon had, binding their hands together and swore loyalty and devotion to their future queen.

As a woman Rhaenyra felt cast aside, this marriage was an insult to her pride, and having to bare through a birth of a child one after the other with a smile on her face was a twist of a knife in her wound, while her womb lay empty.

“You refuse to spend time with me, alone, you only show up with your children-“

“Our children, (y/n) and I call your sons our sons”

“At court yes”

“Are you questioning our actions? I did not have you to be as dim-witted as you seem right now, (y/n) called Lucerys her trueborn son in front of everyone, I took a man’s head for insulting you and our house and yet you stand before me and claim it is not enough for your liking?”

“I stand here to remind you that we have yet to produce a child, you can kill as many men as you wish, and (y/n) can scream it at the top of her lungs but that does not change that everyone sees her parading her belly and call her the realms mother while my womb rottenness under this wedlock”

“Rotten? Alright then, let us entertain this and say you bare my child, a silver-haired beauty that the realm will welcome, has it crossed that brilliant mind of yours that this will be more of a scandal for your three boys?”

“My sons are Targaryens”

“No doubt about it, but certainly they do not look like the part, in comparison to their brothers and sisters they look more like (y/n) than you”

“You are not refusing to lay with me to hush the rumors, you simply do not have the urge for it, I remember a time that you did, mayhaps it was the image of a gullible girl that kept you going”

“Listen and listen well, wife, (y/n) is my eternal love, the woman that took me in her arms and showed me life, you are my blood, I protected you, I defended you, I offered you sanctuary just so you can once again have something to complain about, well that is it, if you dare to summon me again for such idiotic matters I will grab my brother by the neck and force him to annul the marriage do you understand?”

Daemon was furious, as he spoke he started taking steps towards her, to the point that her back found the wall and Daemon was inches away from her face, hissing out the threat of annulment like a snake that released poison to its prey.

Rhaenyra had never experienced such hostility from Daemon, to say she was shocked was an understatement as her eyes frantically tried to find focus on his, daemons eyes were filled with fury, Rhaenyra had crossed the line in his mind, (y/n) had been kind and honorable to the princess, doing her duty like a proper lady wife and Rhaenyra scoffed at her, at his (y/n).

“Alright”

“Wonderful, now you must excuse me, I have some urgent matters that need my attention”

Requests are open!

[luimagines]

Steel Trap Mind (1600 Follower Raffle)

Our first place winner was @goopyartiste!

They asked for anything Warrior related so I was given total free reign. :D

Enjoy.

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

“Is he awake?”

“Is he alive?”

“Don’t speak so loudly. Everything’s going to be ok.”

“I need to see him!”

“He took a really bad hit-”

“Lost a lot of blood-”

“-amazing he even survived.”

He groans loudly and turns his head. It’s killing him- not that he wants to make a bad pun over the words he’s been overhearing. There’s voices all around him, he gathers that much. It’s bright on the other side so he keeps his eyelids closed but he can’t help the groan that escapes him as he enters into the waking world once again.

“He’s awake!”

“Oh thank the three!”

“Warrior, you’re ok!”

He huffs and figures that he should at least try to figure out where he is. At least they sound concerned over him. But who’s this Warrior they mentioned? Maybe he’s in the other bed next to him. He’s sure that there’s a lot of men in the infirmary right now. It couldn’t have only been him. He can’t seem to remember how he got here. Was the attack that bad?

What was his name? Link.

Does he have a family? No.

Is anyone waiting for him at home? No.

Where is he now? Well that's a question he has to figure out now, ain't it?

He groans again and forces his eyes open. The lights have dimmed. How considerate. 

There’s a bunch of people around his bed, teary eyed and all wearing expressions of varying degrees of relief. He frowns. Who are they?

“I’m so happy you’re alright.” You say. You reach down and take his hand, holding it gently. Your other hand comes up to caress his cheek, almost lovingly. 

Link can’t think much of anything right now. Only that his head hurts and he doesn’t think he’s home right now. He looks around the room and frowns a little bit. This isn’t the medical ward for the wounded soldiers. “Where am I?”

“We’re in a random town.” A boy with more scars on his face than Link has seen someone have. His hair is long and he has more scars on his arm that Link can see. “You were hit in the head so we brought you here to the local inn to recover.”

Link lets the information sink in. Strangers, then. Very kind strangers. He sighs and leans back on the bed. He was attempting to sit up but he must have been in worse shape than he thought if he could hardly lift his head off of the pillow. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, well next time try not to die, alright?” Another boy sasses him. He has pink hair somehow but Link gets the idea that he’s familiar with him. Stranger still- Link has never seen this boy before in his life. “We’ve got enough heroes between us all that there’s no need to make unnecessary sacrifices.”

“You scared me.” You say, gripping his hand tighter. You’re smiling softly even as you start to tear up again. You bring his hand up and kiss the back of it. “Don’t ever do that again. Promise me.”

You know him. You know him. You have to, or else you wouldn’t be doing that.

Link gets the impression that he’s important to you. But- He grimaces slightly, already imagining what this is going to sound like. “...Who are you?”

Everyone in the room goes still.

You seem to freeze entirely and grip his hand impossibly tighter. Frantic panic increases in your eyes as you search his face for something- anything. “You’re kidding, right? Link, this isn’t funny.”

“You know my name.” He whispers softly. The look that crosses over your face is absolutely heartbreaking. 

Tears start streaming down your face before you can even speak. “It’s me! You love me! I love you!”

“I don’t know you.” He settles for. Link doesn’t think he can be gentle with another person like this. Cia was bad enough. Granted, she never said that she loved him. Let alone claimed that he loved her but there have been countless others that have tried to get him to see to reason with similar arguments. He really needs to talk to Zelda about this.

“Hey now.” An older man speaks. “Settle down.”

Link looks at him and changes that assumption. He’s older than him, sure, but enough to actually phrase it that way. He has similar markings on his face though. Link things that if he tries hard enough he can remember why they ring a bell in his head. 

The man puts a hand on your shoulder and very gently pulls you away before you can collect yourself and potentially strike him. “It was a bad hit. Remember that.”

Yeah, ok- the older gentleman isn’t not talking to him.

“Warrior, what’s the last thing you remember?’ Another young man- wait, how many people are here again?- steps closer and puts the back of his hand on his forehead as if he was checking for a fever.

Admittedly, Link might be a little warm. His head still hurts. “Who’s Warrior?”

The room feels as if he had just lit a short fuse on a bomb.

You choke on a sob and Link turns his attention back to you. It’s a heart wrenching sound. As if someone had just stabbed you, or worse, killed someone in front of you. You are quickly escorted out of the room by three of the young men around him. The boy with the scars, another with a fur pelt, and the older gentleman are quick to take you out of the room.

The remaining people (five, he’s counted this time) all stare at him with varying levels of shock and despair.

“...Do you remember us?” A small voice comes from his left. There’s a boy. He’s young. He’s wearing a blue shirt with a lobster on it- hold on.

“You.” Link says and he feels a smile grow on his face. It’s weak and it doesn’t erase the pain he’s feeling, but the familiar face is nice. “I remember you, pirate. You’ve gotten bigger since the last time I saw you.”

“Not really.” He smiles bashfully, stepping closer to the side of the bed. “Do you remember anyone else?”

Link feels the weight behind that question. Looking around the remaining faces, he can’t say that he knows who they are. “Who are they, kiddo?”

The young boy gulps and bites his lip. “It’s a long story.”

One of them sighs and rubs his hand over his face. He’s a rather built young man with a long white cape over his back. Link thinks that maybe he can find someone to fix his scarf to look that cool. “This… is unideal.”

“You don’t say.” Someone snaps. It’s the smallest one there, but the voice doesn’t match the height. He’s probably older than Link originally thought. Link likes his tunic though. Very colorful.

A heart wrenching sob makes its way through the doorway as the older gentleman walks in again. It’s you. 

Link knows he’s caused that. He hates to admit to himself but what else was he supposed to do?

The older gentleman (Link gets ice in his veins when he remembers what the markings are) steps into the room and sighs. He rubs his hand down his face as looks over to where Link is on the bed. “I’m sure… you have questions, Captain.”

A title. Yes. Link has a title. And Link definitely has questions. “Who was that?”

Vaguely, Link knows that shouldn’t have been the prominent question on his mind, but for some reason he can’t pinpoint, he hates that he made you cry.

No one answers his question at first so he tries a different tactic. Clearly, he’s missing some information. “Are they important?”

To the mission? To this group? To him? Link doesn’t register that as a too vague a question, only that he wishes for it to be answered.

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

Well shoot, Link sighs. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” The final young man to speak tilts his head, raising his hands as they glow. Fascinating. Link stares at it. He’s hardly met another Hylian that could use magic so casually. “You wouldn’t have had it any other way. Pushed them out of the way and took the hit and all that.”

“Oh.” Important to him, it is then. Faintly, he thinks he could still hear you cry. “I hurt them.”

“You did.” Pink haired boy grumbles. “But there’s not much we can do about it. It’s a miracle you even woke up again as it is.”

A miracle. Link takes a deep breath. He seems to be running on pure fumes powered by those alone. “I hurt them.”

Somehow, he feels the need to repeat himself. Link doesn’t like the inky feeling that curls around his heart at the thought of that. If he pushed you out of the way of an attack, surely that means he cared about you to not think something through.

It’s stranger still- that it came to that at all.

Link has always prided himself on thinking fast on his feet and having contingency plans for his contingency plans. He’s not one to miscalculate. Many battles have made sure of that. Close encounters on top of even closer encounters have made sure that his senses were sharp and steely as the blade he wielded. 

To be hurt the way he was meant that he had miscalculated dearly. Or rather, the attack would have surely killed you and he wasn’t thinking at all when he acted. If he wasn’t thinking when he acted at the thought of you in danger or being attacked, then you meant more to him than anyone here was telling him.

Aside from you.

You did say that he loved you. And that you loved him. 

His throat suddenly feels dry.

”Here.” A cup is placed by the side of his face in an instant. Link takes it and manages to take one gulp of water before he remembers to take sips. 

“I wouldn’t have wanted them to be hurt.” He says after giving the glass back. He barely finished half of it before he started feeling nauseous. How long was he unconscious? How badly was he injured, truly? “I wouldn’t have wanted them to-”

Link starts to cough.

“We know.” The pirate gently pats his shoulder, rubbing small circles. Another thing he remembers. Link used to do the same to him when the pirate wasn’t feeling too well after a battle. Something about the food and movement not agreeing with him. It’s strange to be on the other side of the act. “They know it too. They won’t be angry at you for it.”

“No?” He looks at the boy, because he knows this boy. He can trust him. Link doesn’t know if he can trust the rest of the faces in this room.

The boy shakes his head. “You would never hurt them on purpose. You’re not that kind of person. They know that.”

Link strains his ear to hear you on the other side of the door. It’s gone quiet, but he’s almost positive that you’re still upset over this development. He wonders what he would have done to get this sort of reaction from everyone here. “Who are these people, kiddo?”

“We’re all Link.” He answers easily.

Link catches onto the way the others flinch slightly. 

He still can’t say that he knows them.

“We have to get his memory back.” The young man with the white cape says after a moment of silence. 

“It’s not that easy.” Magic Man shakes his head. “This wasn’t caused by a spell. At best, we should be asking The Champion how he deals with his memory loss. Amnesia caused by injury is a different challenge entirely.”

Link sighs and looks back to the door with his tongue between his teeth. 

Amnesia? He almost wants to laugh. Do they not know who he is?

Link doesn’t forget easily.