#My weakness for heavy breathing and man grunts will be the death of me.

[keischreiber]

*Me hearing Reiner's heavy breathing in a video, and got caught off guard a while ago.*

Me: ... *Squirm. Tiny squeak.* K-knyah—

Also me: STOP. DONT COME NEAR ME. I WILL NOT BE HELD LIABLE FOR WHAT I DO TO YOU IF YOU BREATHE AT ME LIKE THAT.

[ficmashup]

Taken

Summary: You join TF141 after something happened on your last deployment. They take you in and while it takes some time, you find yourself warming up to them, and them to you. Perhaps especially to the Captain.

A/N: Nothing like a sprinkle of angst on Christmas Eve. ;) I will be doing a part two for this because I can't resist, but can't promise when I'll post it. Soon, I hope! Have a lovely holiday to everyone celebrating. :)

Warnings: SA mentions if you squint, crass language, death, stabbing, beating, shooting, torture, angst, trauma, overall I just decided to stab the characters in the feels. Just a bit. Happy ending though, imo.

Word Count: 4.7k

Masterlist

It’s not expected, but then again, these things never are.

What kills me the most is that Ghost had to be there, had to see it. I’d rather it had been anyone else just so I could spare him the pain of reopening old wounds. We’d been clearing a warehouse and stumbled upon more than we’d expected. We both realize our mistake at different times and I have a split-second decision to make. I’m ahead of Ghost by a dozen or so feet and hidden behind a pile of crates, so I see the group first.

There’s no time to warn Ghost and if he comes forward, he’ll be shot on sight. So I step forward first. I take out those closest to his entry point and my focus on keeping him safe leaves me vulnerable. Ghost moves in just as I’m grabbed from behind and I ram the butt of my gun backward into my captor’s ribs. There’s a grunt, but he doesn’t let go and I drop my gun to hang from my chest in exchange for the long knife on my thigh. I plunge the blade into his thigh and hear a string of curses spat into my ear as their grip only tightens on me.

I fail to realize that during the struggle, they’ve managed to drag me backward towards a side door. My last view as I twist the knife is Ghost’s wide eyes behind the mask before my head is slammed against the wall and all goes dark.

*     *     *

I wake up tied to a chair. I keep utterly still and take stock of my body. My head is heavy and I feel the tightness of the skin on the right side of my face from where blood has dried. There’s a sharp sting coming from across my collar bone and my right ankle twinges. A sprained ankle and a scrape, I’d guess. Possibly a concussion. Nothing too bad. My wrists and ankles are tied to the arms and legs of a chair and the rope chafes, but the ties are sloppy. Keeping me here like this was unexpected, then. An opportunity that they couldn’t pass up.

I keep my breathing steady and my head bowed with my eyes shut. All I do for a few moments is listen. There’s shuffling and voices, but they’re muffled and seem to be coming from a nearby room. Multiple people, but more than likely less than a dozen. I take a chance and open my eyes, looking up and finding the space dim and empty. It looks like a shack barely held together by the sand and dirt covering the floor.

“Awake.” A voice with a rough accent comes from behind me and my spine stiffens as he moves in front of me. He’s limping slightly and I get a brief moment of satisfaction at knowing this is the man who grabbed me and I clearly dealt some serious damage. With the dried blood on my face and him being able to walk after clear medical assistance, I’d say I’ve been gone a few hours. The fact makes what’s left in my stomach curdle.

The man says a few words that I don’t understand, then one that I do. “…bitch.”

I chuckle softly. “Unoriginal.” His fist darts out and the hit is harder than I expect. It leaves me dizzy as the weak chair rocks with the impact. Stays on all fours, though. The man grunts and spits at my feet before walking to the door, apparently satisfied with his revenge. He opens the door and shouts something down the hall before looking at me with ill intent in his eyes. I shift a bit in my chair, noting that they’ve removed my uniform and boots. I’m only in tight shorts and my tank top. It’s going to be torture then. Fine. I’ve already been through hell and lived through it, fashioned myself teeth from the mouths of my demons I killed, I can take whatever poor imitation these amateurs try.

Three more men come in and one steps in front of the others. “Why you here?” He asks in broken English.

“To kill people like you.” I answer simply, staring unblinkingly at him.

He gives me a smile. “Coincidence. That is why we here as well. To kill people like you.” It’s a struggle not to roll my eyes. That’s the base of every conflict in the history of the world. He pulls his handgun and aims it at my forehead while I go completely still. “Tell me more.”

*     *     *

Hours pass. The torture is easy enough to sit through, nothing unexpected, nothing skilled, nothing I haven’t been trained for. The true killer is waiting with my own thoughts. Like thinking that they aren’t coming for me. Stupid. Utterly stupid. Yet the persistent feeling of being unworthy lingers in my chest. And I know that the longer I’m here, the more nagging those thoughts will be.

They can finally be rid of you, no trouble, no hassle, just a lost soldier, happens all the time.

I gasp as a soldier lands a particularly well-aimed punch to my gut and the chair finally falls over. I feel the arm crack at the impact while the group laughs, but the ropes around my right wrist and ankle are now free. My fingers slowly curl around the splintered piece of wood hidden under my body. One of the men waves his hand and another steps forward and yanks the chair back up. I use the momentum of the sudden movement to plunge the long piece of wood into his throat and get my free leg up under me to keep me from toppling over.

The man’s eyes go wide as he chokes on his own blood and everyone else in the room is frozen with shock. I take advantage of that and take the gun in the man’s thigh holster and manage to shoot two men before they draw their guns and one more before they manage to shoot. I use the body of the man I stabbed as cover, but I can barely hold him up. I grunt under the impact of a bullet hitting his dead weight and feel another bullet graze my shoulder before the door straight across from me bursts open. I take advantage of the distraction and shoot one more while the other gets a bullet between the eyes from the intruder’s gun.

I turn on instinct and level my gun at the intruders, stopping my finger just in time when I see the distinct, pale skull mask. “Fuck.” I lower the gun and let the body drop to the floor as Ghost pushes in, but I don’t miss the way he looks me over.

His hand grabs his radio before anything. “Clear, I’ve got the package.” He slings his gun over his back as he reaches me and I don’t realize that I’m trembling until he guides my hand to his shoulder to keep me upright as he unties my other wrist and ankle. My fingers cling to his tac vest like a lifeline.

“Confirmed. If package is secure, move out.” Price’s voice comes over the radio and my heart squeezes at the sound of his voice. I catch movement out of the corner of my eye and my hand still holding the gun twitches before I recognize Soap moving into the doorway to watch our backs.

“Clear, LT.” He reports before looking me over with wide eyes. I must really look like shit then.

“Affirmative.” Ghost responds over the radio with a wave back at Soap to tell him the same. “How bad, G?” He asks gruffly once the flimsy chair falls to the floor behind me and he stands up, keeping his forearms within my reach so I can use him to stand. His fingers graze my arms too, not gripping or grabbing, simply guiding.

My head shakes as I stare at him. “Not bad. Nothing broken.”

He nods in return and pulls out my uniform shirt and pants that he must have collected from the other room. My boots too. “Then let’s go. Can you walk?” I take my clothes gratefully and he keeps to my side while I slide the top on with only a slight wince as the fabric slides over the open wounds covering me. The pants are a little more difficult, but I manage before nodding to Ghost that I’m ready. He wraps an arm around my waist and I lower his hand to my hip as my ribs ache with protest. He corrects his grip and we limp out with Soap leading, gun up.

A few more bodies litter the narrow hall and the room beyond, but the true relief is when we walk outside and I can see the stars. I hadn’t realized how stale the air was in that shack and how the metallic smell of blood had stained my nostrils. I gulp down the cool air before I press my lips together as I hold in a laugh. My shoulders start shaking and Ghost’s pace falters before I shake my head. “It’s fine, I’m fine. It’s just the shock and exhaustion.” Laughter taints every word and I swear Ghost’s eyebrows furrow with concern before we keep moving.

“You get scarier all the time, G.” Soap comments ahead and I can’t hold back a low laugh even as I shake my head at myself.

“I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m sorry.” I breathe as the giggles make every word waver.

Ghost’s grip tightens as we carefully scale down the side of the rocky hill. “Not sure what you’re apologizin’ for. You fuckin’ got taken watching my ass and I’d rather have you laughin’ than anything else.”

My head shakes, the laughter fading as I struggle to keep my feet moving while my body starts to shut down. “I’m sorry for thinking you wouldn’t come for me.” Ghost comes to a full stop now as I look between the men and Soap has shock scrawled over his face.

“Course we did, lass. The hell you talkin’ bout?” Soap’s accent gets a little thicker, betraying how deep my words hit.

Ghost starts to move again and I stumble after him even though he’s practically carrying me on his hip. “Keep movin’.” He grumbles and regret lingers in my chest as we fall silent the rest of the way. At the bottom of the rocky path sits a car and my heart beats a little faster at seeing the two figures waiting there for us. Ghost picks me up and carries me the rest of the way before immediately handing me to Price once we’re close enough. He holds me close and tight for far too brief a moment before sitting me on the hood of the car. The moonlight is just bright enough to make out each other’s features and I can’t get enough of his eyes, even with the worry filling them.

“You broken?” He asks quietly and I can hear how the words drag and crackle on the way out of his chest. His hand perches on the side of my neck, his thumb brushing lightly over my pulse point to feel my heart beating.

I give him a weak smile. “Just a bit chipped. Nothing permanent.” I promise and it’s a gift to see a little tension leave his shoulders. “But I’ve lost a lot of blood. I need to be kept conscious as we head back.”

“Still the medic, hm?” He teases dryly but the attempt at humor soothes me more than anything else. “Gaz, let’s go. Fast and steady.” Price pushes the keys into Gaz’s hands as he passes by with a wink, pushing something small that crinkles in my hand. A real smile tugs on my lips. A candy. We pile in the car and it’s a surprise to find myself pressed tight between Ghost and Price with Gaz driving and Soap in the passenger seat. It’s as if everyone traded seats.

“Did…did either of you grab my med kit?” I ask as my head gets a bit dizzy and I pop the hard candy Gaz gave me into my mouth. Soap turns in his seat with a half-grin, holding up my kit. My hands reach for it, but Ghost intercepts and pulls it into his lap.

“What d’ya need?” He asks as he opens it and looks over the contents.

I shift the candy into my cheek. “Bandages. My ankle’s fucked. Need to wrap it at least.” Ghost glances at Price and they instantly come to a nonverbal agreement as John shifts me closer to him while Simon gingerly lifts my foot into his lap. I frown. “I can do it—”

“Let him. That’s an order.” John’s voice in my ear and the command in it has my body stiffening for a moment, then laxing a moment after. My back is pressed against John’s chest with his arm thrown across my middle, his hand heavy on my hip to use it as a steadying point rather than put any pressure on my ribs. He must’ve noticed how Ghost was holding me earlier. Doesn’t miss a thing, my Captain.

Ghost eases my boot off and my hands clench at the pain, but he’s careful and the steady ache of the rest of my body makes it easy enough to sit through. Once my sock is off too, he takes out a small flashlight and I grimace as the light illuminates just how bad my ankle looks. It’s red and swollen from all the activity I forced it through after the sprain. Ghost starts wrapping and I nod when he looks at me to make sure he’s doing it correctly.

When he’s finished and I’m satisfied, I move to pull my foot away, but he keeps a firm hold on it. He gives me a deadpan look. “Keep it elevated.”

I give him a look back that I’m sure is a bit lackluster given my current condition. “It’s supposed to be elevated above my heart, but that’s not happening in the car.”

“Better this than nothing.” Ghost responds without a second of hesitation and his eyes don’t budge from mine. My mouth opens again, then shuts when Price gives my hip a soft squeeze. My lips purse, but I don’t say another word as I relax into John and try to keep my eyes open. I rest my hand on John’s knee and my thumb slides back and forth as I breathe in his scent.

“Give me a list of injuries.” He says and I nod, fighting through the fog of my mind to think clearly.

“Uh, sprained ankle, head wound, possible concussion, multiple lacerations, bruised ribs on my right side, a bullet graze to my left shoulder, and some bumps and bruises.” I go over the list twice in my head before nodding slightly in confirmation. The car is silent for a few beats and I feel a weight settle over all of us. The weight that comes with caring for someone else and hurting when they’re hurt. I swallow, struggling to accept the feeling rather than struggle against it and feel guilty for inflicting it on others. In truth, it’s a choice they all made. I choice I made too, when I let them in.

“Don’t think I ever asked how you are when you’re the one who needs to be treated.” John barely breaks the silence, but the tension lessens when I hum a tired laugh.

“Oh, I’m sweet as sugar, Captain. Naturally.” That gets chuckles from most of the men in the car.

“Liar.” Soap accuses, grinning back at me and I give him a smile in return. Also, I show him my middle finger. He returns the gesture instantly and happiness flits through me at the simple banter.

“You’re not gonna be difficult for me, are you, sugar?” John whispers just low enough for me to hear and I smile, wincing as it stretches a cut on my cheek.

“I like to think I behave better than most of you do when you need care.” I give Ghost a pointed look since he’s the worst of the bunch and he grunts, shaking his head while Soap and Gaz make noises of dissent.

Price shifts and my grip tightens on his knee until he settles again. “I remember being pretty docile last time.”

“After some convincing.” I return, my eyes shutting for just a moment before I feel light flicking at my nose. My eyes open and see Ghost pulling his hand back, head shaking with eyes on mine. I nod once. Got to stay awake. It goes on like this for the rest of the drive. One or all of them keeping up a conversation with me while Ghost taps my nose, pulls my ear, or annoys me in some other way when I start to drift. When we arrive at base, I can barely give one-word answers because I’m so exhausted.

The men rush me into the medical tent and I hate being set on the bed, hate being the one who needs treatment, hate the starchy feel of the sheets, and hate being poked and prodded. There’s a deep frown on my face as I allow the medics to do their job and they give Price the same list of injuries that I gave him earlier. Only after they hear that, and that I’m going to be fine with rest and treatment, Price dismisses the others and they reluctantly go. Although Gaz slips me another hard candy before he goes and gets a smile out of me.

Price stays. Even after the medics pull me aside and push me into a sterile bath to clean all my cuts after I practically showered in that man’s blood, I return smelling like chemicals and find Price waiting. I give him a look and the corner of his mouth lifts, but I can’t bring myself to verbally scold him. His presence settles me as it always has and that’s something I’m especially grateful for while I’m here.

There are a few places where I need stitches and I sit through it silently, Price and I just looking each other over. Seeing that we’re both alive and safe. The medics wrap my ankle again and lay me down in bed with it elevated while I try to keep my grumbling to a minimum. I’m exhausted, but this place, this position, keeps me on edge. But it’s getting harder to resist.

“Just sleep.” John says with a hint of humor in his voice as he sits in the chair next to me.

I heave a breath, nodding. “I’m not fighting it. Just hard to do in a place like this.” He moves a touch closer and breathing comes a little easier as his fingers slot with mine, the tips of his fingers sliding over the length of mine. He understands more than most why I’m having trouble.

“You’re not going to be alone here. Not for a second.” He promises with nothing but sincerity in those lovely blue eyes. My lips press together.

“I can’t ask you for that.”

“You’re not. I’m giving it to you.�� He returns instantly and I can’t help but melt. Can’t argue with that. “Sleep.” His other hand raises to slide over my head, his fingers twisting a few locks of hair between them. My eyes flutter closed at the feeling and I don’t mean to fall asleep, but his gentle touch lulls me into peace in seconds.

*     *     *

I wake up feeling a slight weight settling on top of me and I’m on alert in a split second, my eyes flashing open and my hands darting out to grab what I can. The person freezes and I end up staring into dark eyes with their wrist in one hand and the collar of their shirt in the other. “Just me, G.” The voice takes a few moments to sink in, but I relax a second later with a grimace as the sudden movement tweaked my ribs.

“Ghost.” I breathe and slowly release him while he lets go of my wrist that he grabbed to keep me from choking him. “Gotta stop meeting like this.” I tease and he hums as he sits in the chair next to me, moving it as close to the bed as he can. I settle back down and note that the slight weight was another one of his jackets laid over my chest. A little smile pulls on my lips at the sight.

“Think I’d have learned by now. Especially since you still have my other jacket.” He flicks his chin towards the one covering me and I smirk while my heartbeat slowly calms. He’s only wearing the cloth that covers his face tonight and there’s no black smudged around his eyes. It’s as close to being Simon as he allows himself to be on base.

“I always meant to return it.” I say honestly, thinking fondly of his jacket hanging in my closet back home. “Think I like it too much now. I’ll get you another one.” That earns me a rare chuckle as he leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees.

“Sounds good.” He agrees and there’s that little glint in his eye that tells me he has something to say. He’s either waiting until he’s ready to say it, or he’s still mulling over the words in his mouth. “Took me a solid ten minutes to get Price out of here.” I smile, imagining the soft argument followed by Ghost shoving Price out of the infirmary.

“Thanks for relieving him.”

He shakes his head. “Not a problem.”

“And you wanted to talk to me.” I help him along a bit with amusement in my voice as his fingers knit together and his gaze steadies on mine.

“I did.” He confirms and now I wait, letting him decide when he’s ready to talk. My hands slide over the jacket he laid over me, grateful for the lack of chemical smell emanating from it. It just smells like him. Like bitter tea leaves and a small citrus tang that usually taints his clothes. Probably his detergent. “I don’t forgive you.” He starts and my attention immediately shifts to him and his dark eyes trained on mine. “I don’t accept your apology for thinking we wouldn’t come for you because that’s bullshit and I won’t forgive you until you never fucking believe that again.”

My eyes widen when I hear the heat in his tone. It’s not that odd to hear Ghost get riled up, especially around Soap, but I’ve never had him take that tone with me. Not seriously. “I know it was stupid.”

“Damn right.” He grumbles and I give him a pointed look for rubbing it in. “Say it. Tell me you know we’ll always come for you.” His gaze is unyielding and I know he means it.

“I know the team will always come for me.” Even to my ears, the words sound hesitant. Ghost’s eyes narrow.

“You say that every day ’til it feels as natural as your fucking name. And I’ll ask you to say it every once and a while. ‘Til it’s a reflex.” I sigh, but his tone is insistent. After a moment, I relent with a nod and he pins me in place with his eyes before nodding back and relaxing again in his chair. “You don’t get to save my ass, then think we’re not coming after you. Never believe that, G.”

“I get it, Ghost. I’ll do it.” Because it’s important to him and because he’s clearly trying to do something good for me, even if it’s something I hesitate to do. “And when I can stand without falling over, I’ll give you a hug for being such a pain in my ass.” The mask twitches and his eyes crinkle so I know he’s smiling.

“We’ll see if you can catch me to do it.” He returns and I smirk, knowing he’ll let me. “Now, go on and pass out. Price’ll have my hide if I keep you up.”

“Mmhmm.” I smile and let my exhaustion catch up with me, falling asleep a little easier with his scent in my nose rather than the chemicals that cleaned my body.

The next time I wake, Soap has taken Ghost’s place and morning light is seeping into the tent. “Morning, lass.” He greets and I give him a bleary grunt in return. “Cheery in the morning.” He quips and I’m about to tell him what he can do with his cheer before he points to a tray beside me. “That’s for you, if you’re up for it. Will ye let me help you up without bitin’ me?” Soap gets up and I nod, grabbing onto his arms as they slide under mine to pull me up into a sitting position.

A long breath leaves me as pain echoes through my body with every movement, but Johnny is gentle and makes sure to stack pillows behind me before moving back. He pushes a glass of water into my hand along with some pills. “Nurses said to give those to ya.”

I raise a brow and take the pills despite how my face hurts. I bet I really look like shit. “They trusted you with a task? I’m shocked.”

He smirks. “At least your spirits are still high.” Soap reaches over and pulls the tray closer to hover over my lap. “Eat up. Took everything in me not to steal your applesauce.” I hum amusedly, picking up the small container first and happily digging into the sweet treat. Soap flicks my ear. “Cruel lass. Careful, I might rethink my offer.”

I pause and raise a brow. “Offer?”

Mischief glints in his eyes and I take a deep breath to prepare myself. “You’re coming to Scotland with me.” He says with a smug grin. “The group we took out last night were the last few we were after, so we’re on leave starting the day after tomorrow. Since you’ve got no one waitin’ for ya at home, I’m takin’ ya with me to see my family. So I can keep an eye on ya.” He winks at me while I blink a few times to make sure I heard him right.

“That’s…that’s not necessary, Soap. I can take care of myself.” I frown as I think of myself laying on his couch surrounded by his family, just taking up space. “I couldn’t possibly impose on you and your family.” Besides, it’s been a long time since I’ve met someone’s family. Parents…I haven’t been around parents in at least a fucking decade.

“Too bad.” Soap answers instantly, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. “I’ve already told my Ma and she’s excited to meet ya. If you resist, I’ll carry you there slung over my shoulder.” I pout, setting my food down on the tray as I try to think of a way out of this. “Come on, lass, it’ll be fun. You only have to stay off your foot for a little while and I’ll be there to entertain you in the meantime.”

My teeth sink into my bottom lip as I look at him and if anyone can pull off a puppy dog look, it’s Johnny. After a few moments I sigh, pressing my fingers to my temple. “You’re sure your family doesn’t mind—”

“They’re fucking thrilled, G. Come on, just say you’ll come without a fight.” He leans forward and nudges my leg gently.

A smile tugs on my lips and I’ll admit the thought of seeing Johnny at home is a tempting one. “Yeah, okay, I’ll come.” His face brightens immediately and his big grin makes accepting worth it.

“You won’t regret it. One minute in Scotland and you’ll never want to leave.” He assures me and I nod along, listening with a fond smile as he tells me about his sisters, his mother’s cooking, and his father’s terrible jokes. To my own surprise, I find myself actually…looking forward to it.

Taglist (hello, lovelies, hope you enjoy. Lmk if anyone wants to be tagged):

@under-the-dirt @jj-ara33 @sorchateas @cherry-blosom-tree

@thriving-n-jiving @jinxxangel13 @emsstuff1 @missmidnight-writes @thereeallink @younggirlgenius @1wh4re1nova @ghostslillady

[stargazing-sapphire2]

For What I Have Become

Based on @raresvtm's angst prompts - "I don't know how to open up. I've built too many walls around myself".

Dedicated to my darling mutual @thatonesillyducko. Here's hoping you enjoy!

Jemíma Ámbar del Mar Hernández - @thatonesillyducko

Henry and Beth Ashford - Me

Keegan, the Ghosts - Activision

Title taken from "Take Me Back To Eden" by Sleep Token

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

It all happened in the blink of an eye.

He barely processed as mortar fire struck the building he had been safely perched in, hidden from the enemy's eye. Or so he thought.

His feet were no longer touching ground, and he was soon falling amongst the collapsing debris, only being able to muster a pained cry as he fell, shrapnel slicing through his gear and into his flesh, as well as the heat from the blast began to singe at him.

Keegan landed hard, a sharp gasp ripping itself from his chest, before several pounds of debris began falling onto him. He barely managed to roll out of the way, as larger chunks would have no doubt crushed him to death. But he was still struck, and his knees buckled as he went forward, faceplanting into the dusty earth with a pained grunt.

Something hard collided to the back of his head, and his vision blacked out.

So this is how I die, he thought bitterly. He did not know whether to laugh or yell.

It was becoming increasingly difficult to breathe, with a heavy weight pressing down on his back.

After everything I've been through, dying by suffocation. Just my fucking luck.

He opened his eyes, squinting as he attempted to adjust his vision in the darkness. A harsh cough escaped him, wincing as dust was flung into his face and he instinctively closed his eyes again.

There was a faint crackling noise in his ear, although static was the only thing audible.

"-Keegan-!"

Was that Henry?

"-Can....hear me...!"

A wheeze escaped his throat.

"Hope you like...digging me out, old man," he managed to grunt out, heaving a heavy groan as he felt debris continue to exert pressure against his back.

I can't breathe.

He was going to die.

Not here...not like this...

There was silence around him, before his ears perked when he thought he heard something.

Comin' for me, Death? Well, here I am.

A harsh light broke through the cracks, as the debris was slowly being removed. He opened his eyes, squinting harshly as he attempted to adjust his vision.

"He's here!"

He did not recognize the voice, in his haze. Black spots began dotting his vision, and a weak breath escaped him.

The last thing he saw were the silhouettes of people, before he gave way to unconsciousness.

~*~

Fear was an emotion Jemíma rarely experienced.

It was only when they had pulled Keegan out of there, and seeing him in that state, heartbeat faint and unconscious...she had been shaken to her core.

Sure, there were times the man often got under her skin, but in the end, he was a fellow Ghost and her comrade, someone she had come to consider a friend. That would apply to the rest of the team, had they been in a similar situation.

It had been 36 hours since then, and while they were told Keegan would pull through (Tough bastard, that he was), she could not shake the feeling of worry.

"Keep pacing like that, and you'll dig yourself a ditch."

Jemíma came to an abrupt halt. She had not been realizing that she had been pacing outside the infirmary, and she turned to the owner of the voice, none other than Beth.

The younger woman stood a few feet from her, watching her silently. Although the eldest Ashford twin's expression was stoic, she could see the hint of concern and sympathy in her eyes.

This irked Jemíma somewhat.

I don't need anyone feeling sorry for me; I'm not the one whose hurt.

Her stomach dropped at the thought, and she glanced over her shoulder back at the infirmary.

Please, please be all right...

"You should go see him," Beth piped up, as if she read her thoughts.

Jemíma paused, narrowing her eyes as she looked back at her.

"...What?" She questioned

"I said," Beth reiterated. "Go in there and see him. You're getting yourself worked up, so maybe seeing him should calm you down."

Jemíma scowled at her.

You little shit, she thought.

"...You keep this between us, understand?" She huffed out, glaring at Beth.

The younger woman snickered, and Jemíma resisted the urge to leap over and strangle her.

Sometimes she wondered how she managed to put up with her.

"My lips are sealed, but it's not me who'll be gossiping," Beth responded, shrugging as she stuffed her hands in her pockets.

Jemíma huffed, rolling her eyes.

For a moment, she hesitated, before she turned on her heel and entered the infirmary, pushing aside the tent flaps.

Her eyes laid on where Keegan laid, and her heart sank.

He had been stripped of his gear, so they could dress and wrap the injuries he sustained; an IV was hooked into his bicep, steadily pumping fluids into his body.

But above all else, his face looked peaceful, less tense and hardened as he slept.

Jemíma chewed her lip, slowly making her way towards the cot. She stood there at his side, contemplating on what she should do.

Should she wait there, until one of the medics kicked her out? Or wait until Keegan woke up, so she knew she was at least still kicking.

"Didn't...expect to see you here.."

Her eyes snapped over when she heard him speak, his voice raspy from a lack of use. His eyes opened, piercing blue meeting her dark eyes.

Jemíma's heart skipped a beat.

"Someone had to keep you company," she quipped back, holding one hand against her hip as she leaned against the frame of the cot.

He raised a brow.

"Oh, yeah?"

She felt her face heat up, and she glanced away, rubbing the back of her neck.

"...Yeah," she said softly.

There was a heavy silence in the air, and for a moment, Jemíma was beginning to regret coming in here.

While they seemed to both vehemently deny having anything in common, there was no doubt that the struggle to open up to one another was there in that very moment.

It was much easier to hide behind the mask, than it was to let others see your true self in its raw, vulnerable form.

For once, Jemíma felt lost, clueless on what to do.

She took a deep breath.

"I, uh...should probably leave," she spoke up, straightening her posture as she turned to exit.

"Jemíma, wait."

She froze as she heard Keegan speak. She did not look at him, only she stood still, waiting for him to say what he wanted.

There was an uncomfortable silence around them, as Keegan contemplated on what to say. He closed his eyes, breathing heavily through his nostrils.

"Stay...please."

Jemíma immediately glanced back at him, surprise set on her face as he said this.

He wants me to stay? I never thought...

No, she will not screw this up.

She turned around fully, awkwardly pushing a few strands of hair out of her face. A soft smile formed on her face, warmth engulfing her chest.

"Of course," she whispered.

[titichan]

The Taste of Betrayal

Chapter-7

Tags: Vampire!Au, Vampire-Hunter dynamics, Bottom!Yuuji, Top!Gojo, Top!Sukuna, Threesome, M/M/M, Sex toys, Bondage, Slight bdsm, Rough sex, A little bit of gore, porn with Plot, Slight mentions of Meimei and Nanami, Author is Sukuna's bitch ;], Blackmailing, Sex tapes, Filming, Sukuna and Gojo are half-brothers(?), Other tags will be added as I commence

Note: Alright, so I'll be keeping da ff upto this much for now- cuz I suddenly happened see yet another ff draft lying around and da wish to complete it is burning h e a v i l y. The fic is Higan x Zai from Ninja Kamui 🤭👍

Sukuna wiped away a bead of tear from Yuuji’s cheek, admiring his work; the body being adorned with crimson bite marks and handprints. Yuuji was on the verge of losing his mind- neither could he think straight, nor could he deny that he hated it. 

It was way too good for him. 

The vampire ploughed down the hunter with a painfully slow pace- as if, he was trying to carve his dick inside his walls; his heavy balls slapping against the juicy swell of Yuuji’s ass. The pink-haired had, unknowingly, let out a small whine. 

Smirking, his usually deep voice dropped into an airy octave. “What’s wrong, babe? If you don’t speak up, I won’t know what you’re craving for~” The hunter frowned against his hold- realizing that his body was betraying his mind each and every moment. “You- stop this!” 

Before Yuuji could even adjust to the pace, a powerful thrust greeted him, with his other thigh being hauled up on his shoulder. He was literally being drilled into a mating press. This enabled the vampire to reach deeper into him, brushing exactly on his sweet spots. The sudden contact left Yuuji’s jaw drop for only a soundless moan to come out. 

The hunter felt his limbs going numb, his mind running blank. The mixed sensations of pain and pleasure were too much for him- the hunter’s consciousness faded away for the second time that night. 

Sukuna felt the body below him lose strength. He looked down, “Oh my~ Couldn’t handle this much? How unfortunate” But, there was no stopping him, as he chased his own orgasm. 

- 

The dawn broke and sunrays filled the room. The situation of the room was quite…in tatters. Clothes were strewn here and there, totally forgotten. 

Yuuji’s eyelids fluttered as the sunrays hit him. He could feel a certain heavy weight on him. He tried to sit straight but a tattooed arm held him in his place, not letting him to move even a bit. Groaning against the formidable arm, somehow, he was able to move it a bit out of his line of sight. And there he was, the vampire sleeping soundly; which quite pissed off the hunter. How could that bastard sleep so peacefully as if nothing happened? Yuuji felt his hands itch to slap that fucking oh-so-innocent face out of his sight. But alas, he felt so weak that he could’ve fallen if not for the support of the headrest of the bed. Just as he had planned to slip quietly away from him, the tattooed man woke up; with a sly grin pasted on his face. 

“Why you’re running away, hon’?” His voice, sultry and deep as ever, made Yuuji flinch. Turning his head to face that vampire, he grunted “I have businesses to attend to. And yes, don’t worry- I'll have to see your goddamn ugly (ok, not exactly- but handsome.) face again maybe, because you’re in my top kill-list alright.” 

The tattooed man’s grin got wider as grabbed his wrist. “Ok~ but your little businesses can wait, ‘cause you aren't going anywhere, babe~” Yuuji’s eyes widened at the sudden grip. “Wha-” Before he could realise what’s going on, he was pulled into a tight embrace from behind. 

“Who gave you the permission to leave anyways? And just like that?” Sukuna’s voice had taken a dangerously low drop. His arms encircled the hunter’s small waist into a death grip, almost knocking him out of air. Sharply sucking in breath and attempting to claw on the arms, he spat out “The fuck do you want from me?” 

“Nothing. Just you. Only you.” 

“Wait...what...?” 

Still having the sly smirk on his face, he took out his phone and happened to play a video. 

He froze. 

Yuuji couldn’t believe his ears about what he was hearing. 

His own voice. His own pathetic, strangled and needy moans. 

“Haa...ah- harder...please...hnngh...so good~” 

The hunter really wished if could just die there out of embarrassment. In a swift motion, he grabbed the phone from his hand and punched wildly on the ‘delete’ button. Once it got delete, he breathed a sigh of relief and attempted to face the vampire with a smug face. As he turned, he felt that the grip had lessened a bit. “Now we’ll see about that- what?!” 

The vampire chuckled, now sitting upright, with ton load of several gadgets (Yuuji has no clue how and from where the gadgets appeared and neither do I) with the same video on it. 

Tapping on a tablet, he looked directly at the pink haired. “I wonder... how your reputation as the great hunter will be affected if I casually drop this beautiful video in the social media? Hmm?” 

The thought of it made Yuuji’s blood run cold. “Wh-why would you do that?” He stammered, clearly panic-strickened. “And why not? ‘The famous hunter having an affair with a vampire’ Seems interesting, to be honest.” Enraged, Yuuji flipped off at him. “Fuck off. You goddamn bastard.” Sukuna yet again, shot him a broad grin. “Aww babe, you look so adorable when you’re vulgar~” 

“Now then!” As he spoke, the vampire lifted his 6’6 body off the bed (holy faq. He sho tall. Ugh.) . He strode towards the glaring hunter, his massive frame looming over him. “I want you to enter into a small contract- if, you care about your petty little reputation.” 

“And what would that be?” 

“It’s simple- be my fuck buddy and in exchange, I’ll keep it a secret.” 

“WHAT?!” He almost screeched when heard the conditions. “No fucking way will I accept that damn contract!” 

“Oh okay, then I’ll send those videos-” 

“Oh well, wait wait- I’ll agree. Fine, now tell me what to do.” Yuuji couldn’t risk his job. Even a bit. 

Realising that the entire situation was in his hand, he sneered. “Come today at 9 p.m. and don’t be late~” 

Yuuji was fully aware that he was lured into his trap but what could he do? 

The deed was already done after all… 

… 

“Oh brother, you wouldn’t believe what I’ve caught today- a rare pink rabbit~” 

TBC… 

M a s t e r l i s t.

[moomitheartist]

-The World is Glitching-

A spurt of gore coated the front of Brendan’s jacket as he smashed his metal bat into the skull of the rabid, neurotic man, who then collapsed to the dusty ground in a messy pool of his own fluids and clumps of brain matter. Cadell stabbed a rusty metal pipe into his assailant’s jaw with a grunt and wrenched it around until a wide, steady stream of dark red began soaking the woman’s shirt at a speedy pace, then pulled his weapon out and kicked the gurgling and twitching body away with the toe of his boot. The few remaining cannibalistic, deranged people stumbled closer as they drooled and growled with the desperation of a family of starving dogs.

Their sense of reason and logic was absolutely enveloped by the primitive desire to feed and fend off their inevitable starvation for even a little while longer; they were as good as animals at that point thanks to their prominent lack of food, and so they couldn’t care less about the obvious death that they would face at the hands of Brendan and Cadell- that, or each of them equally believed that they would be the only survivor, blessed with a filling and tender meal.

However, they were all utterly mistaken. Each individual was killed off by the two teenage boys until only one remained- a tiny, petite girl who foamed and frothed at the mouth with gruesome infections of many kinds covering her weak body. Her previously blond hair was matted with mud and infested with strange parasites beyond recognition, and her watery, foggy eyes were swollen and red thanks to the many miniscule pesticides that burrowed into her pupils and decaying brain.

You may have even felt bad for the young girl, if she weren’t trying to tear you apart and feast on your body. She stumbled closer to the pair while softly growling meaningless and slurred curses that simply evaporated into the stifling air that lazily swirled around them. As soon as she was only a few feet away, Brendan swung his bat at her head, causing her to collapse in an instant with a final rattling gasp; from the deep, messy, fleshy cavity in the body’s head, a slimy flood of brains and insects became a filthy and squirming puddle.

With heavy breaths, Brendan grasped Cadell’s arm and dragged him away from the bloody scene of their fight wordlessly. The faint sound of stumbling footsteps and howls of desperation echoed around the tight, dark, damp alleyways of Harson City- the disturbing mixture of deranged giggles and agonized sobs bounced from every shadowy corner of the concrete maze. Brendan pulled Cadell closer to his side as he looked behind them every minute in tense anticipation, as though a threat would appear out of thin air and try to kill them once again. Well, sometimes that did actually happen.

“Come on, dude, let me go,” sighed Cadell in exasperation as he tugged back his arm in futility. “I can’t feel my fingers anymore!” The taller boy remained utterly silent, as usual. His grip didn’t waver in the slightest at Cadell’s persistent yanking. After a couple minutes of his companion’s unrestrained complaints, he finally let out a brief and straightforward response- another habit of his.

“Stop resisting. Stay close to me, unless you’d like to become a three-course meal for those freaks.”

“Okay, I’ll stay right next to you! I won’t even think of wandering off, sounds good? Damn, I think you squished my hand…” Brendan spared Cadell a fleeting sideways glance as if to warn him; the usual lack of an expression was much more frightening than any threatening glare to the slightly shorter boy, and so he quickly reminded himself to never too travel far from his best friend’s side, lest he wanted to end up like the mutilated corpses that were left in the street behind them.

The stoic boy released his partner’s arm as he turned his gaze forward once again. “Remain right next to me, understood?” “Yes. Geez, I already agreed.” The alleyway seemed to go on forever, but in reality it must have been only a few minutes. After an awkward and tiring walk of absolute silence, the teenagers came across an open area- the dilapidated and gloomy shopping district of Eve Street.

“Stay quiet,” whispered Brendan to his partner as they glanced around for any signs of recent disturbance. Not a sound could be heard from within the many grayed, ruined buildings; even though this was indeed a good sign, it was impossible to know for sure whether there was a threat actively wandering around or not. The city was full of gruesome surprises, and the longer someone has lived there, the better they knew that.

Taking a deep, bracing breath, Cadell allowed his sparkling emerald eyes to slowly travel upwards, gradually gaining view of the horror that was the sky; the first element that immediately captured his attention was the throbbing, pulsing, tyrannical heart that was their warped and corrupted sun. Its methodical beats seemed to shake the world off of its constant orbit and into the endless bounds of space.

The furious, dark, oppressive clouds let out a reverberating gurgle and released spurts of nauseating, stinking pus onto the gore-soaked ground- a sure sign of the rainfall that would soon plague their crimson sky. The strong yet dull odor of electricity gas assaulted the pair’s sense of smell and caused them both to clear their suddenly irritated throats. “Close your eyes, Cadell,” Brendan snapped as he pulled the bronze-haired boy farther away from the open area of the still district.

He quickly did as he was told, knowing exactly what would happen within the span of several seconds. Just as he placed his hands over his eyes and turned his head away from the sky, bright and vivid flares of neon colors glitched across the disorienting atmosphere, causing the undertones of the overpowering fumes to grow even stronger than before. After a few moments of the blinding flashes, they suddenly seized their intrusive attack and allowed the two to open their eyes once again.

“It’s gonna rain soon. We should probably wait it out here, where we know there’s enough cover. I don’t think those things are coming after us anymore,” said Cadell, turning to look at Brendan. He studied the boy’s angular and pale features, obsidian hair, silver eyes, and the scar that trailed from the right of his jaw down to his collarbone. If the reserved, serious seventeen-year-old could be described in one word by Cadell, he would use “moonlight”. Everything about his appearance and personality was just so similar to a silvery ray of illumination seeping through the shadowy branches of trees in a thick forest- something about him was just so mystical and strange, just like the glowing orb.

Brendan nodded in agreement and motioned for his companion to take a seat on the cool, solid floor of the concrete alleyway as he himself sat down. Cadell followed his invitation and crouched near the noirette quietly, waiting for the storm’s inevitable arrival; soon, after a couple of minutes, it finally began. Rainfalls of blood and fresh, raw meat crashed down to the soaking ground from the blackening clouds, the wet slaps of chunks of maggot-infested innards and flesh falling like warm, slimy hail. The sickening splats joined the ever-present electrical hum overhead in the scarlet empyrean that cried revolting fluids.

“Look away,” mumbled Brendan, who himself was persistently staring at the horrible sight with a transfixed, fogged expression. Once again, Cadell followed the boy’s instructions and tore his eyes away from the scene immediately. The irony tang of gore and the rotten stench of ground, severed chunks of parasitic flesh made the silver-eyed teen’s stomach twist unpleasantly as he continued gazing at the perverse rainfall; in his mind, there was an strange emptiness taking over all of his coherent thoughts, and at the same time an indiscernible racing and blurring of his psyche.

He felt like he was falling into an endless abyss of chaos and confusion with every chunk of squirming meat that hit the floor in squelches; the world disappeared around Brendan as his mind fell further and further and further- A firm, grounding palm was placed onto his shoulder, shaking him awake from his dissociative episode. He gasped slightly and turned his head, his wide eyes landing onto the soft and concerned gaze of Cadell, who then scooted slightly closer to Brendan. “Hey, you okay?” With a harsh sigh to steady his racing heart, the noirette ran a hand through his dark, shiny bangs.

“I’m fine.” He briefly placed his own hand on top of Cadell’s, then pulled it off wordlessly. “The storm will be over soon. Let’s move on afterwards, as quickly as possible. I don’t like it here, I feel like something’s wrong,” said Brendan monotonously. The copper-haired boy nodded, allowed his hand to drop down to his side, and leaned against the damp wall behind himself. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to rip his gaze away from his best friend’s infatuating visage. …

Brendan Raynott tossed and turned in his disturbed sleep restlessly, his usually deadpan expression now replaced by a pained grimace. He dreamt of his horrid past for the hundredth time that month, which always caused him such unease at night, preventing him from getting any actual rest at all. No longer could he sense Cadell’s comforting presence among the cruel nightmares that plagued his mind. After such a lengthy day at middle school, Brendan eagerly awaited the comforts of his house and family.

Throughout the entirety of his walk home, he craved the delicious muffins that his mother promised him before he left his home that foggy, rainy morning. The twelve-year-old began jogging as he neared the final block to his beckoning house. Within a few short minutes, Brendan at last reached his destination breathlessly, slightly regretting his choice to race; he reached out and twisted open the entrance’s brass doorknob, slipping into the dark residence and shutting the heavy door behind him.

What greeted him was a shocking, filthy mess. The fallen coat hanger was splintered into thousands of spiky shards, which were all speckled with droplets of dried blood; plates were smashed across the marble floor, plants were ripped out of their pots and scattered along the dirt that used to surround them. There were deep punches in the walls, the dark holes looking like infinite tunnels to the other side of the planet. The young boy gasped as he studied the absolute disarray that was previously his home, and he wondered in fear where his mom, dad, brother, and sister were.

With a dry swallow, Brendan cautiously made his way through the lower floor and to the staircase that led to the upper level of his home. He winced at nearly every creak that sounded from the mahogany steps and bounced around the empty building. The uncertain Brendan began hearing quite a ruckus as he grew closer to the second floor; it seemed to be coming from the master bedroom, near the second living room. He crept closer to the chambers and pressed an ear against the cold wood of the closed door in order to hear what the commotion was about- he could make out muffled shouts and crashing objects, and immediately worried for the safety of his family members.

Subsequently, he let out a long breath and braced himself as he pushed open the entrance and ran into the chaotic environment. What greeted him was something that Brendan would never be able to forget for the rest of his brutal, miserable life. Mrs. Raynott bit a tender, squishy chunk out of her husband’s neck and chewed on the stringy meat until she could swallow it down, then reached out to rip out another strip of his flesh before he gurgled, grabbed her arm, and clamped down onto her cheek- viscous blood spurted out from the gaping wound on the woman’s swollen face. Mr. Raynott collapsed as gore filled his lungs, causing raspy breaths to accompany his demented growls; with a final wet gasp, his battered body began convulsing as his inhales ceased entirely.

Brendan’s mother let out an ear-shattering shriek and started clawing madly at her own neck, her fingernails digging deeper and deeper into the tender tissue until she reached raw muscle, choking and spitting dark red and snorting like an ill pig, until she too fell dead in a pathetic heap. Little Ethan repeatedly bashed his young sister’s head into the floor, making Lilia inhale and gag on her own juices as she tried in vain to lift her head from the growing pool of fresh crimson and chunks of grayish-pink brain. He giggled and screamed while ripping out globs of sticky hair from her ravished scalp and shoving them down her contracting throat.

Lilia’s hoarse heaves and snarls were eerily similar to that of a rabid creature being violated and tortured mercilessly. After a few more moments of utter savagery, the tiny girl stopped struggling entirely, allowing Ethan to begin feasting on her deceased body in euphoric glee. Bits and pieces of flesh and gore flew across the room while he messily devoured his own little sister. Brendan watched the entire scene in a catatonic state of horror; his mother, father, and little sister were all dead, and his younger brother was completely lost in insanity.

Bile burned his throat as he doubled over and vomited up the contents of his stomach, the foul liquid splashing onto the ground before him like some sort of moldy, rotten stew. He coughed up the remaining fluid, then stumbled and ran down the staircase, through the lower level, and all the way through the front door. Slamming it shut, Brendan rested his forehead against the cold material while tears streamed down his blanched cheeks- when he finally caught his breath, he slowly turned around to fully face his street.

The sight that greeted him was no kinder than what he had witnessed within his home. Hundreds of children were gnawing at the twitching corpses of the disassembled corpses of their parents, men and women were bashing in their own heads with balled fists, and animals looked twisted and sick as they ran crazed around the neighborhood.

And the sky- oh, God, the sky- the sun was… an organ. A beating, raw heart that was suspended high in the dark red, gloomy atmosphere. The previously white and fluffy clouds were dark gray and looked furious, and they appeared to be full of strange fluids. Brendan’s knees grew weak, and he slid down to the dry, dusty, dark ground in shock. With a loud squelch from above, the clouds opened and it began to rain. …

With a start, Brendan opened his eyes to see Cadell leaning over him while roughly shaking his shoulders, a panicked expression on his striking countenance. He sat up and looked questioningly at the other boy, who, he noticed, kept glancing behind them and into the black alleyway instead. “What is it?”

“We have to leave now. I think I hear those people coming back- the storm stopped, so let’s go,” responded Cadell. The noirette immediately stood and backed out of the alleyway’s exit with his companion as he began hearing the distant snarls, too. In the open area of the shopping district, they both felt vulnerable and exposed; the pair tried their best to rush through while still remaining as silent as possible, and soon the disturbing sounds grew further away.

They continued to look around keenly as they eventually made their way past the many crumbling buildings and closer to the nearby forest. Brendan and Cadell stopped walking as they arrived at the edge of the wilderness and began discussing their next move. “We’ve gotten ahead of them, but I know that they’ll keep trailing us. We should go into the forest to confuse them, I think. The trees will screw with their sense of direction.” In response to the bronze-haired teen, Brendan furrowed his brows.

“There are dangerous things in the woods. We’re going to have to be very quiet and careful make our way through there, so make sure to-”

“Stay right next to you,” teased Cadell with a laugh. “Yes, dad.”

His best friend fixed him with that deadpan expression, causing him to immediately snap his mouth shut and obediently trail after him as Brendan began his path through the gloomy forest. In the shadowy area, there was almost complete silence, save for the occasional chirps of stray crickets hiding in shrubs and naked trees. Just as the two were beginning to grow slightly comfortable, a sudden snicker sounded from behind a spiky bush; Cadell and Brendan spun around, readied their weapons, and stepped farther from the disturbed dark shrub.

With another manic giggle, out stepped an aberrant, abnormal creature that resembled a fox- its coat was matted with dried scarlet fluids, mud, and prickly burs, and its face was absolutely abhorrent. A large, twisted smile was stretched across its wrinkly wet maws, and its eyes looked like gory diamonds stabbed into its disgusting head.

“Walk backwards slowly,” muttered the taller of the two, beckoning for Cadell to get behind him; the creature crept closer at a gradual, steady pace. With another overjoyed snarl, the fox sprung forward with opened jaws, its many razor sharp fangs gleaming ferociously. …

Panting, Brendan and Cadell weaved through the many trunks and branches of the thicket, gaining increasing distance from the fox that pursued them energetically. The forest was like a never ending maze that required pure luck to overpass, and it seemed as though these two were very lucky indeed. Within the span of several more seconds, they reached the edge of the wood’s end; the companions blasted through the last few remaining feet of trees and stumbled into a large, wide area of grayed fields and stubby, dark brushes- in the very center of the meadow, there imposingly stood a towering and crumbling mansion made of gloomy and worn bricks, rusty steel, and cracking windows.

Its inside was completely dark and lacked any noise whatsoever, which made the two teens feel a shiver of uncertainty trickle down their spines like ice water. A howl came from the forest, accompanied by pounding steps and wet pants. The pair spun around to see the creature bounding towards them only a few feet away, and they pounced into action after a wordless debate of what they should do next- they sprinted to the mansion, leaving behind their pursuer.

Brendan leaped forward, yanked open the jammed, creaky door, pushed Cadell forward, then followed behind him and slammed the entrance closed. Scrapes and whines followed the sudden bang that followed them after the door was sealed, and they simultaneously let out sighs of relief at the realization of their close escape and near death.

“Come on, let’s move away from the door,” ordered Brendan. Cadell muttered, “I think we might wanna just neuter that thing next time we see it.” The pair glanced around the building’s interior for the first time since they arrived, and were quite astonished by the beauty of it, regardless of its weathering. Old intricate paintings with golden frames lined the dark, smooth walls, a shattered glass chandelier glittered on the high, curved, crumbly ceiling, and the floor tiles- although dusty- were beautiful swirled marble.

Before the partners could get too distracted by the mansion’s appearance, another loud crash from outside alerted them; they shot a final fleeting glance at the door, then made their way deeper into the silent building. Peeking behind every door to check for any unwanted companions, Brendan was very much on edge for the entirety of their rather brief exploration- Cadell, though, was carefree and relaxed as usual. He yawned and attempted to speed up the paranoid process of his now aggravated best friend, who began ignoring him completely after his sixth complaint of boredom.

“Whoa! Hey, come here, Brendan!” The sulking noirette fixed the emerald-eyed, excited boy with a tired, irritated, and quite frightening glare as he walked out of an empty room that he was scoping out, finding Cadell leaning into the entrance of a chamber illuminated by the light of a match, which the copper-haired teen found lying on a table near the front door.

“It’s a study! There’s papers and books and pens everywhere,” he remarked, traveling deeper into the messy room. With a sigh, Brendan followed after him unenthusiastically. He noticed that Cadell wasn’t downplaying his descriptions at all- it was absolutely chaotic with stray, ripped out pieces of paper and dusty books scattered across the large ebony desk in the center of the study as well as the entire floor.

Brendan tried his best to avoid the many objects as he followed his companion to the shiny wooden furniture. When he stood next to the slightly shorter boy, he could make out with the assistance of the candlelight the messy writing scribbled onto the pages; it was rather difficult to read in the dim lighting, but he noticed that the paragraphs looked like they belonged to a lengthy research project.

“I think a researcher made this stuff. Look, the things that he wrote about look like observations and hypotheses- and look at that open book on the floor! It looks like it’s a journal or something, there are entries and dates,” said Cadell, voicing Brendan’s exact thoughts down to his recent discovery of the interesting leather book.

“You’re right. I’d like to take a closer look at these; you read the journal and I’ll scan the papers. Tell me if you find anything of importance,” responded the silver-eyed teen. “Got it. I’ll light some more matches- let’s try to make sense of this mess.” …

A dull ache encased Cadell Lynch’s small, battered, torn body, and his mind was nothing but a monotonous buzz. The bloody twelve-year-old could feel the sting of a warm, slimy, rough tongue scraping against his raw wounds and the pain of canines digging into his soft flesh with every gnaw of its drool-covered maw. He felt his weak grip on life growing looser by the second; just as his shallow breaths grew slower and he became cold, Cadell felt the continuous lapping of the bloodthirsty dog disappear and heard an agonized howl come from the animal- then, utter quiet.

A hand was placed onto his chest, right over his heart. The last thing Cadell felt before he slipped away was the feeling of being lifted off of the freezing concrete and held close to a warm chest. Cadell was always close to Brendan. Always. Ever since the day that he saved his life from that mutt, the two were practically inseparable; well, Cadell was always annoyed by the noirette’s serious, blunt, overly-protective behavior- but, when he looked up from the book and at the sitting figure of Brendan, he was reminded of just how much he loved the paternal and reserved boy.

Without him, Cadell believed that he never would have been able to survive for as long as he had. The responsibility that the boy always showed kept the two of them alive for over five years, and most likely for many years to come. Usually, the pair stayed very close to the suburbs of Harson City because it was one of the safest areas, but recently they had been traveling towards its outskirts; Brendan had approached Cadell a few weeks ago with a strange look in his icy eyes, and a firm, determined expression on his elegant features.

He then told his partner that he wanted them to leave- not just the abandoned suburbs, but the entire city itself. Cadell tried fruitlessly to convince him not to try something so risky and hopeless, but Brendan had never been more stubborn in his entire life. Eventually, the dismayed boy had no choice but to go along with the pointless plan, as his best friend was more than set on escaping the Hell that was their home. His emerald gaze found the contents of the book once again, and he suddenly snapped out of his daydreams and recalled all that he had read earlier.

“Brendan! This guy was trying to escape the city, too! He wrote about his experience of trying to figure out a solution,” chimed Cadell in excitement.

The paler of the two looked up and said, “These papers… really are experiment results. They’re incredibly detailed and organized; Cadell, I think we’ve found something amazing.” For the first time in a very long while, the ghost of a smile flickered across Brendan’s mouth. “Maybe we could actually figure out a way to get out of here using this information-! Hold on. What the Hell?”

“What is it?”

“‘I’ve grown more hopeless with each passing day; all of my experiments have failed me, and my hypotheses never bring forth any promising results. I’m afraid that there truly is no way out of this disgusting penitentiary. This shall be my last entry, for if I cannot escape the city, then I will have to end my miserable life here. It hurts me that all of my efforts have been in vain, but my story- and research- ends now. I hear them clawing at my door and windows. My revolver is loaded, I have locked the entrance to the attic that I am tucked away in, and once I am done writing I shall drop this book down onto my desk. So, this is goodbye; to whomever is reading this, I pray that you’ll be able to leave, something which I could never do. Good luck. May God save us all,’” whispered the bronze-haired teen.

“There’s a damn body in the attic, Brendan…” The silver-eyed boy suddenly stood up, walked closer to Cadell, and grabbed the book from his hand. “Don’t listen to a thing that old fool wrote. You and I can and will get out of here. Together, we’re going to leave this terrible place- so let’s continue looking through these papers and figure out how to leave this damned city.”

[sgt-seabass]

I heard you escaped Steve's home!

But is the man you bump into in the woods a friend or foe?

𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒐𝒏

✧˚ · . 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘒𝘦𝘮𝘱. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘳 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘴𝘢𝘧𝘦.

pairing — werewolf!bucky x reader w/c — 1.8k this is a dark fic. 18+ only. listening to — ♫ dark side of the moon, suisside warnings — general dark elements, allusion to steve kemp being a cannibal and holding women captive, reader is missing her left arm, non-major character death, reference to violence, reference to stabbing injury, werewolves lol, smut, non-con turned dub-con (p in v sex), breeding kink, knotting, tongue play kinda, possessiveness, monsterfucking, a kinda nice ending lol a/n — written on my phone. not beta read. navy you fucking menace look what you made me do 😌 thank you to @rookthorne for letting me scream at you about this.

You’d done it.

Steve was dead.

After the locking mechanism to your cell had failed due to a storm overhead, you’d managed to get hold of a butcher's knife in the kitchen.

Steve hadn’t seen it coming when you plunged the knife into his chest while he napped on the couch. He didn’t die immediately. There was a struggle, and you sustained a stab wound to your side when Steve almost overpowered you.

It was hard as Steve had already given you a disadvantage. Several days ago, he had taken your left arm for his sick purpose.

But he was too weak from your sneak attack, and he collapsed on top of you with his dying wheeze.

You’d tried to free other girls, but you were the only one left. And when you’d found Steve’s phone, you were unsurprised to find there was no reception because of the heavy rain that battered down on the roof.

You dressed in one of Steve’s warm sweaters and sweatpants, tucking his phone into your pocket to keep it safe from the rain.

The left sleeve of the sweatshirt swinging empty, covered in his blood and your own, you stumbled out into the night.

The rain was pouring down, lightning flashing across the sky before the thunder rumbled. It was the kind of weather that made you want to snuggle into bed with a book and a cup of tea. Instead, you were stuck trying to find a neighbouring property.

Your bare feet sunk into the muddy earth as you dragged yourself into the woods surrounding Steve’s property.

Asshole. Living in the middle of nowhere.

You cursed Steve’s decrepit soul as you wandered into the forest. The flashes of light helped you make your way through the darkened trees, but it felt as if you were walking in circles, with no sense of direction to guide you.

After some time, you stopped for a break, your legs tired, and your body fatigued. You leant against the trunk of a tree, breaths coming out in short pants. Finally, the rain began to ease, the storm passing. The clouds opened up, allowing the moon to be revealed.

You marvelled at it for a moment—a beautiful full moon.

If this is where you were destined to die, it was pretty at least.

The sounds of wolf cries into the night sounded, but they fell on deaf ears as you focused on keeping yourself conscious.

Your hand clutched at your left side where Steve had stabbed you, the wound throbbing and making you woozy. Maybe you could rest a little. Just sit and close your eyes for a while.

You slumped against the bark, your legs beginning to give way as your vision blurred with a vignette at the edges. Was this your final curtain call?

The wind howled through the trees as you fell to your side, your blood mixing with the mud. You were just so tired.

Another cacophony of animals sounded, growls and barks nearby. But it didn’t matter, not when your body was ready to bid the moon an eternal goodnight.

With a grunt, you rolled onto your back, tears swelling as you gazed at the glowing full moon.

I’m not ready to die. Mr Moon, won’t you grant me a second chance?

Your eyes closed, and everything went dark and silent.

It was hard to discern what you noticed first as you came to.

Was it the snarling and panting? The wet slobber of a large tongue across your skin? The fur that tickled you? Or the cock that was nestled at your entrance?

Definitely the last one.

You opened your eyes with a gasp, and you screamed at the sight of the thing on top of you.

A monster. Pearly white sharp teeth, a large imposing figure, and dark fur that covered its whole body.

You were pinned down on your back by a werewolf. Like a picture book come to life.

The wolf-man didn’t seem perturbed by your screams. He was feral enough as it was. His drool dripped from his snout onto your chest, your clothes already torn away while you were unconscious.

Shit, the phone. You tried to sit up to find it, but large claws dug into your skin as a warning not to move.

“Are you going to kill me?” It was a bold move asking the beast a question, but he didn’t answer, instead licking a long stripe up your neck and over your cheek.

The werewolf licked at your side where your wound was, and you gasped when you glanced down to see it healed. Did he save you?

“What—? I— I don’t understand—“ You were silenced when the wolf brought his tongue to your lips, invading your mouth with his wet muscle.

You tried to squirm, but the beast held tight as he fucked your mouth with his tongue, his huffs getting deeper as growls rumbled from him.

His inhumanly large cock prodded at your entrance, your eyes going wide when you felt the way his natural lubricant gave him an easy slide in.

The werewolf pulled back with a howl as he sunk himself into your waiting heat, his fur puffing up and tail going rigid.

It was all too much. You’d expected death, and yet, you were at the mercy of a beast instead. The pleasure that came the deeper he got, and the more he stretched you was enough to have you howling too.

You felt full to the brim, and he was just over halfway. “Ah! Stop! You’re not going to fit!”

But the beast kept going. He curled his arms around you, cradling you against the forest floor before biting into your collarbone to stabilise himself.

He ignored your cries as he rutted deeper, rocking your body with his as he made you take his entire length.

You felt a little ridge when he reached the fuzzy fur at the base of his cock, and it was enough to have your nerves alight with arousal.

The scent of this mysterious man had your head swirling as if you had inhaled an aphrodisiac. His very being was turning your body into what he needed. A fleshlight to fuck his seed into.

He kept you close, sweat beginning to sheen across your skin with the heat radiating from him. When the beast started to thrust deep and hard, your fingers dug into his fur to hold on.

The beast whimpered when you touched him, and you properly got a look at him. Hulking and massive with red eyes that shone like a bright ruby. He was breathtakingly beautiful in a morbid way. A beautiful horror you couldn’t look away from.

You ran your hands down his arms, only then noticing that one arm wasn’t furry at all. It was metal, but the appendage had taken a beastly form too, so it suited the rest of him. It was his left arm, just like yours.

When your eyes met, the wolf thrust particularly deep, causing you to moan out. And you could swear there was almost a smile on his snout.

Resuming his brutal pace, the werewolf began fucking without resolve, like nothing more than an animal desperate for its primal release.

You had no choice but to hold on as he bit into your shoulder, holding you still like his prey as he panted and groaned, cock swelling bigger as he started getting rougher.

“Fuck! I can’t—“ A large paw covered your mouth, silencing any further words.

You were ready to keep protesting until the beast changed his angle, his sharp nailed feet digging into the dirt, and the bulbous tip of his cock pounding against your g-spot.

Stars burst behind your eyes, and your body began to shake uncontrollably from the absolute bliss that took over.

He didn’t stop. And before long, your toes began to curl as an orgasm approached.

Sensing your tensing body, the werewolf growled in your ear as if he was beckoning you to cum for him.

You let go, allowing the intense orgasm to wash over you.

Your sounds were muffled behind the man-beast’s paw as you came, your feet kicking at his back and ass as you shook. It was like nothing you’d ever felt before.

The wolf watched it all, drinking in the sight of you.

You felt the ridge at the end of his cock begin to get bigger, the ring of muscle catching at your entrance. It was a little painful as the knot pulled at your entrance with each feral thrust, but luckily the werewolf buried himself deep.

His pelvis ground against you as he whimpered and yipped.

An odd barked growl was the only warning you got before the knot swelled fully and plugged you.

The first shoot of cum entered you, and you moaned at how warm it was. Just like the rest of him. You closed your eyes, allowing yourself just to feel as you were filled with the seemingly never-ending stream of release.

The wolf moved his paw from your mouth, placing it on your belly where his seed was planted deep.

It gave you tingles, how his nails raked across your skin, not enough to cut but enough to leave marks.

He massaged your belly, causing some of the cum to seep around his knot, the pressure too much. You cried out, placing a hand over his to stop him. It felt odd.

The wolf looked at you, his head quirking and blood-red eyes narrowing. Was he insulted you tried to stop him?

“Mine.”

You were shocked at the deep timbre and surprisingly sultry tone of the werewolf. It was the first word he’d spoken, and it was enough to have your thighs clenching against his hips.

“It’s too much when you—“

“Mine.”

Alright. So he wasn’t a conversationalist. “Y-Yes. I got that bit. Uhm. Please don’t push on my—“

“Mine. Home.”

“Stop cutting me off— Wait. Home?” You asked incredulously, confused by the new word in the wolf’s vocabulary. But it started to make more sense when the man-beast picked you up, holding you to his chest as his knot kept you connected. He was taking you home.

He began walking, and you sighed at the sight of your clothes and Steve’s phone discarded in the mud.

So much for an escape.

“Do you have a name?” You conceded. If the beast was taking you home, the least you could do was know his name. Although, maybe he’d turn human again? What would he look like?

“Bucky.”

“Thanks for healing me, Bucky.” You murmured awkwardly, and the beast huffed in response. His knot finally let you go, so he moved you to his hip, carrying you like precious cargo even when his fur began to get wet with the cum that seeped from your core. “Do you know more than three words?”

“Mine. Home. Bucky. Mine.”

An amused snort left you. “That’s… not what I meant.”

You curled yourself into the werewolf’s fur. Despite the circumstances, he saved you. He made you feel good when all you’d experienced was pain and suffering.

For the first time in a long while, a smile graced your lips. This was undoubtedly a fate better than death.

“Pretty girl. Pretty smile.”

You glanced down, embarrassed from the compliment, just in time to see Bucky’s tail begin to wag. “So you do know more than three words.”

To be updated on when I post please follow @sgt-seabass-library and turn on post notifications.

[gxbbyhoneybadger]

The Jade Viper #2

Pairing: John Wick x !F!Reader

Summary: Loyalty goes far for Y/n, she proves over and over again to John that she'll do anything for him and his honor. Even rescuing him from a kidnapping; she's always going to be right behind him through thick and thin. But John begins to catch feelings for his loyal ninja assassin.

Warnings: adult language, blood, guns, beatings, wounds, torture, abuse, character past history, child death, nightmare, sexual tension, mutual pining, flirting, fluff.

Minors DNI 🔞

Part I, Part III

--

John could taste the copper inside his mouth, his sides aching from the growing bruises. His hands being cut into by zip ties around the arms of the chair; two men standing close by as the leader cleaned his knuckles of blood with a rag. He started to speak about how great John was supposed to be, but the leader just grew more agitated.

"You are no Bogeyman, the Baba Yaga I've once heard of is nothing but a weak man." He growled, he pulled back his fist to punch John once more. "Speak your last words, Mr. Wick." John grunted as he clenched his fists.

"Have you ever heard of the Jade Viper?" asked John as he closed his eyes to take in a heavy breath. The leader held back his laugh as he let John's tie go, "Are you really trying to spook me with a fake story to avoid your death?" He chuckled. John shook his head as he looked at the man again.

"It's real. . . I've seen it, I've seen her." John then snapped his fingers; the man rolled his eyes and attempted to grab John's throat, only to suddenly choke—John saw the silver thin yet long needle pierce through the leader's neck—sending him into a paralyzed state and collapsing onto the ground. John heard the two men in a scuffle behind him—a bone was heard being snapped as one of them was thrown beside John before being quickly dragged backwards into the shadows and one of them screamed with agony until a sound of a knife being pierced through someone's body was heard.

John listened to the clicking heels coming towards him, gentle hands being placed atop his wrist as her kunai sliced through the zip tie. "Y'know, when you said you'd find the Blood Dragons yourself, I didn't think you'd let them catch you in a way." Y/n sighed, "It pained me seeing them hurt you. I'm glad I knocked the main one out for now."

John winced as he rubbed his wrists to get the blood flowing to his fingers. He looked at the dead man's body as she picked up a clean rag—tilting his face to look at her while she gently cleaned around his bruises and cuts on his cheek and head. "He's dead." He commented.

"Awh, John, you doubt me so much. He isn't dead. Not yet anyways. These are metal needles with a point at both ends. . . They're often used for medical purposes in my clan, being used to strike acupuncture points. Anyone with great proper medical knowledge can effectively use these in battle to incapacitate or even kill their target should you aim for vital spots. I aimed to incapacitate him." She smirked, "He's just asleep for now."

"You know a lot of techniques." He said, "How were you able to learn all of this?" That made her grow a smile on her face as she let go of his head. "I'll tell you once we get out of here." The incapacitated man was stuffed into the trunk, hands and feet were tied. Y/n was driving and John was resting in his seat as Bones jumped into the backseat, "Good girl." She cooed while tossing her pet a treat.

She had started to drive and watch the view of lights being blurred by the raindrops. John sighed as he relaxed, "So. . . are you going to tell me?" Y/n nodded with a grin. Her fingers lightly drumming on the steering wheel.

"You already know that I'm not just an assassin, but, also a ninja, John. Something you'd hear in one of those dumb movies. But it's true. Even I want to laugh at it myself. When I was born, the Grandmaster took his pick of the litter. Each son and daughter in his clan wasn't there by choice, only by force. I was chosen by him and dragged into his training. I remember how ruthless his training was, he trained us in many ways. Those scars you saw my chest, my legs, the bottoms of my feet were all from him." She said.

John was listening while he watched her, her eyes glistening with pain as she remembered her childhood. "He beat the martial arts into us, branded it in our brains, burned it into our bodies, and carved it into our souls. To test who truly were the strongest out of the weakest, he'd match us against each other. A fight to the death. I remember beating one of my sister's, his eyes were on me and I knew what I had to do to prove that I was worthy to keep living. . . So I broke her neck."

John's eyes grew wide with sorrow and shock as he looked at her. "Her death was quick, and full of mercy. I released her from years of torment, John. I didn't want to, but I had to. We had these death tournaments once a year until we turned eighteen, the year we mastered everything. When I was twelve, he had me wear blindfold for an entire year. He said that we must fight no matter what, even without our gift of sight." John saw her hands beginning to tremble as she pulled into his garage.

"What he told us during our punishment has always stuck in my mind. . . Pain breeds weakness. Suffering exists because weakness exists." She muttered, "I had to practice to walk and run in silence. If I made a noise, he strike my feet with a bamboo rod, that's why I have permanent scars on them. . . I have scars on my body from his punishments. You must understand, John, I now do this to protect you. You only. You gave me a chance to change, and I plan to only use my skills to do whatever it takes to protect you."

John felt his heart break at her promise. He'd gone through his own training to become an assassin, it was cruel, and it was painful. But hearing just a tiny tale from her own experience sounded like hell compared to his own. He found her hand and held it in his own, her head slowly turned to look at their connection as John glanced at her.

"I'm sorry for what you've gone through, Y/n." She shook her head and placed her other hand on top his. "Don't be sorry for me, John. . ." Her eyes flickered to his and remained there for a minute. Time seemed to have slowed down, both their hands grew warmer. She shut her eyes and shook her head lightly before releasing her hand from his.

"Let's head inside, I need to take care of your wounds." With that, she exited the car and helped John inside of the house. Once settled in, she removed his shirt and coat. Seeing the bruises and scars on his body, it made her smile warmly before she attended to his cuts. "Why are you smiling?" John questioned, he heard her giggle to herself as she shook her head.

"It's just funny to see you injured like this, I've seen worse but, it's just funny when it's you." He grunted feeling the rubbing alcohol brush against his open cut, "Does it hurt?" "Not as bad as before." He replied. Y/n finished her work and handed him a glass of water, "Is he still alive?" John questioned. "He's settled in the garage for now. I'll move him to the basement after-"

"Not him. . . Your Grandmaster." John corrected. Y/n paused while washing her hands—she turned off the water and turned to look at John who was sitting on the couch. "John. . . Why do you want to know?" She asked.

"Just tell me." He said, a sigh left her as she walked back to the couch to sit down beside him. "I don't know anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"I escaped. . . I left my clan, attacked the Grandmaster, and they've been after me ever since." Y/n said, "When you asked me where I lived, I said nowhere. . . Because I'm always running from them, I kill threats to keep them distracted."

"Your siblings?" John asked.

"The ones who still remain by his side. . . But, now with you. I get to stop running, now I have a purpose to stay where I am and fight for something that matters. The Grandmaster told us that we are his blood, no more than that. "Wherever you are, wherever you may. go, you must never forget who you are. You are part of me, as I am part of you. This is the truth of your lives, and it will remain true after death." Weakness compels strength. Betrayal begets blood. This is the law of the Seven Clans. . ." Y/n lifted her head and looked at John with guilty eyes.

Her foot lightly tapping on the ground as she spoke, "I betrayed my clan, scarred the Grandmaster's face so bad, I believe he lost an eye. . . It's been years since I've last saw him, but I've seen many of my siblings come and go." John saw the tears beginning to grow in her eyes as she looked down. "You took a shower when you first got here. . . Who's blood was it?" John inquired.

". . . One of my brothers, we seemed to have crossed paths when we were hunting you down for fun. . . I just overwhelmed him and got the upper hand."

"Why am I such a big target?"

"Come on, the Bogeyman? Sounds like a scary name, scary name equals scary threat." She smirked. John couldn't help but grin at her words, Y/n laid back on the couch and stretched her arms and legs. "How far does your loyalty go?"

Y/n smiled again as she sighed, "As far as it needs to go, John. You go anywhere, I'll be there making sure you're safe. Unless you need privacy with a lady." She answered—standing up and beginning to walk to the garage. "I'm gonna fetch our friend in the car, I'll have him tied and prepared for your questioning."

He nodded his head and Y/n disappeared into the garage. John gently traced the back of his hand with his other, Bubba approached and rested his head on his thigh. "I don't know what I'm thinking. . ." He muttered to his dog.

Later at night, after dealing with the leader's body and interrogation—John had dinner with Y/n, she cooked spaghetti, garlic bread, and made a fresh salad for them to eat; John took a shower and gotten dressed for bed. He got in bed and Bubba was in his dog bed with Bones in the living room, Y/n was elsewhere.

John didn't know where she had went, but he knew she was close by. He fell asleep and started to drift off into his dreams—when he did, he expected to see Daisy, or his wife, anything but woman wearing a large sunhat. She was kneeling by a row of potted flowers, she wore gloves and a beautiful green and white flower dress, her hair blew with elegance in the wind while the sun shined on her.

John felt his heart pick up speed when she turned to smile at him, Y/n was smiling at him. Her eyes were bright and innocent, full of life and glee; three puppies tumbled over her feet, Bubba and Bones both sniffing them and pushing them onwards. Y/n slid off her gloves and giggled as she lifted the large sunhat to peek at whoever was behind him. John froze when he heard, "Daddy!"

A child's voice piped up with happiness, John looked behind him to see a young girl with short black hair, similar to his own. Her eyes full of adoration for him as she smiled, she held his hand and dragged him forward towards Y/n. It was only then that had John saw Y/n's body. Her dress perfectly brought out her baby bump: she was pregnant. Beautiful, and pregnant?!

John then saw his entire fantasy become a nightmare when thunder had struck, lighting had blinded him for only a minute. When he finally opened his eyes, he saw blood everywhere. Bubba and Bones were gone, the little girl was gone, Y/n wasn't. She was there. . .

Only. . . She was standing in a pool of blood, and the little girl lying right beside her feet. Bleeding out with empty eyes. Y/n's face and hands coated with blood, behind her, shadows began to emerge from the depths of the garden. Carrying katanas, blades, and even the heads of John's old enemies.

Y/n lifted her face and stared at John with an empty expression. As if she wasn't there anymore, just a shell of her remained. The shadows then leapt at John and he had woken up in a cold sweat. His heart thumping harder and faster than ever before, he looked at his window to see the night sky still there.

He lifted his hand and held his head to calm himself down, taking in slow and deep breaths. "John?" Y/n whispered from somewhere in the room, he looked around in the dark and looked towards the closed door.

"Y/n?" He mumbled—the floor slightly creaked and he looked to the left side of the room, the corner that was filled with nothing but shadows—Y/n slowly emerged from the darkness with a concerned look on her face.

"Are you okay?" She asked with a soft voice. He leaned against the headboard and sighed. ". . . Where you here the entire time?" He wondered. She let out a halfhearted giggle as she sat on the edge of his bed.

"No, I wasn't actually. I heard you shuffling around in here, I thought you were being attacked at first so I came in. . . Then I saw that you were being attacked by yourself. . . And I wasn't sure to wake you up or not, until you did five seconds later." She explained, "Are you okay?"

He nodded his head and glanced at the clock instead of Y/n, still unsure of what his dream had really meant. His eyes found her again as she stood up and walked to the door, "I'll be out here." She added. "Don't you sleep?" said John. "Not until you have proper rest, once you're taken care of and healed up, only then can I sleep."

With that, she shut the door and left John alone. He ran his fingers through his raven locks as he rethought of the dream again. Why did he think of that? Better yet, why was she pregnant? Why was that little girl there? . . . Why was Y/n covered in all that blood? . . .

John could only wonder as he laid back in his bed, feeling cold and unsure but most definitely, alone. As if he somewhat wanted Y/n to stay in the same room with him, but also didn't. What was this feeling he was sensing? He could only shut his eyes and sleep on it.

From afar, outside hidden within the trees—watching as Y/n walked down the stairs and freeze in place as she felt a pair of eyes piercing at her. She snapped her eyes towards the shadows of the forest, seeing nothing there but a squirrel scurry up the tree. She clenched her fists as she smelled the pine trees.

"Run, run, little sister." whispered the shadow from the darkness.

_____________________________________

Pt. 3 is coming soon!!

[heyhoneyybunn]

Please, Hold Me

Relationship: Mafia!Miya Osamu x f!Reader

Synopsis: In which he helps you through a rough time.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, fluff, minor character death, violence, blood, slight angst, sLigHt ProFanIty,

Word count: 1k

It all happened too quickly. There was no time to think, to react, wishing you had the ability to turn the clocks back, to change fate. The bullet – so small yet with the potential to cause so much anguish – soared through the sky, unstoppable as it missed its intended target, you.

The slump of flesh had you whirling around, your comrade kneeling in the wet mud clutching their chest, a blank look in their eyes as they finally fell. The bright red mixed with the dirty brown creating a horrid colour of nightmares. Your closest friend in this harsh world was cruelly pried out of your grasp. The bullet was for you. It should have been you.

Unable to even say goodbye, you had to leave them behind in the cold night as the bright blue lit up the sky. Watching from afar, heart aching every time they poked and prodded for your fallen friend for evidence.

Slumping into your crappy apartment, feet heavy as they shuffled against the carpet. You finally collapsed on the couch, exhaustion finally taking its toll on your body leaving you drained with no mental capacity to do anything.

“Ya look like shit.”

You didn’t even have the energy to be surprised as you felt the hand of Miya Osamu flick your forehead gently. You didn’t move.

Osamu who was your colleague and a leader, who led his division with the ferocity of an animal protecting their young. A man who annoyed you to no ends with his competitive and teasing nature, a man who invited himself into your home uninvited, like he owned the place just to see the priceless look on your face when he managed to rile you up.

“Oi, I thought ya were going to chop my balls off if ya found me here again,” he tried again, waiting for a reaction of some sort to prove that you’re not just a cold body on the couch.

You were deaf to him as the events of today came crashing down on you, squashing forcefully until you couldn’t breathe. You just wanted to be alone, allowed to wallow in pain in solitude but you had company, so you held the tears in as you remained slumped on the furniture, face hidden in the material away from him.

Your lack of response worried him. Especially when you usually had an insult at the ready, under ordinary circumstances he would be begging for you to shut up as you yapped on in spite. But, now that you were quiet, he found himself scared of what lay in the silence, never wanting you to be this way again. Leaning over the couch to study you, what appeared to be a bad day appeared to have been disastrous as he noted your clenched hands and stiff position.

Wordlessly you felt him leave, happy that he finally took the hint. Sinking deeper into the couch you let the tears spill quietly.

Minutes later, a hand grabbed on trying to pull you up. You fought against him, too scared to show the vulnerability nestled on your face, too scared to show this man – who you secretly looked up to – that you were weak. You struggled in his hold as he tried to pry you away from the safety of the couch and when he didn’t relent, you beat your fist against his chest – hard.

He grunted slightly and tried again only to be hit harder. It was all too much, you kept hitting your fist against his chest over and over, matching the rhythm of his heart as the tears fell stronger now. All you could make out through the blur was his worried expression as he wrapped his arms around your waist pulling you to him. Slowly he stroked your hair as you cried loudly into his shoulder, clutching onto him for dear life.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He gave you a small peck on the head.

Shaking your head in defiance, you let him pull you into the bathroom. You were still hysterical as he sat you down and wiped the blood off your face. He then peeled off the soiled clothes and disposed of them, helping you into the now-full bathtub. He began to wash your hair, slowly and gently as if he was scared you were going to break. You closed your eyes, savouring the warm feel of his hands working through your hair, the feeling of the hot water washing over you, wiping your worries away. When he was done, he pulled away.

“’Samu,” you said quietly.

His ears perked as he tried to control the rapid beating of his heart and the shimmering glow of warmth that spread through his body at the nickname you had promised you’d never use, what a long way you both had come. He turned to look at you giving you his fullest attention.

Tugging at his shirt sluggishly, you asked, “Come in with me?”

“Are ya sure?” He cleared his throat, not wanting to make you uncomfortable. His usual objective of annoying the life out of you was postponed, today he was here to look after you.

“Please, need you to hold me.”

Shakily, he undressed and carefully slotted himself behind you, pulling you into him as you melted into his embrace. The water rocked at his harsh movements, hitting the sides of the tub violently. He gave you another kiss on the forehead and you felt safe – protected, like the burden had eased. Suddenly in his arms the pain wasn’t so unbearable. And you thanked your lucky stars for the gift they called Miya Osamu.

[dangerouscowboyfrog]

Ways I think Destiel could have ended because my brain likes to see me suffer.

Castilel telling Dean how he feels (you changed me etc.) and Dean just staring at him for a moment knowing what this means, what it always means, before moving in, kissing Cas like he never kissed anyone before. It's a short broken and messy kiss, but that's all they get, all they ever got. Dean holds on to Cas, aware of what happens next, what always happens. Cas pushing his love away, letting the empty tkae him to safe the men he fell for.

Dean not letting himself being pushed away, grabbing onto Cas like a drowning man would grab a plank. The empty slowly crawling towards Cas, so painfully slow and inevitable. "I can't loose you. Not again" Deans voice is rough and low, the tears he held back being set free. Cas shakes his head, another tear falling down. The last words the angel heard before they both got drowned by darkness were spoken with the softest voice Cas ever heard. "I love you too Cas. Of course I do."

Dean is in heaven. The way he went out wasn't really how he wanted to go, but when does a Winchester ever get what he wants? The hunter looked around, a smile appearing on his now younger face. His baby, his Impala was here too. The brunette walked to his car without a second thought, slowly opening the door. It felt wrong. Whenever he drove his baby there was always someone next to him. His Das, Sammy or- ...or Castiel. Dean sighed. With a heavy heart he gets into the car. Just when he wanted to start the motor, a familiar rustle of feathers was heard next to him. Dean freezes, not daring to look up, this can't be he can't face another fake Castiel he- "Hello Dean" Still frozen in place but now with tears falling freely on his cheeks. Slowly still not daring to look up did the green eyed man raise his head. A hand touches his face cupping it with soft hands and finally Dean looks up. There he was. The love of his life, his Angel his savior his best friend. The soft smile was filled with love and adoration. Deans hoarse voice cut through the silnce. "Dammit Cas... I thought I lost you I- I-", his voice broke away. Cas let go of Deans face pulling him into a warm hug. "I love you too Cas, I love you so so much I'm so sorry I couldn't say it I lost you I couldn't I-". Castiel listened. He whispered into the hunters ear that it's okay and that it wasn't his fault. They didn't break their hug for a long long time.

The empty appears lo ot out of nowhere. The black tentacles giving of a disgusting sound. Castiel pushes Dean away from him, away from the dangerous black goo. Just in time. Only moment later and the door is flying through the room, death rushing in. They stop dead on their way to their victims as they realize what's going on. Without giving death a chance to fight the black goo shoots towards them to grab and take them into the everlasting darkness. Castiel doesn't care about that, not breaking eye contact with the human on the floor. A last tear falls as the angel turnes around, facing the black goo, ready to go. But no tentacles reach out for Castiel. Nothing happens. After a few seconds, a head made of goo appears in the black portal. "You gave me something good Castiel. I may still hate you, but for this pleasure I will grant you freedom." With those words the portal closes. Castiel falls to his knees legs weak from the thought of still being alive. Dean slowly stands up, not sure what he should say. He stays silent. Castiel breathes slow and thankfull before he stands up with a painful grunt. He turns around slowly and looks at Dean with eyes that scream of forgiveness and love. They fall into each other a hug turning into a desperate kiss. They stay like this for a long time.

[athena-simpingforanimemen]

Chapter Three| A Race Track is No Place For Little Girls

Chapters| one, two, three

Synopsis| Having a special technique that hasn’t been passed down in over a 100 years, you’ve been amongst the strongest since birth but with no clan of your own to clam this technique. It causes the Clans to offer arranged marriages left and right. Overwhelmed parents turn to your aunt's clan and the Zenin’s are happy to step in, in hopes you will pass down the technique down to them

Whole story contains themes| arranged marriage, angst, violence, death, swearing? sexual harassments(nothing crazy) and of course SMUT (my smut writing abilities are probably no good tbh). 

This chapter contains detailed descriptions of blood and death. Implied SA(not descriptions of the actions just implied.

Minors DNI! Ageless blogs will be blocked!

Authors note| This is about the road to marrying Gojo, it’s gonna be long and filled with angst because I'm mean. This story starts with the reader being around 11ish. Has a little bit of manga spoilers from vol.8 because it has Toji. Hope you like it. This is written for my two whore best friends. :)

If only you had listened to your intuition, and the many clear signs from the universe that you shouldn’t be here at this racetrack. You wouldn’t be in this situation, you wouldn’t feel this bone-chilling fear as your wrist is held above your head. Frozen in like a deer in headlights. You would like to think you’re tuff that you would react with the years of skills drilled into your head but when it came down to it you froze, heartbeat thumping against your chest with all its might.

The man who has you in his grip is menacing. Tall and muscular, like he could take on Zeus and win. The scar across his mouth only added to his murderous presence. Even if you had a knife, it wouldn't do any good. I don't think stabbing this man would even hurt him.

"What are you doing back here?" His gravelly voice sent a chill up your arms. He eyes you up and down before pulling you a little closer.

“I-Uhm.” You grimace, twisting your wrist as you look away from him.

He tsks. His large callus hand grabs your chin making you look up at him. You squeeze your eyes shut, hoping that if you squeeze your eyes shut hard enough he will somehow disappear and this will all be a bad dream.

“Open your eyes.” He says.

You shake your head, tears rolling over your squished cheeks.

“I promise, I’m not gonna hurt you.” He says, swaying your head back and forth slightly. You swallow the lump in your throat before your teary eyes flutter open.

His green eyes lock with yours, “See?” He smiles, “I told you I wouldn't hurt you.” He says as he studies your face, his thumb swiping away a tear. He seems to ponder for a moment before he speaks up again.

“What’s your name?”

You attempt to pull away from his grasp but it's no use, he could hold a grown man by the wrist and they wouldn't be able to get away. He almost looked amused as you struggled in his grip for a moment. With a weak grunt you swung your free arm, slapping his face as hard as you could. You let out a shaky breath as you look up at the man, the look on his face grim as he stared off into the distance– it made your stomach drop.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out.

He doesn’t respond, not even an eye twitch.

“I- I’m sorry.” You repeat, reaching for his face. His unresponsiveness is making you spiral. You would do anything to appease him at this moment.

“My name is (y/n).”

His eyes shift down to you and you pull your hand away from his face.

“I’m Toji.” He lets go of your chin. “That was awfully rude of you.”

You give a shaky nod. “I know, I'm sorry.”

He leans forward. “I promise I won't hurt you if you don’t make a scene.”

You squeeze your eyes shut your whole body trembling. Your body feels heavy and your knees buckle. “Please don’t kill me after. I won't tell anyone, I'll keep it a secret.”

A choked sob leaves your mouth. You feel like you’re going to vomit. If this was your fate, you might as well accept it. It's not like you could fight him.

Toji’s eyes squint in disbelief, you miss understand his motives here. Toji’s a sick bastard but he’s not that sick, that is the one line you don't cross.

“You’ve got the wrong idea.” Toji squats down so you're at eye level. “I’m not that kind of guy. But, I do need you to come with me though.”

You lift your head, “Why?” You say, looking at this grim man you normally wouldn’t think to question him but the word just pops out of your mouth and you shake your head. “I didn’t mean to question you.��

Toji chuckles, “I need the set of skills you possess.”

So with that, Toji took you. It had been a week since the racetrack and nothing felt real. The Zenin clan had every person they could spare out searching for you. They chose not to involve the police, believing it would cause more trouble than need be.

The more time you spent with Toji the more memories deep hidden away surfaced. Toji was a Zenin. You remember his wife, you remember when Megumi was born. Most of all you remember he wasn’t well liked among his clan. Then one day, he was gone and you forgot about him.

Most days Toji would leave you at his house with Megumi. “Don’t open the door for anyone and if you leave i'll know.” he would say, closing the door behind him. You could never tell if he was bluffing but your not stupid enough to test it. Megumi made this experience less traumatic in a way. He distracted you from your reality, forcing you to understand pokemon and making you play cards with him. It was fun, until it ended when you realized why Toji took you in the first place.

“Your cursed technique, you can make a portal. Right?” He says casually, lighting a cigarette.

“Well, I guess in a way.” You shug. He’s asked you about your technique before, if it got you home faster you were willing to tell him whatever he wanted. He was standing behind the couch where you and Megumi sat on either end. Pokemon cards spread over the middle cushion.

“You can pull shit through your little shadow dimension, yeah.” he says, taking a drag of his cigarette.

You nod, watching the smoke he breathes out swirl upwards in a cloud of gray. Whats he getting at?

“You think you could pull a person through?” He says, looking at the elaborate card game on the couch.

“I’ve never tried.”

“Megumi,” Toji says, making the boy look up at him. He lets out a sigh, he has an idea of where this is going. “Yeah?” Megumi says.

“Go to the bathroom and see if she can portal you back here.” Toji grins, tapping the ash of his cigarette into an empty glass sitting on the side table.

With a roll of his eyes Megumi gets up, walking to the bathroom. You look up at Toji bewildered, what was he thinking? He raises his eyebrows. “Go on,” Toji says with a flick of his wrist.

“What if I hurt him?”

“You won't.” Toji shrugs.

Reluctantly, you stand up. Hands clasping together to make a symbol, concentrating on the bathroom where Megumi is. You hold the image of him in your mind as you crouch down. Your hand dips into the floor as if it was liquid. You hear Megumi in the bathroom say ‘ew’ as you grasp his arm. A circle of shimmery slug appears around your arm as you pull him up. You're standing by the time you pull the rest of his body through.

Megumi lets out a cough. “That was awful, it felt like you pulled me through a bubbling mud pit.” he says with a frown. Toji lets out a laugh. Now, his plan was set in motion and your the perfect acomplice.

-

After that day Toji made you pull things from everywhere, until it was second nature. Toji taught you more in the weeks he’s kept you, than the Zen’in clan ever did in the five years you’ve had to train.

“Again.” He says, a cigarette between his lips.

“I’m tired.”

“Tuff shit,”

You huff, turning your attention back to your task. You hadn’t done this before–ever. You didn’t know what you where doing, and the amount of energy you had to focus just to try an make it apear was agonizing.

“This isn’t working,” You stomp your foot. “What does it matter anyway? Everyone is already scared of me.”

Toji laughs. “Everyone? I’m sure as shit not scared of you. Ya’ know what kid?”

“What?”

“Just appearing strong isn't the same as being strong. And if i remember correctly, your not very strong. What’s gonna happen the next time some big bad man takes a hold of you? You just gonna’ roll over and die?”

You glare at him, he’s right, and you hate that he’s right. You hate that your becoming stronger in the hands of your kidnapper. Wouldn’t it be less trouble just to sell you? You kick at the ground in frustration.

“How do you even know this stuff?” You question.

“Stop stalling and focus.”

You roll your eyes, focus your cursed energy into your hand. Part of your cursed technique is creating cursed tools. He watches you practically stare a hole into your hand.

“Don’t think of it as trying to make something new, it's already there. ”

A few moments go by and just as you're ready to give up–it happens. A cursed tool starts taking shape, it's made out of the same shimmery goo that's in your portals as it shifts around. By the time it's done taking shape it has turned a normal color. It's just a small dagger. you examine it, flipping it over in your palm.

Toji’s cigarette drops from his mouth. “Incredible.”

You understand now, the fuss over your technique. It all becomes too real–the true magnitude of your technique. Why you had a bodyguard, that you will most likely have ten when this is over. That if you die, this technique is most likely lost forever. You release the cursed energy, the dagger turning to shimmery shadow.

—

You look up at the seemingly never ending stairs of Jujutsu high. Red trellises as far as the eye could see.

You lean towards Toji, “This isn’t some sick joke? I can go?”

“Yup.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.” He repeats.

You look at Toji and then at the stairs, taking a hesitant first step. “Go or i'll change my mind,” He flicks the ash off his cigarette. Slowly you take a few more steps, looking back at him again. Surely this is a trick. He rolls his eyes.

“Why’re you so stubborn?” He says under his breath. “You got ten minutes to get up those steps or I'll kill you, is that better?”

“You being serious?”

He tips his head to the side. “Always,”

Swivel around and sprint. You should have kept your mouth shut.

The stairs are never ending and your legs are already tired. You make it halfway up before you have to stop. Sucking in air so harshly your lungs burn and your knees wobble. The thought of dying makes you start running again.

You feel a familiar energy as you make it up the last steps. It was Gojo, and Geto along with two people you didn’t recognize. They all turn to you as you trip and fall up the last step. You’re harshly taking in breaths as you slowly stand up. They all stare at you wildly.

“I’m okay,” you pant, one hand on your knee as you try to catch your breath.

“You don’t look like it.” Gojo says.

“Gee thanks,” You scoff.

“I-” Gojo gets cut off by a sword being plunged through his back.

It’s Toji.

You’re frozen. You hear Gojo say something but you don’t comprehend the words. Someone grabs you and you squeeze your eyes shut. You feel weightless as they hold onto you. Panic floods your veins when you open your eyes, you're fifteen feet in the air.

Toji held you by your waist, your arms and legs dangling on either side of his arm. You clamp onto his arm. Wide eyes staring at the ground below you.

“I’m surprised, you made it up here in eight minutes.”

You're too scared to come up with any kind of response. You just fist his shirt as he moves around.

A bright flash of light makes your flinch.

BOOM.

Then a rush of energy fills the air. It’s like static as it dissipates. A dull ache blooms. You’re no longer draped over Toji’s arm like a ragdoll. You’re laying on the stairs below the trellis you were just on top of. Looking up, the trellis had a chunk taken out of it. You move down a few steps as pieces of it fall to the ground.

You flinch again as a loud crack whips through the air, a violent gust of energy filled wind makes you lean down.

The snapping and crumbling of wood and rock shakes the ground. You put your hands over your head as some of the debris hits you. The stair shields you from most of the rocks and chunks of building flying around. It’s gone as quick as it came. There's silence but you don’t move.

No more than a few seconds later, the buzzing of fly heads erupts from lower down on the stairs. Then they are all around you. You can't hear or see anything as they buzz around. You keep your head down as it keeps going and going– until suddenly it completely stops. It’s quiet.

It's almost too quiet.

You slowly bring your head up, peeking over the step you were hiding behind. The body in the middle of the destroyed courtyard makes you freeze.

It’s Gojo.

You scramble to your feet, tripping over debris as you run towards him. “No, no, no” You say as you run, he’s bleeding and it’s pooling around him.

You scrape your knees at the speed you drop down. Shaky hands hovering over him. The blood oozing out around him wets your knees as it soaks through your pants. He lets out a gurgled cough.

Without thinking you press your hand to the wound on his neck. The blood doesn’t stop, it just spills over your fingers in warm streams. He twitches a few times, each time less than the last. You try to control your breathing but you can’t, you’re watching him die.

“I’m sorry, It’s-it’s gonna be okay.”

Tears stream down your face and all you can do is say your sorry as the blood pools around the both of you. He's stopped moving but the blood still oozes out of his neck. A metallic scent fills the air. “I’m so sorry.” you whimper.

You can’t seem to shake the thought that this is your fault. If you didn’t run from Toji. If you kept your cool and not panicked as you ran up the steps. If you would have kept your guard up even after you reached so-called safety.

If. If. If.

“Stop your moanin’ you didn’t kill him. Did you?” You flinch at Toji's voice.

“I can still be sorry,” You pick up Gojo’s cold hand.

“Look at me,” Toji demands. You turn and look at him, he’s also covered in blood—most likely not his own.

“Do you remember the Star Religious Group building I showed you?”

You nod, starting to catch on to what he wants.

“Make me a portal.”

You gently set Gojo’s hand down, turning so you can summon your portal. Trying to hold the image of the building he showed you earlier in your mind. It’s hard to do when the image of Gojo’s bloody face keeps flashing behind your eyelids. More tears stream down your face as You squeeze your eyes shut. Toji crouches down in front of you. He scans your face. It’s like he became human again—just for the briefest moment.

You flinch when he wipes your tears away.. You hate that it comforts you. He did this, he made this happen. Gojo would be alive if it wasn’t for him. You turn your head away in disgust.

“I’m sorry it had to be this way.” He says before disappearing through the portal.

When you turn to Gojo, the sight of him is almost unbearable. You wrap both of your hands around his, pressing it to your heart. You lean forward and rest your head on his chest.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen. I’m so sorry.” Your voice wavers as a sob shakes you. You stay like this for a while, pressed against his chest. You feel his chest contract almost like a hiccup and suddenly He doesn’t feel the same, it’s the weirdest thing. It feels like no one is home.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper. Tears stream down your face and now you can’t help but feel as though this truly is your fault.

If.

Gojo’s hand twitches in yours.

If you just didn’t run from Toji. If you chose to be more stubborn and not go up those steps, Gojo would still be alive.

His large hand squeezes your smaller ones tightly, and you jerk up in surprise. The stab wound on his neck was no longer bleeding. In fact it wasn’t there anymore. You just watched him die, you felt it. He died. What the hell is going on?

“Gojo?”

You feel like throwing up, in fact you might. This can’t be real, you felt it. He definitely died.

He hums, blood soaked lashes fluttering open. He looks you up and down for a moment as his eyes focus. The events that just occurred are coming back to him. A horrible feeling forms in the pit of his stomach. The sound of your panicked breath as you hold his neck and the way your sobs vibrated against his ribs as you apologized run through his mind as he looks up at your puffy face. You move away from him to vomit.

“It’s okay, I’m okay.” He says, weakly rubbing your back. “Are you hurt?”

You shake your head as you wipe your mouth.

“I’m just happy to know you would cry over my death.” He gives you a lazy smile. You let out a choked laugh, Tears drip down your chin as you suck in a shaky breath.

“That’s not funny.”

“You're right,” he says, dropping his hand.

You watch him for a moment as he takes deep breaths. This can’t be real. You have this nagging feeling you need to touch him—just to make sure he’s real.

“Can I hug you?”

”Yes,” He smiles, turning his head to look at you. “Please.”

You crawl towards him, hugging onto him like he will disappear. He cradles your head as you hug him tighter.

“You sure you’re okay?” He asks.

“You came back from the dead and you're asking if I'm okay? Are you okay?”

He chuckles. “I don’t think I've ever been okay.”

You give him a sad look.

The last thing you remember is gravity somehow feeling too heavy to withstand and your head feeling fuzzy. A day later you woke up in the Zenin infirmary.

[kiridarling]

𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓.

— 3.0k words

eijirou kirishima | hard dom + dubcon jic + f!reader + exhibitonism + face-fucking + dumbification + car sex + more! minors dni.

"Made me come all this way...it’d be a pity if I didn't get somethin' out of it."

"No, no, no, no, no—c'mon," you cry as your car engine spits and sputters to a stop in the road, coughing like an old man with asthma before it's dead for good. Jamming your heel on the gas pedal, you twist your key in the ignition, but there's no use. You're fucking stuck.

You sigh, before slamming your forehead against the steering wheel. It's hard enough to sting, and the blaring horn startles all unsuspecting birds in a five-mile radius, but you could care less. Stuck in the middle of the woods at one in the morning, AAA membership-less with nothing but the clothes on your back and the vehicle you came with. Short cuts are a fucking myth.

Mina's the only person you can think of calling—because frankly, she's the only one who'd know a mechanic who could help at this time of night if one exists. Which you doubt. Severely.

"[Y/N]?" Mina answers, semi-urgently. You wonder if you startled her out of a good sleep, but knowing the night owl, her evening is just beginning. "What's up?"

"I'm fucking stuck in the middle of nowhere," you groan, banging your head against the back of the seat though you know she can't see you. "Car's not working."

"Oh no," she coos, and her pity is useless. "Do you have AAA?"

"No. Do you have a mechanic?"

"A mechanic...at one am? I don—wait," she interrupts before you hear something akin to rustling sheets. "I might have a friend who could help! But don't get your hopes up girlie, he's a heavy sleeper."

You shrug, shaking your head. "At this point, I'm desperate."

"Alrighty!" Mina confirms, and now all you can do is fucking hope her friend pulls through. "I'll give him a quick buzz and then send his number over, sound good?"

"Sounds perfect," you breathe, relaxing (somewhat) with your chin against the steering wheel. "Thanks, girl."

"Of course!" she cheers, and you wonder how someone could have so much energy at this time of night. "Good luck!"

"Thanks," you snort. "I might need it."

Riiiing! Riiiing!

Eijirou's had a long day.

A pipe busted at the auto shop today, resulting in an immediate flood—meaning they had to get everything that could possibly rust out as quickly as possible, aka everything in the goddamn shop.

So, yeah. He's had a long day, and when he's finally able to get under the covers and go the fuck to sleep, Mina calls him with this.

"Hey...Eijirou, buddy, best friend—"

"Mina, I love you, but what do you want?" Eijirou grunts into the phone, voice worn and ragged from limited sleep and his terribly long day. One am is never an appropriate time to call anybody, but he figures something has to be up—Mina's not the type to call in the middle of the night.

"Um, well. My homegirl’s kinda stuck in the woods with car troubles—"

"The woods."

It takes Mina a second but she hums in confirmation, and Eijirou can see her head nodding from where he lays. He sighs, rolling on his back to blink up at the ceiling. "Yep!"

"What is she doing in the woods at midnight?"

"I don't know!" Mina exclaims. Eijirou runs a hand over his face. "I just—please, Ei? She doesn't have AAA or anything and it's really, really late. All you have to do is hotwire her car or something, right? It's not like she totaled it or anything."

And dammit. Eijirou hates being a nice person.

"Just give me ten."

Mina practically gasps out a thank you, "You're a lifesaver Ei! Really! I—"

She's interrupted by the buzz of his phone—this time, from an unknown number. Eijirou raises an eyebrow, "That her?"

"Should be!" The pinkette says. Eijirou's feet finally touch the floor and it's painfully cold. His bed has never looked more appealing, and that's counting all those instances in high school. "Thanks again, Ei!"

"Yep," Eijirou says, popping the 'p,' before clearing his voice and switching the line. Customer Service at one am, here he comes.

"Red Riot Auto Repair and Services, how may I help you?"

All he receives is a grunt on the other end of the phone: "My car won't turn on."

Eijirou waits for you to give him a little more to work with, but it's clear that's all you have to say when you ask hello to ensure he's still on the other end of the line. Runs his hands through his hair, he silently prays he won't have to leave the house to get your car to work.

"Did you try jiggling the key?"

"Yes, I'm not stupid," you huff, and Eijirou's eyebrows fold in exasperation. He insists you do it again though, and hears the weak splutter of your engine through the phone with a heavy heart. "'S fucking useless."

"Did you try tapping the battery terminals?"

"The battery whatsitals?" You say, too loud and smart-mouthed for the very thin amount of patience Eijirou harbors. He reaches for his hair tie, satisfied enough with the messy bun he makes on the first try.

"Just send me your location," Eijirou sighs, moving for a jacket before snatching the keys to the shed. He'd rather just get this over with than beat around the bush.

Luckily, you're not far. 

"You drive that thing?" is your first comment, and Eijirou can't even appreciate your beauty before your first words shatter your image completely, and he's slamming the door to his truck with rolling eyes, rusted toolbox heavy in his hand. "It looks like Mater from Lightning McQueen."

Eijirou just stares at you for a second, just to see if you're really serious, and resists the urge to scoff when it seems like you are.

"It's a truck," is all he says, before marching around you and to the task at hand—your car. "Pop the hood."

You huff, but you listen, and Eijirou wastes no time in getting to work. You watch with your elbows balanced on the rim, curious but quiet, and that allows him to get in the zone enough to realize there are countless problems with your car.

"When was the last time you took this thing into the shop?" He probes. You click your tongue, eyes tracing the outlines of the trees as you search for an answer. That's never a good sign.

"Um...never?"

"And how long have you had it?"

"A few years," you nod, and Eijirou drops his head.

"It's a miracle you made it this far in the first place," he chuckles bitterly, shaking his head. What the hell is he going to do now? There's no way your car is moving anywhere tonight. You frown, jamming your hands on your hips.

"Well? Are you going to fix it or what?"

"I can fix it," Eijirou says with a shrug, closing your hood. "But not tonight."

"What do you mean not tonight?" You badger, breathing down his neck as he hikes back to his truck to set the toolbox down. There's no reason to carry it if he's not going to need it.

"I mean, your car's going to need a solid six months before it can run again, Sweetheart."

When Eijirou turns, you're much too in his face for his liking. He can practically feel your breath against his chest, and it has him rolling his eyes, leaning against his truck with arms crossed.

"Yeah, okay, but I need it to run tonight," you explain, gesticulating so wildly Eijirou fears his own chest may fall in the cross-fire. "Like, I need to get home tonight."

"I can't—" the redhead sighs, running his hand over his face. You're terribly difficult, and if Mina had given him a proper warning he probably wouldn't be here in the fucking first place. "Listen. My shop is out of commission for the next few days 'cause of a flood. I can work on your car or whatever, but it'll take a sec, so the most I can do is drop you at a hotel down the road or somethin'. Sound like a plan?"

"No," you growl, claws and all, and Eijirou wishes for nothing but death. "That doesn't sound like a plan! I don't know you, what makes you think I'll get in a car with you?"

Oh. My. God.

"Then you can spend the night in your car and have Mina come get you in the morning," he huffs, stomping over to the driver's side of his truck. "So it's either you're gettin' in, or I'm leaving ya."

With that, he slams the car door shut, shoves his key in the ignition, and counts to fucking ten, and on nine and a half you're flinging open the passenger door and bouncing in the seat, arms crossed over your chest in indignance. You don't even look him in the eye.

"Seatbelt," he warns. You tut.

"I don't need a fucki—"

"Put on the goddamn seatbelt."

You don't say anything, but he's satisfied by the click that follows. Eijirou shifts into drive and you two take off.

"The seat's so uncomfortable."

Not even twenty feet.

"Suck it up," is all the pity Eijirou has to offer. He's preoccupied with trying to get from this side road to a main road with, you know, actual civilization. The road is unsteady—unsteady enough that a bump sends the both of you flying towards the roof of his car, and naturally, you have something to say about it.

"Y'know, for a mechanic, you're not a very good driver," you say, and it has Eijirou's fists tightening around his steering wheel. His patience wears down until it has the height of a penny, and Eijirou worries for when it shatters because he has no clue what he'll do if it does.

"And it smells a little funky," you continue anyway, eyes wandering around the cabin aimlessly."Kinda like cheese. No offense."

Eijirou pulls over at that, teeth grinding. Is he really going to snap over cheese comment?

“Is this a condom?”

Yes. Yes, the fuck he is.

"Get out."

"Um—excuse me?" You blink, eyebrows raising in offense. "You're kicking me out. Because I found a fucking rubber?”

Eijirou glares your way and he's sure you can feel him radiating fury, and that's enough to convince you to hop out of the car without another word. He follows, slamming the door behind him.

"Okay? Now what?" You growl, and Eijirou loves it—the false display of confidence. Because he knows it won't take much to break you once he gets you under his thumb, and you'll look so pretty once he does. Cocking his head to his side, he tells you to come here without having to open his mouth. You follow.

"Now, on your knees."

You splutter at his request, rolling your eyes as if he wasn't being serious. Though you shut up once you hear the clink of his belt, lips widening in revelation, and Eijirou thinks you'd look much prettier with your mouth full.

"You made me come all this way—it'd be a pity if I didn't get somethin' out of it," Eijirou says, and the way you shiver implies that you like this more than you let on. He coos when you say nothing, "And for the first time today she's got nothin' to say. See? You're improving already."

He gives you a second to move. When you don't, he lifts an eyebrow. "Knees, Princess."

You do and Eijirou groans at the view, palming his hardening cock at the sight of your bambi eyes blinking up at him—and it's a pretty one, at that. Leaning against the door of his truck, he grunts, "Take it out."

Your fingers hook under the waistband of his boxers and Eijirou shivers upon contact with the cool air, but the warmth of your palm makes up for it. You spit on his cock with a curled lip and it's nothing short of crude, before you're swirling your tongue around the head and taking him as far as you can possibly go.

"Uh-uh," Eijirou tuts, grabbing you by the hair to pull your mouth off his cock. "We got at my pace, Sweetheart."

"Why?" You pout with a curled lip. Eijirou scowls.

"Because," he says, before stuffing half of his cock down your throat, "I'm gonna put that big fuckin' mouth to use at my pace."

With that, Eijirou thrusts into your mouth, using the grip he has around your hair as leverage. Your throat is impossibly warm and the way you choke has him keening, and that's enough for his hips to start picking up mindlessly.

"Shit—what a dirty fuckin' girl," he says, smirking when you moan around his cock. "You like this? You like sucking off a guy you just met?"

Your eyes flutter at that, nails digging into his thighs, and it nearly has him cooing. When you swallow around him Eijirou's hips stutter and he grunts, "In public, no less. Anyone could drive by and see you taking my dick down your throat...but you'd like that, wouldn't you? You want the world to know how much of a slut you are."

Your hand falls between your thighs and Eijirou grins like the devil as he watches you touch yourself on the dirty road, desperate just because knows how to push the right buttons. That's enough to have him caving, demanding you rise to your feet and get in the backseat of his car.

"Hands and knees," Eijirou urges, his body towering over yours from behind. It's not long before he's pinning your wrists to the windshield with one hand and using the other to land a harsh slap on your ass; harsh enough to make you jolt forwards from the force.

"Such a pretty ass," he coos before slapping it again, and your teeth dig into your bottom lip to muffle the sound. "And it's all for me, ain't it, Princess?"

You nod, but Eijirou spanks you again—he's looking for an answer.

"Y-Yeah, yes, all yours just—" your hips wiggle in search of his cock. Eijirou chuckles, leveling his lips with your ear.

"Want me to fill you up, Princess?"

You gasp out a yes, nodding vehemently. The redhead finds he likes you like this much better, chest rumbling with arousal. "Yeah? How bad?"

"B-Bad, please, I need t—fuck!"

Eijirou stuffs you full with one thrust, and even he needs a moment, freehand searching to hold onto your hip while his grip tightens around your wrists. You quiver under him, and he swears he can feel your gut contract around his cock, eyelids fluttering when you grind against him.

"Holy shit," Eijirou finds himself wheezing, not expecting you to be so tight. You drop your head against the cool windshield, whimpering like the pretty little thing you are, shuddering as he pulls out before ramming himself in again until he's balls deep. You scream, back arching from the angle.

And fuck. It's impossible for him to stop after that.

"Fuckin' look at you," Eijirou chuckles, body practically caging you against the seat, "Drooling all over my window like a slut. Fuck, you really know how to get a guy goin' huh?"

“Pull—pull my hair,” you request, words from his pistoning hips. Eijirou tuts and rips your hands off the window in favor of pushing your head into the seat, not making a move to yank on your hair once.

“I don’t think you’re in the right place to be making demands, Princess," he growls before his hot palm cracks against your ass, hissing from the way you tighten around him when he does.

You whine at that, pushing into him the best you can. It only spurs his hips on faster, and Eijirou lets go of your hands in favor of grabbing your face instead, groaning at the sight of the tears shining silver from the moonlight. He likes the fact that you can't do much but gasp and rock against him, your hands falling to clit to finally push yourself off the edge.

He looks at you and all he sees is his dumb little thing, who can't do anything, let alone get her car to work, and that's when Eijirou realizes he doesn't want this to be as much of a one-time thing as he initially thought.

"Gonna...gonna cum," you slur, cheek mashed flat against his window. Eijirou fucks you into the door of his truck, pace quick and bruising, as his mind thinks of all the fun you two could have together—all the fun he wants to have with you.

"Cum, Sweetheart. Make a mess of my cock and my leather seats, yeah? Show me how good I make you feel."

You tighten around his cock, tight, and that's enough to send him spiraling into an orgasm of his own, hips stuttering to a stop as he fills you up. Though his hips never stop, not until you're coming around his cock with a broken moan, curled toes digging into his car floor. He watches you catch your breath, splayed across the seat, with a sudden realization that he feels much lighter, but doubts it was the sex that did the trick.

"You fucked your anger out now?" You wheeze, breaking the silence, and Eijirou snorts.

"I—yes," he says before his eyes trail to the scratch marks around your hips and thighs. "Are you...okay?"

"Never been better," you toss your arms in the air like you're on a rollercoaster but lack the energy to scream. It's cute and it had the redhead re-evaluating everything, wondering how the day could start so shitty and yet, end so well. "Are you okay?"

His eyebrows furrow, "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I dunno," you shrug, and Eijirou finds it hard to stay focused when you look like that. "You asked me, so. Everyone needs a post-sex check-in, ya know?"

Fuck.

Fuck, yeah he's definitely keeping you.

[bussyvussy]

The sensitive soldier (Obi Akitaru x Reader)

||fem!reader||warning: ptsd, mention of death, cruelty||

part 1: The reaper cries

02. Tears of a soldier

Her head was spinning in confusion, as she stood there thinking. She was taken aback by soldiers that were kind and caring. Her head was filled with memories of everything she blamed for her short lived career as a soldier in the special fire force. The words of Leonard Burns ringing in her head, blocking out everything else. The man’s low voice telling her to kill, that an infernal is no longer who they were just moments prior and it’s ok to kill them now, so just do it… Her feelings coming back until she snaps and jumps into action just to never be able to do it again. But really, she was jut standing there, breathing heavy and holding the bottom of her hoodie so tight her knuckles went white and the soldiers around her started to worry.

“(L/n)-san?” Obi was calling out for her after a minute or two, noticing that something might not be alright with her. She was standing still since he asked her to reconsider joining him as a soldier. Calling out her name over and over again but his voice didn’t seem to reach her. He decided to pick her up and bring her to the matchbox where they secluded her to try and figure out what was going on.

With Hinawa’s lead Shinra and Arthur helped out to fix the town’s casulties while Iris and Maki sat with her in the matchbox. She somewhat came to her senses but was crying uncontrollably in Maki’s arms. Obi decided to find the old man and ask what was going on and if there was any way they could fix the situation. He asked around to find him quick and politely knock into the traditional building he was supposedly in. The old man was there alright, grunting at the knocking and probably thinking it was the girl coming back home as a coward after sending the soldiers away. He stood up to slide the door open and swing at her but it was Obi at the door and the impact barely reached his shoulders.

“Sorry for bothering you but… Could you by any chance tell me what happened to her?” Obi told him that she froze and then broke down crying. The old man sighed and told Obi to get inside to sit down.

“She was my very last disciple as a fire soldier. The kid was a prodigy with a very useful fire power. She was outstanding amongst the third generations… But she couldn’t face the cruelty she had to live by. She came back to me broken down and completely weak and useless after serving for three years under Burns.” The old man told Obi as much as he could, but he failed to understand what really happened to her four years ago, when she left the Fire Force.

Maki and Iris did a good job at comforting her in the matchbox, her breathing has stabilised and she stopped crying too. "I'm so sorry about all this... You shouldn't have to deal with me when you could be needed somewhere else..." She wiped her face and stood up, jumping down from the height of the matchbox down to the ground in front of it. "Thank you for everything anyways..." She bowed and left, without hearing out Maki's pleading to at least tell them what was wrong.

Her head was empty and heard no sound all of the sudden, autopiloting her body back to the house she hid in with her master that she failed to confide in. Her silence turned into the sound of a constant whistle while she walked, that greatly irritated her, causing a migrane to creep in. She never really understood these feelings. They came around when she saw an infernal, hell even at just the mention of the fire possessed monsters she could zone out and cut herself out of existence for a few minutes, waiting for the situation to go away. The old man was the only push she had in her life, the people of the town knew she was a soldier at some point but assumed she resigned due to an injury or something ordinary. Noone ever asked what was going on. Some days when an infernal would spawn in their town the old man would forcibly throw her out of the house. "Make yourself useful and deal with that one, Brat!" He would tell her and she would deal with the infernal from instinct, and barely remember the event afterwards.

The whistle in her head got louder and louder until it stopped suddenly and got replaced by the voice of the captain calling out for her as she slid the door to the house open. He was standing in the door, towering over her small figure and gently cupping her shoulders from both sides to bring her back into the present. "I'm sorry, but I can't join you as a fire soldier... Please leave now. Thank you for coming to help us out." She bowed a little and held the door open for him to leave. Obi took the hint and left the house, respectfully, bowing and saying goodbye.

Company 8 packed up and left the village as the people waved them goodbye. Shinra was disappointed that the girl didn’t join them, saying that he sensed a hero in her in some ways. Maki turned to their captain who was deep in thinking about the supposed events the old master told him. “Will we really just let her stay in that state?” She was anxious about her emotional outburst and she somehow knew that there had to be a story behind it. The matchbox pulled up in front of the company’s cathedral and they left the vehicle. Obi turned to face his soldiers with a determined face and stated the obvious.

“We’re gonna save her!” Their captain declared and the whole company’s mood lifted up as they went back into starting their dinner that went cold in the meantime.

She was silent for a few hours after the fire soldiers have left. Her master sat in the other room, waiting for anything to happen, but this time she didn’t even bother to cry as she usually would. The sliding door opened slowly and she came out to join her master at the small Japanese table he was sitting at. Her face got it’s color back in the last few hours and she looked into her master’s eyes for the first time since she resigned.

“Will you tell me what happened four years ago?” She nodded and started her story at the very beginning. The old master sat there, listening to the story of the young 18 year old soldier he let go, who turned into a first class soldier by 20 and who’s soul was murdered by the betrayal and death of others by 21. When she finished the story she looked down but saw her master move and stand up in front of her. He moved slowly closer and she was ready for the hit, squinting her eyes close and waiting for the pain to come. But it never came, instead he patted her hair and pulled her head forward into his shoulder.

“I’m awfully sorry for ruining your life like that, (f/n)… If it wasn’t for me…” She cut his apology in half and hugged him a little.

“If it wasn’t for you, I would have become an infernal long time ago… I’m sure I wouldn’t be alive by now…”

[ragingbookdragon]

Batsis & Green Lantern, Sittin' In A Tree. K-I-S-S-I-N--Wait, Is That Our Sister? PT. 1

Kyle Rayner x Batsis One-Shot

Word Count: 4K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: Aye, looks who's back at it again with a fic like this! IT'S ME! Enjoy! -Thorne

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

The creature was coming at him a lot faster than he’d thought it was, and he barely had enough time to form a wall before it slammed into him. Even then, the force of it hitting the green construct sent him back a hundred feet and into the side of an abandoned skyscraper.

Pain wasn’t really felt when in the suit, but man, it still threw him for a loop and he groaned as he picked himself up off the ground, shoving glass and concrete away from his body. He could hear the rest of the Justice League fighting outside and as he started back towards the hole his body had made, the creature came in.

And this time, he didn’t have any to react, and the glowing magenta beast was coming right at him—fast. He lifted his arms and started to will a construction when a low sound came from his hand and with wide eyes, he watched the glowing neon green ring faded dull.

“Shi—”

His suit faded instantaneously and the next thing he knew, he was being shoved into the wall. It cracked under the pressure and his skull felt as though it’d been split when it connected with the concrete. The creature’s giant clawed hands wrapped around his throat, starting to choke the life out of him and he scratched at the magenta skin, to no avail.

“He—lp!” he gasped. “Som—on—e hel—p!”

Black started to edge from the corners of his vision and a haze began to settle over his brain as his lungs stopped receiving air.

I don’t wanna die. I don’t wanna die like this. Someone, anyone, help!

Something cold splattered across his face, and suddenly the steel grip around his throat went slack. The weight of the creature fell away from him and he dropped to his knees and collapsed onto his back, gasping in lungfuls of air to his deprived organs.

When his head stopped spinning, and he found the strength to move, he rolled onto his side and immediately, he recoiled with a shout of fear. The creature’s big ugly head had been decapitated and was leaking a fluorescent blue blood—that’s probably what splattered on his face and he reached up, wiping a hand across his skin. He pulled his hand away and there was the neon ichor painting his palm.

“You’re weak, Rayner,” a voice commented disapprovingly.

He craned his neck up to see a woman who looked about his age wiping the neon blood from a silver sword before she sheathed it on her back, her white slit eyes finding his.

“You almost died because your ring ran out of power.”

Kyle huffed and unsteadily stretched his legs. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m the woman that saved your life.” Her eyes narrowed. “You’re welcome by the way.”

“Thank you,” he said, casting one last look at the creature before looking back at her. “So, who are you again? You obviously know me?” he took a moment to examine her suit. It was black, with silver stripes and in the middle of her chest was a silver symbol, that of a Greek helmet. But what got Kyle was the bat wings that outstretched from the sides of the helm.

“Are you apart of Batman’s troupe?”

She grunted and tapped at the glowing screen on her wrist. “Yeah. Name’s Silver Sentinel.”

“Oh, I know who you are!” he grinned. “You’re Dick and Jason’s sister!”

“Yes, please, tell the world who my younger brothers are.”

Kyle’s face heated and he glanced down at his hands. “Sorry.”

She tapped a button and waited, then a voice came over the comm link.

Talk.

Her eyes found Kyle’s and she replied, “Rescued your Green Lantern about two klicks from your position.” A sneer came over her lip. “Fool let his ring run out of power.”

He stared at his hands as embarrassment crawled across his skin, flushing from his neck up to his cheeks.

Hmm. Can you get him back to New York?

“I could be persuaded.”

Sentinel.

She rolled her eyes. “Alright, whatever. I’ll take him back to NY.” Walking over to the hole in the wall, she saw a beam of light. “Need a hand down there?”

Negative. We’ve got it under control.

“Ten-four. Silver Sentinel out.” The line went dead, and she looked down at Kyle. “Well, are you going to keep sitting there on your ass or are you gonna get up?”

He scrambled to his feet, an apology rolling off his tongue. “Sorry.”

She merely grunted in return and started off towards the exit, him following rather quickly. As they got to the entrance to the floor, she walked over to the elevator and pried it open, and Kyle had to fight to not be impressed by her sheer strength. She placed some type of device between the open doors and clicked a button, and it spread, keeping them apart.

Next, she pulled out what looked like one of the grapple guns Kyle had seen her family carrying around, and pointed it at the ceiling of the elevator, pulling the trigger. It hit the top with a clink, and she gave it an experimental tug before looking over at him.

“Come here,” she commanded, and Kyle blinked as something tight shot through his gut at the tone she carried—one of force and complete authority. Something told him that she was the type of woman who did what she wanted and expected people to fall in line behind her or else. He wasn’t sure if he should’ve been aroused or terrified, but it was probably a mix of both as he walked over.

She curled an arm around his waist and tugged his body up against hers. “Put one of your arms around my shoulder, the other around my body.”

“I—uh—I don’t feel comfor—” Kyle stuttered as his cheeks turned scarlet and she glared at him.

“We’re not going to dry hump in the elevator like horny teenagers, Rayner.” She pulled them nose to nose and he tried not to wince as the black nose of the cowl pushed into his skin. “If you’d rather us grapple down the side of the building where everyone can see, then let’s go.”

He swallowed thickly and did as she’d said a moment earlier, putting one of his arms around her shoulder, the other wrapping snug around her back. “N-no. We can do this,” he agreed, and she grunted.

“Listen carefully, this is going to be scary because you’re not used to it, but the second our feet come off this floor, don’t panic. I’ve got you and I’m not going to drop you.”

Though her voice was harsh, he could feel the security. “And the claw holding us up?”

“Has a gripping force of two tons.” She looked at him and inched towards the opening. “We’ll be fine.”

Kyle stepped over and looked down into the cold and dark shaft, immediately feeling his heart-rate pick up and she sighed when she heard the sharp intake of breath.

“You’re such a baby,” she scowled and pulled them into the shaft. His arms tighten instantaneously and even his legs tightened around hers. “Gonna try and climb me, Rayner?” she teased.

“Shut up,” he hissed and buried his face in her shoulder pad. “Just hurry and get us down.”

She snorted and clicked a button, allowing them to descend at a faster pace than he would’ve liked. “I thought Green Lanterns were supposed to be fearless?”

“Usually when I’m somewhere I could fall to my death, I’m powered up.” He retorted, still burrowed in her shoulder. “This is a little different.”

“Relax, Rayner. I’ve got you.”

Kyle pulled his face away from her armor and stared at her, though all he could make out was the white slits. “How are you this strong? I know I weigh at least one-eighty.”

She grunted. “Yeah, I can tell.”

He blinked. “Are you calling me fat? That sounds like you’re calling me fat.”

“Your muscle mass could be better.”

“That wasn’t a no,” he griped and when she chuckled, it sent shivers down his spine.

“To answer your earlier question—”

“The one where you called me fat?” he interrupted, and she scowled at him.

“The one about how strong I am. I work out daily, Rayner, and I can lift a lot more than my weight.”

“How heavy—” he chuckled nervously when she glared at him. “I’m not gonna finish that question.”

“Good idea, Rayner. Might save you from being dropped.”

“Hardy-har-har. You’re hilarious,” he retorted, and suddenly his feet his something hard. He looked down and saw the elevator, and she shoved him back from her, clicking the button on the grapple gun.

It recoiled in a matter of seconds and she tapped a button on the side of her cowl as she stowed the gun, then she moved to the corner of the elevator and brought her foot down as hard as she could. Kyle winced when the hatch gave way and he wondered how powerful she was to kick through a metal latch in one hit.

She looked at him. “Come on. I’ll call the Batplane when we get outside.”

“I thought only Batman was allowed to do that?” he asked, and she scoffed.

“Let’s just say I’m the one who’s allowed to do whatever she wants, and things don’t get fucked up.” She disappeared down the hatch and a moment later, he heard the elevator doors being pried open. “Are you coming, Rayner? I’d be more than happy to leave you here without a ride home.”

Kyle hurried and squeezed down the hatch, grunting when his tennis shoes hit the floor. The elevator rocked and creaked and she made a noise that sounded a lot like the one Batman made when he was annoyed.

“Hurry up and get through the doors.”

He ducked under her arms and out onto the floor and she followed, letting the thick metal doors slam behind her. She strode ahead and tapped at her screen.

“Alfred, are you there?”

A moment later, an older voice came over the line.

Yes Miss Wayne. How can I assist you this evening?

“I need the Batplane at my position. Could you send it?”

At once.

“Thanks Alfie.”

Of course, Miss Wayne.

As they waited in the lobby of the skyscraper, she murmured, “If you’re not going to ask whatever you’re thinking about asking me. Stop thinking. It’s annoying.”

Kyle blinked. “How’d you—”

“Oh please.” she rolled her eyes. “You’ve opened and shut your mouth eight times in the last two minutes.” She gazed at him. “Just ask.”

“You’re really Bruce Wayne’s daughter? (Y/N) Wayne?”

“I am.” (Y/N) replied. “Why?”

He shrugged. “I dunno…it’s just kinda hard to believe that a famous model doubles as a vigilante at night.”

“Why’s that so shocking? My dad’s a multi-billionaire playboy by day and Batman by night. Are you telling me a woman can’t do it too?”

Kyle’s green eyes widened, and he shook his head. “What? No! That’s not what I meant! I just meant that with back-to-back photo shoots, it must be hard to make time to do all this.”

(Y/N) hummed, turning her gaze to the street, a blur of red went by and she knew it was Barry Allen. “I run on my own schedule, Rayner, not anyone else’s.”

“Wow, you really are the woman in charge, aren’t you?” he remarked.

And she turned her eyes onto him again, this time narrowed in amusement as she teased, “Trying to see if you can find out what it’s like to be in charge for the night?”

Kyle’s mouth opened and snapped shut. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said, swallowing nervously.

She crossed over to him in one step, getting up in his personal space again as she cooed, “Oh, you don’t?” he nodded and she reached up, trailing her silver armored fingers up the front of his white shirt and he was incapable of fighting how his muscles twitched at the pressure.

“I think you do,” she flirted. “Come on, Rayner. Don’t you wanna see what it’s like when you’re the man in charge? How much fun it can be to take all that control?” (Y/N) leaned close, her face barely an inch from his. “To be the one who holds all that power over a woman?”

He couldn’t breathe. His head was swimming with R-rated thoughts that if she really were a mind reader, she’d probably break his jaw, but all he knew was that his mind was so far into the gutter it wasn’t funny, and he swore she could hear his heart pounding.

She pulled away. “You should break out on your own instead of working for a design company. Then you’d have better control over your own schedule.”

Kyle blinked, stunned silent, then he said, “Wait, what?”

(Y/N) cocked her head to the side. “What?”

“What was,” he gestured wildly. “All that just now?”

Placing a hand on her hip, she asked, “I don’t understand what you’re talking about, Rayner. All I said was that you should get on your own.”

A deafening sound shook the floor and Kyle stared at the black plane settling down in the middle of the street. (Y/N) walked out the doors and to it as if it just hadn’t pulled a “J-turn” at twelve G’s.

“Let’s go, Rayner. I’ve got better things to do than babysit you,” she called, and he ran after her. She helped him climb into it, then scowled. “Move over. You’re in my spot.”

He shimmied in the tight space to the other seat and strapped in, watching curiously as she tapped at the buttons and flipped switches before grabbing hold of the steering device.

Kyle snorted. “It’s even shaped like a bat.”

(Y/N) huffed. “Yeah, that’s how we do things in our family.” She tapped at the screen. “Batman, this is Silver Sentinel. Come in.”

Read you loud and clear, Sentinel.

“Green Lantern and I are in route to New York.” She paused and directed her gaze to the screen, watching red dots surround a group of blue ones. “You’ve got enemies incoming. Do you want backup?”

Negative. You and Green Lantern get back to New York. We can handle this.

For once that night, Kyle watched as concern crossed (Y/N)’s face and she replied, “Dad, I think—”

I gave you an order, Sentinel.

(Y/N) glared and looked at Kyle and he about shrunk in his seat form the withering stare; she tossed him a helmet and ordered, “Put that on and don’t puke in it.”

“Don’t what?” he inquired as he put it on and the only answer he got was the sudden kick of the engines and he was pulled back in his seat. “Holy shit,” he whispered breathlessly as the Batwing took a U-turn in the air and headed off towards the fight.

Sentinel, we’re fine.

“With all due respect, sir, I don’t believe that,” (Y/N) retorted and in a matter of moments they were flying over the rest of the Justice League. She tapped at the screen. “You’ve got incoming hostiles from the north, east, and west.” (Y/N) flipped a few switches above her then pressed a button on the steering wheel. “Heatseekers and nanite missiles deployed.”

Kyle watched her go between the screen and the switches. “Hostiles in the east and west quadrants have been eliminated.”

What can you tell me about the north?

“You’ve got multiple hostiles coming in. Got a big guy too. Got any tips?”

They’re vulnerable to sound waves. Take him out and we’ll do the rest.

“Ten-four. Happy hunting.”

(Y/N) turned the steering wheel and directed the Batplane towards the north part of the fight, grinning when the giant creature came into view, while Kyle looked like he was going to crap himself.

“Merry Christmas, ugly. Kiss my ass,” she quipped and pressed a button, and a black tube the size of a fire hydrant shot to the ground, and with a thunk, sunk in.

“What’s that supposed to do?” Kyle asked and she grinned.

“Watch and learn.”

The device popped up, blue and armed and she hit the screen. Immediately the windows of every building and car in the mile radius shattered and to his amazement, Kyle watched the creatures screech and grab at their heads before they exploded into piles of neon blue goo.

His jaw dropped. “Holy shit. That was cool.”

(Y/N) smirked and checked the map once more. No more hostiles inbound and she hit the comm link again. “Justice League you are all clear. I repeat, Justice League you are all clear.”

Good work, Sentinel. Now do as I told you and take Green Lantern back to New York.

“Is nothing I do good enough for you, father?” she griped, though Kyle could see the humor in her eyes.

Get off the comm link.

“Make me.”

Sentinel. Get. Off.

“Fine, fine. I love you too.” (Y/N) pushed at the screen once more then reclined in her seat, shutting her eyes.

“Don’t you have to fly this thing?” Kyle asked as the engines picked up again.

“Nah. It’s got autopilot.”

“I gotta get me one of these,” he whispered, and she reached over him, pulling out something from a drawer. (Y/N) opened a snack bag and popped a cookie into her mouth.

“You could probably construct one with your ring,” she offered, then held out the bag.

He took one with a ‘thank you’, then said, “Yeah but there’s nothing like owning the real thing.”

“HA! Give my dad a couple million dollars and he might be willing to part with one.”

“And on that note, I’ll stick to constructs,” he chuckled, and the rest of their flight was filled with easy banter, where (Y/N) found herself teasing Kyle a lot more than he was comfortable with—only because he found himself lacking a comeback for every remark she gave him.

***

“You really gotta get a new apartment. This place is way too small for a grown man,” she commented, and he snorted, picking up a pair of shoes that were laying haphazardly on the floor.

“I’m not exactly on the billionaire’s credit card, (Y/N). I live on minimum wage and whatever I can get out of commissions.”

She observed Kyle as he recharged his ring and when he was finished, she asked, “How much do you charge for commissions?”

He blinked and looked up at her. “Oh, well it depends on what the commissioner wants me to do.”

“Give me a price range.”

“Uh…between eighty and two hundred. That’s usually what I charge.”

(Y/N) thought for a moment. “Mind showing me some of your best works? I’ve been thinking about hiring a graphic artist for a new project I’m working on.”

Kyle felt a giddy feeling rise in his chest and he practically tripped over himself to his desk to grab his sketchbook. His cheeks were warm when she giggled and took it from him, flipping through it in silence. And that wracked his nerves because without the cowl on, he could see just how scrutinizing her gaze was.

After a moment she passed it back to him and when she didn’t say anything, merely frowned, he couldn’t help but deflate a bit. “I guess it’s not what you’re looking for, huh?” he tried to sound light, but it came out a lot bitter than he meant.

(Y/N) hummed. “It’s exactly what I’m looking for.”

“I can get you in touch with a better artist at the—” he stopped mid-sentence and gaped at her. “Wait, what was that you said just now?”

She snorted. “I said your work is exactly what I’m looking for.”

He couldn’t fight the shock coursing through him. “Really? It is?”

Suddenly her smile was replaced with a scowl and she bit out, “Quit making me repeat shit and listen the first time.”

Kyle nodded. “Right. I just…wasn’t expecting you to say that.”

“I know,” she replied cockily, then took out her phone and tapped at the screen before showing it to him. “I know you’re a graphic designer and not a clothing one, but you’d be really helpful with the new line of clothing and jewelry I’m planning on making.”

He took her phone gently and swiped at the pictures. “Justice League themed?”

(Y/N) tipped her head. “We’re doing an exclusive line for Gotham’s vigilantes first. If it pays well, we’ll go from there.” She took her phone back and stared at him. “I’m willing to pay you up to two grand for every design you give me.”

Kyle’s eyes practically popped out of his head and his jaw went slack. “Are you—are you being serious?”

She nodded and stowed her phone. “On one condition.”

He nodded. “For two grand a design? I’ll do anything for you.”

The corner of her mouth rose in a smirk and he realized his words too late as she purred, “Well I would love to see you on your knees for me. So, I’ll keep that in mind, Rayner.” Waving a hand, she added, “But besides that, if you want the job, you have to come to the manor.”

“Wayne Manor?”

“Mhm. I’ll provide everything you need to create and design.”

His dark brows furrowed. “I can do that, but why?”

A solemn look came across her face. “You almost got yourself killed tonight because you let your ring power down.” She placed her hands on her hips. “If you want this job, you’re going to take combat lessons from me and you’re going to start working out more.”

Kyle’s face pinched. “You want me to work out and get my ass kicked for a job?”

“More like so my brothers don’t lose a best friend.” She shrugged. “But, if a freelance artist like you can find better money elsewhere, I’d be happy to let you go and—”

“I get it!” he scowled and looked away for a moment before sighing and turning back to her, his hand outstretched. “Fine. It’s a deal. You pay me and I’ll do your designs.”

“And?” she questioned with a smirk.

He groaned, his muscles already feeling the pain coming. “And I’ll take lessons from you.”

(Y/N) smiled. “I’m so glad we could come to an arrangement.” She shook his hand. “It’s going to be a pleasure doing business with you, Mister Rayner.”

Kyle swallowed thickly as she pulled away and walked to the fire escape. “Likewise, Miss Wayne,” he replied lowly, knowing that with each sway of her hips, he was getting more and more screwed. Not only was she his better, she was also his best friends’ older sister—hotter and badass older sister.

She opened the window and paused, looking back at him. “This’ll be a three-month project. Are you okay with that, Kyle?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I can do that.” (Y/N) seemed to be thinking about something and he could tell. “Is something on your mind?”

She pulled on the cowl and gazed at him. “I’ve half a mind to tell you to pack a bag and spend the time at the manor while we do the project.”

“Pay my rent and I’ll consider it,” he snorted and then she blinked and shifted her gaze down to her wrist then tapped at it.

After a minute, she said, “Alright, your rent and utilities have been paid for the next three months.”

“What?”

“You said pay your rent. So, I did.”

“Please tell me you’re joking,” Kyle begged—he didn’t want to owe her like that.

She smiled. “Pack a bag Rayner. You’re moving in.”

“Seriously?”

“Didn’t I tell you to stop making me repeat things?”

He sighed heavily, moving to pack. “Yes ma’am.”

“Ooo, call me ma’am like that again and I might not let you leave when this is over.”

[yostresswritinggirl]

Hey Exiled. I wanted to say that your fics are super amazing and as an aspiring writer, I want to be as good as you. Hope you are doing well.

Possible Trigger Warning(?)

This is for if/when your requests open up again, but imagine Xiao or Albedo with an s/o that’s being tortured and they’re forced to watch. Like they can’t do anything to save them and end up losing their s/o. (I mean for this to inflict pain as this is my favorite troupe. It can honestly work with anyone; I just chose these two boys because they are my favorites)

Today we woke up and we chose violence 🤝finally got around to working on this, I think it's about time I seriously manifest Hu Tao even tho I'm all fluffy lately ywy I love this community, you all give me the best brain juice ehehh Edit: Also also awww thank you for your kind words, sweetie, I'm sure you're already good in your own way!

Blood Money

Albedo and Xiao witness their S/O getting tortured... Blood, violence, the obvious stuff. And also death warning, read at your own risk. (masterlist)

With every punch sends nothing but painful regret into his gut.

His fragile and weak body was beaten into submission, and Albedo comes to spite himself over realizing just how useless he is without his Vision, how useless he would be with it either way. Maybe if he knew the things that would transpire, he would have taken great consideration into mastering his element.

The cloaked man pulls harshly at his ruined braid, forcing him to watch now in full attention.

He almost vomits at the sound of your bone grinding and snapping as they pull it back, your grazed throat able to let out a choked scream that sends shivers to his own body. For the first time in his whole life, tears threatened to spill as it forms at the brim of his eyes.

"Please..." the sword embedded in your side twists to deliver a seering pain, another scream forcing its way through your senseless whimpers, "Please... let them go..."

Your face was smacked flat against the floor, breathing heavy but barely there as a foot presses at the nape of your neck, placing a dangerous weight at your spine/throat as your oxygen supply starts to fade.

"That person right there is the reason your research has been stagnant," the one holding him down spoke in held fury as he chooses his words through grinded teeth, "Khaenri'ah needs its cure and you're here playing house. You ought to learn your lesson."

You're awfully silent and still. Albedo's sedated body struggles helplessly, breathe quickening as fear in its purest form bubbles within him. He gingerly calls out your name; no response, it only made the man put more pressure on your neck.

"No, please, stop. I was- I was on an expedition, in Dragonspine. I was sent by the Knights- I-I couldn't refuse..."

A swift, muffled crack makes him scream. Horrified and shocked. The tears are now that of a waterfall, sobs and cries for your name in hopes that you would respond. You didn't.

"Wrong answer."

Ever since the day Albedo comes walking into Mondstadt with your corpse cradled in his arms, not even the Knights had seen him walk out of his laboratory, dead eyes never meeting anyone's stare. The Alchemist is in grief and denial, that's what they theorized, for the reason that Albedo never once muttered anything else under his breath besides his research.

Timaeus and Sucrose, despite being apprentices and assistants, never stepped foot into his laboratory either. Banned, even. Klee too never had the chance to see him again, his laboratory was permanently locked. Perhaps he just needed time, something all the Knights thought.

"I'm almost done," and time is exactly what he wants. Even if you're nothing but a rotting corpse in his lab, he'll get to you soon enough. "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. I'll defy those laws for you, my love."

Xiao and the constant plague of his built up karma haunts him whether he has his eyes closed or not.

The problem with it is the fact that when it manifests, it's usually a vivid phenomenon that only he is witness to. It alarms him more than anyone of its recent manifestations, corrupting nearby Hilichurls and whole cavern of monsters, his debt is sipping and he's not sure what else it could hurt, because it can hurt anything at this point.

So when he lifts his head from his usual shackles of karmic binds, he was more than horrified to see you, his ray of hope entangled the same way. "What are you doing here-" his sudden question halts upon your pained grunt, the binds wrapped around your arms pulling in opposite directions.

The pain is slow and daunting, Xiao realized at the way your face scrunches up as it pulls more. Desperate to stop your hurting, he struggles against his own karmic binds. Yet the thousand years of burden do not relent so easily.

"Our lives are cut off because of your slaughter. What makes you think you deserve reconciliation with life after taking thousands of others?"

A bind finds its way around your throat and tightens, your grunts muffled into choking desperately for air, body writhing in an effort to pull away from all your shackles. Xiao doesn't like it, not one bit of how he struggles to break free, how powerless he feels at the current situation when he should be protecting you from harm.

"Xi..." He tugs at his left arm to angle his leg, hoping to latch it around the upper bind to pull it. What was of his composure now when his desperation and alarm is evident on his face? "X-Xiao ngh-"

Distracted from his own struggles, Xiao peels his stare away and onto your form, eye widening and moistening at the sight of red and blood forming by the junction of your arms and torso. A manifestation of the consumed festered souls summons behind your form with a wicked smile, long nails of jet black traces your flexed body while piercing at your skin as it passes.

Your struggles for air mixes in with pain raised tenfold, breathless screams for every puncture. You couldn't even look at him anymore. "Please," the Yaksha cries out in his most vulnerable, "Stop hurting them. Please... This is between you and me..."

"If you want us to stop,

then you'll have to stop too."

In the domain of his mind, only those that lingers, that should linger are the thousands of devoured, demonic souls that make up his debt. There is no room for anything else. Xiao hangs his head low and there he weeps in silence in a place where he is not a weapon, only a man reminiscent of his youngness and naivety.

Here he is no Xiao.

Here he is Alatus.

They smile.

"Xiao?" You wave your hand by his face, snapping your fingers (and failed miserably) enough times for him to finally zone out of his sudden trance in the middle of your comversation. "Is something wrong?" Your confused expression is different from his steeled, yet wide eyed one.

And without a word, he vanished from your sight. A look over his shoulder, of regret and hurt, was the last of your memory of him. In his eyes you are dead to him; in his mind your light has no place in it.

I have realized I do not want to scar you that much. Ironically. Asks spam after this so turn your notifs off after.

@primogenshin @xiaophilia @bunniesrorange @anormalguyreader @scarletroseneko @albaedhoe @xiaophilia @heisenwurst @childe-simp-exe @moaa @dandelion-dreams @witchsungie @lehra @zelos-simp @legionqueensav @snackgod @rxsalinee @cala-ran @wind-wheel @lilydewi22 @yellowflowre @director-boo-tao @nonniechan @creation-magician @hanniejji @gojos-baby @just-some-stars @volleybloop @tartuu

[americxn]

hi can i please request a kai x female reader imagine where the reader dies in his arms and its just pure angst with him screaming and crying and clutching her dead body? and him telling her he loved her.

kinda like your other imagine (his darkness) but instead she dies.

okay thanks <3

Too Late (Kai Anderson x GN!Reader)

a/n: this is basically just an alternative ending to an older fic: 

https://americxn.tumblr.com/post/648019215903784960/his-darkness-kai-x-reader

and I hadn’t realised how much my writing had changed until I changed the original fic but damn, my old writing was so messy (it still is but you get my point).

wordcount: 2k warnings: angst, death (idk what that’s like so this is definitely not accurate), grief, bullet wound, blood 

The gun shot echoed through the large warehouse, Kai’s shout falling on deaf ears as time seemed to warp and slow. You paused, blinking stupidly, your brain seeming to fall utterly silent as Kai sprinted for you, his face a contorted mix of fury and terror as the bullet cut through the air, right at you.  The pain didn’t register at first, just the sickening impact as flesh and tissue was shredded, the small piece of metal burrowing itself into you, ripping through sinew and slamming into bone. Your breath rushed from you as you looked down, your hands seeming to move in slow motion as they raised to cradle your stomach, your legs giving out beneath you. Finally, with another blink, the world became coherent again, time righting itself once more as the concrete of the floor rose up, up, your body cold as it slammed into the hard ground. Another series of gunshots notified that you your assailant had been shot down, too, Kai abandoning his troupe of cult members as he hurtled for you, lunging just in time to shove his hand between your head and the hard floor as you fell. “Holy shit, y/n?” He cried frantically, moving to support your head in his lap, his own hands batting yours out of the way to press over the perforation in the lower quadrant of your stomach.

He yelled something over his shoulder, the words inaudible to you as you blinked up at Kai, your own breaths too loud in your ears as your hands fell limply to your sides, the slipperiness of your own hot blood coating your fingers making your head spin and your chest constrict. “Y/n?” Kai spoke down to you a shade quieter, his face just as gaunt as yours as he yelled another order to his followers across the large space of the warehouse before glancing down at you once more, his eyes wide and teary in panic.  “Hold on, y/n, you’re okay. Just give me a minute.” He half instructed, half pleaded as he removed his hands from your wound momentarily to tear off his shirt. Suddenly, another somewhat familiar face appeared before yours, but you kept your eyes on Kai, feeling sickeningly helpless as he pressed his shirt to your stomach in an attempt to staunch the blood flow. “Kai,” you whispered, panic creeping into your tone as the pain finally began to register, a splitting, burning sensation beginning to work its way from the site of the bullet outwards. His wide eyes found yours, one of his hands leaving your stomach to rest on your cheek, his own palm clammy against the thin sheen of sweat coating the skin there, some of your hot blood being smeared onto the side of your face. “I’m fine.” You gritted out on a sharply exhaled breath, trying to convince yourself as prickling alarm began to work its way into your consciousness at the pain unfurling within you, hot and searing.  “I know. You’re absolutely fine.” Kai said, glancing to his frantic squad of cult members to ensure that they did as they were instructed. You nodded shallowly, the back of your head rubbing against his thighs. Gasping, your forced yourself to relax, clenching and unclenching your fingers as Kai continued to bark orders above you. “But it hurts.” You whimpered, beginning to shiver. A tear fell onto Kai’s cheek and he turned his head to wipe it away hastily on the shoulder of his shirt, praying that you wouldn’t notice the single salty droplet. “I know. It’s okay for it to hurt.” He reassured, his voice softer than you had ever heard it before. In the midst of your pain your heart warmed as his hand began to rub your cheek. After all the shit you and Kai had done and said to one another, it sometimes amazed you how much he still cared for you. Blinking slowly, you opened yourself up to him, allowing him to behold your gratitude and the care that you had for him, too, your eyes gleaming with wordless emotion. A stabbing pain radiated from your core as your shivering began to get more aggressive and you yelped quietly, you head titling back as you forced yourself to breathe through the pain. “Y/n? Please, just give me a minute, help is coming.” You groaned lowly in response, nausea unfurling in your stomach. Kai’s voice seemed to get quieter, as if he were getting further away and your eyelids began to feel heavy. How long had you been lying here? How long did it take for life to evade you if the bullet had torn through something vital? “Y/n, keep your eyes open.” Kai instructed, his tone still so painfully gentle but firm, his hand patting your cheek softly as your eyes drifted closed. Opening them again, you met his gaze, your fingers going utterly cold. “I’m tired.” You muttered. Kai nodded, a single tear falling as he blinked harshly, his voice breaking as he reassured you that feeling tired was also okay but “you have to stay awake until help gets here.” When your eyes closed again, a wrenching gasping breath sounded from above your head, Kai bending over to rest his forehead on yours. Hot tears fell onto your forehead as Kai sobbed over your body, the hand on your cheek patting your face again as he composed himself, lifting his face slightly from yours. “Please.” He begged. Your eyes opened in answer, fighting against the devastatingly strong urge to give into the black void calling your name, begging you to let go and give yourself to the darkness. Your teeth gritted as you focused with all your might on Kai’s hand on your cheek, allowing his touch to ground you. Kai whispered soft words of encouragement as you forced yourself to gasp one breath after another.  “I’m not ready for you to leave me yet.” Kai admitted in a whisper above you, his tears hot as they continued to roll off his chin, landing on your clammy forehead. Words evaded you but your eyes locked with his, blinking slowly up at Kai, a surge of icy panic washing through you as you felt your grip on consciousness beginning to slip, dangling over the yawning void that opened up beneath you and whispered quietly, beckoning you to let go of the man cradling you and fall into it’s endless depths.  Your chest rattled as you sucked down another hitching breath, your heart pulsing firmly within your chest, it’s rhythm faltering, struggling to sluggishly continue pumping your life source through you.  The void whispered to you again, calling your name, louder this time. Your body was falling numb. Kai’s name was poised on your dry tongue, struggling to fall from your lips as the pit of nothingness opened wider beneath you, it’s tendrils of darkness reaching for you, weaving through your fingertips and licking softly at your face with cool flames. You had so much to say to him. To the man leant over your body, his eyes bright with tears as they desperately scanned your own, watching in terror as the light slowly dissipated from your gaze, irises glassing over. But you couldn’t push any of the words from your tongue, a hot tear of your own leaking down the side of your face and disappearing into the hair at your ear as the ribbons of velvety blackness crept further over your body, whispering sweetly to you as they snaked over your limp frame. A weak grunt was all you could muster, your hand too heavy to place over the one he used to stroke your cheek, your heart splintering as all energy evaded you.  You couldn’t even say goodbye. You had left it too late, his desperately spoken words having convinced you that you could remain with him, filling you with cruelly false hope. What little grip you clung onto him with faltered, sending you toppling into the void that sang with warm delight, welcoming you as you fell. Kai’s lips moved as you watched your body sag completely in his hold, his face crumpling with raw, undiluted panic as you chest fell, never to rise again. Time seemed to slow, allowing you to drink in the sight of his face one final time, his scream of agonising anguish quiet to your ears as you fell and fell and fell before being swallowed entirely by the cocooning darkness.

His face contorted into a broken cry, dread like he had never known taking him in it’s grip as he shook the body draped limply across his lap. He couldn’t bare the sight of the blood crusted hands, once so lissom and soft, falling away from the body, their backs colliding with the blood smattered concrete floor of the warehouse, utterly lifeless, all colour draining from the face that he had grown completely smitten for, the eyes cold and staring unseeingly back at him. It felt as if his chest had been cleaved in two, shredding and ripping a chasm cutting through his being, taking away his ability to do so much as take a full breath as he folded over the vacant body, his forehead hot as it rested against the one which was rapidly cooling. The small group of cult members had fallen quiet, going utterly still as they watched their leader collapse over the body, his rasping screams chilling them to the bone; they had been too late. Help hadn’t arrived in time. And now it was all that they could do but watch as their divine ruler was ripped apart by anguish, the trembling of his fingertips that clutched onto the body evident even from across the large, cold space as he gathered the corpse to him, rocking pitifully back and forth and sobbing hoarsely into the limp strands of hair.  His tears were hot as the dripped onto the absent face, frozen in wide eyed unease, a declaration of love still poised on the cooling lips, parted slightly from the final breath that had been pulled from the stony air in a futile attempt to cling to the life that had been torn from the ailing fingertips. He, too, struggled to heave down hitching breaths of air, a mumbled string of words tumbling from his quivering lips as he continued to shake the body beneath him, clinging to the little warm still staining the dull skin, barely audible over the hoarse cries breaking out of him. A terrible nausea settled over his tremoring body, so full of overbearing emotion in comparison to the husk clasped into his warmth. He willed the body to hear, to listen to his voice and take one more gasping breath, if only so that he could offer the faded life the parting words that he hadn’t had courage to say when the body glowed with feeling. “I love you.” He moaned into the body, his chest igniting in agony as he struggled to push the words out past the sobs racking through his body. “I love you.” He repeated, groaning in despair, choking on his own anguish as he murmured those three words over and over, each repetition growing increasingly abhorrent on his tongue; if only he had been struck by that bullet. If only he could take the place of the body clutched in his grasp. If only he hadn’t been such a coward and had told the body the same words that now poured from his cracked lips when it was still occupied by life. They had to pry the body away from him, his fingers grappling with the clothes hanging limply around it in an effort to take it with him, to find a way to breathe the life back into it and tell it what he hadn’t been daring enough to tell it before. That he loved them.

taglist: @kitwalker02 @three-eyed-snail @forevercountess @kitwalkerangel @milly-louise @thecountessesglove @undeadcortez @kitwalker64 @samsassinparvismagna @xmaximoffic @divineruler @liandav @tatesweaterweather @evanmybeloved @tatelangdonsupremacist @ikkleroniekins @ananad1 @shlutnutt @sanni333 @mossybank (dm to be added or removed <3)

[5sospenguinqueen]

PULL ME BACK FROM THE DARKNESS ~ CATO HADLEY

PLOT: You and Cato fill in the missing pieces of each other. 

Warning: smut, m/f, hints at PTSD and depression, slight breeding kink if you squint, slight size kink.

I am not responsible for what media you choose to consume. If you cannot handle the contents of this or are too young, please do not read. It is your responsibility, not mine. 

________________________________________________________________

Wet strands of hair dripped down your back as your fingers nimbly worked at braiding them away from your face. Not yet fully dressed, you leant across the sink to gaze into the small mirror to see whether the top of the braid was flat. A click resonated throughout the room and you couldn't help the smile that sidled its way onto your face as the thudding of heavy footsteps filled your ears. The hulking figure of the man who had been your rock filled the doorway and you connected eyes with him through the mirror. Rough fingers replaced your hands as he smoothed out the tangles in your hair and expertly twisted the strands together. Once he was done, you couldn't help but admit that he had done a better job than you would have done yourself. Reminding you that he had younger sisters who he'd been forced to practice on, he pressed a kiss to the side of your head before stripping for his own shower.

Sinking your teeth into her lip, you heard him exclaim in shock when the water came out cold instead of the usual lukewarm. Guilt made its appearance once more when you realised you had used up the hot water for the day. Plopping down onto the mattress, you closed in on herself as the memories that had plagued you all day took their toll on you. For so long you had been fighting – fighting for survival, fighting other children, fighting your own mind. Whilst your hands were no longer covered in blood, they would never be cleansed of the innocent lives you had taken.

Pulled from your thoughts as a bare chest entered your view, you bit her lip at the towel slung around his hips. How it didn't drop any lower was beyond you but you found herself almost willing it to slide down. Leaning into his touch as he placed his hand on the side of your face, you looked up at him through your lashes.

"Rough day, baby?"

You remained silent, relishing in his strength for a moment or two. All you wanted was to lie down and wait for the fight to pass. To wait for the moment when her mind would fall blank and the memories would cease to exist. Eyes connecting with Cato's, you realised you had disappeared inside your own head once again. Concern was written across his face until you reassured him that you were present in the room and not back in the arena. Both of you had spent too long plagued by the chaos that had followed you out of the arena. Thankfully, one of you was always there to be the tether to reality. Unfortunately, that didn’t stop Cato from looking at her as if she was one crack away from irreparable. 

"Stop," she demanded. "I'm not weak enough to crumble from one bad day. I’ll get through it, just like I get through the rest.”

"Sweetheart, I never meant-."

"No, I know exactly what you meant. The next Games are fast approaching and my nightmares are coming on faster and darker but so are yours. Snow didn't break me. I'm not some fragile little doll that needs to be hidden away whilst the pieces are glued back together again. I am perfectly mentally capable of mentoring the next lot of tributes without having a breakdown.” 

"Indie, this isn't about me thinking you're not strong enough, this is about me not being strong enough! How can I look at these small children and send them to their death. I've already had to deal with losing them before."

Falling to his knees, Cato buried his head in your lap and allowed the tears to fall. Whispering soothing words, you ran your fingers through his blond strands. Teardrops slid down your own cheeks as you watched the strongest person in your life fall apart. Cato had been there for you since the moment you had been reunited after your were rescued from the arena after cutting down all those in your way. He had been there to catch you every time you stumbled. Watching him feeling so hopeless shook you and although you felt like curling up next to him and giving in, you knew it was your time to be there for him.

"Listen to me, we've made it through death and we've made it through separation. Baby, I am just as scared as you but I know that we're going to get through this together. We haven't made it this far just to lose now. You and me, together, Cato. Forever."

"You don't deserve this." Cato sniffled, brushing away his own tears. "You've been through so much, lost so much, I'm supposed to be there for you."

"Cato, I'm your partner, it's my duty to be there for you. We fight together or we don't fight at all. Don't forget that we're from Career Districts. We're always strong and we never lose. We will not allow these next Games to strip away the strength that we have left."

"Well maybe, for one night, we reward ourselves with the luxury of being weak. Just tonight, let's forget about this stupid war and just wallow in our pity. Please?"

And maybe it was the broken look on his face, the sadness swirling in the sky blue eyes, or the fact that forgetting about the future Games was all you wanted to do, you granted him the only thing he had ever asked of you. Snuggling into his comforting (still bare) arms, you allowed yourself to cry about your own pain. The tears that fell weren't for the fallen and all they had left behind, they weren't for the deaths of the future children you were about to witness, these were purely for how mentally exhausted and rundown you felt. Soft lips kissed away your tears. One warm hand rested on the cool skin of your hip, having slithered its way under the thin shirt you slept in.

With a small inhale, you pressed your lips to his whilst your hands snaked their way into his hair. Salt mixed with the taste of his tongue but you wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him closer. A rumble echoed in his chest as his length pressed against you and he straightened, yanking you up with him. Spinning you around, Cato backed you up until you hit the wall with a bump. As his lips trailed down to your neck, you rested your head against the wall, back arching when Cato sucked on the sweet spot just below your ear.

"I love you," his lips traced the words down to the valley between your breasts before he wrenched the top over your head and threw it behind him.

Left hand reaching up to palm at your breast, his mouth wrapped around the nipple on the other one, tongue flickering over the hardened bud. Your breath hitched and you used your foot to deftly push the towel down and finally reveal what had been hidden from you. Exclaiming in shock, you scowled when Cato chuckled against you. When you reached down to grasp him, he gently bit your nipple but the action forced your hips against his and with one roll, he brushed against your clothed clit.

"Off," you begged, lifting your hips slightly away from the wall so that Cato could slide them down your shaky legs.

Fingers dancing along your legs, he reached down to cup your heat and one finger slid between your wet walls.

"I will never get sick of this," he groaned, watching as you bit your lip in pleasure.

Thumb rubbing your clit, he added another finger, watching as they plunged in and out of your slick heat. His name tumbled off your lips as your pleasure increased and Cato knew that that would be his favourite sound. If there was one sound that could banish the nightmares and dispel the darkness, it would be you crying his name as you tumbled over the edge, coating his fingers. Panting slightly, you pushed him away, revelling in the confused look on his face.

As you sunk to her knees, lust clouded his blue eyes until they were as dark as the sea in District Four on a stormy day. Hand wrapping around the base, you smirked as he hissed when your tongue licked a stripe from balls to tip. Mouth wrapping around his tip, you moved down ever so slightly before pulling back up. Hollowing your cheeks out, you sucked gently on his tip and was rewarded with a throaty groan as Cato bucked his hips, pushing his cock deeper into your mouth.

"So good to me, baby." Cato cursed, hand resting on your head as he pushed you down a little more.

Humming around him, you gagged when he jerked slightly and his dick hit the back of your throat. One hand gently fondled his balls and Cato swore before pulling himself away from you.

"As much as I love your mouth wrapped around me, I'd rather put my cock somewhere else."

Shivers skittered down your spine as his husky words were whispered in your ear and you found yourself being pulled of your knees before you were shoved against the wall face first. Large hands gripped your hips hard enough to bruise and you smiled knowing Cato remembered just how you liked it.

"Always so tight for me," he grunted as he slid into you.

Cheek pressed against the cold concrete wall, you whimpered as your walls adjusted to the girth of him. Teasingly, he slowly entered inch by inch until his impatient girl backed up and enveloped the entirety of him in one quick movement. One hand braced on the wall, small grunts escaped his mouth as h thrust gently into you. Lips pressing a gentle kiss to the scarred back of his hand, you rested your head against his hand in a loving gesture. A primal instinct ignited in Cato at the sight of his partner so small and vulnerable, as you let down your guard and opened yourself up to him both emotionally and physically. The woman beneath him was always so strong and fierce that he couldn't help the dark chuckle that escaped as his body encompassed yours entirely as he pressed you further into the wall.

"Such a good girl. Take me so well," he praised, enjoying the little pants that left your mouth and with a shift of his hips, he coaxed a scream from you.

Unable to help the moans that tumbled from your mouth, you reached down to grab the hand that gripped your hip and pulled you against his cock. Love swelled within him as you held on tightly to him, begging him to go faster as you pleaded for her impending orgasm.

"I love you," you cried as stars exploded across your vision and your walls clenched him tightly.

At the feel of your orgasm, Cato burrowed himself in deeper and pounded harder into your sensitive walls.

"So close, Princess." Cato gasped, his breath hitting the back of your neck as he leaned down to rest his chin on your shoulder. Pressing a kiss to the side of your neck, his movements quickened as he sought release.

"Cum in me," you begged.

Not one to deny the woman he loved, Cato called your name as he stuffed himself inside you, hot cum painting your walls. Sensitive to his touch, you leaned back into his chest as his arms came around your waist and pulled you in for a loving embrace. One hand wrested flat on your belly as he whispered promises of having their own family but in a world where the Hunger Games didn’t exist. Naked and wrapped around one another, you could pretend for just a moment that you were a normal couple whose only issues were what to eat for dinner and how many children you wanted. Whimpering as Cato pulled out of you, you watched him wander into the bathroom in search of a washcloth.

Hand resting on your own abdomen, you wondered whether you would have end up with child. And, for the first time in your life, you found herself hoping you would. Struck by the aching pang within you, you realised that the life you had built with Cato had made you realise just how badly you craved a perfect family with the man you loved. In a world where they grew up safe and never needing to learn the ways to kill another person. 

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Loosely based on a scene from my Cato x OC story but details have been adapted to avoid spoilers. You can find the book Pugnator at;

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