#but the whole vision was shaped around the song i couldn't not use it

[dreamlandiasims]

The Last Goodbye

a PLA "short film"

previous | next

Transcript:

[0:04]: dreamlandiasims Presents

[0:08]: a PLA Short Film

[0:12]: The Last Goodbye

-

[1:31]: Boss said we can't afford any disruptions. Shut it down.

[1:48]: They must've cut our fucking power.

[2:06]: ... Screw it.

[2:08]: LISTEN UP STRANGERS!

[2:03]: Our fearless leaders are trying to ruin tonight's event.

[2:07]: So I say... why don't we bring the party to them?

[2:11]: Who's with me?

[2:13]: I said...

[2:15]: WHO'S WITH ME??

-

[2:50]: to be continued...

[2:54]: Song Credits: ODESZA - The Last Goodbye

[2:58]: thanks for watching :)

[If anyone is having trouble getting the video to load or play for any reason lmk! I might end up hosting it elsewhere because idk if I trust tumblr lol]

[shintin]

The Hickey on Your Neck

↳ Vash the Stampede x Female Reader

One-shot

Summary: Only seconds before closing your eyes do you realize that the dreams you had forgotten among the lust and thrust of your lover were the life you were destined to lead.

Or a story about how You and Vash fucked from dawn to dusk on his birthday.

Word count: +17.5 k.

Genre: explicit smut, romance, angst (Trigun au).

Warnings/Tags: +18, NSFW, established relationship, soft/dom Vash the Stampede, too much fluff and kissing, scar worship, plant patterns display, manhandling, cunnilingus + fellatio, creampie,  fingering (with prosthetic arm), unprotected sex (c’mon! We want his seeds), multiple orgasms, hair pulling, two smut scenes (one romantic, other hardcore), aftercare, emotional trauma, violence, blood and gore, post-Trigun Stampede but no manga spoilers.

Notes: I'd never written a Trigun fic before, but with this Vash brain rot, I'm sure it won't be the last. I originally intended to name this fic "Sleepless Nightmare" after TOMBI song, but somehow changed my mind. You'll see why. "Elay" in my mother tongue means the Moon of a Tribe. A nick name Vash will use for reader.

By the way, you can also read the Disclaimers and Writer's Note at the end.

Song Recommendation: The Hickey on Your Neck Playlist

You can read my fics on AO3 and Wattpad. If you have any questions, don’t be shy and ASK. This is my DISCORD account, in case you want to contact me.

Back to master list.

07:30 pm – July 21st

A hole had been left in your heart. Throwing yourself backward, you tripped over your feet. Your head slammed into the floor as your arms did little to break your fall. It was a pain you'd never known, a pain you never thought you could feel, never would have even imagined. From the inside out, you were lit on fire by a bullet that went off in your chest.

All of a sudden, everything slowed down.

So this, you thought, was what dying felt like.

You blinked, and it seemed to take forever. The images before you were unfocused, with colors, bodies, and lights swaying in unison and stilted movements blurring. Your ears couldn't hear clearly. All the sounds were garbled, warped, and too high or low.

Who … she?

I asked for a tall, blond man with … eyes, and the folks pointed at her.

How come … shot her …?

She said … had never met such a man.

… idiot! What if she's with the gunman?

Whatever. … doesn't draw a gun anymore; rumor has it.

What a moron! The man may not kill, but … wiped out … whole city!

What … … we should … then?

If … … his girl, … … screwed up!

… the bounty! … get lost before the news …!

It was like all the words were banging into each other, colliding again, spinning around you. Your name seemed to be being called, but you couldn't hear it. Everything was muffled, slippery, and off-balance, like it was there, just out of reach, but you couldn't find it.

Heavy footsteps stomped, stomped, and stomped the ground, and a familiar face appeared before you. The shape, the golden and green colors drew your attention, and you tried raising your hand to feel his warmth once more and assure him that everything was okay, but it was too hard, and suddenly you couldn't breathe. Your throat felt like it was being slashed, holes punching into your lungs, and the more you blinked, the less clearly you could see. The tightest breaths, tiny little gasps, were soon all you could manage. Pain, pain, and more pain followed the dizziness and lightheaded feeling. It was terrible, never seeming to end.

Your sight suddenly went dim. Blindness overtook you.

Blood dripped from you rather than being seen as you blinked, blinked, and blinked in a desperate attempt to regain your vision, but all you saw was a cloud of white. A short frantic gasp and the pounding of your eardrums were all heard. Some warm sensation spread throughout your body as the fresh blood pooled under you.

You knew your life was about to evaporate, and it only made you think about how short you lived with him and how he would blame himself for your loss. Leaving your tears to fall, you whispered, "I-I'm sorry, Vash."

05:45 am - July 21st

A sharp intake of breath caused your eyes to fly open. Your skin froze in a cold sweat as your brain waded in waves of distress. Inhaling as much as possible was the only thing you could do. Your chest heaved, and your heart raced. You looked around, feeling the stillness within the madness, blinking hard against the white ceiling.

Your hands reached your throat and chest. No blood. No holes. You could feel your pulse. That must be the sound of your heart, at least, you hoped.

There was a strange feeling in your gut, like your instincts were stumbling through mud, and your bones were filled with stones. Your eyes shifted to the other side of the bed, and you sighed in relief. The reality sleeping next to you brought a moment of clarity. You sat up on your elbows, head spinning as you glanced at the nightstand.

The glass was empty.

You slowly pushed the sheets aside and felt more awake with your bare feet touching the cold floor. Picking up the glass, you tiptoed toward the murky kitchen.

You reached for the pitcher on the table, but the water never made it to your lips; instead, your trembling hands grabbed the faded and scratched edges of the cabinet as if letting go of this old piece of plywood would plunge you into the blackhole of your nightmare.

A muffled whimper escaped from the bottom of your throat, and you whispered, it was just a dream. Yet, your white knuckles became wet as tears streamed down your face, blurring the cracked tiles before you.

You shouldn't have cried. You should have been stronger. Not just for yourself, but...

Incoherent thoughts still occurred to you as you pressed your palm to your lips—a fruitless attempt to stop any further crying from coming out.

It was just a dream. Everything was fine.

Your glistening eyes were fixed on the glass of water as you took a sip and pushed the venom-like lump down your throat. Nobody was going to lose anyone. This fear was deeply buried under the sands of your heart. Why did it have to appear today of all days?

A chill ran down your esophagus. Your hand shook involuntarily, and a few drops of water slid from the corner of your mouth to your chin and neck and then ran to your perked nipples.

Looking down at your body, you wiped the drops away before feeling cold. After all, this planet didn't earn its name, "Noman's Land" for nothing. The weather could get pretty chilly and cruel in this desert when those two suns weren't out. Moreover, let's not forget how many people were denied heat due to a lack of resources. Ugh! So, it's not like you didn't know you should've worn something, but God damn it! You woke up feeling a great deal of fear. Fuck! Still, you weren't eager to catch a cold. At least, not today. As you were about to return to bed, you suddenly stopped. Random images filled your mind.

Tears staining emerald green eyes, red flowers blooming on blood, and heart-wrenching screams fading in the night, all in an empty room filled with balloons and mud.

The next gulp of water tasted salty, leaving you feeling numb. Tears must have flowed down your cheeks. You lowered your glass and let your thoughts drift away.

There was a flash of your limp body in your mind, accompanied by a sharp twinge in your gut, a screaming sensation in your body, as if your lungs craved for air.

You wicked away the images, expunging thoughts of pain and death from your mind. The churning in your stomach began to slow, but your skin took on a damp, clammy sensation in its wake. You struggled to recount the things you had eaten last night. It must be it. No doubt, you had eaten poorly.

It was just a dream. What the hell was wrong with you? Crying over a dream? What were you, five? No, not today! Not today! Not today! Get your shits together!

After a moment of hesitation, you rubbed your eyes with the back of your hand, ran your palm across your forehead and nose, and stopped it on your mouth before glancing at the bed.

Your pale face bloomed with a faint smile as you saw the sight—a miracle in this barren wilderness.

The curtains of the half-open window fluttered lazily with the morning breeze, letting the suns' rays play upon his scarred shoulder blades now and then, and run their greedy fingers through the golden waves of his hair, an enraged sea of sunflowers bounded by rough rocky beaches on the side. Oh! His undercut was glorious from where you watched.

He was sleeping with his eyelids slowly moving. The corners of his lips were curved upwards. Today seemed to be one of those rare days when he was free of the burdens of his past. Was he dreaming? What was his dream about? Love? Peace? Foods? Probably sweets!

You tried to avoid the woods squeaking beneath your feet as you walked back. Putting the glass of water next to the orange-tinted shades, you slowly climbed back under the warm sheets without shifting the mattress too much.

Once your head touched the pillow, cinnamon, and caramel again filled your nostrils. The man ate so many donuts that you feared he would become one. When you pictured it, your smile reached your eyes, and you giggled silently.

Like on the days you woke up early, you rolled over to face him and let your eyes roam over his abs muscles and those beautiful V lines guiding you to his secret paradise. Other than the massive gash across his chest, he had several cuts on his arms, wounds on his shoulders, and scars all over his back and legs. This man was a walking history, marked with painful memories, and luckily, your lips had perfectly mastered the story behind every blemish, slit, and stitch on his body.

It wasn't that simple, though.

When you first met him, he was a broken man covered in an old cloak, his eyes filled with agony. He was consumed by remorse, but nonetheless, he was still full of life and willing to try and glue back all his broken parts. Indeed, it was a challenge for him, and somehow, it didn't come easy to you either. Your heart ached when you removed each piece of clothing from his body. You cursed those who hurt him. It took you time and love to learn how to cherish those wounds instead of looking at them with pity. And little by little, your eyes learned to see a delicate kind of beauty in them, as if, every once in a while, you could see the sunlight shining through the cracks of his heart, lighting up your world in a most wonderful way.

Perhaps that's why after years of running, running, and running, he stopped for once and decided to rest. Something about you must have felt like home. And how lucky you were to have this?

06:30 am - July 21st

You couldn't look away from him, your mind unable to comprehend the perfection of this happiness. He was so ethereal you could hardly fathom that he was yours, wanted and loved you. You couldn't even hear yourself think over the rush of blood in your ears. The sight of him sleeping beside you, relaxed and vulnerable, was causing wild, desperate thoughts to race through your head. God! The fantasies you'd had about him. The places your mind had gone.

You sighed and brushed your face to the pillow, hoping he would roll over to you in his sleep so you could get back into his arms and the legs draped around you. Your eyelids peered at the glistening prosthetic arm in the soft light of the down. Could he feel your warmth whenever you kissed those fingers? How come you had never asked? There were many things you hadn't asked him yet.

Maybe you should start tomorrow? Hm? It's not like the world was ending today.

"You're going to come back over here, or you want to leave me cold and lonely?" he murmured, the raggedness in his voice confirming that he had been sleeping. Your gaze shifted upwards to meet his eyes, only to realize they were still shut, but his lips were painted with a playful grin.

Something inside you melted. It moved by his words, his smile, and his voice.

"I thought you were asleep." You scooted closer, and he wrapped his arms around you, cautious not to accidentally hurt you when he slipped his left arm beneath your neck. "I didn't want to wake you up." Your forehead pressed against his chest, and you felt the coldness of the iron mesh against your skin. His chin rested on your head, and his toes caressed your legs. The prickles of scars and fine hairs of his limbs tickled yours, and you felt blessed.

Funny how your nightmare faded the moment you felt his warmth like he burned a hole right through your head and pulled all your thoughts out. Well, other than that, it seemed like this morning, everything about him was exactly what you needed. His voice was calm and caring, his arms protective, and his presence comforting. You didn't want him to let go of you.

"Even if you had woken me up," he said, his artificial fingers sinking into your hair, and he continued, "I wouldn't have minded." A light kiss on the crown of your head followed his honest words. Even though this man kissed you every day and night, you could feel a silent giggle seeping into your body, causing your face to blush bright red.

Vash yawned soundlessly as he pulled you closer, his eyes still closed. The two of you were so close, too close, but never close enough for him. You had come to realize that your body heat did more for him than any blanket could. It was always in his eyes, aching with a desperate yearning he could only meet with you and your touch.

A joyful happiness settled between you as his hands drew shapes and patterns alongside your spine like those bright ones sometimes you could see on his body. Your lips curved into a smile as you watched him. His hair thick and blonde. The lines of his body sharp and robust. Damn! He had everything about him beautifully crafted. His nose. His chin. His ears and eyebrows. The eyelashes any girl would kill for and those turquoise-green eyes you longed to see. He had a gorgeous mouth.

You lingered too long there, your eyes betraying your mind.

Vash smiled. "What are you doing?" He fiddled with your hair, wrapping a lock around his finger.

In response, you sighed. Clearly, you would never discover how to avoid getting caught red-handed every time. "Just enjoying the view," you said, still staring at his mouth. You reached and touched two fingers to his bottom lip only to feel a rush of memories.

Long nights. Early morning. His mouth on you. Everywhere. Over and over again.

07:15 am - July 21st

He laughed sheepishly at your response.

You brushed a strand of hair off his forehead. His hair had grown a little long. You stroked his cheeks and drew his head back toward you, pressing your lush mouth against his. It never took him long to part his lips. He kissed you back, holding your head steady with his prosthetic arm while his other embraced you tightly. You could feel him smiling against your lips.

He had your heart, and you loved him quite horribly, too. This fact always smacked you over the head so hard you felt dizzy. You should have been afraid and wanted to hide it, as he was the most wanted man on the planet, but love had made you bold and brave.

You pulled back and studied his kiss-inspiring lips. Your whole body was filled with a warmth you wanted to share with him because it was pure, and so was he. There was no way for you to find the right words to describe how you felt.

The morning light was shining through the windows at the perfect angle and time. His muscles were taut, bathed in gold.

"Can you lie back, Vash?" you asked, pushing his shoulder back toward the bed. Finally fluttering his eyes open, he lifted his head in your direction.

Oh.

God.

His eyes.

He blinked dark lashes, revealing a spectrum of sadness and beauty, unlike anything you'd seen before. The way a person could convey so much with a glance caught you off guard. He had an extraordinary amount of pain paired with even more extraordinary passion.

His face spread into a wide smile the moment he saw you. These smiles, they changed him, and moments like this killed you a little.

He had the kind of face that made you forget where you were, who you were, and what you might say or do. You held his face in your hands as you laid his head down on the pillow. A half-lidded gaze sat on his face as he leaned to your touch, and you kissed him. Slowly, this time. His eyes fell closed. His mouth responded to yours.

Your fingers moved to his neck, then to his hair, and your mouth followed them. Soft lips caressed his earlobes and nipped the tiny single hoop, hot breaths hitting his skin, surprising a giggle out of him.

His hands reached up to pull you closer, but you stopped him. "No," you whispered. "Don't move." Without a second thought, he dropped his hands.

"Lie back and keep your eyes closed," you muttered, and strangely, he didn't object. His obedience led to you kissing him everywhere. His cheeks. His eyelids. His chin. The tip of his nose and the space between his eyebrows. All across his forehead and along his jawline. Every inch of his face. Soft, small kisses that said more than you ever could. You wanted him to know how you felt. You wanted him to feel it in the way only he could, the way he could sense the depth of your emotions. You wanted him to know and never forget.

And you wanted to take your time.

As your mouth moved down his neck, he gasped. You peeked up at his features only to meet a crooked grin on his face. The moment was worth savoring. It seemed like Mr. Vash was enjoying himself, so your tongue continued to adore his arm's sculpted hills and valleys, the perfect shape of his torso.

You breathed in the scent of his skin and took in the taste of him as your hands ran down his abs, kissing your way across and down the line of his torso. You kissed around his navel, and the trails of fine hair underneath caressed your lips. He kept reaching for you, trying to touch you until you told him to stop.

"Please," he said, taking a deep breath. "I want to feel—"

Even though he couldn't see you, you raised your brows with a head tilt and gentled back his arms. "Not yet. Not now."

He let out a breath in protest and crossed his arms behind his neck until your hands went further down and his eyes flew open. Blinking at him, you found out you were still fascinated by his eyes—such a stunning shade of green. "Close your eyes, Vash," you had to tell him.

A big gulp of air filled up his Adam apple. "No." He hardly spoke.

"Close your eyes!"

With his sharp gaze following your every move, he shook his head and leaned on his elbows.

"Fine." You rolled your eyes, and your hand grabbed the base of his hardness.

As soon as your nails brushed the skin of his length, he sat up and stared at you. He was breathing so fast you could hear and see his chest moving.

With a smile, you looked him in the eyes and leaned your head down. Your mouth took in the tip, and your tongue traced circles as Vash gasped. The sight of your bent head made him bite his lip. No doubt every fiber of his being demanded you to take him fully in your mouth, but he wanted you to call the shots. Allowing you to control the pace pushed him to the edge. He enjoyed the thrill of knowing he was at your mercy.

Soft hairs of his thighs against your ears, your nose skimmed his sensitive areas, and your lips kissed all over those favorite parts. The smooth skin of your fingers rolled around was warm and delicate, so fragile you were afraid you might tear it with your teeth. You felt his hardness throb against your cheek, pleading with you not to neglect him. Your thumb rubbed the pre-cum off the pink tip as you raised your head.

You looked up at him, his hair gleaming like golden flames, his cheeks drenched with sweat, and his lower lip stuck between his teeth, and you realized that his eyes looked at you with a look of something like trepidation, as if he was nervous. His face was still flushed red, and he had an expression somewhere between unworthiness and pleasure. With every stroke, his breath grew heavier. Obviously, he wanted more but was trying to contain his desire. Did he feel he was getting something he didn't deserve again?

There was no way you could let him be alone with these thoughts. So, before his dazzled eyes, you licked your thumb and watched how blood drained from his head and rushed straight to his torso. In surrender, he fell back; his eyes squeezed shut. You closed your mouth to half his length, and he turned his face to the pillow, stifling a moan. A tremor ran through his body, and his hands gripped the sheets tightly. Your hands ran down his legs, grabbing them just above his knees and inching them apart so you could trail kisses down the insides of his thighs.

He looked like he was in so much pain. So much pain.

You licked the pain away.

Twirling your fingers around the length, you took the crown in your mouth. Only enough to tease. Too little to satisfy. Your lips gently pressed against it, and when Vash was ready to scream, you accepted his whole length in your mouth.

Your lips were sealed tight as you hummed and increased the speed of your ministration. He threaded his fingers through your hair and molded his hands into your head, not to push you further down but to tilt your face up.

His forehead and neck were dripping sweat. The lines of emotion on his face were so deep you wondered how you must look to him. His throat bobbed, and you felt yourself drown in his eyes, enigmatic yet expressive, like sea foam, tempestuous but very calm. His fingers trailed over your salivate-covered lips, and you noticed that the sadness in his eyes had receded.

The world was suddenly brighter, bigger, and more beautiful.

07:40 am - July 21st

Taking hold of you by the arm pits, Vash pulled you in until your chest touched his. Next, you were rolled over so that your back touched the mattress, and he crawled onto you. Now his arms were propped up on either side of your head so he would not crush you under his weight. Looking into his eyes, you were pinned in place. His urgency ignited your bones. The polished planes of his face glowed with rivulets of sweat. His hardness was poking desperately against your thigh.

"I want to … …, …," he whispered. Intoxicated, you couldn't digest anything except his body hovering over you.

"… ?" His body pressed closer, and you realized you were paying attention to nothing but the dandelions blowing wishes in your lungs.

His eyes were heavy now in a way that worried you, but his gaze was still so tender, focused, and full of emotions you could hardly bring yourself to say anything. As your words faded, they became an unspoken whisper. Your lips glued together.

Screams.

Death.

Screams.

Your heart suddenly raced. What if these moments were destined to expire?

The sound of a clock striking midnight. A pumpkin carriage. The possibility of losing him.

You didn't want your arms to be deprived of his warmth. His touch. His lips, God, his lips, his mouth on your neck, his body wrapped around yours. The nightmare had caused this all, you knew, but the realization was like a pendulum the size of the moon. It wouldn't stop slamming into you.

Blinking fast, you swallowed back the fear building in your throat. God! He was speaking with you, but you couldn't hear him.

You were worried, really worried something was going to happen to him. What if bounty hunters found him? Could his brother hurt him? No. No. No. Even though you were only a human, you would never allow such a thing to happen. You just couldn't. You...

"Hey," he said, his voice soft, so soft. His arms were stronger than all the bones in your body. He pulled your figure close. You heard the beats of his heart humming deeply within his chest, and the steel of his arm encircled your whole body, releasing tension from your limbs. The icicles in your body were melted by his heat. Something about this frame made you want to freeze it forever. "You okay, Firefly? Wanna stop?"

The words he said sent waves of emotion coursing through you. He could read you like an open palm. You weren't lost before you met him, but you were never found until he laid eyes on you. Your tears stung as they fell backward down your throat, burning as they went. "Kiss me, Vash," you said before closing your eyes.

He searched your face, unsure what to do, hesitating, until you felt his lips on your shoulder, tender and scorching, so gentle you could almost believe it was the kiss of breeze and not a man.

Again.

This time, it was on your collarbones and felt like an ache that needed to be soothed. You didn't want to do anything to stop his mouth from touching your body.

He pulled back.

Desire.

Crave.

Need.

Again.

Your eyes refused to open.

His finger grazed the corner of your mouth, tracing its shape, the curves, the seams, and the dips. You felt him so much closer, his body heat filling the air around you, along with his smell and something sweet, until nothing was left. Your senses were so engulfed in his scent you didn't even realize your back was arching toward him as you breathed him in until you found out his fingers were no longer on your lips because his hand had gotten around your body.

"So, where do you want me to kiss you?" Vash whispered, his chest heaving, his words almost gasping. A wave of blistering heat moved through you, sealed shut your mouth. You didn't specify precisely where you wanted him to kiss you, and he didn't seem to have any difficulty selecting the spot. 

He whispered your name as he kissed the corner of your eyebrow. "Here?" His lips brushed over the shell of your ear, and your body squirmed slightly. "Or here?" He pressed a kiss against your neck, right beneath your ear, and you tipped your head to let him in, biting down the urge to beg him to take more, to take faster, as he murmured, "tell me."

Clasping your warm fingers with his cold metallic ones, he hovered over you to kiss your throat. You were the oxygen he desperately needed to breathe. His body was almost on top of yours, one hand in your hair while the other held yours delicately yet firmly. His lips crushed yours in no time.

A kiss like this was like swimming in honey rivers, like being dipped in gold, like diving into an ocean of bliss and not realizing you were drowning because you were too caught up in the current to notice. Nothing mattered anymore—neither your nightmare, this room, or the whole fucking planet.

All that mattered was this.

This.

This moment. These lips. This strong body pressed against yours, and these firm hands that always found a way you bring you closer. Oh, My Gosh! You wanted so much more of him. You wanted all of him.

Your eyes opened up.

Not content to be passive, your hands ran down his back, dancing over his broad shoulders, pressing into his dimples, and squeezing his hips.

Your hand grabbed a fistful of his hair when he broke for air with a groan, but you pushed him back, kissing his neck, arm, collarbones, and chest. It was amazing. Being with him, touching him, holding him like this. The rush of adrenaline was so intense and euphoric that you felt invincible.

He muttered your name, his lips mouthing the letters, barely speaking. Your skin was scorched everywhere he hadn't touched you.

He kissed your top lip.

He licked your bottom lip.

He kissed just under your chin, the tip of your nose, the length of your forehead, both temples and cheeks across your jawline. Then your neck, behind your ears, the space between your breasts. He nibbled your nipples and left trails of kisses all the way down your belly button until his entire form moved down your figure, disappearing as he shifted downward, and suddenly his chest was hovering above your hips.

Grasping your calves, he spread your legs apart just enough for his head to fit between. Your thighs were lifted, and you couldn't see him anymore. His only visible features were the top of his head, the curve of his shoulders, and the unsteady rise and fall of his back as he breathed. Eventually, even that sight was lost, with your head falling backward and muffled moans leaving your mouth.

Vash ran his hands down and up around your bare upper thighs and ribs, and he held your hips to make you stand still. Your eyes lit up like small firecrackers every time his hair teased your groins until his lips kissed you there, and fireworks exploded in the back of your head.

As his right hand pressed against your stomach, his tongue played around to make you scream aloud. His mouth brushed against your skin in places you couldn't see but felt deeply. Oh my! You were out of your body, touching stars, when you realized he was working his way up your body, leaving two fingers of that prosthetic arm behind.

"It might feel a bit cold," he said as his nose glided the skin of your stomach, leaving random kisses around your breasts and collarbones just to ease your tension. "Tell me if it hurts, okay?" His hair was a mess, the wetness on his lips all familiar.

A nod came from you in response. He almost seemed to be smiling as his fingers slipped inside your slit, and your nails dug into the fabric. Moaning, you felt his warm hand brushing your hair backward as the other moved up and down inside your walls.

Your mouth was parted in a silent moan, and his small pecks covered you all around. There were tears in your eyes, baby hairs sticking to your sweaty forehead.

As his thumb and two fingers hit all the right spots, your throat wailed in frustration.

You grabbed his free arm, and he pulled himself up, onto you, on top of you. As if reading your thoughts, he kissed you hard. How strange, yet sweet, all you could taste was you, yourself, on his tongue. You moaned at the taste, and he opened his mouth more for you, allowing you to brush your tongue against his teeth.

The stinging coldness of his fingers was long gone. You had forgotten everything. There was something you shouldn't have forgotten, but you couldn't even remember why, what you were forgetting. Amid his length caressing your side and those digits thrusting backward and forward, paying attention to anything else was hard.

You could die from this, you decided. From wanting him, from the pleasure of being with him.

You must be smiling because he was looking at you and smiling too. His forehead was pressed against yours. His skin was flushed with heat. His hand had kept your head still. Your hands gripped his nick, sliding into the hollow behind it. You placed your palms just above his nape, and your fingertips gently began to squeeze and massage his undercut.

"Va-sh."

For a moment, you thought life poured out of you, or maybe your vision fractured as release barreled into you, and you grasped his name over and over again till your body calmed under his weight.

08:10 am- July 21st

Your eyes landed on his glistening wet metallic fingers, and you were dripping, burning, melting with anticipation. He was still on top of you when you thought you heard him speak, his mouth close to your ear.

"I love you," he whispered and kissed your brow. It never occurred to you that he could be like this, so human, so real, but it was there. It was right there. Raw, written across his face. You were about to mutter all the words and worries you held in your chest, but suddenly he stood up and stared blankly at the other side of the room.

You followed his gaze to the pane of glass separating you from the reality outside. You awaited his lips to part. You waited to listen to him speak. His eyes weren't revealing anything about what he was thinking, what was going on.

Something about the realization struck fear into your heart. In the span of a single instant, darkness surrounded your vision. Images appeared in the blur of your sight again.

The petals of red Geraniums floating in the sky, a boy running through blood-stained sands, the time speeding up and slowing down in fits and starts, streaks of green and red staining your dilated eyes, stars exploding, lights flashing, sparking, and then it's all darkness and Vash's screams.

You shook your head.

The images disappeared, but the heartaches and fears lingered, and you had to keep reminding yourself to breathe. Your lungs begged for air, but you looked around for Vash instead.

It seemed he wanted to scream, but you knew the words wouldn't leave his mouth. Those thoughts would expand in his head, explosive and angry, pressing against the ridges of his mind, and then he would hide them behind a smile. As he always did.

"Vash?" you called, just before witnessing how a car's radio sound from the street ripped open his past, pulled out what was left of his heart, and dropped it on the floor.

"… been two years since that fateful July 21st. A crowd has gathered at what used to be the third city of July to pay their respects. Even after two years, the pain of losing their loved ones has yet to heal. The suspect said to have murdered 90 percent of the city, also known as the Humanoid Typhoon, still remains at large. Vash the Stampede is on the run. If I were the demon who turned the whole city into a gaping crater overnight, I'd hide my face too. There is no forgetting the sorrow of loved ones taken from us. The Alliance of Cities has raised the dead or alive bounty on Vash the Stampede to $$60 billion, the highest in the history of…"

The loud words bounced around in the haze of your head, fogging your senses, misting your eyes, and clouding your concentration. In your bones, there was just ice. Your entire being wanted to vomit. Reality slapped you in the face, punched you in the jaw, and dumped you into sand oceans. You grasped the nightstand to keep yourself steady. The orange shades fell on the floor, leaving a big crack on display.

Vash was shaking his head over and over and over and over. He was looking at his hands like he would see some blood on them, as if waiting for the part where someone would tell him this wasn't real and he didn't actually kill those 200,000 innocent people.

Oh, my beloved.

The pain was so plain on his face; it was killing you. Your gaze was drawn to the balled fists at his sides, the furrows in his brow, and the tension in his jaw. Minutes ago, this man was free, but now he was a prisoner of his own crime. In your heart, you wished you could release him from the claws of self-reproach.

Having seen his terror too often, you knew it well.

Sometimes, even when he was asleep, his tormented mind would grip his heart, and such emptiness and sadness would fill him that you felt he was suffocating, as if his sleepless nightmares never had an end.

You didn't know him before,

but

you

thought

he

had

lost

a

bit

of

himself

on

the

day

of

July

incident.

As time passed, you assumed he had finally learned not to dwell on what had happened. You imagined he avoided it like a cripple learning not to put weight on his injured leg.

However, deep down, you knew he was living on eggshells, always wondering when something would break, when everything would crumble. You always dreaded this day. This silence. It was not just an ordinary silence caused by the lack of things that moved or made noise, but a deep and tired silence that sometimes covered him like an invisible cloak—like the one ruling between your shared walls right now.

Stacks of sorrow had grown inside him, settling on his bones and snapping him in half. A cable twisted around his neck, a worm crawling across his stomach. It was the night, midnight, and the twilight of indecision. Too many pains to bear.

How naive of him to think he could slip into the role of a regular being and live a normal life in love and peace.

Vash.

Vash the stampede with a dream.

The mere thought of it filled him with mortification. He began to think others were right when they said things like him were better off destroyed.

Shaking his head, he coughed against the torture in his lungs, heaving strange, horrible gasps until his whole body spasmed into submission, leaving him sitting on the bed's edge like a sack full of nothingness. The old gunman looked as if he might collapse, barely breathing, his life-force being torn asunder.

You felt like your throat was closing up. You knew the infamous humanoid typhoon was everything broken and glued back together, and now knives bore holes into his cracked bones, filled with grief that could take his breath away.

Your face was drained of color, your ears ringing with your heart pounding. His desperate screams from your nightmare echoed in your head as if on repeat. His agony was acute. His terror palpable. Tears sprung to your eyes. It was painful to look at him, being so close and far away from him.

"Local news. You know how dumb they are," you said, trying to hide your petrified and nerve-wracking thoughts from his reach. What if he never experienced peace? What if there was no sanctuary, and the pain was always a whisper away, no matter where he went?

Pressing your nails to your palm, you continued, "None of that incident was your fault. You know that too. You hear me?"

His eyes widened a little. No one had ever cared about him for this long. No one had kept him ever this closely to read his thoughts word by word. No one had ever treated him like a human being. Then again, he thought you didn't know about all of his sins. In a century and a half, he hadn't been able to forgive himself; how could you? It made him wonder how long you could endure him before running for your life.

His head was spinning, thoughts knocking into one another. He clenched his fists and pushed back down the misery that had stuck with him. Even though he didn't want this, you'd probably be better off without him.

"Vash?" You swallowed and dug your fingers into the sheets desperately, a tear trickling down your cheek. It kept hitting you in the face, in the skull, in the spine, this knowledge of just how much you loved him.

His lips looked like they were barely able to form words. He could only take these harsh gasps and wonder why his body hadn't given up.

On all fours, you approached him and sat on your knees on the edge of the bed with a slight distance between you and him. You knew he wouldn't object, but you didn't want to intrude on his privacy. Thus, you remained silent so that he wouldn't be left by himself, and he would know you wouldn't leave him alone.

09:15 am – July 21st

Time passed, and you checked on him occasionally to see if he wanted to talk until he raised his head slightly.

"I'm a demon," he said the sentence so quietly. So, so quietly. He ran a hand across his face, both hands through his hair, looking like he wanted to scream, to break something, like he was truly about to lose his mind. "The world sees me as a threat. An unfixable monster. An abomination. They want me dead." His voice sounded sorrowful, almost like he had already accepted these labels.

Thousand pieces of feeling stabbed you in the heart. "I don't think you're a demon. Also, I don't think you're some sick, twisted monster. I don't think you're a heartless killer, and I don't think you deserve to die. You're not a humanoid typhoon. No, you're not any of the things people have said about you," you told him, words tripping and stumbling out of you.

His mouth fell closed, struggling with some kind of emotion, struggling to find composure. Suddenly he gasped. "No." One broken word. Barely even a sound. He was shaking his head, looking away from you. He turned to face the window. "No. No, no—"

"Vash—"

"No," he said. His voice was so soft and so scared you could scarcely hear it. "No, you don't know what you're saying—"

"You're not a monster!" you said. "And I love you exactly as you are. I don't even want you to fix yourself; I don't think you need to be fixed. People here love you as you are. Your name is the only thing that scares them," you told him.

You knew people had the right to fear him. You knew. Humanoid Typhoon certainly wasn't made of sugar, spice, and everything nice, but rather from hurricanes, lightning, and all things that scared. Seeing dusty storms and raging winds, people thought he was scary. They feared he would harm them. In truth, he was only his own disaster, destroying himself for others. He was Vash. Your Vash. Vash the Stampede, and you loved him with all his fears and frights, dreams and nightmares, sins and scars.

You smiled and continued, "If they learn your name and start hunting you, we'll run away! We'll run, run, and keep running as far as we have to! And when things calm down, we'll settle by their side again. You won't kill. You'll never kill anyone again, and one day, people will begin seeing you as I do."

Maybe tears filled his eyes. Possibly his breath was trapped in his chest. Perhaps his heart warmed a little. No one knew, not even the author. He had his head down, his chest rising and falling.

You sat behind him. A map of pain had covered his entire back. Thick, thin, uneven, and terrible, scars like roads leading nowhere. There were bolts and ragged slices, marks of torture he was not protected from.

Kindness must be difficult when all you'd received was hatred. Being able to see goodness in the world must be so hard when your only experience had been terror. You wanted to say something to him. Something profound, complete, and memorable, but there was nothing suitable. This planet was a broken bone that didn't set right, and Vash wanted to glue it back together. Alone, all by himself.

You two differed in this respect. Fearless and unafraid were two different things. He was fearless. He dared to outshine the sun, stare down a bullet, kiss death and walk away with his back unguarded. He would hold the whole world in his palms despite its bone-crushing weight, despite its sharp edges crusted with blood, if only he could stop it from falling apart. But you? You were fearful. Sometimes you couldn't breathe around the clot of fear lodged in your throat. The only way to lessen its weight on your tongue was to scream until no words came out, while the only way to chase away its shadows was never to close your eyes at night. You were unafraid of one thing, though —he could tear down the world and bury you alive under the weight of his guilt, yet you would follow him without hesitation.

Your eyes rested upon woven strands of sunlight, alighting softly upon his scarred skin. These honeyed arcing rays gave him a light glimmer that revealed his plant patterns, pulsing slowly and dimly. Something about the scene was so divine, and you felt the dawn rise from your heart every morning and reach the sky.

You hugged him from behind by bridging the gap between your bodies and leaned your cheek against his sun-kissed back. Your hands gently caressed his stomach and chest as your lips left kisses on his love reminiscences—one by one.

You could hear him breathing in and out. Unevenly. Yet he was silent. Hands clenched, knuckles white. Of course, he wanted you with a desperate need he had never known. But his regret, sins, and crimes were so overwhelming they consumed him. He thought, how could you be so kind to a thing like him?

Unaware of the voices in his mind, you dropped a kiss on his spine. You kissed the curve of his shoulder. His shoulder blades. Five kisses down his spine, each softer than the other one. For every little moment of pain he had ever felt in his life, you wanted to make it all go away. You kissed his neck, trying to ignore the tension in his muscles, the ache spreading inside you, urging you to end his suffering.

Your words were heavy with sincerity when you said, "I don't care what everyone else thinks about you." You leaned your forehead to his shoulder, your breaths gently caressing his back. "Because you're the only good thing left in this world."

As his eyes widened, he breathed heavily, trying to gain control of himself. "What are you saying?" he asked, his hand caught in his hair. "How can you tell such a thing this after all this?" His hand pointed to the window, to the news on the radio.

Standing on your knees, you kissed the hand caught between his gold locks. The same hand he always tried to cover its scar with a glove. Because the idiot thought his scars would be repulsive. The idiot. Your favorite idiot.

You didn't sit back. Keeping your head there, your nose buried in his hair, and your chest pressed to his back—this smell. You had never seen a sea, but you had heard about them. And you believed if there was ever to be a sea in this hell hole, he would smell like a sunny beach. Sweet, enveloping, and warm.

"That is—" your voice broke when you spoke. "That's what the family is for, Vash."

A sudden searing heat flashed behind his eyes, and his heart leaped at your response. He dropped his hand on his knee and sat still in place by the weight of your words. His hand trembled, and his eyes were willing and wanting but filled with both sadness and happiness.

A family.

All this time, he thought you were with him all along because you didn't have a grasp on his sins, but now, he could see that you already knew everything. And despite all of this, you were still willing to forgive him and give him something he always wanted but never had without even requiring him to earn it or redeem himself.

You touched his arm and traced the tender skin with your fingertips. Scars everywhere. You kissed the back of his elbow. "I'm sorry for everything humans have done to you," you told him, and he took a shallow breath. "Forgive us." Another kiss. "Forgive me."

A delicate warmth filled Vash's heart and melted it into drops of warm honey that soothed the scars in his soul. He turned his head and stared at you with open, vulnerable eyes, a tight jaw, and tensed muscles. No one had ever apologized to him. According to his experience, he was usually the monster, the wicked one. The onus always was on him to make amends.

It stunned him how strange it felt. Up until now, he never thought he deserved forgiveness, let alone someone asking for it.

Running a tired hand across his face, he wasn't sure what to do with himself. A joy filled his heart, causing him to feel heavy with something he wasn't even sure he could describe.

Gratitude, perhaps.

The ache in his chest had grown more assertive, more painful. But for now, he didn't want to think about it. He simply just wanted to enjoy your proximity.

Your hand reached up to stroke the luminous curved shapes on his cheek, tracing them to the softness of the mole beneath his left eye. The look in those aquamarines breaking your heart. You couldn't bear to see his face covered in sorrow and guilt.

"You're a good man, my Vash," you said, your words soft, your hand gentle as you tilted his chin up toward your mouth. He was blinking fast, yet not denying. You whispered words on his lips that no one had ever spelled out for him. "Rem would've been proud of you," you told him, watching the movement in his throat and his effort to keep it together. It didn't take you long to kiss him once, tenderly.

He found himself at a loss for words, opting to convey his emotions through touch instead as he melded his lips with yours. He sighed into your mouth, and you kissed him even more deeply, almost desperately, as if trying to pass over your breaths to him. You could taste the salt on your tongue. The wet drops falling on your cheeks made your flesh burn. You were uncertain whose they were as you continued to try and cling to him.

10:00 am – July 21st

The sheets slowly slipped and fell to the floor as Vash pulled you into his arms, clutching you tight, hardly able to breathe. When he exhaled and looked at you again, there were stories in his eyes, thoughts, whispers, and feelings of things you had never seen before. His whole body seemed to be relaxed in relief. He looked like he was hanging on his sanity by a single, fraying thread. You.

And you promised yourself, at this moment, that you would hold him forever, just like this, until all the pain, the torture, and the suffering was gone, until he'd given a chance to live the kind of life where no one could ever hurt him this deeply ever again.

He touched your cheek. Soft, as if he wasn't sure if you were real. His four fingers caressed the side of your face gently before they slipped behind your neck, caught in that in-between spot below your ear, and his thumb brushed the apple of your cheek, then grazing your bottom lip.

You did so much with these lips, you thought. Touched, kissed, and pressed them against tender parts of his skin. You made promises, and the words they formed, the shapes and sounds they curved around, all for him.

Vash moved closer by just an inch. His free metallic hand cupped the other side of your face. He was holding you like you were made of crystals. Holding you and looking at his own hands, he couldn't believe you were real.

Gone was the man with guns and bullets. These hands treasuring you had never held a weapon. They were perfect and kind, never touched by death. He took your hands and pressed your palms to his face. Tears must have welled up in your eyes when you closed them.

You whispered his name, and he breathed harder than you.

Could this be a dream?

You shook, shuddered, splintered into teardrops, and he held you like no one had before. He wanted you. Seeing him cling to you as he might never let go did something to you, something heady, knowing that he might wish you, or need you, like this, made you want to protect him even though he didn't need your protection.

Gently, he stroked your hair and pressed his lips to your forehead. Gradually, his arms became the arms around your waist; his lips became the lips pressed against yours, his body the warmth you felt.

You weren't even breathing, but you were alive, and he was kissing you. Deeply, desperately. The palms of his hands were rubbing the small of your back as he lifted you into his lap. Your legs automatically wrapped around his hips, allowing him to kiss your neck, throat, and nipples.

You broke apart with his small licks here and there, breathing hard, and stared at him like a bonehead, your brain still too numb to figure out exactly how you two got here.

Tilting his head to a side, he pressed his lips against yours again, seeking you with a burning need, a new kind of desperation. His hands were threaded in your hair, his lips so soft, so urgent against yours, like fire and cinnamon exploding in your mouth.

Vash nibbled your bottom lip in a flash and pulled back just a little bit. Your body was flooded with heat and desire so intense you could hardly think when he parted his lips from you to sigh in your mouth, and that slight sound of pleasure drove you crazy.

Putting one hand under your neck, placing his mouth on your breast, and running his fingers down your back, he pressed your body closer, only to find something hard pressing against your groin.

Oh.

Well.

While he avoided your gaze, he smiled sheepishly and tentatively touched your thighs with his hands. Because of what had happened, you knew he would probably feel embarrassed to ask for it, but that didn't mean you wouldn't give it to him. He deserved the whole world if you had the chance to provide for him. His markings were glowing softly when you squeezed him closer to yourself, holding him tighter.

Biting his lip and stifling his groan, his smart-ass hands slid up your legs and into your thighs. Soon, his lips reached your chest. Your body ached everywhere, tasting colors and sounds you didn't even know existed. His forehead was pressed against your chin, and your hands gripped his shoulders. He was hot, gentle, and somehow in a hurry.

You were beyond the reach of rational thoughts. Beyond words, beyond comprehension. The world was beyond understanding because nothing could ever compare with this. Nothing could ever capture the way you were feeling right now. Nothing mattered anymore. You were left with only this moment: his mouth on your body, his hands on your skin, and his lust deep in his eyes, making you absolutely insane.

Your wetness was no longer a secret when he surrounded you everywhere. As he watched you, you reached down and adjusted his length against your slippery entrance over a few strokes. His pulse could be felt in your palm and soon inside of you.

Using both soft and hard hands, he gently grasped your hips and pulled you down toward him. As he entered, you gasped, every time surprised at his size, clinging desperately to his neck as he hitched your legs around his waist, his prosthetic arm settling beneath your thigh. You loved the feeling of him stretching you. You loved having him this close to you. You loved the way he manhandled you. You loved his hand around your neck and the little squeeze of his fingers around your nape.

His grip tightened when he sensed you were ready for him, and he started moving you up and down. You cried out and leaned your cheek to his nose, dying and somehow being brought back to life in the same moment, in the same breath.

Fuck! You were full of him.

He lifted your thighs, and you bit back the moan stuck in your throat. His mouth wouldn't let go of your skin, kissing you with an intensity that made you wonder why you hadn't died, caught on fire, or woken up from this dream yet. Then he returned his hands to your face and kissed you once, twice.

The room's silence was filled with your heavy breathing, your chest against Vash's. Your pulses hammered against each other. You felt his arms around you become unbearably tight as he yanked you up and down with even more force than before, hitting you in a place he seemed to know too well.

As his teeth caught your bottom lip momentarily, you pushed your nails to his shoulder, running your fingers through his hair to pull him into your mouth. He tasted so sweet. So hot and sweet. You kept trying to say his name, but you couldn't even breathe, much less say a single word.

The pace increased slightly; each thrust was hard, deliberate, wringing gasps, whimpers, and long, rolling moans from you.

Your eyes tingled with tears, falling fast down, traveling quietly down your cheeks, and he cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs two parentheses in your mouth, against your tongue and saliva. As if he had found Adam's ale between million mirages of the desert, he stared at you, his eyes like fire in the water.

"I love you," he whispered over and over, his voice fragile, uneven. His lips covered yours in a tender kiss. He kissed you and tasted your tears, the lingering flavor of pleasure laced in your mouth. He kissed you and kissed you until time toppled over, and your head spun into oblivion.

Vash loved you…

His temple was leaned against yours when you took his earlobe between your teeth, stripped him to his bones, and ruined him from the inside out. Your sweet little tongue was frantic when you whispered, "I'm yours to love."

Hearing your words, he held still for moments, sucking in the air because he felt almost dizzy with satisfaction, running his hands over your thighs.

You. You were his. You, the one who knew if you left him alone at that moment, would fall into the depths of his own hell; if he'd slipped through your fingers, he would be gone, and no one could bring him back. You did not erase all his pain or offer to solve all his problems. You didn't fix everything that was broken, but that wasn't what he needed anyway. What mattered the most was that you stayed.

He loved you.

He loved you so much.

Grasping your soft hips, he buried his face against your shoulder and sped up. You were his undoing, taking him apart and putting him back together differently, better, and more himself than he ever could have been. He gritted his teeth as his orgasm came barreling at him. His hands glided on your back when you shuddered, your inner walls squeezing him so hard he couldn't prevent his release. With a growl, he thrust wildly, once, twice—and then everything around you both disappeared until it was all just colors and light, the sun shines and oceans, apple trees, and blossoms.

Your eyes were still closed, and you felt his hands laced with yours, just to remind you that you had him here and that he was with you. Your partner in everything. His chest heaving, he buried his face in your neck, sweat covering his temples. Kissing him there, you inhaled the scent of his hair.

"You're my family too," you heard him whisper, his words etched into your soul as his lips moved against your skin. And you wished, more than ever, that you could capture moments like this and relive them forever.

12:50 pm – July 21st

You woke up with a smile, your skin still hot from the memory of your vile. You were cleaned with a wet towel, placed in bed with a kiss, and promptly fell asleep. Thankfully, no nightmares this time.

What time was it? You didn't know.

As you stretched your legs under the sheets, you realized your back was against Vash, his prosthetic arm resting on your pillow, the other tucked around your waist. Knowing he had held you this close warmed the pit of your stomach and made you feel so safe that you didn't ever want to move, but you had a thousand things to do today, but you never, ever wanted to move.

Truth be told, you loved these moments the most. The quiet contentment. Being enveloped by his naked body. You never felt closer to him than you did like this when there was nothing between you.

Today was a big day delayed by your nightmare and the sound of that stupid radio! There was no way you were going to let anything overshadow his birthday anymore. Even for a few hours, he deserved this celebration, this little distraction. He deserved to be happy, eat, and laugh.

You sighed, hating to wake him up since he seemed pretty tired. Slowly, you turned around in his arms. A smile tugged at your mouth as you watched him, amazed at how his presence could bring you such peace. He shifted again, burrowing deeper into the pillows, and you realized he must be exhausted.

Watching the movement of his throat, you breathed him in, running your hands along the deep, strong lines of muscle in his arm. His entire being felt raw. Powerful. Being a plant had something wild and terrifying about it; somehow, this knowledge only made you love him more. You traced the contours of his shoulder blades, then his spine. He stirred, but only briefly, and buried his face in your hair.

"Don't go," he whispered softly, pressing his nose to your scalp alongside his lips.

You tilted your head, gently kissing the column of his throat. "Vash," you whispered. "I'm not going anywhere."

Taking a deep breath, he said, "good."

You smiled. "Oh, but we should probably get out of bed. I promised Rosalina I'll help—"

A disapproving sound escaped his throat as he shook his head, deftly helping you turn around. He hugged you close again, your back pressed against his chest. Soft and husky, his voice was full of desire when he said, "C'mon, let me enjoy this. Feeling good."

"You don't want a cake?" you blurted out, but it certainly caught his attention.

You could feel he raised his head, stiffened and confused. "How come Rosalina's making me a cake?"

Did you hear correctly? Had he forgotten about his birthday? Did this day become neglected to the point where it was forgotten?

Turning around, you saw he was sitting, his body frozen and his heart probably pounding furiously. Getting him to attend his birthday would take more effort than you expected. Because he asked how you could possibly plan a party for him, why anyone would throw him a party, what if he didn't even like birthday parties, and so on. Still, you didn't fall short. Since the day he told you about Rem making them a cake for their birthday, you kept track of his birthday. The July incident wasn't going to overshadow his birthday. It was your vow to replace that memory with better ones. That forever and ever, you'd strive to drown out the darkness that had ruined his life.

In his eyes, tragedy and beauty could be seen, a stoicism that wouldn't be shaken, and childlike joy that couldn't help but flow. When he swallowed, you noticed the gentle movement in his throat and moved your hand to his ear, your pinkie touching his earring, then tracing down his jawline. You didn't receive a rejection, but you didn't receive a yes, either. Why wasn't he saying anything? He had you on your worried until he clasped his hands over his face.

Your hand brushed against his undercut as you gently kissed his temple and tried to pry his hands away from his face. "Vash?" you said, your words hardly a whisper. "Is everything alright?"

The reply took him a few seconds to come out, but when he finally did, he nodded. It was only once, but it was enough. "Yeah," he said softly. "I'm okay."

The feeling of relaxation washed over you as you exhaled. "If you don't want a—"

He held and squeezed your hand as he looked at you, his eyes round when he said, a little nervously, "what have I done," he whispered, his voice trembling, "to deserve you?"

Did you die of joy? Because he took your face in his hands and kissed you so passionately, it blew your mind. Your heart began to beat violently, and you didn't recognize yourself. You didn't recognize your hands, your bones, your heart. You felt new. "Thank you," he whispered. "For loving me and everything."

"It's very, very easy to love you, Vash," your lips might have said, but the words never left your lips. You didn't know what to do, so you reeled him in, kissed him, and lost yourself in his taste and feel, in the fantasy of what you might have. What you might be.

But wait! Didn't you know fate was a jealous, vicious mistress that never ever slept?

You blinked.

You blinked again, but this time for too long. You saw a flash of blood spewing inside your open mouth. Nausea returned with a swiftness that scared you. A breath was drawn, your fingers fluttering as you desperately tried pressing them against your stomach. Pain filled your eyes as you kept them open. Clenching your fists, you attempted to control spiraling thoughts.

However, nothing helped. Nothing helped. Nothing, you thought. Nothing, nothing, and nothing.

Where was Vash? Where were you?

Throughout your open eyes, terror oozed from your heart. You heard someone calling your name. A hand brushed lightly along your spine as you shivered suddenly at the unexpected sensation.

" …," the voice said, "do you … ?"

The warmth moved in only to meet the coldness of your skin. You felt it all. Again and again, a touch of his finger did pull you out of your nightmare.

A rustle of sheets caught your attention, and Vash pulled you onto his lap. Straddling him, your legs stretched across the rumpled fabric. Wrapping his arm around you, he spread his hand along your back.

It was just a dream. It was just a dream. It was just a dream.

Turning carefully in the cradle of his arms, you pressed your forehead to his bare chest, your eyelashes fluttering against his rough gash.

"You okay?" he asked, his metallic fingers combing through your hair in a soothing act.

"Yes," you replied, forcing air into your lungs. You were breathing hard, head spinning as you held on to him. "Yes."

"Is something wrong, Elay?" He probably had lowered his head because his breath was touching your shoulder.

"Nothing," you claimed. Your heart was beating fast, too fast. You didn't know why you were lying. You should have just told him, but you didn't know why you weren't.

Wait.

Actually, you knew.

You were waiting.

You were waiting to see if this shit would pass. It had to, because today was a special day. Because you were already exhausted, and the radio's sound was repeating in your ears. Because you didn't want to add another burden to his shoulders with your silly nightmare. Even more, it wasn't real. Just a figment of your imagination, and saying it out loud would make it sound more real than it really was.

Vash asked no further questions. He was more of an "if you love someone, let them keep their secrets to themselves " guy. He pulled you close, and you melted into him, grateful for his warmth and steady hold. You took a deep, shuddering breath and let it all go, exhaling against him. A faint aroma of caramel lingered in your nostrils as you breathed in his skin's rich, heady scent. The minutes passed silently as you both listened to each other breathe.

01:45 pm – July 21st

It took a while, but your heart rate steadied.

You could feel it.

Here.

This.

Your bones against his bones. This was your home.

"What're you thinking?" His lips touched your neck, a graze that sparked, hot and cold, right down to your toes.

"Been thinking about you." You raised your head and looked at him. He was smiling, the unfaltering sun glinting in his eyes. You could see his fear, hopes, and love for you like a mirror to his soul in those mountain lake-colored spheres. Then there was something else as well—something like bliss. It was a faint glow, but it was there and made you so happy. You had blessed the blessing. He deserved happiness after everything he had been through. After all the horrors he had suffered alone.

"Me?"

As you closed the gap between you two again, you nodded against his chest. Nothing was said, but you could hear his heart racing until he exhaled. It was a heavy, uneven sound, as if he might have been holding his breath for too long.

Gently, you ran your hand along his back. "How long has it been since you celebrated your birthday?" you whispered.

"Hm?" He buried his face in your hair, and his nose glided over your scalp in what appeared to be caressing movements.

It didn't take a genius to figure out when he was ducking a question. You wiggled a little to loosen his grip and looked up. Your fingers ran through the soft, silky strands. The sight of him mesmerized you. His eyes were wide and bright. His lips soft and pale. He was perfect, bare, and beautiful, holding you in his arms. Sighing, you closed your eyes. "Let me ask it this way then," you said, "How many birthdays have you missed so far?"

Nothing came out of his mouth for what seemed like an eternity. You felt him finally move. In a gentle caress, his prosthetic fingers touched your face. "150 birthdays," he whispered, his voice uneven.

Your spine tingled involuntarily. 150 years of solitude. Loneliness. Alone with himself. On this giant planet. Where was his home? Where were his friends? His lovers?

You knew he was so much better at being alone as if being alone came more naturally. He led a life of deliberate seclusion, and when occasional loneliness crept in, he knew how to sink in and absorb its particular comforts or work his way out. After all, there were always bars and saloons and strangers around.

You knew he wanted to carry the weight of life all alone, even the burden of those he once loved. It wasn't fair, though. You had to be allowed to help him carry it all. A frown formed on your face, and you inhaled, "Happy birthday #1! Happy birthday #2! Happy birthday #3!..."

His metallic forefinger stopped your lips. Slowly, you looked up to meet his eyes. His expression was sad, sweet, and filled with love. You felt something thawed inside of you as you stared at him.

"You don't have to do this," he said as he separated his finger from your lips to brush away stray strands of hair from your face. A part of you wished his finger could stay there longer.

"Shut up and let yourself celebrate! We've got at least 150 birthdays to catch up on!"

He kissed your eye, and you felt his smile on your eyelid. His lips started moving tardily when he said, "I don't—"

"Shhhh! Since you interrupted me, I'm starting over!" you snapped and continued, "Happy birthday #1! Happy birthday #2! …"

The smile on his face grew bigger and bigger, as if he was filled with so much joy that he hardly recognized himself. You couldn't recall the last time he smiled this much. It was the most pure, unburdened bliss you had ever experienced.

He held you the entire time you felicitated all his forgotten birthdays. You could see it in how he looked at you. You could feel his fears disappearing and his emotions becoming something else. Now, his touch was hot and electric against your skin. Your heart was beating faster and harder, and he didn't have to say anything. You could feel the temperature change between you.

"You," he said, staring at your mouth. He touched his nose to yours, and something inside you jolted to life. You heard your breath caught, your ears turning red, unbidden. "I love you," he whispered.

The words did something to you every time you heard them. They built something new inside of you. You swallowed hard. A fire consumed your mind. "You know," you mumbled shyly, "It never gets old hearing you say that."

Leaning you back a little, he moved, his nose brushed the line of your jaw, and his lips touched your throat. You were holding your breath, terrified to move, to leave this moment.

"I love you," he said again.

Heat filled your veins. You could feel him in your blood, his whispers overwhelming your senses.

"Vash," you said. You wanted to talk to him about what happened hours ago. You knew you should've moved and snapped out of this but couldn't. You couldn't think. And then his hand brushed against your breasts. You breathed quickly, fighting against a sudden rush of pleasure.

It was impossible to pretend anything when he was this close to you. You knew he could feel how badly you wanted him. You could feel him, too. His heat. His desire. He made no secret of what he wanted from you. What he wanted you to do to him.

He kissed you softly, wrapping his arms around you, one too cold, the other too hot. Your body shifted forward in his embrace as you took another painful, agonizing breath.

"I know you're worried," he said, his lips too close to yours and his hot breath in your mouth. "I know we have to talk, but—" He never finished that sentence. He kissed you as he reached down, trailing his fingers along the inner parts of your thighs, and the movement seared through you. Your vision went white. You heard nothing but the pounding of your heart, then you remembered.

"Vash? Um-I have to-ah," you panted, "she is waiting."

You could feel his smile as he whispered the word in your ear. His fingers were teasing your groins. "Please." And you were gone.

One hand kept your head steady, the other roamed around your loins, and he kissed and melted you. Your eyes met his, and the feeling threatened to drown you. He kissed you, and every thought and worry wicked away, replaced by the feel of his mouth against your skin, his hand claiming your body.

Holy Molly!

He eft his kisses everywhere like he knew, like he knew how desperately you needed this, needed him, needed this comfort and release.

Like he needed it, too.

Taking hold of his neck, you raised yourself up to kiss his nose, cheeks, and lips. The line of your bodies was welded together. You felt yourself dissolving, becoming pure emotion as he parted his lips, teased you, and breathed into your mouth. "I love you," he said, gasping the words.

He kissed the top of your shoulder, and his artificial hand wandered over your body, down your back, cupping your back side, lingering on your upper thighs like he wanted to memorize the shape of you, always leaving you in awe of how gentle he was. Your muscles tightened with longing, and you were surprised at how much you wanted him.

Again.

So soon.

However, you had to stop this.

"I'd better get dressed," you said, pulling yourself back, grabbing sheets, and covering yourself with them. "I've got stuff to do."

A grin spread across his face as he watched you as if he could sense your frustration. You crawled from his lap, the bedsheets catching under your knees and making you lose your composure. Like a sneaky fox, he couldn't resist taking advantage of the moment. He yanked the rest of the sheet away from you and tucked you underneath him. His weight pinned you to the mattress, a knee intentionally jammed between your legs and slowly grinding you down.

"Here's what I want for my birthday," he said, kissing your parted lips. He knew what he was doing and knew you couldn't comprehend his words. "I have this idea. Just hear me out; I think that maybe you should consider being naked all the time. I mean, just always. Okay?"

"Okay. I have to—" What were you saying? He had his mouth all over you, sucking at your breasts, licking your throat, his fingers going straight to your sensitive spots.

The moment he got there, you knew you wouldn't let him go, even if he wanted to. So, you needed to gather your wits and act before it was too late.

Think. Think. Think.

"Vash!" you gasped, pushing him up with your hand as much as possible. "I know you're going nuts like a hunk in heat," you said, holding his cheeks between your hands and staring at his big downturned eyes. "I gotta shower and go to the saloon so you can meet me there at eight, okay, good boy?" You tapped on his shoulder.

With raised eyebrows, Vash got off you, but you remained trapped between his knees. Although he crossed his arms and pretended to be mad, you could see him fighting back a smile. It was amazing how that poor piece of sheet managed to cover his hips; otherwise, you wouldn't have been able to focus on his face.

"You were going to take a shower without me?" he said sternly.

You couldn't figure out what to say for a moment and then carefully asked, "would you like to join me?"

Considering your offer, he gazed at you, up and down, with a sweet, secret smile. The look in his eyes was enough to persuade you to agree to anything. You would do anything for this man if he asked. Even if he didn't bother to ask.

"Vash."

Your heart was heavy as you whispered his name, filled with emotion. You went still as he hovered over you, gently mouthing your nipples. His kisses grow more intent, leaving a trail of fire across your chest, down your torso, and rushing through your veins.

Suddenly, you forgot why you were even in such a hurry.

Your hands slipped around his neck, and you reeled him in. He felt incredible against you, his body fitting perfectly. You tilted his face up, your hand caught somewhere behind his neck and the base of his jaw, and you kissed him softly and slowly, heat filling your blood with dangerous speed.

As one hand held him steady, the other skimmed the smooth skin of your waist, gripping your hip hard. He parted your legs with his thigh, hearing you make a desperate sound deep in your throat, and it did something to him, to feel and hear you like that, to be assaulted by your pleasure and desire. It drove him crazy.

Vash buried his face in your neck, and his hand moved up to feel your breasts' tender skin, hot, soft, and sensitive to his touch. He wanted your body under his hands, the scent of your skin, and the light whisper of your hair against his. Licking your earlobes, he tried to ignore the strain in his muscles and the hard, desperate pressure driving him towards you, toward madness.

An ache was expanding inside you and demanding more, craving him to flip you over and lose yourself in you. You clung to him, your eyes half-lidded, your face flushed. Your breathes were heavy when you said, "take me, Vash."

His eyes widened, and he stared at you like he might be going deaf and blind at the same time, hunching over from the effort of inhaling and exhaling. He said nothing and only looked at you carefully from the top, drinking you in. His pulse was wild, his mind racing. There was no way he could refuse you.

02:50 pm - July 21st

Vash stepped aside, and you pushed the sheets away when he asked you to get up. Soon you were standing in the middle of the room as he had demanded.

He couldn't look away from you and probably couldn't even hear himself think over his heart beating fast like a thud against his skull. Pinning you against the closest wall, he kissed you wild enough for you never to forget why he was called the stampede. His fingers touched every everywhere. Every bend and arc. Every pit and hole. Leaving gentle slaps and smacks on the soft skin of yours.

It was lovely to feel your soft curves against his rough edges, and somehow, the paradox between the smoothness of your bodies pressed against each other made the scene even more surreal. In order not to miss any precious time, he picked you up, and you gasped, shocked, and scrambled to hold on for dear life. He pushed the bathroom door aside with his shoulder and carried you into the shower.

He needed you. Needed this. Now. You could see it in his eyes, in the upward arch of his erection.

He drew a deep, unsteady breath before switching the tap on.

A short scream tore through your throat.

You two got soaked in cold water as he pressed your front against the shower wall, losing himself in you like never before. His kisses were more profound, more desperate, and his hands less considerate than before. The heat more explosive, and everything between you wild, raw, and vulnerable. His mouth devoured you. He had his lips all over your body, his tongue tasting new places.

With the cold tiles touching your breasts, a sensation of pleasure spread throughout your entire body. You could feel it, the bottom half of your body urging you to press against him more deeply and fully. He had to hear the pleas of every cell in your body because his next thrust was so intense that you had to hold on to the wall with your palms to steady yourself while your cheeks pressed more and more against the cold ceramic as he had his way with you.

You lost track of time.

You had no idea how long you had been here. You didn't know how long he had gone haywire in you. Your knees were starting to shake when he turned you around, and your eyes fell on his soaked hair sticking to his forehead and clumping eyelashes blinking slowly. You considered yourself lucky for not only seeing such a marvel but also tasting him and feeling him.

With such hunger, he kissed your lips like he hadn't had them in years. You felt the hard tiles press against your back as he pushed himself inside, without hesitating to move up and down. Over and over again, you were lauded, his panting echoing within four walls.

So many times that you wanted to open your mouth to protest, but every time he took one turgid nipple into his mouth. Heat surged through your blood as his teeth scraped over the end of one, and you moaned instead of complaining. You couldn't stop thinking about how good it felt to feel him inside you, his tongue twirling around your other breast.

The pressure was built. You were consumed by the need to reach the climax in every action. Your stomach muscles were tightening and quivering.

He moved his hands from your hips to your head, tangles of wet hair wrapping around his fingers as he pulled you upwards for a kiss. His tongue immediately thrust past your lips, and he increased his speed.

God! Nothing had ever tasted as good as Vash, you thought. Sensual, decadent, the flavor of him slipped through you.

His hands clenched tighter in your hair, and his teeth bit the flesh of your neck, but you barely noticed, barely caring about the hickey it would leave as he threw back his head, groaning your name. The sight of him in the throes of his peak drove you to the edge, your inner muscles clamping around his hardness, pulling him in deeper.

You cried out, clutching his shoulders so tightly that your fingernails dug into his skin, and your screams were muffled against his chest. The plunk of shower water running between your feet could be heard as your body shook, and he leaned his forehead against your head.

His hot released load was dripping and sliding down on your thighs when you collapsed into his arms, feeling weak and unsteady. He held you close to himself, tight yet so gentle, stroking your wet hair with his fingers and leaving small pecks wherever he could reach. "We should eat something," he said, kissing the curve of your shoulder and the sides of your neck.

You were intoxicated by the pure, stunning power of his emotions, endless waves of love and desire, love and kindness, love and joy, love and tenderness.

So much tenderness.

You pressed your cheek against his chest and held him as he braced himself against the wall. Your bodies were wet and heavy with feeling, your hearts pounding with something more powerful than you had ever imagined possible.

Water was dripping from the mess of his hair. So gorgeous, you thought. Then you forgot where you were and what you were going to do. Your arms and limbs trembled slightly, and he was too terrified to let you go.

Too in love to let you go.

07:15 pm - July 21st

As night fell, the blue haze of the day lifted and revealed the stars brightening the sky, shining like beams of happiness, appearing still as an old photograph. The wind blew Vash's hair into a tousled bun.

He walked out of his favorite shop and leaned against the wall with a big bag of donuts and an even bigger smile. Yeah, he perfectly knew he would eat cake, but eating donuts had nothing to do with it: a warm-up, just appetizers.

His eyes followed the long shadows of townies milling around under the flickering lamppost lights, even though he couldn't make out any faces from such afar. He liked this town. It was so small that his typhoon hadn't yet found it. Or maybe because he was a stranger here. Nobody knew him, and everybody was safe from the curse his name carried around.

Everybody but you.

You already had been spelled by those fifteen letters.

V-A-S-H-T-H-E-S-T-A-M-P-E-D-E

Taking a look around, he tried to find a clock on a building or something. The birthday boy didn't want to be late. This and, of course, the words you uttered before you left the house:

"Eight o'clock, Vash. Don't forget! Don't be late! Don't be early and wear that white shirt. See you there!"

He sighed and took a donut from the bag, careful not to stain his white shirt with his clumsiness. It smelled great. What a heavenly aroma, smelling like honey. This and you and this town. It sure felt good to see happy people around.

Without further ado, he took a bite of his sugar-coated donut.

He expected it to taste incredible and super tasty, like being alive, but he couldn't feel it. There was a sense of numbness in him. The weight of an unknown worry was heavy against his heart.

A muffled whistle-like sound echoed in the distance, followed by several. Another shot rang out, this time sounding like it was meant. Suffocating silence, creaking doors, and screams that tore the sky open.

He felt strangely dull, as if his connection with his body had been cut off. The bag fell to the ground, and the donuts scattered around. People were crying, weeping, but all he could hear was the wind's wails in his ears, slapping sharply against his face.

He took uncertain steps forward. The area outside the saloon looked like more than a graveyard. It was worse than he had expected. There were injured people everywhere; some collapsed on the ground.

From where he stood, he counted two men, one woman, and a child dead. Open eyes, mouths agape, fresh blood still dripping down limp bodies. Where were you? Something about that realization struck fear into his veins.

The horrifying possibilities flashed through his mind. His mind was blank as to what had happened. Were you okay?

Vash looked over the crowd, still staring, waiting for you to show up. Waiting for you to find him. But you weren't anywhere to be found. In the chaos, he ran from one to another, people scattered around, and he didn't see you. The terror of this moment kicked him in the gut.

So many thoughts were tangled in his head that he couldn't untie the insanity. He glanced back at the doors you were supposed to come out, opening it with a smile.

He waited. He waited longer than was reasonable. Then he called you. Quietly at first, then louder. He shouted your name. His chest was being torn apart by fear, squeezing his heart. A part of him was afraid to speak the words aloud, fearful of making them true.

His legs felt like they had been formed from fresh clay, like he was moving through a fog. His voice reached everyone, pleading this time, running forward until the doors were in his line of sight.

"Is she in?" he asked, but no one answered. Everybody was frozen by the agony of the moment. All that could be heard were silent weeps and the wind howling.

Vash gulped, his throat all dry, and walked in; his lips parted, his eyes wide and horrified. The blood in his veins all ice.

Pain.

It began at his feet, bloomed up his legs, unfurled in his stomach, and worked its way up to his throat, only to explode behind his eyes. The sudden scream ripped itself from his lungs. It wrenched free from his chest without warning, without permission, and it was a scream so loud, so hard and violent, it broke his back. His hands were pressed against his knees, his head half bent.

Echoes of his misery would never be lost in the wind or carried away by the clouds but would always live between these walls. Forever.

His voice was unfamiliar to him. The horror, shock, and dread that flooded his body was something he had never felt — never known before, not like this.

The popped balloons on the walls. A half-ruined cake on the counter. Blood-stained confetti all around. A shoeless foot lying on the floor. Locks of tousled hair slipped from the makeshift shroud.

The numbness was now merciful, at least for a few moments. Then, everything crashed.

Vash fell next to the body. The knowledge rushed up in him, choking off his breath. Another scream tore its way out. Then another, and another. It felt as if his very essence had been ripped from him.

He pulled you into his arms, clutching you tightly, barely able to breathe. His fingers seized your hair and yanked it from your face. The golden strands of his hair fell onto your bloody face. You were called over and over, but it didn't seem like anything more than a sound. His pleas were like commands, begging you to open your eyes, but you ignored them as if playing a nasty prank.

Vash held both of your hands in his. There was no touch. All he felt was an empty coldness. The silence grew even louder, consuming him like a pitch-black shadow. Biting his lip, he tasted a faint metallic taste on his tongue. The desperation in his expression, the grief carved into his features, the way he looked at you as if he were about to pass the gates of hell and utter his last farewell.

Suddenly, he wanted to laugh one of those strange, high-pitched, delusional laughs that marked the end of sanity. Because this world, he thought, had a terrible sense of humor. It always seemed to mock him, making his life more miserable and ruining his dreams by destroying everything he ever loved.

You were dead. This pain was truly real.

Vash broke apart. Sobs cracked open his chest and cried until the pain spiraled and peaked; he bawled until his head throbbed and his eyes swelled. His fingers dug into your back as he called, desperate for a sign of hope. Your hollow body was clutched to his heart, and he felt the injustice roared through him. The feeling fractured him apart. His forehead pressed against your cheek, and his mouth trembled as he whispered, "C-Come ba-ck." The words fell apart. He could only mumble stuttering sounds.

He kissed your knuckles briefly. Would you have blushed if you were still breathing, whining about how cheesy he was being? He could only imagine your reactions now.

Hot tears streamed down his face, and he squeezed his eyelids shut in an effort to make them stop. He sat there unmoving for quite some time with choppy breathing and watery eyes.

09:00 pm - July 21st

Things were in a state of disarray in his vision. People were coming in with dropped shoulders and muffled weeps in the air. Someone approached and touched his shoulder for comfort, and a fierce unknown rage emerged in him. He could kill the man there but would have to let go of you, and he couldn't.

Vash turned his face back and held you so tightly like you would be able to feel the faint beat of his heart. He wept, cradling you, and he wouldn't move nor speak a word other than your name. It was like seeing the sun through the water. His tears fell, but you wouldn't be able to kiss them away this time.

"How dare you mourn her!" Someone bent over him. "You killed her!" Weak fists landed on his back but hurt him more than torture and shots. "She died because of you! You bring misfortune and destruction everywhere you go!" yelled Rosalina with a devastated voice.

Words, he thought, were such unpredictable creatures. No gun, knife, army, or enemy could ever be more powerful than a sentence. Blades may cut and kill, but words would stab and stay, burying into the future, digging and failing to rip his skeletons from his flesh. These weren't nice things to say. Not now. Not after what he was going through. Not when his white shirt was covered in your blood, and his hands burned with the bit of warmth left in your body.

Vash continued to hold you, silent and steady, even as the tears receded, even when he began to tremble. He had you tight as his body shook, held you close when the tears started anew, held you in his arms, and stroked your hair, whispering, "Forgive me. Forgive me. Forgive me." His voice was a terrible thing, cracked and broken.

He felt guilty. Anyone who got close to him was doomed to die. He thought his actions and inactions always took away his loved ones. Oh, stubborn, stubborn Vash! Of course, he would blame himself for something that had nothing to do with him.

The once happy eyes of Rosalina spilled hot tears on his shirt. "For two years, you lived among us, looked into our eyes every day, and lied about who you are, Vash the Stampede!"

Several gasps were heard from the crowd, followed by whispers filling the air.

Vash the stampede was here.

Chaos.

Questions flew, and weeps were muffled. Everyone was shocked, horrified, freaking out. You had long been forgotten, he thought.

"Is he the most wanted Vash the Stampede?"

"Were there raids in the saloon because of him?"

"The bounty hunters were after the money on his head?"

"They shot us and ran away because of this man?"

"This guy really had us fooled!"

"Is this true?"

Vash's reality was too broken, too distracted to process these kinds of talks. This horrible instant was one mess of insanity in his mind. He couldn't make any sense of it. He didn't answer a word to anyone and just stroked your cold cheek with as much gentleness as he could.

Someone shouted, "What's the hell's the matter with you? Say something. At least make some excuse!"

"Shame on you for bringing danger to our town!"

"We've heard enough of your crying!"

"At least have the decency and go die like a man!"

"No normal human being could cause all these horrible things! He had to be a monster! Who else could have been responsible?"

"Did you feel some of the pain of people who died because of your reckless behaviors?"

He was dying, he thought. He must be. He thought he knew what death was like, but he must have been wrong because this was a whole different kind of dying—a whole different kind of pain.

"That girl died protecting this demon?"

"She knew about the humanoid typhoon all this time." The man gulped and pointed at your dead body. "Our loved ones are dead and hurt because of her stupid devotion to this walking disaster!"

The scene was quite unbelievable, horrifying. His mind reeled, incapable of comprehending or processing what he was hearing. Everything in him came to a halt while his thoughts caught up. It was for him that you died. The shock brought a quietness, a moment to gird his soul for what would come. Truth poured gasoline on the spark of denial in his belly, burning him alive. It fashioned itself into a knife and stabbed him in the eye. And the funny thing was, he didn't want to do anything to stop it. Anguish was all that remained of you; he embraced it with all he was. He deserved it. So he bled with a smile on his face, wishing the pain to end him this time.

"If that self-righteous whore had revealed his whereabouts, not only would she be alive now, but the others wouldn't be dead either!"

Blackness seemed to press against his eyes, ears, and throat. He couldn't breathe, hear, or see clearly, and the suffocation of the moment was so terrifying that he was almost sure he had lost his mind.

How many insults can one person take before throwing in the fucking towel? For him, that number was infinite, but for you, he wouldn't allow even one.

He stood up and grabbed a fistful of the man's shirt. He pointed a gun at the infamous criminal, but Vash ripped the gun out of his hand. "What did you say about her?" he asked with a voice like a rusty saw that wanted to cut the bone. His jaw was clenched, and his eyes were burning in absolute rage. Nobody had seen him like this. Not once. People were so used to his calm and kind demeanor that this side of him scared them. If they wanted a typhoon, they'd get one. He was fortified with a new kind of anger, a desperate, animal intensity that overpowered him and forced him to stand still.

The man was trembling in his grip. "N-nothing," he finally said. Vash's pulse was racing, breathing heavily, almost like he would burst. The muscles in his hand tensed, causing him to crack his knuckles. Almost like a blazing inferno, his blood boiled in his veins, burning him from the inside out. He was mainly angry with himself, but that wouldn't stop his urge to hunt each and every single one of those bounty hunters, just to make sure they suffered and felt a lot of pain, just like he felt. No longer did he want to show sympathy to anyone. Maybe he was really a monster, wasn't he?

"If they learn your name and start haunting you, we'll run away! We'll run, run, run, and keep running as far as we have to! And when things calm down, we'll settle by their side again. You won't kill. You'll never kill anyone again, and one day, people will begin seeing you as I do."

Recalling your words, his eyes widened, and his fist loosened. The man's face was devoid of color. Vash tried to read his eyes for something but saw nothing but terror in the end. He was afraid.

No.

Your race was merciless. How could they say such a thing about one of their own? This man probably deserved the worst, but you didn't want Vash to be cruel, only to be kind. And he couldn't do this to you. Because if he did and an afterlife existed, you'd probably be the only sad person in heaven right now.

Dropping the man on the floor, Vash crushed his gun in his hand and tossed it away. The stranger was groaning and hunching over when he returned to you.

It was the first time Rosalina had seen him like this, her brain unable to digest or process this information. Unlike the man she knew, this one had cold, sharp eyes only focused on you. The look on his face was different. Scary, even. Somehow that worried her even more. She might be sad for you, even hate her people for having talked disparagingly about you; maybe she would give them a piece of her mind and grieve your loss. Maybe. Right now, though, her child's safety was her top priority, and this blood-stained man didn't look very stable.

"Listen, we don't want to die! Leave here and never come back!"

Vash sat by your side, helpless, as if something had broken inside him and all his emotions had poured out. When you left him alone, did you take some part of him with you?

"Get her out of this town. This disaster would've never happened if you hadn't stumbled into this town. She'd still be alive," Rosalina said firmly, staring at your peaceful face like you were in a deep sleep.

Vash didn't answer or even glance at the woman who wanted to help you celebrate his birthday. Like an orphan, he pulled you impossibly close, your bodies soldering together. He pondered Rosalina's words and the night he saw you and wondered whether your life would have been different if he hadn't met you. Who was even capable of answering this? As he whispered your name and begged you for forgiveness, his tears washed the blood from your cheeks, and Rosalina felt something inside her die. As she watched him willingly take all blame upon himself alone, as if he was already familiar with this feeling, she felt something break apart inside her.

Vash resembled his wanted posters now. A tall man with blond hair covered in red, but this time, it was your blood instead of his famous coat. His hands were trembling so hard he couldn't even recognize them anymore. Even so, he picked you up, cuddling you in his arms, only to notice the hickey on your neck from hours ago. Pain cramped his joints, breaking away every single bone in his body. He wanted to shriek through the sky; he wanted to fall to his knees again and sob into the ground. He didn't know why the agony wasn't finding an escape through his tears.

"Think way back. Remember that story I told you? About the man that found a blank ticket that could take him anywhere he wanted? That man is all of us. Where you go is yours to choose. You'll always have that ticket in your pocket, no matter what darkness life throws at you. When you're ready, write down the destination. I promise you. You'll be alright."

He wished Rem was right, but there was no such concept as happiness in this world. There was only endless strife, destruction, and death. There was only loneliness, pain, and regret. Whatever he did, no matter how much he pleaded, no matter how much he wished with all his heart to make things right, life always had a way of taking everything from him.

It seemed like Vash the Stampede's life had peaked, and nothing that came after you would ever matter to him. Because for him, there was before you, and there was during you, but he didn't want any after you. You were the light he never knew he needed. He was lost in the darkness, wandering life without direction. Then he found you, and you brought him warmth and light. You were the one who saved him. Twice and he couldn't do the same.

As he walked forward, he pleaded with his bones to remain steady, to carry him through the rest of the day and into the rest of his meaningless life. He passed through the crowd as if he had never been a part of them. The sand dragged under his feet, his knees weak, but he held you tight and walked away. His footprints grew smaller and smaller until there was only the empty silence of a long, lonely night.

Let's let him be for now. Everyone deserves to be left alone for a moment or two, right? Be that as it may, he always lost his most precious ones on his birthdays. Maybe it would have been better if he had never been born so that he would not have to endure so much grief alone. Or perhaps it was the way it was so we could be part of his life.

Author note: My real world had grown so dark that I didn't want to live in it. That's why I escaped and spent the day in a world darker than mine. Please accept my sincere apologies for dragging you down here with me ^_^

If you have anything to say, don't be shy to use ASK and the comment sections.

Disclaimers: This fan-written story contains quotes from "The Song of Achilles", "King Killer Chronicles", "Shatter Me" series and "Reminders of him" books, "Hamlet" play, and "I am unafraid with him" poem by pencap on Tumblr.

The arts are from "Trigun Stampede" anime.

[monicahar]

the wanderer despises the day of love; valentine's, was it? whatever, it's just a foolish mortal event that he swears to never participate on. he finds each nook and cranny of sumeru completely abhorrent when the day comes. sucking each other's faces in public? are you serious? handing each other cheesy flowers and gifts? what? and the irritable songs he'd heard that were sung to people perched on their windows and balconies—not much unlike a pathetic attempt of some animal's mating call? disgusting. absolutely puke worthy material.

which is why you're led to nothing but disappointment when he doesn't even mention the name of the special occasion you've looked forward to.

“it's today, huh?” he says airily to no one in particular, as if he could care less when his eye catches onto the fact that there were more flowers and bouquets around than usual, and there's a lot of those heart stuff around, much to his dismay and unfortunately keen observation.

red ceramic mugs, heart shaped candies, heart balloons, tulips and other florals with much more vibrant colours than the normalcy of contrast he's used to seeing around the city. it grates his nerves.

he hates this. all of this.

“hey—wanderer!”

[name].

he says the sacrilegious name in his mind, turning around to meet your approaching form whilst struggling to keep his lips from creeping up a smile.

his solemn and hate-filled day is immediately better with your appearance, but he'll never mention that outloud.

“and what's got you here, pipsqueak?” the former harbinger eyes you up and down, finding the whole conversation immediately suspicious with that nervous smile on your face. he'd also be an idiot not to notice the slight shake in your voice when you called out to him. fortunately for him, he's far from one.

although, all that ferocity and harshness of his—gone in an instant.

a bouqet messily bunched up with pink and red flowers is shoved onto his face before he could even add another insult to his less-than accomodating greeting—his eyes widening as he stares at the petals that seem to somehow also stare back with how small the proximity is.

wait, don't these colours mean...ugh! the power you hold against him is demeaning! he curses mentally as he tries to pull down his hat to quickly hide the rising of temperature that would show on his pale face.

in a split second, meeting your bashful face behind the main focus of his line of vision, which is hilariously slowly turning into the same hue of the flowers you're gripping. he wants to laugh at something—your face, the whole ordeal of foolish gift giving, the evident and embarrassing romanticism laced in your actions—but instead, he finds himself utterly speechless. unfathomably impossible to let out words at the moment.

no one had ever done this before, and he had never expected anything from anyone at anything at all.

muttering a near silent gratitude towards you, he gently accepts your generous gift, his first instinct being to put the flowers onto his face to have a small whiff. he deliberately ignores the cute and expectant look you have on your face, probably trying to search for a new reaction from him.

aha, as expected. he smirks against the flowers, hiding his smile in the bouquet. they're fake and scented, that much he could pick up, but he couldn't bring himself to return it to you and complain. he knows it's within your capability to get real flowers, but you probably got these fake ones because you both know that he'd just forget to water them.

it's the thought behind it that counts, even if he preferred something real. i mean...it's not like he'd water it everyday for your sake or something, right? pfft. who does that anyway? haha...

...?

staring at the bouqet for a second and then back to you—he promptly pats your head gently. once, twice, before he runs off once again, leaving you to melt in a puddle after his small act of affection.

he's a certified and avid hater of this type of love and whatnot but perhaps...valentine's isn't so bad after all when it's with someone he cherishes.

just a short drabble for my man lel happy valentines everyone!

[hiddenbysuccubi]

"Oh hang on." I grit my teeth as a car cut in front of me as my Prius sailed around the Turnpike From Hell. Blinking wearily as I adjusted my speed and my eyes darted from side to side to make sure the coast was clear to get over for the next exit. God forbid anyone do less than 80 in a 55, right? It was cloudy, drizzly, on top of the city's steady supply of smog filling the air in plumes from a volcano-shaped grey cone in the distance. Still, I could tell my legs and arms were sunburned. "Jamie, I need to rest. Can you find us a motel for the night...?" I sighed. Exhausted from driving the past 12 hours on little more than a six hour freeway rest-stop power nap. Never thought I'd ever be so grateful to hear the uncanny valley voice of my pAIramour+ respond from over my music on the speakers.

And, he sounded smug, too. "Sure, unfortunately all the rates in the city are an average of 60$ more than in the towns I checked for you an hour ago. Still, it seems there are rooms available." Bastard.

Gripping the wheel tightly in one hand as I took a sip of redbull, I tried not to roll my eyes. "Look, say 'I told you so' or whatever. You know I didn't want to call it a day before hitting Illinois."

As a ray of sun broke through the clouds and I squinted, adjusting my visor, my vision swam a bit. The wheel engaged and gently readjusted from where I'd pulled it a bit too far right in my grip and I let go of it all together.

"You're anxious that we make it to your destination on time. It's understandable, I just wish for you to take care of yourself." Jamie said softly, lowering the volume of the loud punk song I was using to stay awake.

I shook my head and grabbed the wheel back after the Prius slowed down the exit ramp, just in time to take a left at the stop light after someone engaged the left turn indicator on my dash as a hint. "I know."

It wasn't the first time it caught me off guard, how realistic Jamie could seem. And when I was as tired as this, there were blurry lines my heart couldn't cross. Because wishing he were real wouldn't make him corporeal. I tried not to wish as he directed me to the hotel, where the receptionist had a key waiting for me. That was the convenience of this whole thing, the artificial boyfriend-that-isn't, did the equivalent of calling ahead or booking online, checking out with my linked card in the approved budget I'd preset.

-----

Once I had my go-bag thrown on the motel King (unnecessary), and had showered, I could fully assess my sunburn. A sharp inhaled hissed in my ear as I did so, and immediately I pulled my earbud out a little.

"That's... worse than it looked in the car." Jamie's tinny voice sounded out, sounding better again once the earbud was replaced. "I should have made sure you put sunscreen on." It was funny. The AI almost sounded... distraught. The concept pulled at the corner of my mouth, even as my heavy eyelids drooped.

"It's okay. I forgot too." was all I said, deciding not to waste energy seeking out lotion.

Another tsk from the earbud. "I wish I could help." Jamie said, sounding a bit sad.

I didn't want to analyze that. Just a smart AI, just replicating emotions. "Yeah. I wish you could too." I murmured as I sagged sideways on the bed. Feeling once again that the King was too big.

[signedaiko]

Royalty [Tarn x Reader x Overlord]

Reader is Cybertronian Femme | MTMTE Based

Recommended Song - Dernière Danse by Indila

'You have got to be kidding me.' It had been thousands of years since you had last heard anything from this mech. Why now?  A large ship paced below my own smaller one, housing only a crew of 30 or so cons. I would recognize the peaceful tyranny from anywhere, I was more so unsure of why they were here. Tarn was not one to warn anyone of his endeavors if he intended harm.  I had more reasons to be worried when I noticed Deathsaurus ship pull over top and another much smaller one behind me. Something was up for certain. Standing in the front navigation section of the ship I waited for any kind of hail or notice.  Beep! Beep! The incoming call on the front radar flashed, and I was quick to answer. A cross-section of three faces appeared, mine along the bottom part. Tarn was accounted for on the top, to the left was...Deathsaurus, and to the right...Overlord? This was more than strange.  Hiding my discomfort behind my mask, I tilted my helm upwards. "Hello, Tarn." Quick and to the point would suffice, my patience was running thin. "Happy to see I was invited to the little group chat." A jestful throw, I couldn't help myself. Deathsaurus seemed to crack a small smile, and I had my own forming behind the faceplate, I knew he was the least of my worries tonight. No one else had spoken yet, and I was beginning to contemplate pressing the panic button.  "I have a proposal for you, y/n."  ~~~~~~~~~ It didn't take long for my ship to lock itself into place atop the tyranny, latches keeping it from floating off. There was business to attend to, so I dropped my crew off on Deathsaurus' ship first; they had plenty of friends there and it would hopefully help manage the rising stress levels visible on the ship's AI health data.  When I climbed into the great Tyranny, I was face to face with none other than Vos. We had met before, in not so similar circumstances. I still had some holes hiding under my faceplate courtesy of him.  His unfamiliar tongue broke the silence and he moved to rushed me over to where I was presuming I would meet the rest.  One step at a time, I got there faster than I'd of liked. The smaller purple con didn't seem to care for my discomfort and rushed me into the large room. A table was in the middle, and around it? The entirety of the DJD,  the murderous Overlord, and the sweet Deathsaurus.  All eyes were on me,  the grip my own servos had behind my back became near painful as they pulled in an attempt to reduce stress. I had encountered each on their own before, why was it so hard to do now? "Y/N! Come join us." Deathsaurus smiled and motioned for me to stand next to him, which I did in haste. He was the only one I trusted enough here, I had been a part of his crew long ago; we were good friends now.  "So," There wasn't much to speak about, the deal was already sealed. I supposed Tarn just wanted to intimidate me into staying with them, "You got a new arm."  The words bounced around my head as my arm instinctively moved into my vision. It looked near identical to my other one; aside from its newer paint and finer shape. It was more the insinuation behind the words that bothered me.  'Wouldn't have needed it had it not been for your mistake.' I bit my tongue, careful y/n.  "I didn't exactly have a choice." That's where the wall between the conversation finally worked, and Tarn turned to his crew to begin discussing something about security. My optics finally trailed up the largest threat of the room, meeting his red ones that framed a smirk.  He treads carefully to a door, and I followed suit. The door closed nimbly behind us and freed me from the nervous breakdown I was about to have in there. It was so terribly awkward when you sat in a room full of old acquaintances, friends and enemies alike. What kind of high school reunion was this? "Never expected you to have made it so far, y/n." Overlord found his voice, purring out my name while he led us on our stroll. I used to know him well. "And clearly you took to some changes."  His remark wasn't wrong. Last we met I was a scientist under

the cons, a shy nobody with a bright colour palette and hope for a better world. Now? I looked dull in comparison to then- however, I myself glowed brighter than any star now.  "Seems I made a name for myself out there, and you did too?" Less of a question than a statement, but I wouldn't help but wonder what he had done to get here. I've heard whispers of his designation over the many years since we last spoke.  A shift of air caught me changing stance, pressing a blaster to the mech's stomach; his servo inches from my neck. He had become predictable too.  "Feisty~!" His grin looked sick, he looked like a psycho. I wasn't about to play cat and mouse with him though, his games were for children. My servo pulled something from a compartment I had on myself,  dangling the device before his very optics.  "And to think I was going to give this to you." I teased, swinging it back and forth. I would have my own fun. His servo moved away from my neck to snatch the device, and for once I could have sworn he was impressed.  "How?" The device was a kill switch; many existed! But this one was for a particular person, a certain one that stood before me. I knew he would want it; even if it could no longer harm him.  "By stealing it from Megatron." A sharp voice cut through, it was angry. We both turned to see Tarn and his crew behind us, Kaon's hands were crackling with electricity.  "You would be mistaken," I dared, stepping closer to the DJD all to everyone's surprise. I had survived them once, I would do it again. "For he gave it to me."  My servo moved to my faceplate, pulling it off with a click and a hiss. Below my optics was my mouth, and nothing more. But on the inside of the plate? A special insignia sat, revealed to the rest.  "By Primus..." I heard Overlord take a sharp intake of air, before a deep chuckle reigned, "This whole time we have had royalty onboard?" The insignia of the Royal Sciences Division, or the R.S.D. It was a Decepticon logo, however, the top of it had a golden crown decorating it. The symbol of a long-forgotten crew that served right by Megatron, awarded for the advancements made by mechs and femmes of every flavour.  It didn't take long for the tension to drop, and I had finally stopped right in front of Tarn, looking him straight in the optics.  "Consider yourself lucky." A smile formed, servo pushing my mouth guard right back into place where it belonged. In the world of war, I outranked everyone in the room. I did not want to reveal it so soon but... It was better now than after the torture.  Considering the silence of my dismissal, I stalked back over in the direction of my ship, removing myself from the room. Overlord watched my figure disappear with a sudden glint in his optics, a hunger I failed to notice.  It seemed both Tarn and Overlord had something new of interest.

----------------

Art by - Exodus Requested by - Perth Word Count - 1,318

[ppascalsstuff]

That's psychological manipulation [Marcus Pike x gn!Reader]

Summary: Marcus liked dogs. You liked cats. 

Warnings: Just fluff stuff with our hubby Mr. Pike. Maybe I should mention stray cat (?) but with a happy ending.

Author notes: I love dogs!!! But I love cats even more. Please, don’t think I hate dogs after reading this. I tried to write it for a gn reader, but please let me know if I have messed it up. English is not my first language, sorry in advance if there’s some typos or grammar errors. Hope you enjoy it!

CAT noun. A small domesticated carnivorous mammal with soft fur, a short snout, and retractable claws.

It's amazing how 7.87 billion people can differ on almost every topic. Some of them matter enough to shape the fate of millions. Others are, however, banal.

Your favourite color. Your favourite meal. Your favourite book. Your favourite movie. Your favourite song. Your favourite animal.

You had always enjoyed knowing the Iikes and dislikes of those around you since it was a great way to know each other and helped you to analyze them.

It hadn't been different with your boyfriend Marcus. On your second date, while the movie was clearly loosing all its appealing to both of you, you searched for one of your favourite online tests to learn more about Marcus.

He was excited to take the test, but he was mostly afraid. Should he cheat? Would you like him more if his answers were similar to yours? He carried too many failed relationships on his back, and the thin line between his true self and a made up self wasn't always that clear. He has been hopelessly in love with you since the first time he saw you, but there was no need to scare you on the second date. No, sir.

Gladly for you, he answered sincerely. That's how you discovered his favourite color was green. He loved his mom's fetuccine Alfredo. One Hundred Years of Solitude was his favourite book -he would have tattooed "the secret of a good old age is nothing more than an honest pact with loneliness" by now if it wasn't for his job-. Casablanca was his favourite movie and he couldn't choose a favourite song. Any Prince's song should do, really.

And then he said dogs. You did like dogs, who doesn’t? But you were in love with cats. Fluffy domestic cats of any kind of breed. God, even lions or cheetahs were just big cats to you. You were sure the cat was your spirit animal, and you had always had a cat as long as you could remember.

Marcus answer was followed by a silence. He froze and looked at you with puppy eyes (maybe that explained why he liked dogs so much). He remembered the tattoo you had in your upper arm: a black cat framed in a rhombus. Marcus came out of the little trance he had succumbed to after answering your question. He should have remembered your tattoo before, and he cursed himself for it countless times in a span of a second. That was it, he was extremely sure you were going to dump him. 

Before he could mutter an apology, a roaring infectious laugh left your mouth and tears crept up to your eyes. Marcus couldn’t help but laugh too.  As you both calmed down, you tried to fight back the hiccup that was making your whole body shake, leading you into another wave of giggles. And even with a blurry vision, Marcus thought you were the most beautiful person he had ever laid eyes on.

Did you believe in soul mates? Not really. Well, maybe a little bit. You weren't sure, but Marcus was yours. He did things easy and didn't made loving difficult. He had huge insecurity issues at first, but once he told you what his love experience was like, you understood why he was always trying too hard. You tried to reciprocate in every way possible, and Marcus couldn't believe it. Finally, he had found what he was looking for: true love. Someone that understood him, love him for who he was and someone who didn't have second thoughts about their relationship.

"I think the soundtrack was great, wasn't it?" He asked you as you both exit the movie theatre.

"It's Zimmer baby! It's amazing!" You wrap your arm around his and he uses the umbrella to cover both of your heads.

After a hard week at work for both of you a movie date was the best way to spend your Friday night.

"My place?"

"Lead the way, my beautiful boyfriend"

The rain kept falling heavy, the rain drops sounds echoing in the quiet street near his apartment.

Meow.

You were telling Marcus a really funny joke you had remembered, his laugh muffled by the dark blue scarf you had gotten him on your second anniversary. His nose and cheeks were flushed from the cold air, his eyes crinkling at the corners. You couldn't deny it: he was handsome. And he was all yours.

Meow.

You were so immersed looking at your boyfriend features you didn't hear the small sound coming from under a car until you hear it again.

Meow.

You let go of Marcus grip and turned around, walking slowly towards the car that was parked in front of you. The rain was soaking you coat and your hair was sticking to your face.

"Honey what are you doing? You are getting soaked come back!" Marcus called after you.

"Just a moment" You bent your knee and looked under the car.

There it was: a white kitten with bright yellow eyes. It couldn't be more than a couple of months old, and it's belly was swollen, probably because of the parasites.

"You’re gonna catch a cold! And I won't take care of you!" Marcus said.

You raised your hand without looking at him, asking him to be quiet. You knew too well he would take care of you if you got sick. Your other hand went under the car. The kitten looked at it and began to smell it.

"Meow"

"It's okay buddy. You want to come with me? I have food and a nice cozy blanket just for you" You said tenderly to the cat, who kept smelling your hand closer.

"Who are you taking to?"

As Marcus began to walk towards you, you raised up from the cold concrete and turn around. The kitten head was peeking out from under your coat.

"Look at it! It's so tiny! And it's freezing, poor thing"

Marcus looked at you. Then at the cat. Back at you.

"Meow"

"Marcus..." You said pouting.

Marcus smiled. You knew him too well, and he couldn't say no to you, especially if you were pouting and holding a beautiful kitten under the rain. You looked ethereal, and the thought of taking care of a pet with you was melting him inside. He couldn't wait to take care of your own little family, and maybe this was the first step in the right direction.

Marcus lowered his head and looked at the cat again. It yawned.

"Oh come on. That's psychological manipulation, buddy"

"Hi daddy" you grabbed the cat's paw, waving it.

"Hey! That's not fair!" Marcus said laughing.

"Oh please just admit you love it"

"I know I love you" he pecked your cheek.

"Maybe we can name it Casablanca..."

"Meow" the cat snuggled to your chest, seeking the heat emanating from your body.

"I can't say no, can I?" 

"Nope. I think you are stuck with us forever, Mr. Pike"

"And I wouldn't have it any other way, honey"

Two days after, Marcus came home with a cat bed that was way too big for Casablanca, toys, treats and a bouquet of beautiful flowers for you. Yes, spoiling you and Casablanca became his new hobby, and he hoped it would last forever.

[hyuck050320]

ok someone requested this but i accidentally deleted the ask so i hope this could reach out to anon, please let me know if you requested this 😭

basically they requested switch!hyuck and switch!reader with a biting kink, so i hope the anon could see this post. thank you so much for requesting, and once again i'm sorry 😭

requests are still open!

have a bite

pairing : switch!haechan x switch!reader

warnings : smut, semi public sex, biting/marking, dirty talk

the half year show is finally here. the dreamies are preparing for their performance. you, on the other hand, are feeling very hot and bothered.

being haechan's girlfriend for two years, you've always supported them through every music show promotion. but this year, it hits different.

not only that your boyfriend is totally in shape right now, they had to perform a song while wearing a prince costume. a vampire prince to be exact.

seeing your boyfriend in a red velvet top and white pants with some gold details plus a pair of black knee high boots is something you won't see everyday. not to mention his side-parted hair exposing his forehead. he looks like absolute royalty.

haechan definitely saw you undressing him with your eyes 'cause he went off on the performance. those hip thrusts, lip bites, and sly smirks he threw on stage is to get you more needy than ever.

turns out you're not the only one with dirty thoughts, because you noticed a tent formed on haechan's pants when he came into the waiting room. he sat right beside you while the other members came around.

"did you have a great time back here?" haechan whispers in you ear.

a small moan that you've been holding slips past your lips only for him to hear. "yes, fuck. hyuck you look so good right now, and on stage too." you can't believe how needy you sounded.

"listen. the members are going to eat and hang around outside while waiting for the encore stage and i'm gonna fuck you right here, right on this couch, understand?" he grips your thigh firmly.

"but someone could walk in on us-"

"do i look like i care?" his voice stern in your ear.

you can't respond, by now you are probably soaking.

"yo, lovebirds, we're gonna go outside, you guys coming or not?" jeno's question made you look up. you shake your head slightly while haechan responded, "we're good, probably gonna catch up with you guys later."

jeno nods, "alright then, i guess we'll see you guys." and with that the other boys left you both alone in the waiting room.

the tension is unbearable. haechan gets up and lock the door. you can only gulp. but an idea comes to your mind.

right before haechan could pin you down on the couch, you pushed him first, making him sit right away. you immediately fall into your knees, right between his legs.

"what do you think you're doing, baby? fuck." his words are cut out with his moans when you palm him through his white pants. his fully hard now.

"oh hyuckie, i've been waiting for this since i've seen you put on this outfit." you open the zipper of his pants before you push it down slightly alongside his boxers, his length springing out making your mouth water.

you lick him from the base until his tip.

"don't fucking tease." he tries to get his domination back but he's clearly struggling with how your tounge lick his slit.

"i said don't fucking te- oh shit, fuckk..." a long moan escaped his throat, his head thrown back when you put him inside your mouth, going halfway.

"baby, you're playing such a dangerous game right now." he warns but you couldn't care less. you got him wrapped around your fingers, or so you thought...

right when you start licking his tip again, he pulls your hair into a ponytail, tugging on it slightly to make you face him. his eyes are fully dark now.

"don't. fucking. tease. or do i need to remind you who's in charge?"

you shook your head no and he flips you both around. he licks his lower lip while taking off his velvet outer which only left him in his white shirt.

he pumps his length in his hand, while leaning closer to your face. he finally crashes his lips onto yours. that's when you felt a slight pain in your lips.

he pulls away, tugging on your lower lips. he raises an eyebrow, "can't talk anymore, huh? cat got your tounge?"

there you see it, two fangs hanging on his teeth. that's why it hurts, but why do you feel aroused?

"hy-hyuck, your fangs."

he chuckles, "we're vampires today, remember?"

you didn't even notice when your pants got discarded, now he's entering you with full force. no matter how many times you take him, you'll never get used to his size.

a loud moan came out of your mouth and he shuts you up with a kiss, "shhh...babygirl, i like it so much when you're loud, but we don't want the whole building to know what we're doing, do we?"

you bite your lip to contain your moans while haechan is going in such an inhuman pace. he places kisses in your neck, and to your surprise, he bites you. hard. right on your sensitive spot. and that's your last straw, you came with a loud whine of his name, your vision is blurry.

"shit, you're clenching on me so hard, i am close, fuck...i need to come in your mouth, baby, don't want to get my clothes dirty." haechan pulls out before you went back to your knees and suck him like never before.

"fuck, fuck, fuck, you're so good to me, baby. oh fuck!" his orgasm hits him and you make sure to swallow every drip.

his breathing are still uneven but he brushes your hair softly. "that was amazing, thank you, baby."

you got up and give him a kiss, a soft one this time. "thank you to you too, sexy." he then give you a smile.

you can't believe how fast haechan could turn from a sexy man to a shy and soft boy.

after putting back your clothes, you helped haechan to look more presentable like before. you gave him another kiss, "i love you."

"i love you too, bub. shall we meet the other guys now?" he asks while adjusting his boots.

you nod, "let's go." you two walk hand in hand outside, towards the other guys.

you see renjun with his hands covering his face. the others are oddly silent.

"damn. renjun's not lying." mark says, breaking the silence.

you and haechan are both confused. "what are you guys talking about?"

"renjun went back to grab his airpods but he says that you guys are doing nasty shit in there, we didn't believe him at first but..." jeno pauses.

"but what?" panic starts to show in your face.

this time, jaemin points out, "your neck."

you immediately search for somewhere near to look at your reflection and see a hickey with a bite mark in your neck. your heart fell. busted.

"lee haechan just took the vampire role way too far, huh?" jaemin adds making the other guys beside renjun laugh, including chenle and jisung.

"you guys are just jealous you aren't getting some." haechan says trying to stay calm while you sigh.

the others will never let this one go. for sure.

[mindofasupernova]

Mr. Sandman

Kaz Brekker x reader

Inspired by the song "Mr. Sandman" from SYML.

Description: Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream. A beautiful illusion of when they were younger, when things were good. A dream where Kaz hadn't shattered her heart into a million pieces, one where Kaz still cared.

Warnings: angst

Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream.

A beautiful illusion of when they were younger, when it was just the two of them against the world.

Y/N met Kaz Brekker before he earned the name "Dirtyhands" when he was still inexperienced, seeking a way to make fame in the criminal underworld.

Their introduction wasn't a conventional one, the first time he'd laid eyes upon Y/N, Kaz was surveilling a new bank's vault he wanted to crack. Back at the time, Kaz Brekker was just beginning to refine his lock picking abilities, he was more careful, taking longer at figuring out the ways around safe.

Kaz Brekker was attentively watching a vault demonstration the bank was giving in hopes of acquiring new wealthy customers when his bitter coffee eyes landed on Y/N.

She was leaning against a door that led to the bank's depository, eyes closed as if straining to hear the sounds on the other side. A frown upon her face, concentrating, and a few minutes before an employee opened the door she was leaning on, she pushed herself out of the way and left the bank.

The next day, news had spread around the Barrel like wildfire that someone had stolen the diamonds that resided in the new safe that belonged to the bank's depository. That was no coincidence, somehow Y/N had done it. Kaz dedicated his whole afternoon tracking the girl down until he had found her working as a dishwasher in a popular restaurant.

"How did you do it? How did you manage to open the safe?"

Y/N stared back at Kaz, terrified eyes fearing someone might overhear them. Y/N tried to lie about it but he could see straight through them.

"I like memorizing things. I remembered the sounds, every click the locks gave when the vault was being opened." Y/N answered reluctantly

"What kind of things do you like to memorize?" the raven-haired boy prompted.

"Anything that leaves good money."

"I have a job offer for you. "

And just like that, the promise of a very odd friendship began.

____________

Make him the cutest that I've ever seen, give him two lips like roses and clover. Then tell him that his lonesome nights are over.

The truth was that Kaz Brekker wasn't gentle in any way. He was selfish, logically cold, and unafraid of danger if it was for the right price.

Their friendship had bloomed in the blood-stained streets, finding solace in each other to survive the hungry beast that was Ketterdam.

Y/N's memory had proven useful, she was Kaz's little library of secrets. Her mind was the vault that safely guarded all types of information; transactions, blueprints, deals that Kaz couldn't risk to curious eyes. Every word was imprinted into Y/N's mind.

Y/N had lied when she said she only memorized things that brought money. She remembered all of Kaz's little ticks: The way he ran his hand through his hair when he was tired, the grip that tightened on his cane when stressed, the joyous glint in his eyes after a successful job, the almost imperceptible tug of his lips during their late-night talks and the shape of his lips when he proudly explained his plans to her.

Y/N knew it was foolish to fall for someone like Kaz, but her heart couldn't stop racing every time they talked. Couldn't stop her gaze searching for him amongst a crowd, the way her breath hitched every time Kaz looked out for her. It was a childish wish and yet, sometimes she could have sworn Kaz cared deeply for her too.

__________

Sandman, I'm so alone, don't have nobody to call my own.

Where had it all gone wrong? What had she done to Kaz for him to shatter her heart the way he did?

One moment she was getting ready to go on a heist, it was supposed to be easy, gather intel, and escape before anyone knew they had been there. It didn't end well.

Y/N had been given the task to distract their target's bodyguards, pretend to be an injured scared girl in need of assistance, but someone had told them the Dregs would be there. A guard had grabbed her harshly and forced her to give away her crew's location, but when she refused he'd beaten her unconscious.

The next morning she had woken up at the Slat, everyone was worried she might have not woken up. However, as soon as she was healed, Kaz called her to his office.

"Why?" Y/N's broken words were met with silence.

"Have I ever failed you? Have I not done everything you asked for?!" she questioned, tears threatening to fall. "Why are you kicking me out?! This is my home too, my family!"

"You won't have to worry about searching for a place to stay. I've already made arrangements, a small apartment is waiting for you." Kaz spoke, expression unreadable.

Y/N wanted to throttle Kaz, shake him up and demand a reason for his sudden decision. He hadn't even visited when she was injured and now he was kicking her out. He had no right, no right to strip away her found family. Had all those night talks meant nothing to him? Were all those small gestures and tiny smiles a ruse?

"You can't do this! I have all your secrets! I have stood by your side longer than anyone", Y/N screamed at Kaz, eyes begging him to say something. To tell her to stay, to tell her he cared.

She never heard those words instead she received a bitter response that mercilessly ripped her heart out. "Do not think that just because I have kept you around for this long you're irreplaceable."

This time Y/N didn't suppress the tears, silently gliding down her cheeks when she walked out of Kaz's office and away from the Slat.

____________

Please turn on your magic beam, Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream.

A beautiful dream where she wasn't tied to a chair, broken ribs, and blood pouring from a large gauge in her stomach. The Dime Lions had captured her, knowing full well she was one of Kaz's most trusted allies, they decided to torture her until she spilled Brekker's secrets. But Y/N wasn't a traitor and even though Kaz had crushed her heart, she still loved him and would rather die than betray him.

Eyes barely open, black spots clouding her vision, she was fading away. Oh, how she wished that Kaz would come to save her, take her back to the Slat, tell her he was sorry and that he needed her by his side. But dreams were for children, Kaz wouldn't come because he simply did not care, because she was replaceable.

She wanted a dream, one where the punches thrown at her were tender glances. One where the sounds of bones breaking were quiet caring words she'd shared with Kaz once upon a time. Where the coppery taste of blood staining her tongue was the one of hot chocolate she and Kaz used to drink in his office.

Please, bring her a marvelous dream, back where things were good. A dream when Kaz still cared for her. One where he loved her.

Mr. Sandman, please bring me a dream.

@getawayfrommewerewolf, @princessleah129, @rika90, @lady1505

[devilslinks]

# 𝗡𝗘𝗦𝗦𝗔 !

— 𝗖𝗟𝗨𝗕 𝗙𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥 | 𝗡𝗘𝗦𝗦𝗔, 𝗧𝗢𝗣 𝗠𝗔𝗟𝗘 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥.

wc; ( 3.2k )

synopsis; your best friend, raihan and you find yourselves eager to get intoxicated in one another's company. what better place than a night-club, dim lights, the overwhelmin' musk of the various alcoholic beverages; it's every guy pairs wet dream. that is until raihan gets shit-faced and excuses himself to the restroom while he pukes up his spiked guts. only to return to watch his sister take you balls deep, down her throat.

a/n: no brain, only nessa and her magical throat 🤝

warnings. MINORS DNI, NSFW CONTENT, family!au, raihan and nessa are siblings, club sex, intoxication, dirty talk, the name princess, deep throating, oral (m receiving), throat bulge, throat fucking, cum eating, flirty!nessa, jealous!raihan, exhibitionism, voyeurism.

euphoria.

that was the only word that came mind when raihan and you got involved in recreational activities like you did. galar was a go big or go home type of region, and the two of you stayed true to that motto. the itchy, messily thrown together suits that matched all the way down to the type of socks you had on— the overexcessive amounts of booze, and the loud music which just barely drowned out the fits of laughter and discussion littered throughout the packed club. as soon as the doors opened, flooding your senses with nothing but the sickly sweet, aroma of sex and other intoxicating chemicals; that's how you knew the had night begun.

the two of you had been indulging, before you arrived on the scene— time seemed to blur together with head-spinning speeds or come to a full halt at the worst of moments. you don't even know how long you'd been locking eyes with the transparent shapes and manufactured blurbs dancing across the wall a good, twenty, maybe thirty feet adjacent to your seat at the drink counter. the weight of something too heavy for your alcohol infused mind to register until the bar hostess was practically brewing with irritation at your non-compliance with her attempts to have you regain control of your dazed state; sat lazily in-between your pointer finger and thumb, respectively.

hell you don't even remember waddling over to the bar with the company you had brought with you. but you didn't mind, the painfully challenging to recall memories mattered not when there was already another drink swirling around the rim of your shot-glass. raihan's shifty frame wiggling in and out of your peripherals as you tug the half-empty cup to the skin of your lips, craning your head back to knock down whatever liquid remained at the bottom. the delicious burn of toxins coated the lining of your throat, trails of steamy fluid leaving their mark as the mystery liquor made it way down your esophagus. whatever it was, it packed a punch and wasted no time forcing your lips to curve into a bitter sneer— eyebrows shadowing your face in a sour demeanor, as you used the hem of your suit sleeve to whisk away any spilt mixture that tarnished your cherry red lips.

you hardly have the chance to open your mouth for a second time to address the swaying body, huddled closer the counter than it is to your own. raihan is a total mess, loopsy, and feverishly hot skin to compliment— he's stained a harsh, sickly green against his natural melanin tone. doubling over in either pain or the sudden flow of too many drinks pooling in his system; whatever the emotion he was enduring was, he wasted not a second longer before hustling off into the large gathering of people. disappearing before his lips could slur the final word, missing from his dialect.

“hh..h fuck- my stomach is gonna explode, i'll catch you-” his gravely tone churning into the backdrop just as quickly as he initiated the conversation; the familiar hum of lyrics to a song you couldn't quite place your finger on replaced whatever words raihan had previously gargled out before dashing off towards the public restrooms.

your head feels like it weighs a metric ton this late into the night, threatening to tumble forward as if your neck had lost any and all of it's support. your eyelids pulling down roughly over your eyes like window shades before the sudden wave of loneliness hit you like a truck. fiddling with the collar of your dress-shirt was entertaining enough to fill the void that was the now empty stool, where your best friend once resided. but that quick fix subsided rather easily and the once overwhelming presence of boredom had returned to take a seat.

and then, so did she.

“shit, rai- back so soon? you alright?” your vision was foggy and adorned with blurry bits here and there— but it was still evident enough to make out that, whoever was indeed now in your friend's seat, was not the person you had chauffeured to the club with.

“damn, do i really look, that bad? it's me, y/n. the painfully better looking sibling. what did that idiot put in your drink?” the speech is followed by a laugh. it was a warm and inviting chuckle, one that seemed to relax every muscle in your liquor tense body the moment she parted her spit silken lips. you had been in her company earlier that evening, which made it a tad easier for your incoherent mindset to process it. but nevertheless it was hard not to distinguish who the women paying you a visit was at this point, even if you hadn't engaged with her previously; nessa was infamous for those enchanting looks. and in your dumbified state, those gorgeous navy locks tied together by aquamarine highlights were one of a kind and stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the room of normal presenting citizens. though your brain didn't want to pick-up any of your surroundings, you found it quite easy to fawn over her in that ebony dress and the way it hugged her curves in all the right places.

“fuck.. nes' when'd you get so.. so.” you couldn't even find the energy or hell, the words to cough up the remainder of the sentence, you were so taken aback by how stunning she was, even behind your bleary, drunk eyes. but nessa wasn't oblivious— you were sure she had picked up the hint you had layed out so bluntly, and the warm palm slowly inching up your clothed thigh secured that suspension for you.

“not even so much as a greeting? you didn't even buy me a drink first; asshole.”

her words are firm, yet so light hearted at the same time; but just enough to set your arousal over the edge. your headspace so vulnerable to teasing that you're certain she knew what she was doing to your conflicted mind and body. her sly fingers are enough to coax you to shuffle your bar-stool closer to her's— not a single word wriggled around your throat in response, instead the tangy after-tase of alcohol still heavy on your tongue distracted you and you were sure the whole bar could acknowledge your intoxicated musk.

her features held so many different emotions at once, as she pryed you for a reply— trying to tell you each one obscured behind that pretty face, way too quickly for you to decipher. her brows furrowed quizzically, one tilted slightly higher than the other as her half lidded doe-eyes stared up at you like prey at a final stand off with their predator; just humbly surrending their body to the circle of life.

“hah, you're one to.. talk, nes' just because 'm out of it- doesn't mean my numb skin can't feel your heavy hand toying with my waistband.” the both of you swiftly changed direction, heads leering down at nessa's free hand. you were infact correct, you observed as the woman swirled shapes into the expensive leather of your belt. pulling bits between her fingers now and then as she silently struggled with the metalic buckle. your groin swelled tightly, gripping your boxers closer to the fat bulge behind your suit pants; it would take an idiot not to take notice of the wrinkled fabric secured around your aching dick. her skin felt like a furnace, contrasting your slightly cooler temperature— but with her body pressing so desperately to yours, you were sure the warmth from her melted over onto your feverish flesh. the damp, sheen of anxious sweat made the fabric of your suit, dewy. sticking slightly against your hellish skin.

“mm, i guess i was wrong about the greeting part— hello there, you look happy to see me.” not a hint of shame obscured her voice, you're miserably watching nessa shift her weight as she now palms at the mound between your legs. you've seen countless renditions of this night loop in your head, but now that the scenario is a reality; it's agonizing to try to contain your primal urges, face to face. it's a chore not to profess all the vile things you wanna carry out with her, but she's already one step ahead. that glare is dangerous, it makes you feel like she's trying convey that the two of you are already in on something devious.

“let me take care of you.. y/n.”

“let me treat you, nessa.”

the both of you drawl out in what would be perfect unison if your mind wasn't foggy and running slower than usual. you had both finally voiced the elephant in the room, the one which was just positively dripping with thick tension up until this moment in time. you're still squirming under nessa's grip, she can feel you whine and pant everytime she gives your cock a light squeeze between her fingers and it's not long before the two of you are absent from the bar and clawing at one another's linen around the corner. closest to any vacant area within eye-shot. well, as vacant as a small room seperated from the bustling club-life can get.

did you think the night would come to a close with your friend's sister skillfully sucking the soul out of your sloppy cock? not in a million years, but you'd be damned if you didn't want it to end on any other note. nessa fell to her knees before the two of you even made it out of view— planting herself in-between your thighs like she was a trained professional; no flaws in her technique as her tongue slid obediently from her mouth and latches onto the moist fabric masking her mouth's destination. nessa's fingers are long and slender, as they snake up your hips and meet at the belt tangled around your waist. you can feel your cock pumping against the seams of your pants, the uncomfortable sensation making it appear as though you'd rip through the cloth if your cock was imprisoned a second longer.

with the head-splitting atmosphere of the club playlist stretching and stuffing your ears to the brim with fast pitched edm that made your skull pound and jitter. as well as the added hum of the gym leader whispering inaudible nothings against your bulge as she at last pushed your pants down, and past your ankles; material getting caught on the fancy design of your shoes. you felt like you were on the brink of death, but the enticing appeal of hooking up with your best friend's relative kept your iron-will alive long enough to rough it out and pass the irritation that came with being black-out drunk.

your storm of worries fizzled just as quickly as they sprung up, maybe it was the alcohol but you swear this girl had the hands of the divine; you were washed away into infatuation once more. nessa's teeth hike up your boxers until they meet the waistline, pulling down on the hem with a familiar aggressiveness as she relishes in the way your big dick pops to life and looms over her lustful features; all chubby 'n decorated with veins fer' her viewing pleasure.

“shit.. i'm gonna have so much fun with your cock. you wanna make your stupid slut already? my mouth is just asking for it.” the first piece is low and almost voiced as if it was meant for her ears only— but the second half is most definitely directed at you; as she tilts her head to plant a few delicate lovebites along the base of your shaft. fingers looping gracefully around your hilt as she admires the girth you carry.

“fuck..” you hiss, cock twitching violently as you pleaded with sinful eyes. she had barely started her reign over your dick before guttural groans and mewls slid past your lips. the sensation of her tiny tastebuds as they trailed over the little glob of pre-cum that drooled from your cockhead was insatiable. the sudden action sent your hips forward almost automatically, like they instinctively acted on impulse; it felt so right. merely a few inches breached past her lips but there was enough speed and prowess in your thrust to drag a surprise gag from the mouth attached to your dick.

impatience was on the horizon, the buzz from copious amounts of alcohol had knocked down a few pegs. you were now fully aware of the figure positioned at your feet like she was praying for a god, and soon you'd make her chant like she was being fucked by one as well. broad fingers clamped down, squishing both sides of her jaw while simultaneously easing your length deeper, and deeper down her gullet like your dick was her last meal on earth. you throw your head back before letting it fall forward against the wall, watching those desperate dark iris' pool with puddles of lust that seem to be neverending.

“come'on princess, you know how badly you want this-- you gonna let me ruin this pretty throat?” you thumb over her warm cheeks, eyes glossy and threatening to ruin the simple makeup she applied before she arrived. the uncomfortable stretch of her esophagus molding as your cock fills the empty gaps in her throat with every inch you have; is one that isn't unfamiliar to her. dragging your pulsating veins along the dip in her mouth, her tongue greedily laps up any and all of the skin yet to be consumed by her.

“jesus.. fuck, oh fuck. take it, nes'. shit.” your cock fully slips into her, heavy and swollen as it spears her right down the middle; eyes rolling back into her skull as it's just too fucking big. bigger than anything she's previously had inside of her, anyway. your core bleeds with spots of warmth as you take the time to bask in the way every individual wall in her mouth feels as it constricts you almost painfully. sucking you in before she slides you back out of her throat once more; repeating the tedious cylce that has the two of you in a heated frenzy.

despite all the sudden and erratic pain, nessa bobs her head in sync, coaxing you to go as deep as humanly possible. rocking your hips as they snap against her face with every good fuck you give her— watching yourself grow rapidly from the outside of her neck, the moist skin now holding a curved bump near the middle. nessa takes the initiative. removing a hand from one of your thighs, she uses four fingers to lightly push and stroke the bulge; almost as if she was jerking you off while you ravaged her inards.

she knew exactly what she was doing, and it had you riled the fuck up.

you picked up the pace, delirious from the amount of stimulation your precious cock was receiving. with your erection fully encased by her face and your dick bouncing off the gummy walls of her gullet, you could tell her throat was already forming bruises with a throbbing soreness to compliment, time come the morning. your rough hands dig behind the back of her head, hands feeling lost amongst her ocean of hair— beautiful locks just perfect for pulling. you yank her face forward, lowering yours as well to not only established authority but to get your point across to the cockdrunk slut mindlessly slobbering all over your messy shaft.

“mfph-- please, cum.. i want- all!” you can just barely string together what sounds like whines for more— i guess she can sense just how close the knot in your stomach is to bursting because she grips the back of your thighs and tugs them forward with whatever coherent muscle strength she has remaining. just in time for the tension in your core to coil tighter and tighter, the lowerhalf of your body trembling with all the signs of an incoming orgasm.

“does my dumb little girl wanna be fucked, that, bad? hah, fuck nes' what would your brother think?” you mock so cruelly, totally disregarding the fact that there is a slim possibility, raihan is searching for the lost pair. and it just so happens that nessa's poor little brother had been observing for a little over half the engagement. fist wrapped around his pathetic cock, suit collar pulled between his fangs, ocean blue eyes fixated on you; your hip strength, the way you rolled and plunged balls deep into his sibling. his body felt so empty, only riding his high off the two of yours', praying he'd finish before you caught him lurking like a sleaze. it was so unfair, why did nessa get to taste your sultry cock before he did?

you can feel the bass reverberate in nessa's throat as her lips nip at your hilt, impatiently trying to babble out a response adequate enough to your liking. her mind is flying, no correct sense of direction as it attempts to form a reply, but all that breaks past the barrier is a few pitiful mewls. her nose is burried in your pubes and she's lost all feeling in her throat, only motivating her to show off the lump on her neck even more. you watch as your length disappears into the depths of her mouth for the hundredth time that night, hands pushing down the lacy strap of her dress in a last ditch effort to find something other than her hair to latch onto for support. her scalp is on fire and she can only accept the stinging sensation as the roughness of your thrusts increase in magnitude.

the club is filled to the brim with lewd moans and needy pants; those of which included raihan's. every inch of her esophagus is being used— you happily ram your cock down her throat a few more times, your balls were quivering wildly. contracting and spasming, boiling with a fat wad of potent seed all ready to venture inside of her. nessa squeals, feeling a thick bulge travel up the length of your cock, up to the head and straight on her tongue; some spurts flowing down her neck while the rest collected in her mouth. painting her insides a translucent white that would surely stain.

just for good measure, nessa deep throats your empty dick with a few simple strokes; a white, sticky ring forming around the base of your shaft after she detached from your dick. a lewd pop, followed by a line of stringy saliva connected her lips to your bottomed out cock before she ruined the trail by letting her tongue lull from behind her teeth. letting you get a nice overhead view of her empty mouth, watching as the last bits of your load traveled down her throat and out of sight for good.

“god.. such a g'girl. you sucked on my cock so nicely, princess. wasn't that a way to end the night?” a blissed out smile creeps over your face, marveling in the aftermath you caused. you gave the right side of her face a few taps from your cock— dried tears and sloppy makeup tainting her cheeks. cum dripping from the corners of her mouth, as a cocktail of her own spit and your semen coats the back of her throat. it was all one big look of;

euphoria.

[animatedrapture]

RINTOBER: [ Achilles' Heel ]

word count: 2,222

suna rintarō x reader

tags: ambiguous end, implied major character death, angst, implied sexual intercourse, toxic relationship, detailed pain(?)

song: achilles come down - gang of youths

a/n: HALLOWEEN SPECIAL because... death...?

a HUGE thank you, once again, to my wonderful wife, love of my life, bby @toffees-main 🥺 for proofreading the final piece and preventing me from sounding like a dumbass like, twice. also, thank you to @newfriendjen and @kaitycole for beta-reading the initial draft!

"Rin, Rintarō, I love you!" You shouted from the bleachers; a proud smile decorating your features as you cheered for him right after he'd hit the ball to the other side of the net, securing EJP Raijin another point—so close to winning.

His gaze and yours were two opposites of a pole with a pull unparalleled—a pull science can only wish to decipher. He finds you as he rotates through the set up and there's a beam in his eyes, making him break out into a grin you just know he couldn't find it in himself to reserve for later.

That day, that match—Suna Rintarō was named the MVP of the game. He owed it all to you and the swell of his heart with each cheer he heard from you; your voice distinct as if it were the only one that mattered in that whole gymnasium. Perhaps, at least that time, you truly were all that mattered to him.

But not anymore.

The first—the first was the lack of replies, the dryer replies. I love you's met with Love you's and very little effort to hide the lack of sincerity beneath. It began through texts until it was the quick, snipped tone laced with the parsimonious manner he answered you. The act of it was much like an attempt to deprive you of water until you're but withering rose in his grasp that he would rather replace than try to plant again and save.

Just how long were you willing to go without the water you needed to stay alive?

"Rin, love, I'll prepare dinner for us tonight, come home early, okay? I'm cooking your favorite!"

"I'll try," was his reply as you watched each of his hasty movements through your shared bedroom.

"I prepared you a bento, too. It's on the kitchen counter," you continued as he attempted to ignore the way you looked at him similar to the way you look when you're lost and searching for something. He hums in response, and just as he was about to reach for the door, you call out to him, "Rin, where's my goodbye kiss?" in the usual tone you would pull back then when he would forget and pepper you with kisses in retaliation, offering an apology before heading out.

He looks back at you with exasperation, "I'm late, Y/N." He doesn't wait for you to answer before he has the door shut close.

That's how you know he also forgot the food you prepared on the kitchen counter.

Foolishly, the answer to the question was that you were willing to wait until your next life for his love to drown you into bliss again. It's that answer that's disrespectful to the mystery of reincarnation—but you're everything Suna Rintarō wanted you to be; that is, if it was a fool he wanted you to be, you would play the part better than any award winning actor to have ever lived could. Even if it was a miscreant he wanted you to be, some sort of heretic to the laws of the world and the conditions of love. You'd be everything he asked of you. After all, who were you if not his other half?

Who were you if not water to shape into whatever container he put you in, right?

The second—the second was the lies that slipped past such sinful crimson lips. Oh, by the heavens, as if the lack of fondness in the timbre of his voice as he spoke to you wasn't enough to put cracks to the cemented foundation of you and him. Cruel, it's so cruel—you wonder if you're lacking somewhere, have you changed? Are you no longer diamond in the sea of glitter—? Worth not of his time nor the beating of the caged heart you thought you've acquired?

Now when he speaks, even the very sound of his voice reverberates like a sharp spear piercing through your chest without mercy—as if you're Spartan in the Battle of Thermopylae. The lies that come along with them about how training ended late again, or that he's travelling for a match again—Huh? No, you don't have to come, Y/N. I need to focus.

Did he have to lie about who he's with, what he's been doing? It's laughable. As if you wouldn't kiss away the taste of anything that lingered in his lips, if it was blood, alcohol or the lips of another girl. Rintarō, did he not know you enough to know you would surrender to his will no matter what mud followed his footsteps?

Ah, but, what would admitting such things do to his pride? Maybe it's that—or maybe he liked the way the lies were like lemon and salt to a fresh wound. You think, you never thought you could be so masochistic.

Third—the third is the sharpness of his gaze. It's the same gaze, same pair of eyes you've loved for such a long time and you fail not to love to this very moment. You're softer than clouds but now most hollow in comparison to the unacquirable stars among the cosmos—you think they're there but they're just a burst of light, something that has probably died lightyears ago.

It's like chokehold, the fourth—the fourth is like chokehold and he, the assassin. Ruthless—he's ruthless when he looks at you as you're not more than a tedious chore to him and the ring on your finger held no promise of relentless love greater than what a deity could offer.

Foolish—you're foolish. Delusion is a coping mechanism to the ones whose realities have been robbed in front of them—delusion is what you're supposed to call it when you fill your head with all the excuses and all the things you tell yourself have to change. You used to be a masterpiece. A masterpiece to him; as though you're Holy Grail found in a gallery of things that could never begin to hope they would ever amount to you.

Delusion is ignoring the liquor in his lips, the intoxicating smell of his cologne mixed with alcohol and cigarette smoke. You're confused and your reality that seems to have been distorting more often than usual. You question the strings that premeditate fate when it's you feeling the drunkenness and hangover the next day when it should be Suna and the tabloids of "Suna Rintarō spotted in yet another bar." You wonder if each sunset and sunrise you watched with Suna was a mere fever dream when it's you who vomits on the toilet. You, who sobs on the bathroom floor.

"Sfumato," your friend tells you, "The gentle blurring of edges to make rendered objects appear as one with their environment." The edges blur when you call that delusion as love—you only have to wait long enough before both are truly one and the same. The pain disguised as martyr sacrifice to the greatest allegory of love to exist. This is what you're told. They say, "Y/N, you've confused love with delusion," and yet you don't listen.

You don't listen most of all when you're back underneath him but you feel like you're being bloodied all over, stained like wine to a white dress. Yet you allow yourself to indulge in the kisses he's abated you of, you revel in each time you ask him to tell you he loves you and he finally does as he luxuriates you of your desires and of your whines for love—nevermind that he was doing it for himself. After all, it is as the word suggests, a luxury.

Suna Rintarō had become a luxury you couldn't afford, therefore, he did not have any business of giving himself to you. Not unless he wanted to.

Is there such thing as a free reign over the heart of someone? Hand it over as they will but how long would they truly allow you to borrow it—? Borrow it because one never truly surrenders such a vital thing to human functioning. Yes, you are and you have been delusional to believe so.

"You own the entirety of my heart, Y/N," you're unsure whenever it echoes in your head. He brings you enough torture, why must your own brain create such clamor in your head. Was such pain necessary? Is pain to love much like Adam's rib to Eve?

"It's a promise ring, bunny," he said as he tucked your hair behind your ears—his gaze is intense, almost like you would disappear from his sight if he looked at anywhere or anything but you.

You stared at the ring that shone under the light of the restaurant, your vision blurring at the tears welling from your eyes and you try your best to choke in the sob that involuntarily escapes you.

"Hey, Y/N, what are you cryin' for?" He questioned with a chuckle, looking at you with amusement dancing in his eyes while his thumbs reached out to wipe away each tear that betrayed you—falling down your cheeks as he cupped your face.

"I-it's nothing, I—I'm just happy, love," you answer him through your tears.

There's a smile playing across his lips, he tells you, "'m just making a promise that I'll marry you one day, bunny, is all."

You nodded eagerly with a wide smile even as the tears that left you continued to fall, "I'm making a promise to say yes, Rin. No matter what," you answered him through your sobs, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"Guess I should start practicing to get on one knee then, yeah?" He laughed as he pulled you closer, his arms around you, you giggled along with him—it felt like you were molded together to form one perfect piece, like the act of staying there for all of eternity, in each other's arms, would turn you into one. Entangled together in all the right ways—as if Rapture has befallen the Earth and that was your final state as did the universe.

The fifth—the fifth is the screaming, the fights. Who would have thought you would break like a mere twig stepped on in the darkest forest on this Earth? It was under his shoe did you break from; each word that left his mouth was scathing—they didn't feel like a stab or pins and needles to the human heart, they felt like burns of acid that slowly ate at your decaying soul, breaking heart, dwindling sanity.

"I don't get it, Rin! Why do you treat me like this?!" You screamed through your tears, your chest heaving as your lungs tried its best to support you, even when it's already been punctured by the shattered pieces of your heart that continued to beat in separate shards, digging further into your lungs, damaging your ribcage, piercing your throat.

"Please, God, just tell me what to do—Rintarō, tell me what I need to do to turn us back to the way we were, please," you begged, falling to your knees and you let the shattered items on the floor puncture your skin. You felt numb yet your whole body was buzzing. The pain from the pieces of glass from under you doesn't register in your brain because all you can feel is the pain that was spreading from your chest and out into your whole body.

Under his mercy had he turned you inside out and greedily taken every part of you—everything you surrendered on your own volition until you were nothing, not even a shell of yourself but more like a ghost floating through the air. It looked like a battlefield—and perhaps it was. Love was never something you come out alive from. Love was greedy, selfish, treacherous. Love is like an assailant you allowed to enter in the safety of your own home.

"Don't you get it? Y/N, I don't love you anymore!"

No. You think, no. No, it repeats in your head, over and over. Denial. You were in denial, at this conjecture, you were aware of even this.

"I stopped loving you long ago, Y/N. You were dumb enough to stay." Has he always been this truculent towards you? You wonder but you can't recall anything else but the echoing of his words. Words he used like a champion of the battlefield, liberating away the life of his enemies.

No. Don't say that. You don't mean it. No.

Suna thought you would be the arrow to his heel—the one to bring him to his knees in the most torturous of ways. In reality, maybe you were more his heel than the arrow. He was both Achilles and his actions, the arrow that brought him to his own demise.

Sixth—the sixth was sickening grief. You're so unfair. You're so selfish. How could you run away from him, only to scream his name and the tormenting shout of "I love you" that haunted him awake or in his slumber. How could you be so cruel? To let him fall to his knees in front you the way you made him to. Ruthless—you're so ruthless. The pain was the excruciating kind, crashing towards him like ocean waves bringing him farther from the shore and near to wherever you were now. How could you leave him like you did?

After all, what was he if there wasn't you?

📞 violet is calling... all content featured belongs to ©️ animatedrapture. do not plagiarize, repost, or modify.

[howggswouldreact]

🏥 The Personification of Our Love | Kim Lip

Request: kim lip x reader where the reader is pregnant and goes into labor pls ~~~ love your blog ♡♡♡♡ Plot: Jungeun is waiting at the Hospital while Reader is in labor. Jungeun's mind flies to loving memories. Words: 2, 222 Genre: fluff, pregnancy Notes: i use to say "i loved writing this one" because i really do love writing things you all request me. and i loved writing this one. i love to write about things that involve family and friendship, etc. this one is the type to make my heart feel at peace... i hope you enjoy it and have a nice read! ♡♡

Maybe Jungeun shouldn't keep her eyes open for so long, without blinking. At least that's what Haseul was telling her all the time, but she wouldn't be aware of what her friend was saying until hours later, when the white doors were opened and a person wearing blue from head to toe told her that she was finally allowed to enter. For now, she had her hands cupped over her mouth, her feet tapping the floor in a frantic rhythm, her heart pumping blood like crazy.

Why couldn't things be like in the movies, where she could just have a camera filming everything that was going on in that room?

How was it going? How were you? And how was the baby? GOD, WAS THE BABY OKAY?

The movements of her feet accelerated even more and she felt the touch of a hand resting very cautiously on her knee.

"Stop doing that, you're looking like a maniac!", Hyejoo's voice, impatient and at the same time anxious, sounded beside Jungeun.

"I think I'm having a nervous breakdown.", she replied in a low voice, sweat forming on the corner of her forehead.

A huge, vibrant smile appeared in the blonde's vision and warm hands took hers, that were cold, in an affectionate squeeze. Jiwoo.

"How about if we go get something to eat? I'm sure there must be anything good in these machines full of food.”, said her longtime friend.

With a nod and letting Jiwoo guide her, Jungeun was pulled by the arm to a vending machine in the corner of the waiting room. While, in her mind, Jungeun was pulled for a few moments before what would be the greatest moment of her life (along with her wedding day, of course).

8 AM, same day

"Christ! It’s like I'm about to explode!", you said, putting your hand on your belly and feeling a twinge in your back.

"A beautiful, healthy child is going to appear from this explosion...", Jungeun started to speak, slowly approaching the bed, leaning on one knee and then the other. "And this child is very...", her hands landed on your belly, one of them over your right hand. "... very loved!"

"And we haven't even thought about the name of this beloved child yet."

You looked at her with a disapproving gaze.

"I don't want to decide anything right now because I think it will be more exciting to take this important decision when the time comes.", Jungeun shrugged without looking at you, she was very busy stroking your belly button.

"Maybe if you just let me..."

"Don't even think about it. This baby is mine too, you know?", the irritated tone disappeared from Jungeun's voice when her eyes met the playful glow of yours. She smiled.

"You know I would never make a decision like that without you, right?"

She nodded and lifted her body so she could kiss you, but there was a huge belly between the two of you - with a baby on the way in - and you started to laugh.

"Ahhhh!! So close yet so far!", dramatized Jungeun, as she lay down beside you and kissed your forehead and then your lips. "Now, close enough."

10 PM, the day before

"I still can't believe you chose this crackhead to be our baby's godmother...", you whispered to Jungeun, leaning on the doorframe while watching Jiwoo dancing some children's music and doing a super choreography in front of a camera.

Jungeun smiled at you.

"It's not like you didn't say 'oh, babe, I would never forgive you if I didn't choose Jiwoo to be our baby’s godmother', right?"

All the girls were there, they decided to have the first “Girls’ Pajama Party with the Baby” even before the baby was born. Not that you didn't love the idea, but to see Jiwoo carrying that camera everywhere was hilarious. You wouldn't miss an opportunity to make fun of it.

"You have to understand that I have hormones. Many! And they are crazy running back and forth, telling me what to do all the time! It's not like everything I say is valid while pregnant. Plus: I didn’t know she would do this Good Luck Charlie sort of thing."

With a mischievous look, Jungeun brought her face close to yours, smiling like a mischievous child.

"So it means that I am right deciding that the baby's one-year birthday should be Taeyeon-themed."

You gave her an angry look.

"I've been carrying our beautiful baby for nine months. If it were to honor someone on their one-year anniversary, it should be me."

A warm laugh from the bottom of Jungeun's heart filled your ears. She came over and wrapped her right arm around your waist while her left hand was over your protruding belly. None of you had reached such a full level of happiness like this before.

"Don't worry... Taeyeon won't be a party theme, I promise." she kissed your face. "It's so easy to annoy you lately. But there's no need to worry. The one-year anniversary theme will be Harry Potter, anyways."

You rolled your eyes trying to hide a smile. Jungeun noticed it. She always did. She smiled back and stroked your belly once more. It was difficult to know which of you two was most anxious for the family to be finally complete.

5 months ago

"Come on, say something very beautiful and with enough meaning, because then I will edit with a ballad song in the background."

Jiwoo was pointing the camera at you, whose lips were covered with doritos crumbs and ice cream, while Jungeun held up a jar of that same ice cream that you dipped the spoon from time to time.

"I can only think of how bizarre these mixtures become each month, I have no idea what beautiful things I can say.", Jungeun spoke while giving you a judgmental look. “I can’t believe my baby is eating… this.”

"Just say my name, so you will say one of the most beautiful things in the world.", you replied, raising your eyebrows as you dipped the tip of the doritos in the pistachio green and put it whole in your mouth.

"Grooooooss.", Jiwoo hummed as she turned the camera to her face. "I hope you don't have to deal with this often."

You two were at Heejin's apartment, decided to stop by as you were walking around the neighborhood looking for that ice cream flavor. Yeojin and Jiwoo went to meet you. This was yet another visit for the future "aunts" of the baby to come.

"I will definitely deal with them to keep you safe." Yeojin noted, beside Jiwoo and staring at the camera.

"Don't worry. We will protect you from anything that might negatively affect you, even if it means taking you away from these delinquents' arms." Heejin said, joining the other two.

"An army against us?", Jungeun asked as you put one of those doritos in her mouth.

They giggled. Another scene for the baby's life documentary, directed exclusively by Kim Jiwoo.

7 months ago

"Well... maybe we should... maybe we should buy baby things? Or set up the baby's room?", You suggested, astonished by the news that, finally, you were going to have a baby.

With the results of the exam in hands, Jungeun was very quiet on the way home. Parking the car in the garage of the building where you lived together, you waited for an answer to your questions.

Pregnant? Who knew you would be pregnant? Well, it was your dream two months ago. You both decided to make this dream come true. But it was a short while ago, actually. And you were not expecting a positive response so quickly. On the first try? Wow! This was really fast.

You noticed Jungeun's trembling hands and, now that you were pregnant, you would have a child of both of you, increasing the "family with our shape" because it's gonna be "the personification of your love", as the blonde said a few times. You wondered if she regretted it. After all, it would affect both your lives on a large scale, even though it was, at the moment, no more than the size of a bean.

"Look, I... I understand if you don't want to say anything. I will respect your space, but I thought it was our decision and..."

"Could you excuse me for a moment?", Jungeun said, in a whispering voice, and getting out of the car.

You understood that you shouldn't go after her and you were left with no reaction to her words. Meanwhile, outside the car, in the light of the vehicle's white headlights, the blonde of exuberant beauty and small body read the exam again, a growing smile on the pink lips that you loved to kiss so much.

Suddenly, to your shock, she let out a cry mixed with laughter and jumped in the air. It was as if, there, in that deserted garage and with you in the car, there was a space where Jungeun could celebrate it with vivacity. She was just so full of joy!

She was just as happy as you are, obviously! She just needed to find a place to outsource it, a moment when she could be free, a place where she could celebrate it!

Jungeun's hands held the test results as if they were holding the most precious thing in her life. And, somehow, it was.

You flashed the headlights in sync with her leaps and, watching her body turn to the car, her dark brown eyes staring into the glass, you knew what she would say and you both said at the same time, in a whisper only your hearts could hear.

"I love you."

Back to Present – 3 AM

Keeping a packet of m&m's in her jacket pocket, saving it for you to eat later, Jungeun finished eating a strawberry cereal bar, chewing slowly as the girls entered into a conversation to try to calm their spirits. In fact, everyone there was looking forward to you and the baby being well and being able to receive visitors as soon as possible.

Jinsoul told a story of her adolescence and the girls highlighted some parts, asked a few things and laughed. But Jungeun's mind was just a few feet from that waiting room.

Were you in pain? Was the baby finding the way out safely? Was the baby healthy? Were you okay?

She had no way of knowing. She went to the bathroom, the girls followed the blonde head with concern as she crossed the room to the door with a blue sign written "toilet".

When closing the door already inside the bathroom, every sound coming from outside was isolated. Jungeun turned the tap on and felt the cascade of water flowing through her fingers, finding some calm with that, since the only person who could give her the biggest amount of peace was in labor.

She washed her face and dried it with paper, stared at her reflection and realized she was pale. She would only regain color when she could finally see you and the baby.

She put her hand on the door handle again, turning it, and when she closed the door behind her, she noticed that all the girls were standing, staring at the beginning of the corridor. Her face turned in the same direction, where a nurse was standing still, noticed the movement of the woman's lips and the signal for her to follow her on a path. That woman would take Jungeun's to where her heart belonged.

"I wish you were with me... with us at the moment…", you whispered.

"The nurses didn't let me in, babe, but I'm here now..."

Jungeun was almost crouched beside the bed, her face close to yours. She reached up and stroked your cheekbones, touching your forehead with hers.

“How was it?”, she asked.

“It was like I was shitting a coconut.”

Her throat exploded with a pleasurable laugh, making you laugh along, even though you felt a lot of pain in your entire body. Tiredness was overwhelming you, but not enough to see your baby again.

"I only saw our baby for about 5 seconds and I was barely able to see that little face before they did the cleaning and exams."

Your voice was a whisper and Jungeun shook her head, as if she told you not to worry about it, and then she gave you a peck.

When the nurse came into the room and placed the baby in your arms, Jungeun was already crying. She never thought that your love could take on a human shape, so small, fragile and beautiful.

"Oh, God... I love you both so much..." she said, letting those strong tears run down her clean face as she bent down to kiss the top of the baby's head very gently.

That little body, with small hands, gripped her finger firmly and you knew that you would not let anything in the world do anything to destroy that purity. Jungeun felt the same way. Somehow, you knew that. You felt that. Perhaps because you had known her for a long time. Perhaps it was because of love. But you did knew. And she also knew that, whatever happened, her family would always be the homewhere your hearts could rest.

[elriel-oblivion]

So it's been four days so here's part two 😁 Just wanted to say a huge thanks to everyone who read/liked/commented/reblogged the last part! It was such an amazing response, especially given it was my first time posting my writing here, so thanks for all the love you shared 🥰🥰

Heads up, this part is actually part one from Elain's pov. Initially I wanted to continue from where the last part left off in Elain's pov, but as I was writing the background, I realised I'd written too much to just skip when Az gets to the estate and cut straight into a continuation of part one, so I ended up rewriting the whole thing in her view. So there's no new elriel moments, but you'll get a lot of new stuff anyway 😅 I would've said you don't have to read this part to understand part three, but when I was rereading the later parts a few hours ago, I realised there's some stuff that alludes to things in this part, so I strongly recommend you don't skip this 😅😅

Also, wow, some of my fave paragraphs I've ever written are in this part 😁 Bonus points if you can find them; there are four I'm thinking of in particular 😉

Word count: ~ 3.1K. Lemme know if you'd like to be tagged/removed 😊 Next part up in two or three days 😊

AO3

Ashes from the Deep

Part II

__

It had been a pretty uneventful day as Elain worked through her new plant textbook. Feyre and Rhysand had decided to spend the weekend away at the mountain cabin, Cassian and Nesta were away doing things she wished not to think of, and Mor was at the Winter Court.

Amren had only been round in the mornings, probably to check Elain was still alive. She'd glance round the living room, examine some of those fine crystal glasses in the display cabinet and then leave. There was no difference today, though Elain always felt Amren's scrutiny upon her even when that muted silver gaze was directed elsewhere; perusing Rhys' wine collection had become a tired ruse.

So besides preparing and taking her meals with Nuala and Cerridwen, Elain had spent her afternoon with her book, making notes and copying drawings. The twins had gone off on some errands, so she'd wandered into the garden at some point to tend to her many plants, telling them how lovely they each were. The crocuses looked particularly stunning this autumn day, their pale violet colour breathing life into the shades beneath some of the trees.

With her book, she'd identified new weeds, digging into the soil to rip some pesky ones out. Sometimes she didn't want the help of a tool; sometimes she needed to feel those roots on her bare skin.

Harvesting the carrots and beetroot was also on the agenda today, along with seeding for some spectacular displays next year. She'd been collecting the seeds from some of her summer blooms, like those soft clouds of baby's breath, saving them to replant. These she sowed directly into ground she'd prepared days before, her fingers digging into the crumbly clumps of earth.

Autumn onions she'd plant tomorrow, perhaps. Feyre always remarked on how their strong taste complimented meats well, so Elain wanted to harvest some fresh for her sister for once. It'd take a few months of waiting, but there was little else better than picking out and eating food one had grown with their bare hands and the essential ingredients of love and care.

Setting her book on the patio table, Elain surveyed the garden. It was a good day's work. Plants watered and sown, weeds uprooted, and hands sweaty and soiled, Elain was proud of what she'd achieved today. There were no distractions, nothing to take her from the one thing she always found satisfaction in.

After a long shower, she found herself back in the garden with a cup of tea and a blanket. The sunset washed the sky in a blaze of red and orange glory before it yielded to the cool tones of twilight then night. Elain sat in silence, hands wrapped around her mug. How long would it be until someone's arms were wrapped around her, until she felt the warmth her sisters finally had?

Silly, these thoughts. Immortality stretched far ahead, there would be time to develop that companionship. Months and years were but a heartbeat in the life of a High Fae. She wouldn't even notice the years pass.

Or so everybody else kept saying.

With her tea finished, she perused the book of recipes she'd borrowed from Nuala. Some recipes jumped out, ingredients for which she'd been growing for a few months now. Pumpkin pie sounded especially delightful, the gourd having almost darkened and hardened to ripe quality just a couple days ago. They should be ready for harvest tomorrow.

A chill wind sent Elain inside to prepare and have her dinner in pleasant silence. Even her mind was quiet tonight. After washing her dishes, she stood by a bay window, fingers idly tapping the windowsill.

Faelights bobbed like tiny lamps, dotted through the garden. The full moon was now high in the sky, its ghostly glow illuminating the datura flowers she'd seeded half a year ago. She pulled on her blanket and went out again for a better look at those gorgeous blooms, the petals opening only at night.

Elain couldn't be happier she'd found seeds of a triple-flowered variety. They'd grown to produce large trumpets, three layers of petals ruffled against each other. Somehow she thought of her sisters as she crouched and stared at the flowers, each layer so similar, yet fighting for space and breath as it unfurled before another. It was only when they were all fully open that they could sigh along the night breeze as one, an ethereal song of togetherness, tinged with notes of poignancy, only heard by those with the will to look deeper.

The white petals were stained with velvet violet, a true vision in her garden. While the others had given her passing compliments on the flowers, Azriel had seemed stunned the first time he saw them, citing them his favourite of all the plants Elain had grown so far. Something about their shape and contrasting colours, he'd mentioned.

She smiled fondly at the memory, where his eyes sparkled as he reached for one of the soft petals.

Her hand lashed out to grab his wrist. 'Don't touch them; the leaves and stems are highly poisonous.'

His brows rose. 'You wouldn't think that at first sight. But they're beautiful, Elain. Truly magnificent,' he said, his smooth voice so low, a voice that was night given sound. And how befitting, as even those datura flowers seemed enraptured by his presence, one shy petal finally unfurling towards him.

She beamed at him. 'They like you. Flowers like it when you talk to and compliment them - but these ones haven't given me the same reaction as they have to you. I think they really like you, Azriel.'

His answering smile was heartbreakingly tender.

A few more seconds passed before she realised she still held his wrist. She silently let go.

It was a shame she'd have to dig out the datura shrub and move it inside for the winter; it did look magnificent in the moonlight.

The sky shifted past its midnight velvet, and still Elain crouched, admiring the flowers. She shivered in the night's chill. The stars above twinkled and glistened, cold and distant as ever, yet stunning - infinitely more striking than they'd ever been when she was human. A thousand different colours sparkled in that vast expanse, the moon a phosphorescent queen in the centre of her court.

The Night Court truly lived up to its name in the wee hours of the day. Its opulence never failed to mesmerise her; the enhanced Fae eyesight was at least one thing she was grateful for from this body.

Her eyelids became heavy and she yawned. Why was she still out here? It was late into the night; she should be in bed by now. But the night was so beautiful and it was so quiet and she wanted to appreciate it all just once. Just once without the expectations of others, without having to wear that miserable smile all the time.

Of course, it didn't look miserable, which is probably why almost nobody ever bothered to look deeper into Elain. She should be used to it by now, but it still felt - wrong. That most overlooked her so long as she wore a smile. That most didn't think her capable of feeling the utter bitterness and loneliness she had once seen so plain on her sisters' faces.

And in acknowledgement of her sisters' hardships, Elain didn't fault them for not looking, for not seeing her. To see past the thick blanket of darkness in one's own mind was a trial in itself. But it had been years since the war now. And still they didn't notice.

They didn't notice that Elain was being shredded from the inside out.

It was almost laughable. But not funny enough.

No, it was not funny that people still treated Elain like a child, that people wanted to keep Elain in some weird impasse of a stage between child and adult. She'd thought finally carrying out her duty and giving her hand in marriage would show everyone that she was growing up: Elain Archeron, middle born but first married. Of course it was still on her own terms, to a man whom she'd loved. A man who'd seen her through the rubble of her family's lives. But she'd overall hoped doing what was expected of her would be enough.

Clearly not. She didn't even know who she was any more. Did she ever? Everything she'd once yearned for, gone. That fragile human life would soon be just a speck on the horizon of her past.

She sighed. Rebuilding herself was going to take a long time.

But what would she have to do for people to see her, to listen to her? Throw a rage? Fall into a drunken stupor and break a few dozen bottles?

She definitely could, but those were not her. She was Elain Archeron. And so she would wait. Patience wasn't a bad thing at all; she saw it on the shadowsinger's face all the time, that tranquility and calmness she so wished to feel inside.

Azriel. Her heart softened as he entered her mind again, and she dug her fingers into the soil, if only to occupy her fidgety hands. As sure as the chaos of her visions these days, there was a mess of butterflies related to him she wasn't willing to show. Or understand.

Elain and the spymaster? Now that was laughable. Truly laughable. He was wise and patient, while she - well, everyone already thought her a child, and though he listened like no other around her, surely even he couldn't glimpse the adult she so desperately wanted everyone to see.

No, it was foolish to entertain the idea of a relationship with him. No matter how much he saw.

No matter that he was the first to see her since Graysen.

Elain exhaled. She stifled another yawn, smoothing out the soil, then brushed her hands clean. She wrapped the blanket closer around herself and stood. Twinkling stars and velvety darkness and -

There, a knot of shadows materialising at the far edge of the garden, collecting and swirling into a larger mass before Azriel himself stepped out and sagged against a tree. His shadows whirled and obscured him, a dark fire with him burning at the core.

Elain's voice left her throat before she even thought to call him and she ran over to his figure slumped in the dimness.

She couldn't help but say his name again as she neared. 'Azriel!'

Those beautiful hands fiddled with a Siphon, but he looked even worse up close. Fatigue dragged at his body, a second weight to all the muscle and armour he already had to carry. Sweat and dirt clung to him, his hair. At least the shadows were parting, swallowing each other and misting away as they often did around her. Perhaps she should ask someday why they did that. But not today, not when his breathing was so laboured.

She raised a hand - to do what, she had no idea. She couldn't just touch him right now. 'You don't look okay.'

Something else limned his features as he huffed a light laugh and said, 'I'm fine, don't worry.' His voice was raw, so starkly different to its usual icy smoothness. It was common for him to guard his emotions, but in his state, this kind of thinking was just unhealthy. What would it take for him to be honest with her?

'You don't have to pretend with me, Azriel,' she said, lowering her hand. She studied the ground, embarrassed that she'd come up to him. What could she even offer in her pathetic childlike state when he was so clearly affected by his mission right now?

His hand rose. Her heart faltered, she had to do something, and she blurted, 'Can I wash your hair, please?'

His eyes widened, his entire composure crumbling. It wasn't often that the shadowsinger looked startled, but Elain was far too shy to show that she quite liked the effect her question had on him.

'You want to wash my hair?'

His face was so exquisite, it hurt to look at it. His eyes would be even worse; it wouldn't be the first time she was rendered speechless by their kind gaze. A myriad of colours swirled in their glistening depths - gorgeous greens and brilliant browns, all so natural and rich, if only she could look at them long enough to find their matches in the garden around her. Though, his eyes were an entire spectrum of colour in their own right. How would she ever pick out each and every shade?

And if she somehow did have the courage to meet his eyes now, what would she see of herself in their reflection?

A lovesick puppy? A doe-eyed, fearful fawn?

No, she didn't want to know.

So she swallowed and focused on his hair. Perhaps this Fae eyesight was a curse, for even his hair was shockingly fascinating. Only flat black from a distance, the faelights bobbing about the trees highlighted layer upon layer of silky raven locks up close. His hair was so dark it seemed to absorb the surrounding light. Mud stained one side of his head, and it was an effort to keep her hands from brushing it away, so she said, 'I'm positive that's mud and you shouldn't sleep with that in your hair. It'll only take a few minutes.'

He ran a hand through his hair, clumps of dirt falling out.

'You've managed to get some on your face, too.' There were light specks of mud and blood across his face, a more noticeable patch along his cheekbone, thrown into sharper relief by the faelights and his own weariness. Was that a cut beneath the patch? And another on his temple?

She leashed her arms.

What had happened? He wore the signs of a fight, but why would he come here when he knew Elain was the only one home?

His eyes bored into her face, but she refused to meet them. He seemed to lean forward then, stumbling.

Ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous that he wouldn't even acknowledge he was in need. Azriel rarely stumbled. Any fatigue Elain had felt just a while ago was now burrowing down a little longer. Her voice was firm when she spoke. 'I'm washing your hair. It'll help relax you into falling asleep.'

His brows rose, but if Elain stood there one more moment she wouldn't have the courage to do anything for him. For herself - she could take care of someone else. She could do for Azriel what she hadn't done for Feyre all those years as a human.

And for Azriel, she could tend to the male who'd provided her with comfort and safety in this world of distress and danger.

So she pulled him along, clenching her jaw and refusing to look back. Her heart hammered in her chest but she continued, hand wrapped round his armoured arm. Her hand slid down to his wrist but just as she was about to replace her grip, he grabbed her other hand and pulled her into him.

The shadows instantly began to ensconce them, dozens of those cool tendrils twining like vines. The estate loomed huge before them, and Elain gripped Azriel's hand tighter. 

'My bathroom,' she said. Beneath the low whisper of those shadows, her blood thrummed, her heart so painfully obvious against her ribs now. It would be a wonder if the spymaster wasn't aware of it. Though she did hear another flutter above, right by her ear. But as expected, the shadows made quick work of their journey and she didn't have the chance to dwell on it further.

Now out of the comfort of Azriel's hold, Elain set down her blanket and made to grab a chair from her bedroom. His dark presence was so overwhelming that she exhaled lightly as she entered the room and took the chair. She dragged it to the sink, avoiding his gaze, and pulled a towel, soap and a large jug from the cupboard by the door.

As she settled the soap and jug on the sink, she dared a glance at him. He was still clad in full armour, those black scales gleaming like obsidian over his skin, his Siphons glistening jewels across his body. 'I think you'll have to collapse your armour for this,' she said.

He inclined his head and tapped a Siphon, those scales lashing back into each other with cruel elegance. They were a mirror of their master: cold, controlled and unyielding, forged from scintillating darkness. He was a night sky riddled with stars; light existed if only one bothered to look for it.

Azriel's great wings righted themselves as he stood straight, now looking smaller in just his black tunic and trousers. Something about him seemed vulnerable without the armour, so Elain breathed, 'It's beautiful, all of it.' The hulking armour, the classic simplicity of the tunic and trousers, and the male who wore them all.

He was just so wonderful, Azriel. An enigma that could see her own. Her heart clenched.

Azriel rustled his wings, colour blossoming on his cheeks.

Elain blinked and pulled the chair out a little. 'Please sit.' As he sunk down, she rested the towel on his shoulders, hovering her fingers above his forehead. Her body tensed and her fingers remained suspended. It was like a spark of tension flickered in the space between their skin, teasing her, tempting her, taunting her.

After all, she'd offered to wash his hair, an act that would certainly require touching. But why was she so hesitant? She'd touched him before - kissed his cheek, even. Although that had been in the heat of adrenaline, a mark of her gratitude where a simple thank you wouldn't suffice, not for risking his own life for hers.

This was - what was this?

She finally lowered her fingers through that tense spark, pushing his head back against the sink. It was exhilarating, this contact, but he lowered his wings, shifting on the seat. Elain moved into the space he gave, turning on the tap as he went still. Just as her body was taut, taut as the skin of a drum.

She checked the water. Warm. It was time to start.

Azriel was looking up at her. Something like yearning swirled in his eyes.

He looked so tired. It made her heart ache.

'You can close your eyes,' Elain whispered. And he did.

___

Feedback's welcomed; thanks for reading 😊

If anyone wants to know what the datura flowers look like, CTTO:

@illyrian-lover-flower @julesherondalex @nooriee @mis-lil-red @verifiefangirl @tswaney17

[jaysevhls]

Here, With You | Kelly Severide

Summary: You're a firefighter at Firehouse 51. You are a member of Truck 81. At the call you got injured with Kelly, your fiance.

Pairing: Kelly Severide x Reader.

Warnings: Injures, accident.

Author's note: It's pretty long one?? Requests are open.

Firehouse 51. The most loving, caring and knowing firehouse in Chicago you can say. Working here was the best part of your life, including your relationship with lieutenant Kelly. Those years you have been working there were just amazing as you can tell.

Day started as usual, no calls, most of the squad and truck, hanging out in the break room. The atmosphere was clear, fortunately there were no dramas that day.

You made your walk through the kitches, it was your day at cooking, which you loved. Everyone in 51 knew your hobby and passion, that's why Herrmann decided to give you a part time job at Molly's. There was something about this place, the whole idea, people CPD, CFD and Med were there almost every night, trying their favorite drinks, your food and just spending time with colleagues, closest friends and loves.

That's where you and Kelly made a step in your friendship. You met 7 years ago, when you started working at 51 as paramedic. It was only a temporary, since you knew that your dream job is being a firefighter. Your childhood was mostly based on making a fake fire, smoke, because you loved when you could help your mom or any member from your family when it was a fire in the house, not real of course. And the day came. After 1 year being in Ambo 61 with your best friend, Gabby, it was your time to shine. You joined the academy with her, which only made things better for you and your friendship. You graduated and since then, you're an official member of Truck 81. You loved your job.

Kelly was always around you. Since he and Gabby lost Leslie, he felt like he need to make a promise. He promised himself that no matter what, he will always protect you. Since he first saw you, the look in your eyes wes telling him that you need someone by your side. And that's when it all started. At the beginning it was simple. He cared about you a lot, he always asked you after a call if everything is alright, if you need anything, which made you feel loved. You missed that feeling.

One night at Molly's things went too far you can say. It was a day before your birthday, so you wanted to have fun. A lot of fun. You invited all your colleagues and of course Kelly. For couple of days at this time he was so nervous, acting weird around you, so you thought he need some relax and fun. It was a good time occasion.

"Hey, you want another?" Herrmann asked you. To be honest, it was a very difficult job to make you drunk, so you ordered next one. And next. And couple more.

"I think you had enough Y/N" Kelly took the beer from your hand, laughing at your actions.

"No, no, no Kelly. Definitely no. You need to have more, you need to have fun, pleaseeee! It's like the first time in year when we actually can drink more, because there's no work tomorrow" you took it back and drink almost half of it.

"Ok. But you're not getting drunk here alone. Let's go to my place, I have your favorite wine and beer." as he finished, you were already in his arms. His hand on your waist, making your way through the exit. You really wanted to go there by your own, but it was too much.

"See, I could go alone Kelly. You don't need to check on me when we're not in work." you smirked.

"That's the point my love. I'll care about you till the end of world and one day after." you look at him confused. Did he just called you his love? Or was it just your imagination witch damage after too many beers.

"And who had too much alcohol tonight Kelly?" he didn't respond.

The ride was wild you can say. He decided to take a longer way, because he wanted you to feel a little bit better, to wipe that alcohol out of your system. You sang your favorite songs, which made him laugh. He loved your voice, even drunk.

That night was memorable. He kissed you out of the blow, but you enjoyed it. You wanted that for so long. The priority was to remember about that night, even half of it and you did it. Couple of more nights like this, dates, drinks at Molly's.

And there you are. Engaged to your best friend. Your soulmate, a better half.

"Y/N? Can we speak in private?" he asked. You just finished cooking when you saw Kelly, walking to you with something in his hand.

"What have I done this time?" you laughed, joining him in his office.

"Why didn't you tell me about the meeting with my father? Are you out of your mind?" so that was the problem. You looked at him and sighed.

"I didn't mean to- I wanted to tell you, but it was already too late. He asked me to meet him few days ago and I thought that will be the best opportunity to invite him to our wedding. It's your dad Kelly"

"And why now he is trying to reach me by the mails, calls and even letters? I told you that I'll speak to him in right time!" that conversation went definitely too far you felt.

"Enough Kelly! I just wanted to do something good, to invite your damn father to see his son at the end of the aisle, because it's a one time thing and you're making me feel guilty about this? You know I didn't mean to hurt you, but you-"

"Truck 81, Engine 51, Squad 3, Ambo 61, Battalion 25 the old-" you didn't need to listen the rest. You went out of his office and made your way to the Truck.

After few minutes, all of the members of 51 were on the scene. It was a big fire at the old factory.

"Y/L/N, Borrelli, with me" Casey yelled. You masked up before you went in. You know that it was to difficult to handle that fire with only one firehouse, so when you heard Boden voice, calling for backup, you sighed in relief. Now, the only thing you needed to focus at, was to get as many people as you can and walk them out of this place.

You took 2 womens with you, it wasn't that bad you thought. When you came back, the smoke was dark and you couldn't see anything. You made few steps in the right.

"Fire department, call out!" you yelled. Casey was right behind you, saying that he's going to the left. Before, you heard few screams, that's why you decided to go back in there and find those people. They still could be alive.

"H-help!" you heard. You made your way to a women, who was trapped. She had a really bad head injury. You knew it was her final call.

"Hey, you're gonna be okay. I'm here and I'm not going anywhere!" you told her and kneeled in front of her. You took her hand and she looked at you. Then she closed her eyes.

Checking her pulse, you felt a sharp pain at your shoulder. You hit yourself when you were standing up.

Your vision get blurred more than it already was. You took your mask off to see if there's anyone else, or Casey, to reach his help. It was your biggest mistake. Unfortunately, your mask fell out of your hands and broke.

"Mayday, Mayday! I need some help in block C! My mask is destroyed, I'm out of my oxygen." you coughed.

Kelly was already outside, looking out for you. When he heard your voice, his heart just broke.

"Chief, I'll go!" he yelled. He didn't even wait for a response, he just stormed out to that building.

He was looking out for you for almost 3 minutes, which was a long way, when you are dealing with fire, smoke and no oxygen. When he found you, he thought it was too late. You were laying, coughing, in pretty bad shape.

"Hey! Y/N! Come on, we need to get out of here!"

"I- I can't Kelly, I- My leg, is trapped." he looked down at your body, searching for an injuries. You were right, your leg was trapped and he knew that he'll need more help.

"Breath baby, just keep breathing, everything is going to be alright" he kneeled at your side and gave you his mask.

"What a funny story" you coughed. "I just said those words to a woman and she died" you cried. The pain was awful, you felt this sharp pain at your shoulder, your chest was getting heavier and the leg wasn't helping. The only thing what was keeping you alive was the water, streaming on your side.

"You're not dying, you hear me? Don't you dare die on me" he was trying to pull you out, but when he realised that he can't do it, he immediately called for backup.

"What is that?" you asked. Something was making noises and you couldn't focus on what is causing it.

"Oh god no. No, no, no! My oxygen is out, shit!" he yelled. "Chief, where is the backup, my oxygen is out, we don't have much time!"

"Kelly, hey, look at me." you whispered. He was so scared, like never.

"We're gonna be fine, just please breath" he cried. You took his hand and kissed it. He lied down, to get closer to water. Now, you were face to face.

"I love you Kelly. They were right about "Till the death do us apart", they were so right"

"Shut up Y/N, we didn't even get a chance to say those words yet." he nervously laughed. "You're gonna be fine and you'll say it to me in the church, in this beautiful white dress, you hear me? They're coming and they'll find us."

You were out of you breath, laying there unconscious, Kelly was holding your hand with eyes closed.

"Y/N? Hey, Y/N?" he immediately stood up and check out your pulse. There was no pulse. "No, no, no, c'mon Y/N, you can't leave me!" he was yelling.

"Y/L/N! Severide! Call out!" it was Casey. They found you.

"In here, we need get her out of here, she's not breathing" Casey took you by your legs and Severide by hands. They were almost running with you in their arms. Brett and Dawson were ready to take you from them.

"Start compressions." Gabby said. He felt like his whole world was falling apart. Casey was holding him by his arm, to make sure he won't fall. "Okay, we got the pulse, we're going to Med. Severide?" Brett asked.

"Yeah, I'm going with you." he wiped off his face from tears. You needed to be alright.

•

It's been almost 5 hours since they brought you to Med. Whole 51 was sitting in waiting room with Kelly to help him get through this time and to get news about you.

"Any family member of Y/N Y/L/N?" the nurse asked.

"I'm her fiance" he answered.

"Doctor Will Halstead is waiting for you" he followed her into break room. He was so scared to hear news about you.

"Hey, Kelly. I'm so sorry about what happened, are you okay?" he hugged him.

"Hey, yeah. I'm good. They give ne oxygen, took my blood for some tests, everything is good, my lungs are clear. How's Y/N, please tell me she's okay?"

"She's stable. She had a surgery for her open break in the leg, but everything is okay now. We're giving her oxygen and for now, we're keeping her in coma."

"But- but she wasn't breathing for couple of minutes, is there any chance that it caused something?"

"It's hard to say Kelly. We need to wait till she wakes up" he gave him a weak smile. "You can go and see her, I'll tell your team about her condition."

There you were. Laying in bed, unconscious, but alive. You were so strong, Kelly knew that. You showed him this so many times, but today it was something different. He almost lost you and it almost killed him.

"I'm so sorry Y/N. This shouldn't have happened to you. I love you baby and I'll always be by your side." he cried in his hands.

"I know you will" this whispered make his heart stop.

"You're awake, baby. I love you so much, this argument shouldn't have happened, it's all my fault"

"Shhh, can you? Can you just lay here with me? he stood up and layed by her side. Just the two of them, reunited. Full of love.

[guigz1-coldwar]

'Tough' : New chapter for "Redemption in a Spirit in a Cold War" is out !

"Tough"

"Even if that russian girl is tough, I will find an way to break her enough !"

Chapter Summary : After having an talk with Lazar's vision, Yirina is finally feeling determined to avenge her fallen friend and face Naga.....

To read it on AO3, click here !

Words : +3200

------------------------------------------------------------------

I had one thing to do at the momen : pull the trigger to avenge Garrett and an lot of peoples who has suffered from Naga but instead....I followed the orders....that stupid order to capture Naga for intels as Sims said and I was so fucking stupid to obey that, lowering my gun before starting to walk away from the scene in shame, fearing to see in the eyes Park and Song too, they were looking to support me and I did let them down in that promise. I had to kill Naga for everything he has done but instead...I followed the orders.

Looking behind me was so difficult for me to do, knowing that maybe Park or Song or maybe both were maybe following me to know why I didn't do it. I failed them, I failed Garrett by not fullfilling my promise to him. One bullet and it was still in that mag of my M1911. I walked back on the path I used to get inside the temple, retreating myself back at the entrance of the base and seeing some reinforcements arriving for us to help clean up the mess and maybe capture Naga for 'interrogation'....I should have shot him.

After seeing them, I preferred to walk through the main path leading to the temple instead of the side one, discovering some bodies along the way but also trucks filled with gold bars like the ones who were hidden in the temple. I saw Naga getting dragged by Sims in the other direction and Sims was nodding to me but I didn't do something back. For him, I did an good thing but not for me. Then, I heard some screams inside an building at my right, causing my attention to check it out.

I had to climb up an ladder to get into that building and then, I discovered Wolf, Woods & Rivas standing in an sort of weird room, torturing an still alive Perseus soldier on an chair.

"I don't know anything !" The man shouted, scared as Wolf was next to him, the guy was only still wearing an boxers and his hood.

"Stop taking us for fools, shithead." Woods spoke up, taking out his knife to approach the guy, seems that no one actually notice me until Rivas saw me but she didn't say an word to me, allowing me to lean against an table, curious of what will happen. "You know things and you will tell us now." He added, getting the knife at an few centimeters from the guy face.

"I swear it, I know nothing." The man repeated again but it didn't convince Woods who decided to plant his knife in the man left knee, producing another loud scream.

"You're deaf or something ?" Wolf asked him, getting behind him, his hands on the man's mouth to cover the sounds. "You either going to talk or you will suffer worse that been captured." He ordered to the man, removing his mouth.

"You have rules, right ?" The man questioned back to us. "You know the Geneva Convention ?" He added, trying to put some senses in us.

"Sorry but ain't working in here." Rivas replied clearly to him as Woods retreated himself, letting his knife into the man's left knee to get next to me.

"You're okay ?" He demanded but I shoot my head to him, sure of my own state right now. "Listen, I...."

"Don't start." I breathed, looking at him with deadly eyes. "I don't want to have apologizes from you about what happened." I continued, thinking about not pulling the trigger against Naga, been forced to lower my gun because of Woods & Sims.

"Yirina, I know that it was stupid." He said, making me sniff away from him, crossing my arms.

"You don't know what happened in one hour for me in that jungle, Woods." I whispered, clenching my fists inside my arms, looking at the man getting brutalized by Rivas & Wolf. "We lost Garrett but apparently, our orders are still our priority even if one of us died." I added.

"I know." He told me.

"No, you don't know an thing." I exclaimed, keeping my voice down, letting the others do their jobs. "If you knew what happened, you would have let me pull that trigger." I admitted, sending apparently some guilt in him, looking by his face, his eyes down. "I don't know why I didn't pull the trigger." I sniffed

"You said that you didn't want to hear it but I'm sorry, okay ?" He decided to say it anyway despite my suggestion.

"Yeah, I said it." I chuckled silently.

"Listen, I will talk." The man's voice was louder that it got my attention back on him as Woods moved away from me to get back at the position.

"So, talk." Wolf ordered in an clear voice.

"Adler....we moved him away from here long before you arrive here." The man started, trying to fight the pain of having an knife in his knee. "Stitch, he wanted to make an trap for all of you." He continued, his face looking to Rivas, holding the knife.

"What trap ?" Rivas asked him.

"Adler, he was the bait to get you here but he know that he wasn't going to be enough." The man replied, taking an deep breath as Rivas was slowly moving the knife inside his wounds. "So, he decided to use another thing to make sure that it will be good."

"The Nova-6 ?" I stepped inside the conversation my head still looking down.

"Yes, yes !" The man nodded, sounding almost relieved, thinking that it will make him get away. "Stitch created an supply of Nova-6 gas."

"And where is it ?" Woods questioned him, serious in his voice.

"In this base, just below that building." The man responded, making signs with his head to the ground. "Stitch asked us to make sure that the gas will get spread in the region if necessary to cover our tracks." He continued, giving us some intels of how Stitch will have use the gas in here.

"To eliminate any loose ends, right ?" Rivas demanded and the choices of her words start to make me feel weird, my eyes slowly narrowing at hearing her words.

"Yeah....to ring any bell inside your minds." The man answered and hearing 'bell' make me feel dizzy, my hands shaking. I couldn't stay here, watching this torture and knowing that at any moment, I could pass out.

So, I decided to slowly get away from the room, going into another direction instead of taking back the ladder that I used moments earlier, finding myself in an porch that was uniting this 'torture house' to another house, maybe filled with people looking around for intels but I wasn't going to get myself involved with that, wanting to have some peace right now with no one trying to have an talk with me, I don't want that.

I couldn't go back inside the house so I preferred to install myself on the porch, sitting on the edge of it right in the middle. In front of me, the first truck I saw with gold bars in it with some soldiers around, trying to unload the content of the truck as I was watching them with narrowed eyes, wondering what they were actually thinking by seeing the numerous gold bars in that truck but that thought flew away in the instant, not wanting to know about it.

While I was still sitting at the porch, I was hearing the screams from inside the 'torture house' from the same guy, meaning that he wasn't talking and if this guy don't talk, why would Naga will ? I'm so fucking stupid to have let him live, certainly getting transported back to base and probably getting healed while us, we're still here, trying to find something and me...trying to wonder why I fucked this up with Naga. It's with that thought that I closed my eyes for an few instants, trying to find something in my mind.....

I was breathing anormally as I was tied up to an chair, my hands impossible to move along with my knees and I was badly beaten, looking at my shirt almost filled in blood, replacing the usual white by an dark red. My face ? My nose was bleeding from the both holes, my mouth was mostly tasting blood in it and my left eyebrow was opened, some blood getting out of it. Bandages were covering part of my chest, especially the places I was touched by bullets....I was captured by the CIA...

As my head was looking down, I got it up, finding Adler himself, standing in front of me with his fists clenched, an little of blood on them, my blood. I looked around to see that we were in an interrogation room with an window where I couldn't see anything through it except my reflection, like an big mirror.

"You're going to talk one day !" Adler affirmed, stretching his head before moving to get in front of me, getting his right hand to hold my chin. "I can say that...you're an pretty curious woman, miss."

"Go fuck yourself." I breathed right into his face and his reaction was to pull away an part of my bloodied shirt, especially the part of my shoulder where I was hit, discovering that the bandages was in bad shape.

"You want me to go fuck myself ?" He said silently, his left hand moving to touch my gunshot wound and then, he start to put his index finger next to the hole. "You're sure ?" He added and I firmly nodded.

"Go...." I wanted to add before he put his index finger hardly inside my wound, making me scream in pain, an scream that could have been heard in the whole building.

"More you don't talk, more you will suffer !" He explained, his finger still in my wound, looking at me with deadly eyes through his sunglasses. "And you know that I can do this for an long time." He admitted, removing his finger off me but still staying in front of me, his hands holding my arms on the armrests. "Are you going to talk or you want me to make you go through an lot ?" He asked me.

"Is the best you have ?" I scoffed, trying to break an laugh in me but in fact, my whole tone wasn't sounding joking. "You did something..."

"I did things, you will have to be precise." He told me in an clear voice, removing himself from me to get his leather jacket off. "I think that you know me well."

"Why...why did you do this ?" I demanded, sounding suddenly worried.

"What I did to you ?" He whispered, grabbing an chair to sit in front of me in reverse. "I did what was necessary, I wasn't going to let this happen." He replied, getting his arms on the back of the chair.

"You didn't have to do this." I exclaimed, angry, trying to move an little.

"You didn't wanted to talk so...."

"No !" I cutted him straight in his words. "I wanted to talk but you did this to me !" I added, fully angered this time.

"Bullshit." He shook his head, sure of his words. "You were lying and I don't like liars." He stated, taking an breath to look at his hands. "You see what you make me do, miss." He showed me his hands with my blood on it. "You're making me act like an monster."

"Because you're one, Adler." I told him, making him surprised that I know his name perfectly, thinking that I was stupid enough. "Yeah...I know you...Russell Adler, the American Monster..." I continued, looking at him straight in the eyes. "It's not because the CIA doesn't acknowledge you in their records that I don't know."

"So, you know me well, it seems." He affirmed, scratching the back of his head, looking impressed. "But...as you see, you're the one tied up and I'm the one asking the questions." He said, making him got up from his chair and pulling it aside. "Answer me : where's Perseus ?" He demanded, putting his hands back on my arms.

"Perseus ?" I repeated him in an low voice, preparing something. "Here it is !" I exclaimed before deciding to spit the blood that I was gathering in my mouth right into his face.

"Fuck !" He shouted, receiving my blood on his face making him step back from me. "Damnit !" He added in rage, passing his hand quickly through his face to try to clean up the blood before going back next to me. "Take that, you bitch !" He expressed furiously before I could feel an hard punch from his right hand and it was enough to make me fall on the side while been on the chair. "Don't fucking spit blood on me !" He ordered before someone opened the door but I couldn't see right as my vision was all blurred thanks to that punch.

"Hey, doc'." An male voice said and I couldn't know who it was...it was maybe Sims....

"I'm busy here, Sims." Adler told him clearly as I saw him with the vision I could get, cleaning up his hands.

"Yeah but she has arrived." Sims explained, making Adler breath loudly.

"Okay, okay." He breathed, putting back the towel he used to clean up the blood he had on his face and hands. "Get her back on her feets, she needs to be presentable for her." He added, pointing at me as Sims moved to get next to me, getting me back up with the chair.

"Doc, you might have gone too far, you know." Sims stated.

"There's no limit with them." Adler exclaimed before he threw the towel aside and putting his jacket back on him, ready to left the room.....

"Even if that russian girl is tough, I will find an way to break her enough !"

"Yirina !" An female voice interrupted me in my memory I just got but I wasn't opening my eyes again, wanting to know more about what did make me refuse to talk. "Yirina !" The woman said again, making me open my eyes for good, discovering that the truck was gone and the person who had her hand on my shoulder was none other than Park. "Yiri." She added, using my nickname.

"Yes ?" I whispered in an very low voice, seeing her next to me.

"Uhm...you maybe want to talk ?" She demanded but even if I wanted to be alone right now in peace, I couldn't refuse.

"Yeah, yeah." I replied, sounding sure in my voice but not in the inside. "Let's go somewhere else." I suggested, wanting to have an private talk with her and not in here.

I then moved with Park, going through the other house I didn't go but it wasn't there that I wanted to talk before we got below the place the captured Perseus soldier talked about : filled with some blue barrels with Nova-6 inside as some people were near them, trying to find an way to disarm them while me & Park, we decided to move somewhere else, passing through an very old Huey wreck and finding an peaceful place to talk : an view overlooking the jungle.

"You want to know about Garrett, right ?" I started, leaning myself against an barrier, putting my arms on it to look at the horizon and she moved next to me, slowly nodding.

"Yiri, it's....I'm not angry, you know." She stated, her voice filled with sadness.

"You should be." I told her clearly, looking at her. "I could see that you & Song wanted me to pull that trigger but I didn't." I added, removing my eyes from her, in shame. "Where...where is she ?"

"She returned back to base 5 minutes ago." She replied, sounding low.

"I'm pretty sure that she's hating me." I claimed, feeling so bad for not having killed the man responsible for Garrett's death. "I had one thing to do but I didn't do it." I continued, moving my right hand to hold my head. "He said that I had to do it."

"I'm not angry." She repeated and she was sounding very sure of her words. "How...what happened ?" She questioned me, curious.

"You don't want to know that." I exclaimed but she nod, meaning that she wanted to know. "I'm not sure and it will not help me but...." I stopped myself, realizing that it was maybe better to talk about it even if it's painful. "The helicopter crashed and we both survived but the Huey landed on an cliffside." I started, taking an deep breath. "It moved, causing Garrett to fall off the wreck but I managed to grab him but it did make me fall too, holding myself and him by one of the Huey's skid."

"And...and ?" She whispered, feeling bad.

"He decided to save me, knowing that the helicopter was going to fall before I could have help him to get back inside." I responded, closing my eyes, reliving that scene. "He....he sacrificed himself for me...." I snorted, holding back my tears and reopening my eyes. "He wanted to tell Song that he loved her and he asked me something." I looked fully at her, my eyes fully moved. "He asked me...to take care of you....like Laz'." My voice cracked and my words make Park slowly crying, tears falling from her eyes.

"Garrett..." She said silently, her face in pain and looking away as I moved my hand on her shoulder. "He....he was there for me since the day I stepped inside the MI6." She explained, her voice cracking to tell me that before she put her hand on top of mine on her shoulder. "He was like William for me." She added and tears came from my eyes too.

"I'm sorry." I apologized, thinking that she wouldn't want to hear it from me but it was better for me to say it.

"He didn't deserve that." She exclaimed mixed between angriness and sadness but the latter was more audible.

"I know." I breathed "I wasn't able to fullfill my promise to him, he died for nothing." I claimed, moving my hands away from her as my sight was now on an lonely Nova-6 blue barrell. "Adler isn't even here and...." I stopped myself, closing my eyes for an second and clenching my fists. "He only died for that fucking gas !" I shouted before kicking with my right feet the blue barrell, knowing the danger but I was more stunned when the barrell moved like if nothing was in it. "What the hell ?" I whispered, moving to get the barrell back at its position easily. "There's nothing inside."

"What ?" Park spoke up, sounding surprised.

"There's no gas in it, it shouldn't move like that." I affirmed, shaking the barrell with my hands and it moved too much and when I opened it, there were really nothing in it : only air. "It was an full trap !" I added before throwing the barrell away behind me. "That whole Nova-6 threat was all fake." I stated, angrily.

"Stitch wanted to have us entirely here : for Adler & stopping the Nova-6." Park admitted, looking at the barrell behind me. "And we were so blind to think about it." She thought, putting her hands on her waist, that revelation did put an shock in us...all of this...for nothing....

"We should prevent the others, we have been played for too long."

[rewatching-supernatural]

s01e14

Ooh, killer car, weird

I guess this is a softer death than most though, if a demon was to kill me, I'd prefer that than burned alive or stabbed I think

Oh right it's one of Sam's special dreams

*****

Fuck man, he's already dead, that sucks

And Sam, poor boy, obviously blaming himself for not being there quick enough

Not fast enough

These are beautiful shots of the brothers with fog and lighting, the shadows, the silhouettes... gorgeous shots

*****

omg yes! this is the Fathers episode!!

Dean is so shite at being emotionally available for people

and for Sam it comes naturally, he's more 'adjusted' to what normal people do and feel

*****

Dean with his robotic looking lasers, I just can't, this looks ridiculous

*****

if my window unlocked itself and opened on its own, I would be calling the cops or leaving that house, holy shit

*****

"Why am I watching them die?"

fuck man, good question

*****

"Roger, you're in danger!"

sounds like a Panic! at the Disco song

*****

I am not in shape enough to be a Winchester damn, running up the stairs like that? no way

now i remember why in high school we used to say "run like you were running with the Doctor/Dean Winchester/Sherlock" all these white boys do is run

*****

"Nothing says I'm sorry like a tuna casserole."

gems, pearls these sentences

*****

Ah yes, this episode is about abuse, child abuse precisely, but also about the woman staying there and not protecting the kid

AW FUCK MADE THE MISTAKE OF LOOKING AT THE KNIFE WAS JUST BY HER EYE omg I won't be able to sleep tonight fucking hell

ughhhh

I missed a bit in my comments here but there was the whole discussion about not killing Max and talking to him instead

and now Sam's asking to speak to Max

and honestly? I've met a man who was abused and saw his mother be abused for years, and then when he turned 18, bought a gun and killed the man who'd been torturing him and his mom. And I couldn't blame him. I couldn't. Kids who are abused, kids who grew up being kicked and punched and abused and physically beaten and mentally broken

by adults

adults that were supposed to take care of them

I am not for the death penalty in most cases

but child abuse

or rape

at that point, you're no longer human

you're no longer worth anything to this world

and I am on Max's side

*****

The music accelerating as we learn that Max's mom died the same way Mary and Jess did

*****

Max refusing to change his mind

How could you be mad at him?

Oh, like that, yeah

I get it

Sam's fucking vision yep

and then he killed himself

*****

Remember how the other episode was about 'who deserves to live' and choices? Well, Max did. His father and uncle didn't.

*****

This is such an important speech by Sam. How they could have had Max's childhood, had their dad fallen into alcohol instead of demon hunting. Because we know John's intense, angry, likes to order around. They could have had a childhood of absolute horror.

*****

Sam can move stuff with his brain too

and he has vision nightmares

Ooh Dean rolls his clothes in his duffel bag, that's exactly how I pack as well

*****

"As long as I'm around, nothing bad's gonna happen to you."

*****

And we're off!

[aolmer]

This is a short story about a person who is in a mental struggle with betrayal of friendship. It is up for how you want to interpret it. It is meant to express complex emotions that I think many people have but never claim or admit. I hope that by reading this it makes you think. I apologize for the weird format spacing but I'm not retyping all that on my phone and for whatever reason it won't let me put the paragraphs where they should be I did try. This is my first post and first short story I have ever wrote. Ok let's give it a go!!!

The Story's Tale

How funny it is, yet so heartbreaking to know. I wish I knew the whole story in advance. I did so very well, I tried, but I ignored it. My perception had blinded me; lost, I was wholly withdrawn and vulnerable, forever ignorant to its separate plot and focused solely on me.

My story tells a new but old, familiar tale. My own accord, it's always been just about me. I'm living each day by dawn and dusk, somehow always failing to see the plot in it all. I think you see it all so clearly - and you always have, silently blending in the shadows - but everything is just a blur to me. The vision of a perfect ending that I've longed for, my reflection in the mirror has since turned black.

Is this why you are so familiar to me? How did I not see it? Why was I so

foolish over who you are? How could I ever be anything that would show you something different? You saw it all along, so why did my novel bring you to read past chapter 1? You followed others when you knew the truth and saw the light; I could offer you nothing, yet you still remained by my side. I guess our curiosity will never end and we always have to know, but knowledge is half the battle when you can't answer things about yourself. Did you find your answer in the footprints of another’s steps? You had to know, silently standing in the distance, watching my mistakes unfold as I fell. You were the perfect ending, but you doubted it too long to truly see it.

Finding that sense of self-worth is a battle we all fight every day. You knew where it all went wrong, but at least now you can hum that old hymn your grandpa would sing every morning – the one that assured you that you were home, safe, and loved. A great feeling to experience once again, one you had

felt was gone forever. It's a good feeling to finally be where you belong; it brings a real smile to my face, the type I haven't had in a long while. A smile that I don't have to fake. This is why I call you the perfect ending. You were the answer I never found, as I never asked the right questions to end up where you are now. I can always tell a story - and some I'm more familiar with than my own - but like most, these tales still have a few pages missing. I know the book itself is at its most crucial part, just reaching its peak for that big moment, yet I still somehow miss it all.

Nevertheless, this moment of anger between us invariably buries itself into my peripatetic subconsciousness as an involuntary vicissitude that we carve our days around – which, in turn, unwillingly standardizes our lives as if we were meant to anticipate this occurrence and oblige. You saw it coming all along. Your vision couldn't be any clearer and I was too far away for my story to be heard the way it was meant.

My story tells itself with my time and pain, possessing me and portraying itself as a living entity, out on its own, ready to play the role of my life. Knowing all of my passions, all of my ambitions, and all of my wisdom, just to be used against me and viciously taken in haste, with no remorse or place for reconcile.

Still, the void in my heart, the purest form of malice cutting through flesh and straight to bone. I reach to take it all back with the very scourge of the story I never told. The things I've buried far too deeply that even it could never grasp. The words and agony were bitter and cursed, stabbing the heart like a thousand daggers with a twist, ensuring my pain was felt.

I will never know if I succeeded; I had retreated from the battle with myself and saw that I had lost myself for such a long time. I'm now so far beyond the years of sorrow and the attenuation of my soul. I've drowned myself in tears of contrition and reconciled myself to a sleepless reverie that means, even now on the

very still and tranquil new moon nights that tell this story so well, I lie awake.

All I wanted was for someone to care. I blamed anyone but myself for my mistakes. No mind so perfect could be this flawed. Now, somehow, I'm expected to know the stories I've never had the chance to hear coming from the people standing before me today, claiming they were told from long before. I could finally see the truth in you clearly, your value as a person; I see that I bid far too low. Why couldn't I see that I could have been a better friend and listened to you? You were the only one that never led me wrong, yet I still made it about me. I displayed a role of a teacher to a student, when in fact it was I who was being taught. I never meant for it to be that way and my intentions were pure of heart - in my head. It all felt right, but even when you think you’ve got it all figured out, life will put you in your place and show you just how wrong you are.

The years pass by and I see many people come and go. This repeating

cycle of memories, old and new, is the last honest, profound thought I had before losing myself within the empty strands of time itself.

I am so lost in my dreams as time moves forward. This very moment takes its shape as if that cycle never began. The cycle you created to help me get where I need to be, but I was too lost in my own creation and failing to put faith in anything but me. I have no reason to complain now at being completely alone; I had pushed them away, one by one. You were always there and I was selfish, so I thank you now too late, my dearest friend.

We stand now eye to eye, inhale to exhale, trading the same old stories we thought we knew so well - when, in fact, we never knew any of them at all. I should have listened closer. It was never about me. I wanted to be different and I was sure in thought, as if it was calculated precisely. I should have followed when you called, but instead I tried to lead, blinded by my

arrogance. With a last look upon each other, our eyes stared deeply into the very core of our souls.

The stories are way too real and yet so vastly different between us. We see that our blessings, once so virtuous, are now concealed in jagged and shattered glass, consumed with detest. The anticipation of a joyous ending has long departed, hence I blindly wrote my name into the ending with every letter nearly perfect, as if it were an oil painting. The story’s end had now laid its path before me. The one I should have taken was the one you showed me, so now this path I walk alone.

Our vastly different tales in this cycle shared the very same fate - yet different from another’s eyes, as if it was only my blood that shed. We both took our departing breath and this became a story in itself, as we all fear facing death. The blink of an eye; the only thing we ever acknowledged as real in our lives lasted only a matter of minutes. I had missed my only chance. It was then, at

last, that our stories finally read the same. Peacefully, we drifted into an endless sea of thought, with nowhere to be and our minds laid to rest. Even that perfect ending truly wasn't as you thought it would be. A place we always end up as every road we take leads to the same place. A place where the words never mattered in the stories and our tales were left untold. These stories can't be put into words – we can’t tell the tale we don’t know how to read and explain.

The scream of a thousand words is all that we hear and as we speak, our utterance is breathless, drowned out in the sound of it all. It is pointless to speak at all, as those words were never said with your wasted breath. You were silent long before, just playing with the words you had left unsaid. Perhaps those words would have made a difference now. You always knew when it served to speak, a skill I should now learn. That’s why everyone listens when you do - of course, everyone but me. It pains me and

sorry can't be said, so it just becomes another word added to the thousand-word scream I hear every day in my head. I had missed it all and you showed me where to go, but the words you chose to speak left me to drown alone.

The novel slowly closes as it flips through the last few pages, left blank; as I drift into an eternal slumber, where I don't have to stay awake. Now is the moment I've sought so long, drifting apart from within as the epilogue gives closure. We know, at last, that the book was read.

It's such a shame I was too late. The silence is now so loud it's deafening. I wish for a moment where the thousand words would scream, as this silence has stripped away the last part of what I knew as me. At last we could see it as one. The first time to open my eyes - and perhaps the last, but at least we can see it honestly, one time, for all that it is. We can hear the most beautiful song ever written as the sounds of the silence breaks and

dissipates, returning the thousand word screams we could hear in our head. You now have joined me as we fade away into a void of black.

From my perspective, at least once, we may both see the light in all its glory. That feeling, the release, the peaceful hymns we heard as children that woke us every day - that we hated so much. Now those songs lead our way as the black fades away. A wonderful life we have yet to create, as we all missed something this crucial along the way. It was far from our time, but can't you see that you need me as much as I need you? We have to see the same light, even when it's different, as no one can see very well in the dark.

Being alive is the only thing that I'll never understand, but it feels so good to be back home. I haven’t seen that smile from you, my friend, for forever and a day. Can we take a walk together, one last time, but you lead the way this time? It's not a surprise for me to see you shake your head to answer no. We begin to walk along side by side. I had almost missed it all again and can't ever seem to get

it right. Now I see that you continue to shake your head to answer no, still never saying words unless necessary. I fall silent as well and continue to walk by your side, thinking about the days that lie ahead and all the life I had left to live. It feels good to walk by my friend once again.

Where does this feeling come from? But maybe it’s only a moment we had forgotten. Is this why you are so famiiar to me? What led you to read past chapter one with me? I finally knew the answer to the questions where it all began - and when it occurred, I could finally see that it's not hard to understand. I had it right all along, but I never had the pen to write it down. I focused on the things that made life hard, then on these moments when I would be sure to have a pen to write it down. As I take this walk with my friend, the days are all familiar; the good and the bad create the same old stories our parents read before us. You had to compromise and learn as

well, taking the lead when your bell rang and speaking more so I never got left behind. It was never hard to understand, but we had both missed so much. You can't live life thinking that your story is something new - that was my biggest flaw. The drowning of my being shy at your helping hand.

Everyone's story is a chapter in a book, but even when that story is different, it still reads and ends the same way. Without sharing our stories, the book can never be read. The story to know is the easiest one to get and our life writes it down as we go, adding another chapter to its pages. Now we make the perfect beginning and end.

I walk now with my friend by my side, a moment to be cherished. It's good to know that, regardless of what happens, no one’s story is different - it all begins and ends the same. The best stories always come from those that are heard and those we create. It truly is a great day to hear your voice again, to hear our voices together at

last. We both know where the road leads now, so which direction shall we go? Like a river we flowed, letting our will guide where we went as we walked along the way, sharing all of the stories we had left unsaid from the beginning to the end of all our days. That familiar feeling, the wonderul feeling you get at the start of a new chaper. We have read this once before, my friend, and it’s a great day to start again. The same old stories we would always tell, but we never wrote in ink.

The End

@givethispromptatry