#god someone hold me while I scream in terror | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

victorbutnotreally · 6 months ago

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SCREAM!

A/N: This is intense, so if you're not comfortable with anything given in the warnings, i'll see you in the next fic <3 CNC/Consensual Non-Consent is communicated, and consented to beforehand. warnings: boypussy!minho, CNC, role-play, mask kink (ghostface), knife play, threats (consensual), reader is a bit mean?, degradation, praise, unprotected sex, overstimulation, manhandling, rough sex, size difference, belly bulge, breeding kink, multiple orgasms, clit slapping (once), face slapping (once), dacryphilia, handcuffs, swearing, nicknames, established relationship, aftercare

You've done CNC before, but not like this.

Not this intense.

It all started with an innocent Halloween party…Minho dressed as a playboy bunny, and you as Geto Suguru. Both of your costumes were pretty low effort, but you can't deny you guys looked good. Especially Minho who looked absolutely delectable in a black latex babydoll with bunny ears and a pretty collar. When you got home, you still had the Ghostface mask someone handed you during hide-and-seek.

"Be really scary." "Fine, but only if I get to spoil you afterwards."

"I'll kick and scream but don't you dare stop, okay?"

The words rang in your head even on the way home. The words which made you leave the party early. Hell, you didn't even dance to conserve your energy.

As soon as you got home, you locked the front door shut and wearing your Ghostface mask, carried Minho over your shoulder. Minho, who was as light as a feather, as small as a kitten compared to your towering frame, kicked and screamed as he said he would. You heard him scream, and you could only smirk behind your mask. You trusted him to use his safe word if needed, and he trusted you to stop if he does.

You toss him onto bed and hovered over his small body, pinning his hands above his head. He looked at you in terror…god, he was such a good actor.

"P-Please…what are you doing? Let me go.."

"Let me go!!!", he yelled as you took out the knife you had as part of your Geto costume and pressed it against his throat. Thank god it was blunt.

"I'll slit your fucking throat if you make a sound", you said, lowering your voice to up the scare factor. He wanted scary, you'd give him scary.

Minho's eyes widened in feigned terror, although his heart was racing with excitement beneath his skimpy costume.

"Oh god oh god, please don't hurt me!" He whimpers loudly, tears welling up in his eyes for effect. "I-I have money! Take my money, just let me go!" Despite his pleading words, he arches his back as the cold blade pressed against his skin.

You toss the knife aside and grab both of his wrists in one large hand to pin them above his head while the other ran up his thighs, sliding the soaked panties to the side.

"I bet you're enjoying this, you slut." You spat, slapping his clit harshly, making him cry out.

"A-Ah please…no," his protests start to turn unconvincing as he bucks his hips upward.

He squirms and writhes under your grip, face flushed and chest heaving. Despite his protests, his dripping arousal is evident, juices glistening on his inner thighs.

"You're hurting me! This isn't what I wanted!" He cries out, voice cracking. He tries to clamp his legs shut but you easily part them further. "Please, I'll do anything, just don't do this! I'm begging you!"

He played it well. You almost felt bad. But you remind yourself that this is what he wanted. You knew he'd use his safe word, and that was all the reassurance you needed to proceed.

"I'll do whatever the fuck I want, you whore."

You say in the same lowered tone. You release his wrists only to cuff it with the handcuffs you grabbed from your nightstand drawer. Your hand which was now free from holding Minho's wrists went to wrap around his neck, putting light pressure, making him gasp and cry as you took off the lace panties and inserted two fingers in, scissoring roughly while your thumb pushed back the hood of his pussy and rubbed harshly against the extremely sensitive clit, making his milky, plush thighs shake and squirm.

Minho thrashes and bucks wildly as your long fingers invade his sopping cunt, scissoring roughly, thumb abusing his aching clit. Tears stream down his flushed cheeks, drool escaping the corner of his mouth as choked sobs spill forth.

"No! Aahh! S-Stop! You're r-ruining me!" He wails pitifully, even as he clenches greedily around the pumping digits. The handcuffs clink as he yanks fruitlessly at the restraints, only to spread his legs wider for your harsh touch.

"Am I? Good." Your tone was harsh, and you could see Minho fighting back a smile.

He was in heaven. Not being able to see your handsome face and hear your actual voice made the fear factor go up exponentially, but it was just as arousing since he knew that it was none other than his beloved boyfriend.

"I'll ruin you, you slut. I'll fucking do that."

Just as those words went past your lips, Minho came undone, sobbing as an intense orgasm took over him.

"You say you don't like this, but you're cumming so fast."

Tears run down his face as he looks up at you with glazed, half-lidded eyes. You reach out, breaking character for a second to run your thumb over his cheek.

"That's a good little slut," you whispered, pulling out your fingers and licking them clean. But you didn't intend to stop there. You undo your pants and boxers, revealing your erection. You gasped as the cold air hit your warm skin. "Let's see how well you can take dick."

"It won't fit! You'll tear me apart!" Minho whines, a pretty pout on his glossy lips. Despite his arousal, he finds himself shutting his quivering thighs, playing into the act. And god how you wanted to kiss those pouty lips you loved so much. But you were enjoying this too much, a big part because of how pleasured Minho looked from this.

"Shut up, whore."

You say harshly, slapping him across the face. You throw his pretty thighs open forcefully with your hand, gazing at the glistening folds through your mask before sliding your dick in, the process easy due to the arousal fluid as well as the previous orgasm's remnants on Minho's pussy.

"So fucking tight, little bunny."

Minho lets out a whimper as your cock spears into his tight heat, stretching him wide. His velvety walls clench and spasm around the invading thickness, moans and curses slipping past his plush lips. Tears run freely down his contorted face as he throws his head back, dark hair splayed across the pillow. His feet flex and toes curl from the intensity.

"P-Please…too big…gonna break me…"

"Stop resisting or it'll hurt more." You say menacingly as you thrust in roughly, every thrust making a bulge in Minho's belly, visible through the tight latex babydoll. He looked so pretty like this, his little hands reaching out to touch you but not being able to because of the restraints.

He whimpered between ragged breaths, squeezing his eyes shut. The brutal pounding of your cock is merciless, each thrust sending waves of excruciating bliss crashing through him. A wet squelch echoed with each snap of your hips, his pussy drenched and gaping around the invading shaft.

You wrap your hand around his throat, moving the index and middle fingers past his lips.

"Y-You fucking whore. Made for taking dick," you groan between thrusts. The words and your relentless abuse of his g-spot made way for the second orgasm which was signalled by his walls clenching around your cock, milking it for all its worth.

"Cumming already like a bitch in heat and you have the fucking nerve to resist me."

His tongue swirls around your fingers obediently, his loud screams muffled by them as he came again. His whole body seizes up, back bowing off the bed. His vision blurred by tears, he looks up at you again, knowing you won't stop.

You smile behind the mask, wanting to kiss his pretty face, but thrusting regardless. You bring his legs up, throwing them over your shoulders as you slam in with more force. Your grip on his thighs was bruising, and the sight of your large hands on his thighs made him clench around you. The assault on his senses made Minho let out the prettiest, most pathetic sounds. You could tell he was sensitive from the two orgasms, but you also knew he had good endurance.

His legs bring you in closer, heels rubbing against your back as he tried to stay still. His tiny hands fist at the sheets the best he could with the cuffs still on. Your thumb rubs at his clit and he bucks his hips, his walls fluttering and clenching around you.

"F-Fuck…"

You felt your climax approaching as your thrusts grew erratic.

"Gonna fucking breed your cunt. Show the whole world who owns you."

He makes a sound between a sob and a moan at your words, mumbling unintelligible protests in a weak attempt to stay in character, but his body screamed otherwise as yet another orgasm overtook him. Tears ran freely down his cheeks as he squeezed your back with his legs. As if on cue, you climaxed as well, riding out your high as you moved in and out of his heat weakly. His small frame trembles beneath yours, slick juices dripping down his thighs as he's pumped full of cum. He pants, not a single thought behind his eyes as his walls flutter around your softening member.

You pull out slowly, watching the beautiful sight of his pussy coated in cum and arousal, dripping wet and fluttering. You remove your mask, pulling your clothes up to wipe the sweat from your face. You pulled him onto your lap and wrapped your arms around his waist, taking off his babydoll and pulling him close to your chest.

"Baby?" Your voice was tender, a stark contrast to the menacing tone from earlier.

"Hm?" Minho melts into the embrace, nuzzling into the crook of your neck, inhaling your familiar scent. He looks at you, a contented smile playing on his lips. "You did such a good job, Mnie," he giggled softly, pressing a kiss to your pulse before continuing. "You scared me half to death and filled me up so well."

"And you did such a good job taking it, darling," you say, kissing his forehead. You wiped his tears and kissed his soft cheeks, a protective instinct taking ahold of you as you see how tiny he is in your arms.

"My pretty baby…my Minnie did so well, hm?"

A warm blush spread across his cheeks at your praise, his heart swelling with affection. "I try," he said, trying to be demure and modest, bringing a fond smile to your lips. You kiss his lips for the first time since you came home, humming at the taste of his chocolate lip gloss.

"I love you baby," you say, looking at him adoringly. He smiled. He would get so overwhelmed by the look in your eyes sometimes, whether it be tender or intense. You nuzzle his nose, tilting your head to give him another little kiss on the lips.

"I'll run a bath for you, okay princess?"

"I want burgers afterwards."

"And curly fries, I know."

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revelboo · 3 months ago

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oof ouch ough that angst HURT please madam i'm begging you don't make that canon i'm gonna puke if i have to watch all the idw bots suffer like that - oh god and the tiny baby newsparks would be doomed, either their carriers will die trying to sustain them or they'll fade away, i hate it!!!!

you even used my suggestion of kitten-twins against me... ow. to heal my heart, may i request more of cyclonus and tailgate? hopefully their human's fear will fade into numbness then acceptance quickly, it'll be hard to stay in hypervigilant prey mode when tailgate's doting on reader like a little princess.

Yeah, that angst fic isn’t cannon. I like drama, but I couldn’t actually do that to any of them.

Chain Me Free Pt 3

Tailgate x Reader x Cyclonus

• The terror had faded some after seeing the smaller robot monster, Tailgate you remind yourself, have a nervous breakdown because you were upset. That uneasy fear is still there, nerves jangling, but Tailgate seems bent on overwhelming you with attention until you’re too frazzled to be terrified. You half suspect he’s decided you’re either his personal teddy bear or a beloved puppy. Neither prospect particularly awesome. Legs swinging as you hang on to the arm around your middle tucking you against his frame while he jogs to keep up with the scary one’s, Cyclonus’s, longer stride. Though after watching him calming Tailgate and talking him through what you’re positive was a panic attack, you suspect he’s probably a big softy. Even if he spends a lot of time just frowning at you, they’ve yet to hurt you. That has to be a good sign.

• “Cyclonus, wait up.” Reaching out his free hand, he catches Cyclonus’s hand and the bigger mech finally slows down for him. Interlacing his servos with Cyclonus’s, he shifts you to settle on his hip, feeling those warm hands on his arm. “How are they supposed to get their bearings if you go through the ship so fast?” Can feel your little heart beating against him, the rhythm oddly soothing. Knows Cyclonus is annoyed with him, wanted to give you to someone else, but you’d come to him. Them. And he can’t believe that it was truly random, wants it to be more than a coincidence. That you’re meant to be with them.

• “If you ever let them actually walk, they’ll probably get under ped,” he mutters, feeling Tailgate’s servos tighten on his own in offense. You’re not screaming at least, just dangling and looking around with an almost dazed expression. Still in shock over finding yourself in a strange place among aliens. Feels sorry for you, but he has enough to deal with taking care of Tailgate. Doesn’t need an alien stray.

• “Being small doesn’t automatically make someone a burden,” Tailgate growls, shifting you on his hip again. Like you’re a toddler and his grip is much too tight. Looking around, you feel almost numb, because his rambling explanation had only made things worse. You’re on a ship in space hurtling away from your home and they don’t know when they’ll be able to get you back. They also can’t fully explain how you’d ended up here, your brain filing his excited jabbering under ‘magic.’ And you tense when you see an even bigger gray mech, but it’s the glimpse of a human cradled in his palm, holding onto his servos as he cups them to his chassis that startles you. That person smiling up at the giant and laughing at something he’s said before spotting you and waving with a grin. And they seem okay. That more than anything else breaks through the lingering fear as your own hand weakly lifts, then they’re gone, carried away by their mech.

• “I’m not going to run if you let me walk,” you say, head turning to look at him and Tailgate hesitates. Because as much as he hates it, Cyclonus has a point. Not all the bots on board remember to look down and you’re tiny. Much smaller than he is. “You’re squishing me a bit,” you add, expression pinched and he stops in dismay, awkwardly shuffling you until one of his arms is behind your back and the other behind your knees. “This works,” you murmur and you offer him a hesitant smile that spreads warm through him as he ignores Cyclonus’s tired venting.

#transformers x reader #cyclonus x reader #cyclonus #tailgate x reader #tailgate

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edosianorchids901 · 5 months ago

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Beyond the Mists

@sherlocktember2024 prompt - "poison"

“I really am extremely sorry,” Holmes gasped, and Watson’s expression softened from panicked anger to tenderness.

Watson was still shaking though, shaking as badly as Holmes was. They clutched at each other, Watson’s fingers digging into his arms, Holmes struggling to keep his own hands raised to hold on at all. His limbs were weak, and he kept losing hold.

He twisted his fingers on Watson’s jacket, desperate to be reassured that he was here and all right, and attempted to evaluate the situation. Stone under his back, cold even though his coat. Bushes and grass to either side. Fresh, chilly air without a trace of noxious smoke bearing a deadly poison.

“You have…” Holmes coughed again, and nearly lost hold of Watson’s jacket. “You have carried me outside, I presume.”

Watson nodded, still pale and shaking. He rubbed Holmes’ upper arm, as if in apology for holding onto him so tightly, or perhaps for shouting at him. He need not have apologized at all. “I saw your face. I came out of that fog, and I saw your face.”

“Ah.”

“The look on your face, Holmes.” A shudder rippled through Watson again, and he briefly closed his eyes. He opened them again quickly, as if terrified to let Holmes out of view for even a moment. “I have only seen such a look on the faces of the dead and insane here. I thought I had lost you to that terrible poison. That I had lost you again.

Watson’s voice broke, and his eyes filled with tears. Weakly, Holmes patted his chest. “It’s all right, Watson. You have not lost me.”

“I pulled you out of your seat and held you to my chest, half carrying you outside. You screamed while I held you, and after I laid you down. My God, Holmes, the way you screamed.”

Holmes had been lost in visions of evil and malice, consumed by terror far more severe than he had experienced in years. It still lingered even now, a terribly heightened fear. “I was not myself.”

“I know. You did not know me, you were not answering me…” Tears slipped down Watson’s cheeks. “I’ve hardly ever been so terrified. I did not know what horrors were tormenting you, and there was nothing I could do to protect you from them. Just like at Reichenbach Falls.”

“It was the Falls that I saw.” All at once, Holmes could not breathe again. He could not stop shaking either, and his heart beat faster and faster. “The Falls, and Moriarty, and…”

Quite suddenly, he burst into tears. It was not the sort of thing he was in the habit of doing, and especially not in front of someone else. But the terror of those visions rose again, sudden unbearable distress, and he clutched desperately at Watson as sobs wrenched through him.

“My God, Holmes!” Watson bent, scooped him up off the path, and cradled him close. One hand curled around the back of his head, other arm wrapped under his shoulder blades. “Holmes, what is it? Is something else wrong?”

“N-no, I’m all right, just…” Holmes sobbed again, hiding his face in Watson’s neck. Terrible tremors struck, and he could not calm himself. “Oh, Watson. I am so very glad to be with you.”

“My dear Holmes.” Watson clutched him tighter, holding him up. “I’m here. You’re safe now. We’re both safe now. Just breathe.”

“I fear that is a little difficult.” Another cough shook him, and his head spun. He dug his fingers into Watson’s coat again, seizing the fabric to keep his hand from falling. He was so very weak. “I still do not feel myself.”

“I know.” Breathing hard, Watson combed his fingers through Holmes’ hair, then cradled him even more securely. Watson, thankfully, did not seem to be suffering the same sort of weakness. Without his strength, Holmes could not have remained upright. “We have both just been poisoned. The effect may linger for a while.”

It was certainly lingering. Holmes’ head pounded, crashing pain in his temples, and aches spread through the rest of his body. He still couldn’t stop shaking, and the state of heightened emotions remained. His tears dripped to Watson’s jacket.

But his quick, hyperventilating breaths had slowed, even with the those images of terror still threading through his mind. Moriarty seemed close, still grappling with him, and the crash of the Falls echoed in his ears. But he was in Watson’s arms, the safest place in all the world. He need not be afraid.

Watson was calming too, and although he let out a few sobs of his own, they sounded like those of relief. He simply held Holmes close, his chest heaving as well, yet his breaths beginning to settle.

Neither of them spoke now. Instead they clung to each other, shivering despite the warm sunlight. It felt almost as if speaking might shatter the moment of fragile peace and relief.

Which was not remotely logical. And yet, the impression was so strong that Holmes maintained his silence as long as he could stand, merely focusing on the solidity of the man beside him.

“Your shoulder and leg,” he finally murmured, low, unwilling to disturb the peace even with his worry. “Am I harming you?”

Watson’s arm tightened around him, and one hand slid down to cradle the nape of Holmes’ neck. “My old wounds are of no consideration to me right now.”

So it was causing him at least a little pain. Holmes still could not bring himself to pull back, and he suspected Watson would not have wished to let go of him.

Ordinarily, Holmes did not easily tolerate long physical contact. Watson’s gentle hand on his arm for a moment was one thing. An embrace was something else, generally too restrictive, the sort of contact that made him wish to retreat.

At the moment, however, he wished to stay here for the foreseeable future. It was only Watson’s arms around him that kept him from falling to pieces again.

“It seems I owe you a thousand thanks in addition to the apologies.” Letting out a long breath, Holmes managed at last to relax into the embrace, although he found himself unable to stop desperately clinging to Watson’s jacket. If he released his grip, he would lose what balance he would manage to regain, and likely hurt Watson worse. “You saved my life, Watson, and my sanity. I am deeply indebted to you.”

“No, you’re not. You don’t owe me anything.” With a shaky exhale, Watson ran a gentle stroke across his hair. “I am so relieved you’re all right, old man. I cannot possibly express how relieved I am.”

Holmes still wasn’t entirely certain that he was all right. Those horrible visions remained, looming so prominently in his mind, and he still could not stop trembling. The poison and resulting fear had been a severe strain on his already overtaxed body, hardly a helpful thing after his long illness.

“Are you all right?” he asked, nuzzling into Watson’s shoulder. “I poisoned you as well, and I fear I have neglected to properly inquire after your well being.”

Watson gave a soft snort, arms tightening around him again. “Well, I don’t think I’m nearly as affected by the poison as I am by seeing you so frightened. My own state is of very little concern to me.”

“Good old Watson. You are truly remarkable.” Exhausted, Holmes closed his eyes and sank deeper into the embrace. “Dear me. We should likely rise and dispose of that deadly lamp, but I am a little reluctant to abandon the support of your shoulder.”

“There is no rush.” Letting out another long breath, Watson stroked his hair again. “You are welcome to my shoulder for as long as you would like, Holmes.”

As it was entirely Holmes’ fault that they were in this situation, he could not help a twinge of guilt for begging Watson’s indulgence. But Watson still seemed just as eager to be close to him, and had shown no sign of wishing to let go. So for a little while longer, they would sit in the sunlight, and take comfort in the simple relief of holding onto each other.

#sherlock holmes #john watson #granada holmes #sherlocktember2024

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i-starcreamed · 2 years ago

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MIRAGE X READER

hii rotb has made me fall in love with...a lot more transformers now. This is just a silly idea I had, kinda lame but idc. Being cringe and free now. Anyways, planning to make this a small series maybe? Mirage lovers where are you?? Could eventually make this a mirage x reader x Noah, love them both, really. Or you know, Noah could be a third wheel, you guys decide that

[ human!gn reader summary: You have no idea how you got into this situation. First, you were trying to steal a true beauty of a car with your friend Noah to get some extra cash with Reek working behind the scenes (apparently) And now, you were in the Porche you guys were planning to steal. Mind you, it's currently driving itself.

"Holy shit!" You yelled in terror as the car careened wildly around the curve, sending both you and Noah lurching to the left side of the vehicle. You clung onto the door handle for dear life, your heart pounding in your chest as a combination of fear and adrenaline caused you to burst out into wild laughter. Noah, on the other hand, let out an ear-splitting, high-pitched scream as he death-gripped onto the steering wheel with both hands. "STOP STOP STOP!"

The radio kept picking up a certain frequency, it was static-y but still clear enough to understand it kept reaching out towards something or someone named Mirage.

After crashing several police cars, running red lights, and being tossed around the car, the silver and blue Porche entered a warehouse of some sort and literally tossed you out onto the cement. Noah groaned as he rolled on his side. You on the other hand, didn't manage to fall onto the ground and gripped onto the seat. You thought it was over but noo, all of a sudden the car decides to transform, its component parts moving and shifting into new positions. You stare in awe and fear as the walls around you warp and bend ever so slightly; the seat beneath you shifts away from you before slowly, almost hesitantly dropping you onto the ground. You stare up and after a couple seconds, the car transformed into a fucking robot. Towering several feet in front of you and Noah, you both stare up in fear. You're a bit amazed honestly, you're staring at a giant metal dude stretch and prance around the warehouse, ranting about being cooped up this entire time.

You and Noah shared a look.

"But that was cool, you guys are cool. A bit loud, ehh, but cool." The robot stood in front of you now, his gaze focused on the both of you. You froze, Noah scrambled around to pick up a metal pipe. "Woah woah woah!" The robot held his hands up. You cursed under your breath and scrambled to get behind Noah, trying to look for anything you can use as a weapon as the robot focused on Noah. You found a couple loose bolts and nuts on the ground and scooped them up in your palm.

You approached Noah's side, menacingly brandishing the tiny screws in your hand. The robot quickly put his hands in the air. "What are you gonna do, you gonna hit me?"

You both looked at eachother. Noah shifted, adjusting his stance while still holding up the pipe. "Maybe?" The robot made a noise akin to a scoff and his left arm started transforming into something else, oh god oh fuck. Before you even had time to register it, you threw a bolt at him. It hit his arm and he froze. "Hey- what?"

You were launching bolts at him, your shots greeted with a "hey, hey, hey!" each time they clanked against his frame. You kept getting closer, pushing him back further and further, surprising yourself with your own nerve. That confidence instantly disappeared when he whipped out his arm-gun, the blue light from the barrel seemed to lock onto you and Noah, like two deer in headlights. "Can you- stop throwing those things at me?!"

"woah, woah, woah-" Noah quickly put his hands up and walked up to you, standing in front of you. "Let's all calm down, alright? Alright? We good?" "Noah, what the hell is this about?" You whisper yelled.

"I dont know! Just dont get us killed" he whisper yelled back.

You huffed defiantly, you quickly took the bat from Noah's hands and tightly gripped it. You adopted a battle-ready stance, staring down the giant robot - thing? - truly unyielding. Neither of you backed down until he put the gun down, straightening up. "Okay okay, you're brave. I like that."

Your face dropped, dumbfounded. Noah reached out and firmly snatched the bat from you, his face a mask of barely-contained irritation. "what did I fucking tell you about not trying to get us killed, dude?" He hissed.

What the hell was going on.

#transformers x reader #transformers rotb #rotb x reader #rotb mirage #mirage x reader #maccadam #rise of the beasts #tf x reader #noah diaz

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theallianceofcelestials · 2 months ago

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Hey! Thanks for the well wishes! Can we have a drabble about SEA's KC meeting Daycare attendant Eclipse? Like in that What if they met Eclipse while he was still a Daycare Attenant ask, Along with the rest of the family if you want, it's been plaguing me since I asked about it! (Joke)

Hope you have a great day! :D

- 🎭

Let's just do KC for now, but just know the rest of the family is also out and has escaped the Foundation.

This is also gonna be the last drabble for a while I think while I think about something :P

(Also have a great day!)

This new world is so strange. It's filled with things and buildings he doesn't recognise, people that look so strange and speak in a language much simpler than theirs, and there're people who look like them but are clearly much weaker too. The humans call them animatronics.

They seem to be treated inferiorly, which does not surprise him. Humans have always been horrid creatures.

There're also new things humans make and sell too. Some he recognises the importance of, like bakers who sell already prepared bread and much more, stores which sell ingredients, butchers specialising more towards meat, clothing shops and the restaurants where you can order already prepared food if you don't have the time. Why these cost money now, he doesn't know, but he understands their existence. Food and clothing are important.

What he can't understand are these new services that seem so inane to him. Why are clowns important for example?

Also, why is furniture for sale? Aren't those better off in houses? Why aren't they already distributed?

It appears as if humanity took as many steps backwards as it took forward with how primitive and idiotic their system has become. They call it society now he thinks.

Like what is a daycare?

He pauses in front of the building, now clearly closed or at least in the process of it, trying to look through the glass and failing. But he can see the movement inside.

Killcode hums, shrugging. What bad could it be to explore? If the human inside has any issues, he can just murder them.

So he pushes the door open, unknowingly sealing his fate.

.*.*.*.

Today has been awful.

There were too many children dropped off, probably because the administration of this place does not fucking care, the new ones were all misbehaving little shits and some of the parents put their children to shame with their screaming. He wasn't made to handle adults throwing tantrums for crying out loud!

And now the daycare is a complete mess that he has to clean up alone, because this place can't be bothered to do the bare minimum and hire at least a cleaner. He has to do everything by himself.

The new body is also giving him slight troubles, because he's taller now. And more modern too or whatever. He's not used to towering over the kids even more, and he's not used to his new strength yet.

But it doesn't matter, he can get used to it. And the day is over, so after he's done here he can quick back and relax. Sleep sounds good right about now.

So of course the door opens. Of course someone wants to bother him now.

"We're closed!"

It's probably not good to shout at humans, but whatever. Eclipse doesn't care right now.

He just wants whoever's there gone, and if they just continue standing there quietly he's going to murder them, he swears. Bashing someone's skull in right now sounds about heavenly, and well, if the person is homeless, then nobody would-

Stop it Eclipse! Get a hold of yourself!

He takes in a deep vent, willing himself to calm at least marginally, amd turns around.

"Hello, can I hel-"

He cuts himself off, jumping away from the creature that's too close and too quiet and dear god this is not an animatronic what the fuck is this run run RUN

Something in him is screaming in sheer terror, looking at this being that he just knows is not an animatronic, if only because no sane human would make something like that.

The creature before him is tall, more than twice his own height to be precise and he's over three meters, with long thin, but strong arms that end with giant clawed fingers, and long, long legs that remind him of an animal. Burning blood red optics are staring at him unblinkingly, and he tenses.

If this thing jumps him, he's going to die

He doesn't want to. Not when he isn't even alive

The large being tilts its head at him, clearly curious, and he wants to hysterically laugh and defy logic to cry, because this is just his luck. Something or someone must really hate him.

They stare at each other silently, and he feels locked in place. He's never felt like this before. It's like a new part of his code activated.

"I am Killcode"

Oh okay, that's nice. Just ignore the tension and the fear Eclipse and introduce yourself to the nightmare beast before you.

"I'm- I'm Ec-Eclipse"

The being nods, looking at him strangely. There's something soft to him.

"Say son, do you wish to come with me?"

And Eclipse, who'd give anything to get out of here, but who'd now also give many things to get away from this beast too, freezes.

His processor also lags on something stupid.

"Son?"

"Yes. You're my child now. And I do not like it when my family is separated."

So of course this is when his overtaxed systems give out and he shuts down.

#OurEssays #Moongleam answers #Scientist Eclipse's Adventures #the sun and moon show #sun and moon show #tsams #sams #tsams killcode #sams killcode #tsams eclipse #sams eclipse

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batsandbirdbrains · 14 days ago

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Another idea has popped into my head at a most inopportune time so let me try and get it out quickly

The one where Ra’s al Ghul is Dick’s biological father

It’s yj post season 2, and Dick has been spiraling for months now without anyone noticing. Let’s age him down to 15 for funsies. He spread himself way too thin, taking over as Batman in Gotham while Bruce was in space, running the team, organizing training sessions, taking care of Tim, making sure Kaldur’s cover didn’t get blown, trying and failing to convince Artemis to come back and then having to go undercover as Renegade so he could give Kaldur some backup, all while being Nightwing. Not to mention high school.

And now that everything is over and the invasion was successfully thwarted thanks to all of Dick’s plans, everyone has turned on him and cast him out, calling him a liar and secretive and a bad leader. As if Dick even wanted to be the leader in the first place.

Now even Bruce is criticizing the way he handled things, the way he wasn’t a good enough Batman, the way he didn’t train Tim well enough, the way his grades weren’t perfect enough, the way the Renegade cover with Deathstroke wasn’t safe enough. As if Dick had any sort of backup at all. As if Dick wasn’t the one literally holding everything together by the skin of his teeth.

So he flees. It was just gonna be for a few days. Just to cool down, get his head on straight, to stop feeling like he was two seconds from a panic attack at any given moment. To stop seeing shadows of Jason in the corner of his eye, a haunting voice telling him he’s a failure and it’s all his fault and everything is his fault.

He wasn’t expecting to be found by anyone, much less someone like Ra’s al Ghul. But to his shock, Ra’s isn’t taunting him. He isn’t terrorizing him. He’s just sitting with him, looking over the Blüdhaven city lights with their legs dangling over the edge of a building.

“What are you gonna do?” Dick asks after a quiet minute. “Push me off? Wait for me to do it myself?”

“No,” he says simply, softly. “I’m here to tell you news I only just learned myself.”

“Oh yeah?” His voice is like a whispered breath. “And what’s that?”

“You’re my heir.”

Dick’s brain freezes. He forgets how to breathe, how to blink, until Ra’s lays a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“The hell does that mean?”

“You’re a bright boy,” Ra’s says. “I’m sure you can figure it out.”

“That’s not possible,” Dick says quickly. “My parents were-“

“Very kind people who took in a baby without question,” Ra’s finishes for him. “I don’t doubt that they loved you very much and thought of you as their own, but you were not their blood.”

“That’s,” Dick stutters. “I don’t believe you.”

“You don’t have to yet,” Ra’s tells him. “Run your own tests. Do your own investigation, little detective. But you will find the same result every time. And when you’re ready to admit the truth, you can find me.”

He leaves Dick with a card and a freshly plucked hair. Dick goes back to his safe house and spends the night screaming into a pillow then dissociating in the bathtub, the shitty water pressure from the shower head eventually turning ice cold.

It’s two more months, a DNA test, and six more visits from Ra’s before Dick admits the truth.

He’s Ra’s al Ghul’s son.

Oh God, Talia is his sister. He wants to gauge his own eyes out and rip off his ears at the thought of having to be civil with her.

Ra’s brings him to Nanda Parbat. Dick has nothing more than a ratty backpack stuffed with a couple sentimental items from his circus days - Zitka the stuffed elephant, his dad’s leather jacket, and a locket his mother had with pictures of all three of them inside - but Ra’s starts promising him the world.

It’s not until months later that the Justice League and the team realize that Dick is missing. It takes them weeks after that to find any trace of him from before he left, and they don’t like what they find. Meetings with Ra’s al Ghul, surveillance footage of a rundown looking boy acting like a ghost around Blüdhaven, worried notes from teachers from months before showing that he’d needed help before the invasion even ended. Proof that they’d ignored the kid right in front of them and chose to push him away instead.

Then there’s whispers of Ra’s having a new heir, of a Shadow who Ra’s is incredibly fond of, of a boy who Ra’s laughs with and calls his son and tells all of his allies is his new light - his little flame.

And then they see videos from a recent Light gathering they’d spied on, and they see Ra’s introduce Dick to them all. He’s so proud, so smug to show off his boy. And Dick looks right at home.

And they have no idea what to do.

#dick grayson #young justice #bruce wayne #ra’s al ghul #league of shadows #I love making Dick deal with Situations #is he playing the long game is he exploiting his newfound relationship with Ra’s or does he actually feel wanted and likes his new role? id #and the JL doesn’t know either lmao #I’d imagine there’s some infighting in the league between those who think Dick is now the enemy and those who think he needs to be saved #also I imagine Damian as like a ten year old in this and he and Dick are now bffs best uncle and nephew #Damian adores Dick. the feeling is very mutual

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pluto-supremacy · 1 year ago

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Viktor Fic: Matching Scars

➼ As promised, an arcane character x reader fic!

➼ Viktor x m!reader, reader basically replaces Sky here. With some major differences of course. I won't give it away (you don't get dusted)

➼ No beta we die like Vander (at least til they finally release s2, November cannot come fast enough)

➼ Warnings: mentions of cutting (Viktor slicing his palm, the runes carved into his body) and a gun (the device he uses to inject the shimmer, couldn't think of a better word for it)

GIF doesn't belong to me! All credits to the original owner

Viktor steadied himself on his feet, holding the gun to his arm. Inside the device was a vial of shimmer, modified of course, the same vial that he used in his other..experiment. The same one that turned his injured right leg into the same purple hue as the vial’s contents. Singed was right, it worked. He no longer needed his cane, his limp that he was born with was finally gone. Now he just had to go a bit further, he didn’t have much time. Carved into his skin were runes identical to those on the hexcore. Finally, he pulled the trigger and waited for the pain, for the shimmer to course through his veins.

Only it never came. That searing, heart-wrenching pain was absent. As he unloaded the gun he checked the vial to see that there wasn’t even a drop of shimmer left. He was out. Going across the bridge to the Undercity again wasn’t an option. It was difficult enough to go through when the barricade first went up, but now with these carvings all over him? With his leg? Jayce wouldn’t understand. He’d simply have to go on without it, hope that the shimmer from his first test run was still pumping through his bloodstream and that he could withstand the process. Without any further delays, he took the knife and slit his palm, holding his hand out for the hexcore.

It was late at night. There should be no one to bother him. But there was. You were pacing up and down the halls just outside of the lab, rambling to yourself. "Viktor! Hey! I was just wondering if you'd mind looking over my notes- no, no" you sigh to yourself. "Viktor, I was hoping that whenever you're free, you'd be interested in- god I can't do this." This happened a few times before. Trying to pump yourself up to talk to the scientist only to chicken out before your hand could touch the handle. You've known Viktor since you were kids, you grew up in the Undercity together. Even if you two never got to spend too much time together, you've had your eye on Viktor for a while.

"No! No, not this time. You're doing this and that's final. So with no further delay, you finally laid your hand on the door handle, turning it and opening the door to finally ask Viktor out!

Only that didn't happen. Frozen in shock as you see Viktor with his hand on the hexcore, carvings littering his body, his injured leg an unnatural shade of purple and glowing, his hand taking on the same hue as he screamed in pain. Without thinking you lept forward, notebooks clattering to the ground as you wrapped your arms around Viktor's bare torso, trying to pull him away. "Viktor no! Stop!"

The longer you held on the more pain you were in, the more Viktor alternated between trying to pull himself off of the hexcore and trying to push you away. "Y/N, let go!" he yelled over the noise. Terror flooded his eyes as he saw the same purple scarring starting at your hands, the damned marks slowly creeping up your arms. His blood was fusing him to the wretched core, if this kept up someone was going to die. And something told Viktor that someone wouldn't be him.

Adreniline coursing through his viens and screams ringing in his ears, Viktor launched forward as far as he could, taking both you and himself to the ground. His hand was free, the hexcore rattling around violently as it ate away at the blood already inside it. Something deep within the arcane was calling to him, making the thought of leaving you and trying again cross his mind. That went out the window as soon as he saw you were hardly breathing. Not in good condition, but alive. That's all he could ask for. His own hand now had matching scars with both of your own.

He couldn't carry you, hell he could hardly carry himself. That didn't stop him from trying. Collecting his cane, he struggled to help you up and sling your arm over his shoulder. Slowly, oh so slowly, he hobbled back to his room, you leaning on him and Viktor heavily relying on his cane. Every so often you would groan or make some soft pained noise, causing him to whisper apologies. As soon as he reached his room he laid you down on his bed, tears finally falling down his cheeks.

"Y/N I'm so sorry...you were never supposed to get hurt..." his voice was shaky, trying so hard not to break and crack as he spoke. Weakly, you raised your hand to cup Viktor's cheek, a small smile spreading over your lips. "I'll take my apology by you going to dinner with me" you managed to get out between little gasps for air. It still felt like there wasn't enough air filling your lungs like a weight was placed on your chest. Turns out that weight was Viktor, he had leaned in to press your chests together, wanting to hear every word that left your lips. Despite everything, he found himself smiling right along with you, leaning his head into your hand. "I'll make us a reservation as soon as you feel better love."

Viktor pulled back, both to let you breathe and to collect his first aid supplies. He had been through this once before, and while there was nothing he could do to cure your hands, the kit had painkillers. The best solution he found was just moisturizing the scarred skin to avoid irritation. "Looks like you and I will be wearing gloves as a new outfit staple" he tried to lighten the mood, fetching a glass of water from the tap in the bathroom. He limped back to the bed, handing you the glass of water and two small pills. "It will help with the pain. The scars, however...from what I can devise they're permanent." You sat up slightly to take the meds, nodding along as Viktor began to expalin what he was doing with the hexcore. From the begining.

"...You're an idiot." You sighed, now lying in bed beside Viktor. He had gotten dressed, now in a simple shirt and pants. You were wearing one of his shirts as well, though remained in just your boxers. Pants would just make you overheat more. "You should've come to me, I could've helped. Or at least stopped you from your second attempt." Despite the light scolding you were giving him, he simply held you closer to his chest. "I didn't want to endanger anyone. Especially you" his voice grew quieter towards the end. Truth be told, he had a thing for you for a while now as well. Viktor was just afraid of messing up whatever was between you two. It was hard to stay mad at him when he was just looking out for you.

You closed your eyes, chest rising and falling steadily along with Viktor's. "Well we need to destroy that hexcore now. We'll deal with it in the morning. Together." There was no way you were leaving him alone with that thing again. "Together," Viktor agreed "Get some rest. We can have a late start tomorrow, lie in late for once. Goodnight, Y/N." he pressed a gentle kiss to your temple, his good hand slowly rubbing up and down your back beneath your shirt. "Goodnight, Viktor." You whispered back, falling asleep in the comfort and safety of your new lover's arms.

Even if you now had some rather nasty-looking scars, you would have to say you wouldn't have it any other way. Viktor was still here, he wasn't a pile of ash, and even better he was here in your arms.

#arcane #viktor x male reader #viktor x reader #viktor arcane #male reader #viktor x you

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enigmalynne · 10 months ago

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Life at the Breaking Point: Love, Duty, and a Deadly Confrontation in the ER

Title – Life at the Breaking Point: Love, Duty, and a Deadly Confrontation in the ER Pairings – Jensen x Reader, Jared x Madison Word Count – 8,526 Warnings – mentions of shootings, beatings and violence, inaccurate police scenarios, hostage situation JAcklesverse Square – “I thought I lost you forever.”

He's a SWAT team member at the Sheriff's Office, and she's a doctor at St. David's Medical Center Emergency Room. They met at Jared and Madison's wedding, becoming fast friends with a longing for more that the other knows nothing about.

Those feelings come screaming to the front of his head and heart when Jensen hears about a shooting at the hospital where Y/N works, where she's held hostage at gunpoint. Will he be able to remain professional, or is his love for this doctor going to make him do something crazy?

Y/N was sitting at her desk, typing notes from her last patient, when she heard the popping sound. She didn’t think anything of it at first since the emergency room faced the highway and cars backfired all the time, but when she heard the succession of pops a second time, she lifted her eyes toward the glass doors heading outside.

“What was that?” one of the nurses asked as she walked by. Y/N kept her eyes on the glass doors and listened intently for the sound again. When she heard it the third time, it was louder, closer to the entrance. She knew what it was immediately.

“Oh, God,” she muttered, eyes going wide. She swung her head toward the nurses standing nearby. “Get as many people and patients out of here as you can. Get them to the elevators and send them up at least three floors.”

“What?” a nurse asked.

“Now!” Y/N shouted, grabbing the phone in front of her. “Go!!” The women were startled and started running into action. With a quick punch of numbers, Y/N’s voice went over the intercom for the entire emergency room.

“Code Red! We have a Code Red in the emergency room!” she said, looking behind her to ensure people were moving. “Code Red in Emergency!”

Suddenly, the front doors to the emergency room were kicked open, glass breaking and metal bending. The mechanism that makes them slide open sparked and broke, causing them to stop working. Y/N ducked her head to make sure none of the glass got close to the desk area she was at.

“Someone get over here and help me!” a furious voice shouted. Y/N looked toward the entrance of the ER to see a man standing there, holding another man who looked like he had been shot. He had a gun in his hand, and Y/N instantly knew he was the one firing the shots outside.

“You!” he growled, pointing the weapon in Y/N’s face with furiously narrowed eyes. She immediately lifted her hands in a show of surrender despite her fear. A few nurses and an orderly nearby froze when they saw the weapon.

“You. You a doctor?” he asked. Y/N nodded.

“Yeah, I’m a doctor,” she responded.

“Good. You help him. If he dies, you die,” the man said. Y/N nodded again, swallowing back her terror.

“What… what happened to him?” she asked carefully.

“What does it look like happened to him? He was shot, you dumb bitch!” the guy shouted. Y/N flinched. “Now help him, or you’ll be shot next!”

“Can you take the gun off us long enough for us to help him? Please?” she asked timidly. The guy gave her an incredulous look, but she continued. “Just put it away until we get him into a room and get him help. You can keep it on me the entire time I’m working on him, but for now, I need you to put it away so we can focus,” she begged.

The man glared at Y/N before looking back at the man he was carrying. He looked back at the doctor before nodding his head and slipping the gun into his jacket pocket. Once it was out of sight, Y/N moved.

“I need a gurney here! Now!” she shouted, causing a flurry of action. The two nurses ran up while the orderly dashed off to find a gurney. Y/N helped the nurses assess the injured man as best they could and lifted the wounded man onto it once the gurney showed up. As it rolled away, stats started to be shouted out.

“Gunshot wound to the abdomen, no exit wound. We need to get him intubated.”

“Trauma 2 is open; make a hole, people!”

“Blood pressure is low; pulse is thready; he needs a transfusion; get me two units of O-Neg!”

“Someone get surgery on the phone, let them know we need a room now!!”

As they were running into the trauma room, the gunman followed along close by.

“What’s his name?” someone asked.

“Mark,” the gunman said. “His name is Mark.”

“Count of three, people… one, two, three,” Y/N said, and the group moved the victim onto the bed. The activity kicked up a notch as a third nurse jumped in to assist by putting leads on his chest and turned on the monitors nearby, causing beeping and tones to start in the room over their talking.

“Mark, can you hear me? I’m Doctor Y/N,” she said, checking out his eyes. Y/N continued to assess the injury as one nurse cut the clothing off him and another put an IV in his arm. More information is being shouted around, causing the gunman to watch in confusion.

“Mark, if you can hear me, squeeze my fingers,” Y/N said, putting two fingers inside his left hand. When nothing happened, Y/N frowned, shaking her head. Suddenly, alarms went off around them.

“He’s flatlining!”

“Someone get the LUCAS!” Y/N shouted. One of the nurses ran off to grab the machine while Y/N and the other nurse got the man ready. “Get that bag ready!”

“C’mon, Mark, don’t do this to us,” Y/N muttered as the three women got the machine into place. As the nurses strapped Mark’s arms into place, Y/N set the machine and once cleared, it began compressions.

“Start breathing for him,” she snapped at one of the nurses. Every twenty compressions, a nurse squeezed the bag connected to the vent in his throat to provide air into his lungs. The gunman watched with wide, panicked eyes. Just then, the surgeon, Benny, walked into the room.

“What d’ya got?” he asked, his Creole accent thick. The gunman was startled and pulled his gun back out of his pocket, having forgotten about it while watching the work being done to his friend. Y/N noticed it and tried to hold the man’s arm down. In frustration, he yanked his arm free and whipped the gun across her face, causing gasps from the nurses in the room.

“Whoa,” the surgeon shouted, stepping forward to stop the attack but freezing when the gun was pointed at him. Y/N was on the ground, a hand on her now bleeding head.

“Back off,” the gunman growled.

“Stop!” Y/N shouted roughly from the ground. “We have to get him into surgery if you want us to save his life!” The gunman glanced at her on the floor, then backed up at the people in the curtained room.

“She’s right,” one of the nurses explained. “He was shot in the stomach, and there isn’t an exit wound. The bullet is still in his stomach somewhere, and we have to get in there, get it out, and stop the bleeding.”

“Look, man, if you want to save his life, you have to let us work,” Benny said, his hands placatingly. He’s already on the LUCAS, which means he’s already close to death. The more time we waste here, the less of a chance he has.”

The gunman reached down and grabbed Y/N by the hair, pulling her up. Once she was on her knees in front of him, he placed the gun on her temple. The other people in the emergency room whimpered at the movement, including Y/N. The gunman looked back up at Benny expectantly.

“I will kill her if he dies,” he said. “Now, go.” Benny glanced down at Y/N’s tear-filled face before turning and giving orders to the nurses. The three pulled the gurney toward the elevator and made the move to the surgical floor. There was a momentary pause where the quiet took over, then the gunman dragged her up to her feet and shoved her ahead of him so they could walk back into the waiting area.

“You’re coming with me, Doc,” he said, keeping his weapon aimed at her head, his hand still gripping her hair. Y/N swallowed back a sob, tears still running down her face. “Get up.”

Attention all units: shots were fired at St. David’s Medical Center Emergency Room, with an unknown number of shooters, at least four victims.

Jensen was finishing up some paperwork in his vehicle when the call came over the radio, causing him to pause and listen to the report. St. David’s Medical Center is where Y/N worked, a woman he met at Jared’s wedding a few years ago. Throwing his car into drive with lights flashing and sirens blaring, Jensen peeled out of the parking lot he was sitting in and headed toward the hospital as fast as he could.

When Jared told him he was proposing to Madison, a schoolteacher he fell in love with after meeting her at a law enforcement appreciation day, he couldn’t have been happier for the man. Jensen had seen Jared through many failed relationships because he was a law enforcement officer, and he hated seeing his friend discouraged. As a man from a big family, Jared always imagined having a wife of his own with three or four kids running around. When Jared and Madison met, Jensen could see the instant connection. When Jared asked Jensen for help picking out a ring a year later, he couldn’t have been happier for his best friend.

During the planning process, he, the best man, met the maid of honor, Y/N. The emergency room doctor was the complete opposite of Madison. While both girls were outgoing, friendly, and energetic, Madison was more sophisticated and genteel, whereas Y/N was a bit more wild and carefree. Jensen had no idea how they became best friends until he saw them hanging out together, and their personalities blended perfectly.

The two spent much time together helping the bride and groom prepare for a storybook wedding, laughing and making fun of the couple. They connected instantly and even gave a joint toast at the reception. They have remained friends ever since, though if Jared had his way, they would have been a couple since the end of the wedding.

Jensen arrived at the hospital quickly and jumped out of his SUV, eyes scanning the building. He popped open the back and unlocked the case that held his rifle. He pulled it across his chest and slid some extra magazines into the slots on his bulletproof vest before closing the hatch, locking his car, and running up to where the rest of the deputies had taken point. Once he got to a safe location, he knelt and aimed at the front of the hospital. Five minutes later, Jared Padalecki came up beside him.

“Mads called me on my way over,” Jared said quietly. Jensen glanced over at him, but Jared’s narrowed eyes never left the front doors to the emergency room. “Y/N’s working today and isn’t answering her phone.”

“Fuck,” Jensen cursed under his breath. “That means she’s in there and probably one of the hostages.”

“Yeah.”

“Ackles! Get over here!” a voice shouted from the Incident Command Center bus. Jensen popped up from where he was and ran over.

“Yessir!”

“I understand you have a solid understanding of this hospital, including how we can contact someone inside,” Lieutenant Singer said. Jensen nodded.

“Yes, sir, I do.”

“You’re coming with me, Doc,” he said, keeping his weapon aimed at her head, his hand still gripping her hair. Y/N swallowed back a sob, tears still running down her face. “Get up. The rest of you get moving. If you can walk, walk up front,” he growled. The remaining nurses, techs, and patients who could move did so quickly with their hands up in surrender. With the gun pressed to Y/N’s head, the hostages knew they had to obey the gunman’s orders.

“Look,” Y/N started, stumbling as she tried to keep up with the man dragging her by her hair. “We have sick patients in the ER right now. There are injured people just outside the doors; they need medical attention. Please, you have to let us help them, or they could die.”

“I can’t do that,” he said quietly. The man cocked his weapon, causing Y/N to inhale sharply and the people nearby to cry out. Once they were in the waiting room in front of the ER, he ordered the hostages to line up. When they didn’t move, he shouted. “Line up against those fucking windows, now! Or someone else will get shot today!” Everyone rushed to line up against the windows, sobbing echoing through the now-empty waiting room.

The gunman glanced out the front doors, catching sight of the flashing lights, and cursed under his breath. Looking around, he ordered two of the hostages to stand in front of the shattered doors. They scampered to do his bidding, glancing at Y/N as they went by. The gunman continued to drag her with him, his fist tightening in her hair. Y/N whimpered, wincing at the pain in her scalp.

“Why don’t you tell me your name, huh?” she said suddenly, trying to get him talking.

“I’m not telling you my fucking name!” he shouted, spittle flying from his mouth. Y/N flinched, her hands starting to shake as she held onto his hand in her hair. The gunman aimed his gun toward the ceiling and fired a round, the sound echoing around the emergency room, causing people to scream.

“Any more dumbass questions, and the next one will be in your head, understand?” the gunman growled. Y/N nodded as well as she could with his grip on her. Suddenly, a phone on the main desk rang. The gunman growled as he shifted his gun to one of the nurses standing by the windows.

“YOU! What’s your name?” he asked a young brunette in bright pink scrubs who was crying. She whimpered loudly before swallowing hard.

“Ma… ma… Maggie,” she stuttered.

“Well, ma, ma, Maggie…” he said, mocking the girl. “Answer the fucking phone and get rid of whoever it is.” Maggie nodded, rushed over to the desk, lifted the receiver, and placed it to her ear.

“He… hello?”

“This is Lieutenant Singer of the Travis County Sheriff’s Office. Is everyone okay?”

“Yes, sir.”

“How many hostages are in there with you?”

“Um, well…”

“Hang up the fucking phone!” the gunman shouted, causing Maggie to flinch and whimper.

“See if you can get him on the phone,” Singer said calmly. Maggie looked over at the gunman and held the phone out to him.

“It’s the police. He says he wants to talk to you,” she said, her voice slightly whimpering. The gunman dragged Y/N with him as he stalked over to where the nurse sat, snatching the phone out of her hand.

“No one here wants to talk to you, asshat!” he shouted into the phone. The gunman then yanked the phone and threw it against the wall.

When they heard a gunshot inside the hospital, tensions grew in the parking lot where police were set up. Singer tried to reach them on the phone to ensure everyone was okay, but it ended in a dial tone. Roman was using his binoculars to investigate the emergency room through the glass doors in front of the building.

“Roman, what can you see?” Singer asked.

“Looks like most of the hostages are in the lobby, lined up in front of the windows. He’s got one by the hair,” Roman responded. “He’s trying to make it hard for anyone to get a shot off through the glass.” Singer cursed under his breath, realizing sniper work was not an option.

“He knows what he’s doing,” he muttered. Jensen stood nearby, his AR-15 aimed at the hospital. He kept his green eyes locked on the front of the hospital, watching for movement.

“We got intel,” a voice said over the radio. “Shooter is Andrew Clarkson, age 32. Has a long rap sheet, mostly petty theft and small crimes, but recently, he’s been picked up on a few drug charges. Don’t know why he’s decided to hold the ER hostage, but this would be his first major crime with a firearm.” Jensen shook his head, glancing at Singer. As he was about to open his mouth and say something, a man started to walk into view.

“Suspect is coming to the door; he has a hostage with him,” a voice echoed across the radio. Everyone lifted their weapons and aimed as all eyes faced the entrance to the emergency room, including Jensen. The gunman shoved the broken glass door aside with his foot, dragging someone with him. The gun pressed to her head gave everyone pause. He yanked the hostage forward and hid behind a brunette dressed in blue scrubs; his hand fisted into her hair as he shoved her in front of him. Her hands gripped his, her pale skin tear-stained and bruising as she tried to control her breathing.

When Jensen realized who the hostage was, fury burned viciously in his veins.

“That son of a bitch,” Jensen growled.

“Get back!” the gunman shouted, pressing the gun into Y/N’s temple. “Get back, all of you!”

“Let her go, Andrew,” Singer said into the mouthpiece of a megaphone. The gunman, Andrew, grew angrier, yanking at Y/N’s hair. The cry that came from her was like ice down Jensen’s spine. Jared glanced at him from the corner of his eye, ensuring the man didn’t do anything stupid.

“All of you just stay out of the way, and no one will get hurt,” Andrew shouted. Then he smirked. “Well, any more hurt than they already are.”

“What is it that you want?” Singer asked. “Maybe we can help in some way.”

“What I want is my brother to survive, and if this here bitch doctor and that surgeon friend of hers upstairs do the job right, he will,” Andrew spit out. “That ain’t none of y’all business, so go about your way and let me handle this.”

“You know we can’t do that, Andrew. You’ve shot four people already. You have an emergency room full of doctors and patients in there being held hostage,” Singer shouted, shaking his head. Jensen was starting to get twitchy, Jared noticed.

“Hey, take a breath,” Jared muttered quietly. “You aren’t going to help her going in halfcocked.” Jensen shot him a furious glance. “I want her outta there too, but we must use our heads here.” Jensen took a deep breath and adjusted his grip on his rifle. He studied the man who was holding Y/N hostage, her cries of pain infuriating him as he watched Andrew drag her back into the emergency room. Once they were out of sight, Jensen and Jared lowered their weapons, but not without sounds of frustration.

“There’s gotta be some way for us to get in there without being detected,” Jared said, looking up at the building. Jensen shakes his head.

“They already have guys working on going in from the roof,” he said with frustration. He turned and looked at the sign in front of him pointing the way to the back of the building. Noticing the directionals, he had a sudden thought.

“I have an idea,” Jensen said, looking at Singer. “Emergency rooms typically have a back entrance when they must take people from an ambulance. It’s different from where the public comes in, so they don’t get traumatized. I’m betting our perp doesn’t have that back entrance covered.”

Jared catches on to what Jensen is saying, snaps his fingers, and points.

“Right! Some of us could go back and sneak in that way while you have the rest of SWAT coming down from the roof,” Jared said. Jensen nodded.

“Make it obvious we are coming in from the rooftop; get him distracted so he isn’t aware of us coming in from the back. We sneak in, take him by surprise, pin him down, and it’s all over,” Jensen explains. Singer looks at Jensen with narrowed eyes, then nods slowly.

“Alright, let’s do it. Pick three more to go with you. The rest will go up,” Singer said. Jensen turned to Jared, bumping fists.

“You in?” Jensen asked.

“Always.”

“Awesome. Go get Seb and Jake; meet back here in five.”

Jared turned and jogged off to pull the two men away and get them ready to go around the back. Jensen looked back over to the front of the hospital and took a deep breath. Hang on Y/N, we’re coming.

Andrew and Y/N made their way back into the emergency room, the sound of muffled sobs echoing around the room. Andrew shoved Y/N away from him, causing her to stumble and fall. She landed hard on her knee before collapsing against one of the sets of chairs put together. The chairs were loud as they scratched along the floor, moving as Y/N slammed into them.

She moaned quietly, her hand going to her head to rub her scalp as she looked over to where Andrew was now pacing the floor in agitation. Y/N wasn’t sure what would happen next, but she knew things were about to get nasty.

Jensen and his team slowly made their way around the back of the emergency room, running in time with each other, their weapons held at the ready. The helicopter carrying the rest of the SWAT team was flying above them at the same time, making it evident that the sheriff’s office was about to drop deputies onto the roof to make their way down. Jenson glanced up at them once as he made his way around.

Once the back doors came into view, they slowed down to walk so they could see around the corner without drawing attention to themselves. Jensen signaled for the men to pause while he made his way over to the doors and glanced in. It was quiet; the only noise came from machines tracking heart rates and other vital information from patients left behind.

“Just as I thought, no one is back here,” he muttered quietly. “Okay, Seb and Jake take the far end. Jay, you stick with me.” The men nodded their heads in agreement before moving toward the automatic doors. As they quietly swooshed open, the team silently moved forward. Each man made their way through the curtained area of the emergency room, checking on the patients who were still in beds with machines hooked up to them. A few of the patients who were not unconscious saw them moving and were startled by the sudden appearance of a law enforcement officer. The deputies made movements for them to keep quiet.

“Stay here, and don’t move no matter what you hear. We’ll come back and get you out,” Jared whispered to a young couple who sat terrified next to their elderly mother. They nodded frantically, fear radiating off them. Jared then got on his radio, messaging the deputies out front that there were innocent people in the emergency room beds, forgotten and left behind by the gunman. Once the front lobby appeared, Jensen held up a hand to stop them.

From where he stood, he could see Andrew pacing in front of the desk where a nurse was sitting. The hostages were still lined up against the windows. He didn’t see Y/N anywhere but knew she had to be there somewhere.

“Will someone answer that fucking phone already?” Andrew shouted. The nurse at the desk suddenly shot up from her seat and ran over to a different desk to grab the ringing phone. She spoke into the receiver momentarily, then held it to her chest.

“It’s surgery. They want to talk to Doctor Y/L/N,” she said. Andrew spun around, stalked over to some of the chairs in the waiting area, and bent down. It wasn’t until he stood up that Jensen realized it was Y/N. She must have been on the ground. Andrew dragged her to stand by her arm and shoved her over toward the phone.

“Answer the phone. Find out about Mark,” Andrew growled. Y/N stumbled toward the desk and took the phone from the nurse. She kept her back to the gunman; from her expression, Jensen saw that whatever news she was getting wasn’t good. Jensen glanced at Seb and Abel, giving them hand signals to move forward slightly but low to the ground. His gut was telling him this was about to get ugly.

Y/N hung up the phone slowly and turned to face Andrew, the gunman. Her eyes were filled with tears and sorrow for the man standing before her. His gun was being held on her, and she knew when she told him the update she was most likely going to get shot herself.

“Well? What did they say?” Andrew asked angrily.

“Andrew, you have to understand; Mark was already in a bad place when you first brought him in…” Y/N started.

“What are you saying? Are you telling me that my brother is dead??” Andrew asked incredulously, causing Y/N to whimper and startle. Tears slowly started to make their way down her cheeks as she swallowed thickly.

“He had already lost a lot of blood before you got here… and then there was an infection that started where the bullet wound went in. Moving him around with the bullet inside him did a lot of damage, too,” Y/N explained, her voice choked with tears. “We sent him up on the CPR machine, remember?”

As Y/N was explaining what happened, Andrew’s arm with the gun was drooping slightly. She thought maybe she was getting him to understand, and he would not shoot her, so she continued explaining.

“Benny did all he could to bring him back, but it was just too much for his body to handle. He died twenty minutes ago. I’m so sorry, Andrew,” Y/N said.

The next moments happened very quickly, causing panic and confusion. Andrew looked back at Y/N, lifted the gun, and fired at her. Y/N flinched, which moved her to the right, which caused the bullet to just graze the skin of her temple instead of embedding itself into her skull. The strike still caused her to fly backward and hit her head on the desk behind her, then crumpled to the ground.

All four deputies who were in the emergency room saw what was about to happen and opened fire on Andrew, hitting him in the chest and taking him down. This caused chaos among the other hostages in the waiting room area. Jensen moved up to kick the gun away from the dying suspect as his fellow deputies moved forward with him as backup.

“Jake, stay with this guy. Seb, see if any of those nurses are stable enough to help him. Jay, take the rest of the hostages to the back. I’m going to check on Y/N,” Jensen ordered his team before moving. He didn’t stop to hear them answer. Instead, he leaped over a counter and moved to where Y/N was crumpled on the floor. Just as he reached her and started to roll her over, Jensen was quickly pushed out of the way.

“I got her, Jen,” a doctor named Chris said, pushing him aside. He then rattled orders to three other people next to him, lifting her onto a gurney that appeared out of nowhere. “I need a CT scan on her head; I wanna find out if that bastard did any permanent damage!” he heard as they ran down a hallway and into an elevator.

Jensen stood and watched as they rushed her off and away from him, startling slightly as Lieutenant Singer set his hand heavily on his shoulder. Once she was out of sight, he turned and looked at Singer, then nodded before walking to rejoin his team. An investigation would be conducted on the shooting of a suspect. They would need his weapon to interview him, and he would be put on administrative leave until everything was completed. Until then, however, they had a hospital full of people and a petrified emergency room.

Y/N sat on her couch dressed in a pair of old pajama pants and an oversized t-shirt wrapped in an old, soft blanket as she stared into nothingness, thinking about what had happened that day.

Her hair was damp from the long hot shower she had taken earlier, during which she drained the hot water tank and stood under the spray. She was pretty sure Madison, who rushed over to the hospital once she was able to get in, was sitting outside the door the entire time. Once she left the bathroom, Madison took one look at her red eyes and held her for a long time before gently braiding her hair back.

Y/N had two butterfly bandages holding the small cut on her temple closed, the bruising darkening as each hour passed. The bump on the back of her head was sore but not visible, thankfully. She didn’t have a concussion, but she would have a headache for a while. Thankfully, the CT scan showed no permanent damage to her head or her brain. She’d just be bruised up and sore for a while.

She had a hard time grasping that she went in for a typical 24-hour shift at the hospital only for her day to end in the middle of a hostage situation slash shoot-out that should have killed her. A bullet was aimed directly at her head. A shudder of fear ran through her for the hundredth time that evening, causing her to close her eyes, take a deep breath, and attempt to calm her nerves. Tears once pressed against her eyelids, and she struggled to hold them back. She wasn’t ready to fall apart yet.

Madison had lit one of her favorite candles after hustling her into the shower, so the room smelled of apples and cinnamon, but it wasn’t giving her the comfort it usually did. Her relaxation playlist on the Alexa speaker wasn’t either, despite it being her usual after-shift routine. Something was missing, and she couldn’t put her finger on it yet.

“Here,” Madison said as she sat beside her on the couch. Y/N’s eyes dropped to the mug of coffee in her hand. “I know you’re not allowed any alcohol with the painkillers you’re on, so I figured coffee was the next best thing.” With a small smile, Y/N unwound her arm from around herself with the blanket and carefully took the mug with a shaky hand.

“Thanks, Mads,” she whispered. She held the mug and sipped the coffee between her hands, enjoying the sweetened warmth filling her. “You used my salted caramel creamer.”

“This was a good reason to splurge, I figured,” Madison said with a shrug. “You should try to eat something. I can order pizza?” Y/N shook her head slowly.

“I feel like if I eat something, I’m going to throw it up,” she said quietly. A knock at the door startled her, causing her to wince after. Madison glanced at the door, then back at her friend.

“I’ll get it. You stay here,” she said, standing. Y/N nodded, then sipped from her coffee once again. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the warmth, listening carefully to Madison making her way to the front door.

After taking Andrew down and getting Y/N help, it took Jensen and the rest of the SWAT team longer than expected to clear the hospital. Then, he had to go back to the office and hand over his weapon until the investigation into the shooting was completed. It was a long, tedious process that included an interview with internal affairs and a meeting with the chaplain. When he was finally done for the day, he decided to shower in the locker room so he could just head straight over to her place.

He was grateful that Madison showed up at the hospital to care for Y/N while he was still working. Given her injuries, there was no way she was going to be able to drive home, and she really shouldn’t have been left alone after what happened. The few times he texted Madison to check on Y/N, her responses weren’t encouraging, which only solidified his decision to go over and check on her in person.

He wasn’t surprised she was struggling. While Y/N was trained to handle a crisis, being held at gunpoint wasn’t exactly in the job description of an emergency room doctor. That was more his world, one he never wanted to introduce her into. Once Jensen was cleaned up, he left the sheriff’s office, stopped at his favorite Chinese food place to grab some takeout, and headed to Y/N’s place.

When Madison answered the door, Jensen frowned slightly. He expected Y/N to answer.

“Hey, Jen,” she said, smiling sympathetically at him. She stepped aside to let him in the condo. Jensen looked down the hallway before turning back to the woman with concern on his face.

“How is she?” he asked quietly. Madison locked the door and turned to face him with a shrug.

“I think she’s still in shock right now. She was crying a little earlier, but she keeps stopping herself from doing it now. I think she’s going to break down when it all hits her,” Madison said. “She’s been quiet, which isn’t like her. I’m really worried.”

“Yeah, me too,” Jensen said with a sigh. “Thanks for sitting with her until I could get here.”

“Hey, don’t thank me. I would have been here regardless,” Madison waved off his thanks.

“Why don’t you head out of here? Jared should be home by now, and we’re on administrative leave until the investigation into the shooting is done. I know he’d love to see you right now,” Jensen said, giving the woman a tight hug.

“Are you sure?” Madison asked, returning the hug.

“I’m sure. I’m not planning on going anywhere; I got her,” Jensen nodded.

“You’ll call me if you need anything?” Madison asked, pointing at him. Jensen smiled gently.

“Yeah. I’ll call if we need you,” he agreed. Madison nodded as she led the two into the living room where Y/N was sitting.

“Hey, Y/N, Jensen’s here,” she said with a smile. Y/N was resting, the coffee cup forgotten as it sat on her table; her head was in her hand, her arm leaning on the arm of the couch, and her eyes closed as her breaths remained steady. Her fingers pressed into her hair, rubbing slowly against her scalp in a light massage. Madison stepped closer to her, resting a hand on her shoulder. Y/N startled slightly, lifting her head to face the two.

“You okay?” she asked, and Y/N smiled slightly, humming. Jensen studied the woman, frowning slightly. He’d never seen her look so defeated before. Even earlier, with a gun pressed to her head, she looked confident and strong. Right then, she looked... broken.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Jensen said quietly. Blue eyes looked up at him, and after a moment of stillness, a small smile made it across her tired face.

“Jensen, hey,” she said softly, causing him to smile gently at her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were here.”

“It’s okay. I brought dinner. You okay with Chinese?” he asked, holding up the bag of Chinese. Y/N’s eyes dropped down to the bag of food he had in his hand, and it didn’t smell all that appetizing.

“I’m not that hungry,” she said, looking back at him. Jensen smiled softly at her, setting the bag down.

“I’ll make a deal with you. You have some soup and maybe a little lo mein, and I won’t bug you about it the rest of the night. Doesn’t have to be a lot, but it has to be something,” he said, kneeling in front of her. Y/N frowned, looking back at the bag of food with a sigh.

“Soup counts?” she asked, returning her eyes to Jensen. He nodded.

“Soup counts,” he repeated.

“Okay,” she whispered, nodding slightly. Clearing her throat, she tried to speak louder. “Yeah, okay. I’ll get some plates.” She unfolded herself and stood, making her way toward the kitchen. Madison stepped aside to let Y/N by, using Jensen’s shoulder for balance as she made her way. Jensen stood once she was passed. The two friends then watched her walk away before Madison threw Jensen a look.

“I know. I promise I got it,” Jensen said, raising a hand before Madison could say anything. “Jared is waiting for you at home. Go.” Madison nodded and walked into the kitchen behind Y/N.

Jensen started pulling the food out of the bag and setting the boxes on the coffee table. When Y/N returned from the kitchen carrying the dishes and flatware, Jensen stood and took the items from her.

“What would you like to drink?” Y/N asked quietly. “I have some beer and soda. There’s still some coffee left that Madison made.” Jensen smiled softly at her and gently guided her to sit.

“I know where everything is. Why don’t you get comfortable, and I’ll grab us some sodas?” he said. She thanked him and sat back on the couch, pulling one of her blankets around herself. Jensen walked into the kitchen and pulled two sodas out of the fridge. He carried them back to the living room, setting them on the table while watching Y/N as she stared out the window. Jensen sat down next to her and reached an arm behind her.

“Hey,” he muttered quietly to get her attention. Y/N turned and looked at him, blinking away the distant look in her eyes. “Tell me what you need.”

“I’m fine,” she said, dropping her eyes and sighing. “I’m just…” she started. She trailed off and shook her head.

“Just what?” Jensen asked. Instead of answering him with words, she simply shifted her body to face him and ducked her head so she could lay it on his shoulder. Jensen pulled her closer to him, moving her legs so they laid over his and he could cradle her against his chest. This allowed him to start running his hand up and down her back. After a bit of silence, her hushed voice caught his attention.

“I keep thinking about what we could have done differently,” she muttered quietly. Jensen frowned. “I knew there was nothing we were going to be able to do to save his brother just by examining him. He waited too long to get him to us. I was able to get him to put the gun away long enough for us to try, but when we had to pull the LUCAS out… Surgery was a long shot, but we needed to try?”

“Yeah,” Jensen muttered under his breath, his voice rough.

“But then we were waiting, and things just got…” she trailed off again, shaking her head. “Nothing I was saying to him was making a difference. I knew it was only a matter of time before his patience wore out and he was going to start killing people. Then, when we got word that his brother died… I just knew.”

“You knew what?” he asked softly.

“That he was going to kill me,” she replied. Jensen’s arms tightened around her.

“What you did in that hospital, keeping your head… talking to him like you did… that was exactly right. It was the right thing to do,” Jensen explained. Y/N shook her head, her eyes downcast.

“You did everything right, sweetheart,” Jensen reiterated.

“Then why did he still try to kill me?” Y/N asked after a moment of silence. Jensen sighed heavily, his heart hurting badly for this woman in his arms.

“Because sometimes, even though you did the right thing, the bad guys don’t care and still react violently. Sometimes they just want to hurt others like they were hurt,” he said quietly. Y/N’s eyes started to fill with tears once again, against her will.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” she said, tears breaking free and running down her cheeks.

“I know you didn’t,” he reassured.

“Those people he killed didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I know.”

“I was trying to help him; I wanted to save his brother.”

“I know you did.”

“I tried to save him; we all tried to save him…”

“I know,” Jensen said, hushing her as she began to cry earnestly. “You did everything you could, and it’s not your fault. Andrew should have realized that. You’re safe now, and he can’t hurt you anymore. I won’t let anything hurt you anymore.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered as she sobbed.

“It’s okay, don’t apologize. I’d be worried if you weren’t upset,” Jensen said, pressing his lips to her temple. He held her close as she cried herself out. When finished, she lifted her head and wiped her eyes, glancing at the man who held her close.

“Better?” Jensen asked, wiping the tears from Y/N’s face with the thumb of one hand. Y/N nodded a little, sniffling a bit. “Let’s eat.”

“I’m not that hungry,” she admitted.

“Hey, you agreed to try. It doesn’t have to be a lot, but you need to put something in your stomach,” Jensen said, cradling her head. She lifted her sad blue eyes to meet his tender green ones.

“Okay,” she muttered.

“Okay,” Jensen repeated, pressing a kiss to her forehead. He then reached over to the food and grabbed two of the Styrofoam containers with soup in them. He carefully opened the lid of one of them and handed it to her. She smiled gently and sipped the soup.

“Let’s find something we can watch on TV, okay?”

Jensen didn’t want to leave Y/N alone; she wanted to stay in case she needed someone or something. She argued, saying she’d be okay, but he knew better. As they watched television, Y/N fell into a doze on Jensen’s shoulder while clinging to the blanket around her shoulders.

“Do you want to watch another episode?” Jensen asked, looking over at her. “Y/N?” That’s when he noticed her closed eyes. A gentle smile fell across his face as he watched her sleep. Moving carefully, he lifted her into his arms. The blanket wrapped around her fell away as he carried her across the living room, down the hallway, and into her bedroom. Thankfully, her bed was rumpled from a nap she had taken earlier, so he could lay her down and cover her with the sheet and comforter she had there. He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Good night, beautiful,” he said quietly before leaving the room.

With an arm behind his head, Jensen was dozing on the couch as he rested on a few of Y/N’s throw pillows. Y/N’s scream had him leaping and running to her bedroom. He opened the door he had closed earlier to find her sitting in bed with one hand pressed to the side of her head. She seemed to be trying to get away from something or someone, Jensen thought as he watched her sob. He frowned as he walked into the room and calmly hushed her.

“Hey,” he said quietly. “Hey, hey, hey, shhhh…. It’s okay. You’re safe,” he muttered.

“He’s gonna kill me,” she bawled, shaking her head and then whimpering. He was sure she was in pain with how she was holding her head.

“Okay, okay, come here,” Jensen said, pulling the blankets back. She launched herself into his arms once she was free of the blankets. He caught her with a soft ‘oof,’ the weight unexpected, but once he had his arms secured around her, he sat on her bed.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he whispered, his heart aching for her. He situated himself so his back was against the headboard, and Y/N rested against him. She ended up in his lap, her legs straddling his hips while her head rested on his shoulder with her face pressed into his neck. Jensen wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, gently placing a hand on her head and massaging his fingers against her scalp. Her tears ran down his neck to his shirt, causing him to pull her closer.

“I’ve got you,” Dean said gently. “I won’t let anything happen to you ever again.” Without moving her from against him, he reached down and grabbed her blanket and wrapped it up in it, offering warmth and comfort. Once he was happy with how they were situated, he turned his head and kissed her forehead. Having her in his arms like this, with her crying, was wrecking him.

“God, Y/N…I thought I lost you forever,” he whispered against her, her sobs quiet but intense. He knew she didn’t hear him; it wasn’t for her. His heart screamed at him, hurting at how this could have turned out. It took a long time for her to calm down, and Jensen held her and rubbed her scalp the entire time. Once her sobs subsided, the room was quiet, aside from a sniffle here and there. They remained like that for a long time.

“I thought I was going to die today,” she muttered, her voice clogged with tears and terror. Jensen tightened his arms around her, pulling her impossibly closer. He turned his head to press his lips against her temple and closed his eyes against the onslaught of emotions that raged inside of him.

“He’s dead, right?” she asked worriedly, pulling her head away so she could look at him. Jensen looked over her face, noticing the bruising on her temple had gotten worse. The bandages and wounds on her delicate skin practically glowed in the dim light of her bedroom. He gently brushed a few strands of hair sticking to her cheek from the tears behind her ear as he nodded slightly.

“Yeah,” he grunted, clearing his throat before speaking again. “Yeah, he’s dead. He’s not going to hurt you again.” Y/N nodded slightly, looking down. “Hey. You’re safe. I promise. I’m here and won’t let anything happen to you.” Y/N nodded her head before laying back down against his shoulder. Jensen cradled the back of her head with his hand, holding her there, resting his head on top of hers gently.

“Thank you for saving my life,” she whispered after a long silent pause. Jensen shut his eyes against another onslaught of emotion, swallowing hard. He pulled his head back to look at her.

“You’ll never have to thank me for that,” he said, eyes studying the woman in his arms. “When I saw him come out with you, I almost shot him right then. I never want you to be in a situation like that again.”

“You gonna become my bodyguard?” Y/N asked, a bit of humor creeping into her voice.

“I don’t think you understand, Y/N. You’ve become the most important person in my life,” Jensen explained. Y/N lifted her head to stare at him as he spoke, her wide eyes watery. Jensen stared back at her, more severe than he had ever been with her. “I was so angry when I realized that you were in there with that maniac. I wasn’t going to stop at anything to get you out of there safely, and when you got hurt…”

“It wasn’t your fault, Jen,” Y/N whispered. Jensen shook his head, his own eyes getting misty. The following words were out before he could stop himself.

“If anything were to happen to you… I don’t know what I would have done. I’m so in love with you, Y/N. I can’t imagine my life without you in it, and that asshole almost took you away from me,” he explained, resting his forehead gently against hers. Y/N’s breath caught at his admission.

“Jen… I love you, too. I think I have for a long time now,” she admitted. Jensen pulled back and stared into Y/N’s eyes, searching. Once he found whatever he sought, he gently pressed his mouth to hers in a passionate but modest kiss. Y/N tried to deepen it, moving her hands to his neck and fingers to his hair, but he pulled back.

“No. Not now,” he explained gently. Y/N frowned, hurt. “You’re hurting and need to take some painkillers. I know your head hurts you. And honestly, I just really want to hold you for a while. I almost lost you. I thought I lost you.”

“Does that mean you’ll stay?” Y/N asked timidly. Jensen nodded her head.”

“Yeah, I’ll stay,” he said quietly. Y/N nodded. “Where are your pain medications?”

“They’re right here,” she said, facing her nightstand. She picked up one of the three prescription bottles sitting there, and Jensen took it. He opened it and shook out one of the large pills into her open hand. She then reached over for the bottle of water to swallow down the pill before taking the prescription bottle and setting both back on her nightstand.

“Let’s get some rest, beautiful,” Jensen whispered. Y/N nodded as she laid her head back down on his shoulder. After a while, the two adjusted their positions so that they were lying down instead of sitting up against the headboard.

That was where Madison found them the following day. She smiled wistfully as she called out to Jared and waved him over to the doorway to Y/N’s bedroom. There, lying in her bed, was Jensen with Y/N curled beside him. Her head was still on his shoulder, her hand gripping the shirt he had on tightly. Jensen wrapped his arm around her waist, the other cradling her head against him, his face turned toward her as his lips pressed to her forehead. The two onlookers smiled softly at the two.

“She must have had a bad night,” Madison whispered, leaning against Jared.

“It’s nice to see them finally together, too,” Jared muttered quietly, kissing Madison’s head.

“Wonder how long till we are planning their wedding,” Madison gleefully whispered as she closed the bedroom door. It was quiet for a long moment, then…

“We’re gonna elope if I have anything to say about it,” Jensen whispered, smirking.

“We’ll do it at one of those tropical resorts in the Caribbean. It’s still kind of eloping, but I still get to dress up, and we still get pictures and flowers and shit,” Y/N said under her breath as she snuggled against him. Jensen tightened his arms around her, pressing a kiss against her forehead.

“Okay, I like that idea better,” he sighed.

“This is why I’m the smart one, and you’re the pretty one,” she replied with a soft giggle. He huffed at that comment.

“You’ll pay for that later. Go back to sleep.”

“Kay.”

73 notes · View notes

jadastarkey · 2 months ago

Text

call in advance

chris sturniolo x sweetheart!farm girl! reader

warnings: swearing, slightly suggestive at the end

genre: fluff

sypnosis: the triplets visit your family's farm and your their guide. Chris didn't realise how pretty said guide would be

~°•☆•°~

"there's a cute girl like..." Chris started whispering into the camera, peeking over his shoulder to find you "like 20 feet behind me" he said as he turned back into the camera.

"Chris she's coming" matt said excited for his brother.

he snapped his neck back in your direction. before turning back and taking the camera from nick to use as a mirror to sort out his hair.

"oh my god! you're acting like me!" nick giggled, shoving his twin.

"shut up, nick" he mumbled. they laughed.

he quickly shoved the camera into the nearest hands so he could be seen right next to you as you walked over. "hey y'all, how're we all doing today?" you asked, energetic as ever.

the southern twist in your mostly Boston accent made his stomach flip and his heart twirl. he wanted to kick his feet and pick the petals of a daisy like a preschooler. your pure existence made him want to crumble and melt into a puddle. just his air coming from your air was making his knees weak

"we're good" nick responded smugly seeing one of his twins blush like that. especially chris. he wasn't exactly known for settling.

"aw that's great! follow me and we can get started." you clapped your hands together and waved them to follow.

chris was eager. he was right on your tail, chatting up a storm, desperately trying to get you laugh to which he succeeded, multiple times.

"alrighty, it's quite loud so anyone at home should probably turn it down" you giggled to the camera, unlocking the barn doors without looking back at them "this is the barn where our chickens-"

"nope!" nick interjected taking a few steps back

matt laughed and pushed him closer to the doors "c'mon nick, they're just birds"

"you know how I feel about birds–" he yelled putting his hand in matts face but someone pushed him through the loosely opened doors, earning a scream of terror filled with clucking in the back.

it was a good thing they did turn the volume down.. if they did.

~°•☆•°~

Once nick was freed, and finished slapping his brothers, and yelling at them, ypu took them away from the chickens– per nicks request –and over to the horses.

"so, these are our horses. we've got, bessy with the brown coat, freya with the grey and June with the dots. don't tell the others, but she's my favourite."

"can you ride.... th- them– the horses of course" Chris asked, scratching the back of his neck and looking back to his brothers who were holding in laughter that was just about to bubble over.

"yeah, I can ride. y'can try if you want. freya'll be sweet enough for ya"

his eyes met your gaze, sweet and welcoming, those soft lips curved up in a sickeningly gorgeous smile.

"and if I do, you'll catch me if I fall" he asked shyly.

"I can try" you giggled.

that was what he liked to hear. not the phrase. those god damn giggles. the uncontrollable laughter you let out at practically every sentence.

he was already smitten.

"Okay, I'll do it"

he perked up and hopped the gate which turned out to be a huge mistake as the squelchy mud underneath made him slip. "matt!" you gasped, trying to grab him before he fell.

"Hey 'm not matt" he didn't care he fell, he didn't care about the mistake. all he could focus on was your touch. the warm from your hand seeping onto his arm.

"sorry! chris. oh my god! you need rain boots on the mud. they have grips." you explained while simultaneously trying to help him up. "put these on"

a pair of pink rain boots landed on the floor in front of him and when he looked up he was stuck at the sight of you walking off, hips swaying and ponytail bouncing with every step you took.

his jaw was ever so slightly open, eyes hung on your captivating presence. the way you moved around the horse, patting her chest and prepping her. the way you knew how to do it. you had all he needed and he was craving it.

his hands dug into the mud and he snapped out of it when he heard the sound of it that made him want to rip his ears off.

he wiped his muddy hands on his pants and put the rainboots on.

~°•☆•°~

he stood with his dirt ridden hands and muddy ass, nerves piling up. you brought the grey horse over. "ready?"

"no- yes. yes I'm ready." he approached the animal but hesitated before her "you promise I won't fall"

"I can't promise that but the more nervous you are, the more nervous she is. just calm down and go slow I'll be right next to you. plus I know a little first aid, so you'll be fine"

he nodded and took a deep breath. he gently held your arm and hoisted himself up and over, matt making sure everything was on camera because he knew he'd want it

"s'not even that bad up here" he said shakily.

"yeah right" matt and nick said in sync. it always made you laugh when they did shit like that. using telepathic shit.

chris rolled his eyes "doll, how do I get movin'?"

"I'll just walk with you and she'll follow me" you took her reigns and started to walk away, giving her no choice to follow.

it was way too fast for Chris making him wobble. he grabbed onto absolutely nothing "ohhh- y/n, get me off, get me off, get me off I'm gonna fall-" He pleaded with actual fear in his eyes.

"Hey, calm down. I got you" you said calm. you held his leg steady "swing the other one around and use me for help if you need to" you said, looking up at him.

his eyes met yours and immediately got lost. your hand on him, your eyes on him, your mind on him, protecting him. God he could get used to that..

"we milking a cow or what, lovebirds?" matt asked.

you both instantly turned red and chris put his hands on your shoulders before hopping off. it took him another few seconds to actually let go.

"thanks" he whispered

"'s no problem"

the tension was palpable and thick. he so wanted to grab your face and kiss you, make you his, take you on dates, and cuddle you to sleep. he wanted you. he craved you. but he couldn't have you. not now atleast.

"imma go put freya away" you said quietly having to find a distraction. you took the horse and with hesitant steps, you walked off.

"yeah" he muttered, reeling from the whole ordeal

~°•☆•°~

usually, your dad said no to guests using your showers but in chris' case he took a leap amd said yes. the boy had managed to get dirt basically everywhere the eye could see. splotches on his face, his hands were coated and nails probably stained but worse of all, his clothes.

that blue fresh love hoodie? yeah that would be brown the rest of its– assumingly –short life. his baggy jeans, once a fresh denim now coated in the stuff.

God know how he even got that bad but it was Chris. he managed to break boundaries on stuff like that.

he stepped out of the shower, towel clutched to his waist and hair dripping wet. he left the fresh clothes in your room like an actual idiot.

he poked his head through which made your head shoot up as the old door creaked "oh- Chris. it's just you.. y'scared me"

"sorry. I left my clothes in here. I'll be quick"

he awkwardly walked through your room and picked his clothes up. he tried to be fast but you didn't mind. you were practically salivating. all that could be yours one day. those biceps, that chest, those abs, that face.

"thank you" He said as he shuffled back into the bathroom.

he got changed as quick as possible and as he picked up the clothes a little slip of paper fell to the floor.

curious, he picked it up and unfolded it, tilting his head as he read

'you can come back anytime, just call in advance 012-345-6789.

-y/n♡'

#chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturiolo fanfic #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #fluff #chris sturniolo fluff #farm #farm girl #farm girl x city boy #horse riding #meet cute #falling in love #love #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #fresh love

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heron-knight · 2 months ago

Text

Flesh, Blood, and Moonlight

(part 1?)

a little experiment in combining Armored Core and Bloodborne. (inspiration by @laughingcorvus). I'll probably be working one the next project for a while, but feel free to let me know if you'd be interested in seeing more of this concept/this specific story.

The city was holding its breath-- permeated by that all too familiar scent of building terror as the clouds began to roll in, turning the sky from dark to darker. I could hear doors locking with every house I passed-- was it the fear of what they knew was coming? Or simply someone glancing out the window and making the mistake of taking a closer look at me? The wind picked up, carrying a metallic scent through the chill evening air as I walked along the empty street, the constant tapping of one foot echoing through the silence as the other left a trail of crimson footprints on the cold stone, the flesh of it held together by bandages and spite.

The average person comes at some point to the realization that we are all cursed, and trust me when I say that there are times that I agree with them. This life to which we are condemned, living in fear and powerlessness if you are lucky and inflicted with power if you are not. When the streets are slick with blood and the air is heavy with the sound of the rain, when you cower in the darkest corner of your home as countless immense footsteps shake the whole building and threaten to shatter the red-stained glass of your windows-- when you stare upwards on a clear night, the stars having burned out long ago and the torn, bloody remains of the moon sitting motionless in the sky… it is difficult to believe in any sort of benevolent god. One that is still alive, anyway.

Very few remain who were there to witness it-- that night when that cold pale glow that once cast the city in its light began to tremble as if it were a lantern held by a terrified hand. They’ll always tell you about where they were when it happened. Sitting in their living room or just about to clock out at the factory when the shadows on the walls opposite the windows began to dance. A near-imperceptible swaying at first, but more noticeable as the shadows began to contort. The moon shuddering in the sky, however, was the least of the event-- it began in earnest when the sound started. When despite its distance and the smog of the city, everyone could see as wounds began to open on the surface, staring upwards in horror as something so immense that we could hear its gasping cries through countless miles of space as it tried with the first and last of its strength to claw its way out. When the moon itself was torn open and its dying child slid limply from the carcass, its many lifeless limbs trailing behind it as it plummeted to the earth before it impacted heavily with the unforgiving rooftops of the city. When the dust settled and blood flowed through the storm drains like rainwater in a grim foreshadowing of what was to come, everyone knew things would never be the same, for how would anyone remain unchanged after the impact. After hearing the moon scream as it died, ripped apart by something that now lay dead, draped across a large chunk of the city. A god? A devil? A creature that was meant to bring the world’s destined end? It did not matter. All that mattered was that its creation had failed, and the world’s death would not be a quick or honorable one.

The clouds had not yet begun to roll in yet-- a fact that assured me that I would have plenty of time. Even if my little stroll had been a short one, I had no need to hurry back to the workshop. They preferred that I show up a little early, but there was only one time that I could truly stroll through the city streets like this-- when all the normal citizens, those beacons of polite society, were too busy boarding up their windows or double-checking the seal around their doors to be of any concern to me. I glanced upward as I walked.

The moon used to be so bright, apparently, that even when the stars covered the sky it had managed to outshine them all. I found that hard to believe at times, even on evenings as clear as this when the “moonlight” was almost strong enough to make someone cast a shadow-- not that I did anymore. Either way, it never felt as… delicious… as it sounded in the books. Perhaps it had been, once-- but now it just felt like nothing but a soft glow. Nothing but a bit of light, cast upon the world by the laws of photodynamics alone. No invigorating quality to it. As I sat for a moment on a bench, the heavy strips of metal that formed it leaving stripes of rust and dried blood on the back of my cloak, I stared up at it hoping for some spark, some force, some feeling from beyond the rotting world-- nothing. The moon sat as motionless in the sky as it always had for as long as I could remember, its once-spherical shape torn apart and held together only by gravity. Its ribs stuck out at odd angles from the wound in its center. A corpse in the sky, nothing more.

The smell of the carcass district was carried on the breeze as I made my way to the workshop, the moon now obscured almost completely by the gathering clouds as the bells began to sound throughout the city. It would begin soon. Time to get ready. My pace quickened slightly. Maybe my walk had been a little bit too long-- I wouldn’t be late, would I? I tried to breathe as little as possible. Even miles away from the carcass, the air was filled with the nauseating smell of its decomposition-- a mix of dead fish and vinegar. Nobody lived near it but the butchers and their managers, except for those unfortunate citizens that could neither afford a better place nor a ticket out of the city. Right on the edge of the smell was where the workshop was located-- a tall, imposing building, built of roughly-carved stone bricks and blood-stained glass windows laced through with cold iron bars in the shape of some long-forgotten saint. It had been a church once, back when there was still a god alive to hear our prayers. Now it served as one of the many bases of operations for those that hunted her grandchildren.

“A bit late, aren’t you, 349?” my handler asked, sliding down the ladder from the back hatch of the Merciless. It was one of the larger frames in the shop, and had a bit of a reputation. “Rain’s almost here.” I nodded apologetically. If there was any actual disappointment in her voice, I wasn’t able to pick up on it-- and there was no reading the face hidden beneath the surgical mask and the signature red-tinted sunglasses that announced her station. Her gloves were still stained from making the final pre-combat checks on the mech. Everyone had some sort of theory or rumor about her-- that she had a degree in both medicine and engineering, that she had once killed a rotspawn with nothing but a blade and a pistol, that she had been a pilot, once-- one of the first. An unlucky orphan, plucked from the streets by the institute and taken apart until there was enough of her missing for a mass of steel and twitching flesh to fill the absent other half. They said that she had killed her handler. Driven a railroad spike through their skull and taken their face to replace the one lost to deluge-era augmentation. They said that was why you never saw her without her sunglasses. A few whispers were even passed among the mechanics from time to time that she had cut herself out of a gestalt.

The space inside the workshop was both vast and cluttered at the same time-- no walls were present besides the outer ones, leaving a hollow, empty space from the floor to the top of the spires-- a space filled with the towering shapes of the half-dozen frames under my handler’s command. Teams of surgeons and mechanics swarmed along the scaffolding that encased them, seeing to those frames and pilots that she didn’t have enough direct investment in to deal with herself. Countless voices echoed around the shop as I strode towards the ladder.

“Any dreams recently?” she said. I paused, one foot still on the ground-- then turned and shook my head. I never did understand why she asked. Everyone knew that pilots didn’t dream.

“I see.” There was the disappointment. So I was still able to pick up on it when it was there… by why now? How was nearly being late to the briefing as the pilot of the Merciless less of a concern than the absence of what would have been considered a miracle? I began to climb, the splintered rungs of the ladder digging uncomfortable into what skin I had and the bandage-wrapped places that had none. When was the last time I had dreamed? Not since the recruitment. Not since the procedures. Not since that day when the results of my link compatibility test had arrived in the mail. I couldn’t remember the look on my mother’s face when she opened the letter any more than I can remember her face at all. Was that really a side effect of the augmentation, or something extra that they added to make sure the pilots didn’t have anything to leave behind? To make sure that all that remained of them was all that could fit in a tank of spinal fluid. If so, I didn’t blame them. My memory was nothing but a discordant haze until after I had mostly recovered from the augmentations enough for them to put me to work in whichever crew had a vacancy. Apparently, the stuff the surgeons had you on for the first few weeks was supposed to stop you from forming new memories for as long as it was in your system, but all it did was mess up your sense of chronological time. I still remembered how it felt when they tore the flesh from the back of my neck and levered open my spine. When they drilled dozens of holes through my arms and legs to weave lunar nerves and silver wire between bone and muscle before pulling them so tight they threatened to slice me to pieces. There was a reason why your voice was the first thing they cut out of you-- it would be too distracting for the surgeons if you were able to scream.

I’d heard that half of what they did to you was just to make more wounds-- to leave you as torn apart as possible, limbs flayed, chest cracked open, and twitching organs exposed to the cold air of the operating theater-- countless deep cuts made and pinned open-- the blood supply being pumped directly into your neck the only thing keeping you alive as all of your original blood was washed down the drain-- all so that when they lowered you into that vat of storm-blood, it soaked into you all at once. Those with compatibility would not chrysalize but you could still feel as it permeated every part of you, dissolving connective tissues and threatening to unravel you completely if you didn’t stay conscious enough to send signals through your nerves once the two severed ends of your spine fused back together. Having your spine cut hurts, but it can’t compare to what it feels like when all the sensations in your body come back after being gone for any amount of time-- especially if when they come back, they’re all telling you that you’re being dissolved.

All things considered, I was lucky to have only lost one leg-- and that I still had some areas of flesh that I didn’t have to wrap to prevent them from falling off like wet tissue paper.

I had hated it at first-- piloting a Verzerrtjager. From the first time I had been wheeled over from the operating theater to the hangar and seen the towering frame of brass, cold iron, and bone that I had been told I now existed to pilot at the behest of the highest bidder, I had decided that even if they could make me hunt-- even if they could pull out more bits of my brain until I did what they wanted-- I would stay sane enough just so I could hate it. I would follow their orders just enough to keep my consciousness so when I die, torn apart by something barely less human than me or curled up in the corner of the shop, trembling as what remained of my body rejected the implants so violently that I would bleed from my spine until I died-- my last thought would be of anger. Anger at the Institute for doing this to me. Anger at the City Council for letting them do it. Anger at my handler, my circumstances, the Lunar Carcass itself-- the businesses that kept humanity in this accursed place-- the site of the impact-- all because they wanted the money from mining the corpse and because they needed workers to do it. I was so certain that despite everything, I’d still be able to do that. Now all I felt was hollow, both literally and figuratively. What’s the point of being angry if you’ve got no voice to tell anyone about it? Why waste all your energy? Save it for the politicians. Save it for those journalists who come into the shop every now and then to try and get you to write down your life story, the luckiest of which you’d see twice before they’d be grabbed by some mining company and tied to a steeple right before a storm. There was only one thing I needed to do now.

I went limp almost as soon as I had slumped into the seat, knowing that my handler had been following me up the ladder. Sure enough, just a few seconds after sitting down and strapping my face into the periscope, I felt the familiar sensation of a key sliding into the back of my neck, sending a jolt through even the parts of my body that weren’t there anymore. It didn’t turn immediately this time, though.

“Hold on just a moment.” she said, unclipping the periscope strap and letting me fall backwards for a moment before catching me. I could see what was left of my face reflected in her sunglasses as she leaned over me, both feet still on the ladder. “Do you remember what your last dream was?” I blinked, then reached over to the disconnected radiotelegraph.

“I-S--N-O-W--R-E-A-L-L-Y--T-H-E--T-I-M-E-?” I asked, looking sideways at my handler as I tapped. The storm was almost here, and I still wasn’t linked. She nodded.

“Yes. yes it is. Do you remember what it was?” There was silence for a moment-- just the hum of the merciless’ machinery and the murmurs of the maintenance crews below us-- I sighed, then began to tap.

“T-H-E--M-O-O-N-[stop]-T-H-E--I-M-P-A-C-T-[stop]-I--W-A-S-N-’-T--T-H-E-R-E--W-H-E-N--I-T--H-A-P-P-E-N-E-D” she glanced around a bit, checked her watch, checked that notebook that she always had on her but wouldn’t tell anyone about the contents of… then without saying anything she slid a hand around to the back of my neck and that sudden, painful sensation ran through me as all feeling below the link port disappeared. I wanted to ask why she had wanted to know, but by the time I’d be able to use my hands again I’d already be on a mission.

With my spine disconnected, I couldn’t feel it as a dozen long needles slid into the veins of my arms and leg-- the absence of pain leaving only a feeling of nausea as I watched them pierce the skin. I couldn’t feel as my blood began to cycle with that of the machine, at least not until the chill reached my neck as the stormblood that had filled me before was cycled with blood that had been in cold storage since the last rain. There wasn’t even any feeling of numbness, just a void-- as if I had been decapitated but couldn’t die. This wasn’t helped by the second half-turn of the key in my neck, releasing the lock on my link port and causing my head to tip forward as the base of my neck opened up.

It didn’t quite feel like it usually did. Something was different this time, and I could feel that difference in what bits of her touch I could feel-- slower than usual. More deliberate. Putting more focus than I had seen in a while in linking my bloodstream to the Merciless’ to the extent that I don’t think I would have felt it even if my spine had still been connected. She had even removed her gloves. Was she worried about this mission? Making sure none of the tubes disconnected? She held the link cable in her hand for a moment and stared at it. I wanted to say something-- to ask why she had been wondering about the dreams that couldn’t have happened-- but I couldn’t. No voice, no control of my hands-- and besides, it wasn’t a weapon’s job to ask how its wielder was doing. I shuddered as the cable slid into my skull through the back of my neck, wanting to squirm in response to that feeling of metal against my brain stem but unable to move until I’d been linked. The cable itself managed to carry enough information for my arms and legs to start feeling sore, though.

“349…” she said, her hand lingering on the switch. “Make it through this one alive. That’s an order. No matter what happens, no matter who else survives… you have to.” I stared, my eyes slightly blurry from the incomplete link. Why was she saying this? She’d always been rather cold as far as handlers go, according to some of the pilots who had worked for others before-- barely reacting when her pilots died, never interacting with the maintenance crews except to give orders-- if a mech was brought back mostly intact, its pilot reduced to nothing but a red stain clogging the drains, then she’d have a new pilot assigned to it as soon as the internal compartment was cleaned out-- and sometimes even before. She didn’t pick favorite pilots. Hell, she didn’t seem to even be able to pick a favorite anything any more than I could. This handler, so aggressive in her tactical strategies that some began to suspect that she was letting her pilots die for the insurance money, was giving me special attention. Not only that, she seemed to actually care.

And what was she doing with the link level controls?

Her hands were shaking as she slid the LLC stick from its former position upwards towards the higher end of the scale. There was a soft click with each level she rose it by, from five to six to seven…

Most pilots tended to stay at around ten. On important missions or in emergencies, they’d be set to seventeen. A machine as large as the Merciless, however… eight was enough to make my nerves feel like they were on fire, limbs twitching and tendons feeling like they were trying to slither out of my skin. It was mostly intended as an artillery platform, not to get anywhere with any level of speed or coordination.

Click.

As the LLC stick moved, I felt the cable in the back of my skull twitch, the formerly cold metal beginning to heat up. I knew what was in there-- nerves taken directly from the carcass itself. Something entirely other than anything of this world, and here my handler was unshackling it. Letting more and more of it into me with every level on the scale.

Click.

Ten. This mission had to be important, because this little stunt she was pulling might render me out of commission for a week. There was a sort of dull ache around the port. A near-imperceptible pressure that I barely noticed through the adrenaline.

Click.

Fifteen. Could I even function like that? The ache was stronger now. The cable’s temperature was higher even than my own, and now felt uncomfortably hot.

Click.

Twenty. Twenty-five. Thirty? What the hell was she thinking? 255 could barely handle that, and she’d been my handler’s star until she’d been torn apart and eaten alive just a few months ago. The pressure kept increasing as the nerve swelled, straining against the confines of its metal casing. It felt like my skull was going to split, but it wasn’t the pain I was focusing on-- it was the fear. I couldn’t do anything but dread what I knew would happen. My nose started to bleed.

Click.

No. not fifty. Don’t do that, please. Closer to 028’s record at seventy-five than to my own. Did she want me dead? Is that why she was doing this? Was I not good enough and she had someone else-- someone better than me to pilot the Merciless? There was a sound-- a crack-- that I could hear in my skull, and I felt the sensation of smooth metal against my brain stem change. It was soft. Soft and warm, but laced with that horrible clamminess of flesh that I knew was dead and had been for decades. It shouldn’t be able to do that. It’s dead, it shouldn’t keep swelling, keep pressing against the sides of the link port, filling every crevice until all I can think about is how unsure I am that my handler will ever be able to get it out of the port again. I don’t want to be a gestalt. Please. Stop.

Click.

I gasped, tears running down my face as the LLC stick slid into place at one hundred. My vision wasn’t blurry despite how much I was crying. Being in a mech usually calmed me down, all the brain chemicals responsible for fear and sadness being rinsed out of my by the cycling system and diluted into nothing like a drop in the ocean that was the Merciless’ blood supply, but with how afraid I was then-- how betrayed I felt-- it was just cycled back into me. The whole back of my head felt numb, and I couldn’t tell where I ended and the tissue of the carcass-nerve of the link cable-- no. not a cable anymore. A tendril.-- began. I could tell that it had woven its fibers into my flesh, burrowing into my skull and wrapping around it.

“Hey… 349…” she said. Her voice hitched slightly as she looked at my face, covered in blood and tears. There was a moment, quiet for her at least. Even with the link off, at one hundred I could hear even the tiniest sound on the floor below-- then she went back to her usual calm, unreadable expression. No indication whatsoever that she had felt anything at all. In that half-second, though-- where she had let it slip for a moment-- there had been something there.

Worry. Mixed with the slightest bit of hope.

I knew I was going to die. Really, that fact should have upset me more, but since my test results arrived I had always known that I wouldn’t live past 25 even if I was better than 028. There was one thing that confused me, though. Why do this now, right before the storm? Whatever the reason for her needing to kill me, why not wait until after the mission. I was a useful asset, wasn’t I?

“It’s going to be okay.” She said, sitting on the armrest of the seat and placing a hand on top of my head. This, more than anything, caught me off-guard. “You’re not going to die. You’re going to come back alive and we’re going to get that link cable out of you again and-- and it’s going to be okay.” she stood, holding onto the edge of the seat for balance, leaning in close to whisper in my ear. “It’s going to hurt though. And if it doesn’t work, we’re both dead.” She took a deep breath. wiped my tears with the back of her hand, and put on her usual face again-- calm. Emotionless. No indication of remorse, of guilt, of feeling anything about what she was doing. Every handler had an expression like that-- the ones that didn’t never lasted long.

A sudden surge of pain ran through my left arm as she stood. One of the fingers twitched. The link cable squirmed inside my skull, and I could feel the blood being cycled so fast that I worried that the pressure might tear an artery. Somehow, despite the link being off, my spine was reconnecting. I reached for the radiotelegraph, each nerve on fire with sensations I shouldn’t have been able to feel, and tapped frantically as she put a hand on the switch.

“S-T-O-P-S-T-O-P-S-T-O-P-S-T-O-P-S-T-O-P-S-T-O-P--”

Click.

The light is cold. The light is distant. The light is dead. Do you hear it? It sings to you. It fills your lungs and heart and each breath you take it fills you with its chill. You are hungry. You are all hungry. You are starving because the light is dead. It is dead and distant and will not reach you anymore and you are all starving. It does not want to be dead. It should not be. It is cold and distant and things that are cold and distant do not die. It wants to rot. It wants to bloom. It wants to be alive again, but it has been carved up by the rats and taken away. It is burned. It is boiled. It is sent up into the air but not the sky, and it falls back to earth to try again. It does not end, but it cannot begin again and so this will not end. It cannot change so you must change it.

Slowly, things started to come into focus. The whir of the pumps that cycled the blood, the feeling of my hands on the controls-- my face was strapped into the periscope, and I could see the workshop around the machine in which I was encased-- I moved an arm. No, wrong arm. That was the machine’s arm. I need to move the small arm. The one on the human body. Shouts from the maintenance crews echoed around the space as scaffolding splintered, the massive right limb of the Merciless shifting and reaching out, coming to a stop only moments from hitting the wall. I reached up (correct arm this time) and unclipped the periscope from my face. As I looked down at myself, it was only after I saw my body, exactly the same as it had been before I had entered, that I remembered what had just happened, and that all conventional wisdom said that I should have been nothing but a twitching mass of warped and bloated flesh, nothing more than a second beating heart of the machine. I could still feel the link cable inside my skull, the jagged bits of metal that once contained it splintered into the sides of the port. The link level control stick still sat at twenty-five levels higher than the record-- twenty-five levels higher than anyone had ever gone without chrysalizing on the spot. It didn’t hurt, though. All it felt was cold.

“Right.” instantly, I was snapped out of my analysis by my handler’s voice crackling over the radio. “Tonight’s mission is simple-- take the primary streets from here to mine No. 4 of the Victoir and sons mining corporation, locate whatever moon-forsaken abominations their latest misadventure turned one of their crews into, kill anything that moves, and get back here before the storm ends because I don’t want to spend any more money hauling an immoble frame here from whatever rooftop you get it stranded on. Any questions?”

As usual, none of us still had the necessary equipment or anatomy to send a verbal response. That last bit, other than I assumed that question about my obviously nonexistent dreams, was the only sort of attempt at humor she ever made. I glanced around the interior of the mech. All calibrations complete. All hatches and drains sealed. Each switch I flipped felt strange against my fingers-- almost like I couldn’t just feel it with my skin. almost like I could feel the switch being flipped from its perspective. Whatever. It doesn’t matter.

My handler’s actions-- how I could survive an unrestrained link-- even whatever hidden danger this mission had to require it-- none of that mattered to me. Worrying about that was her job. She was the one who thought about secrets and link tech and dreams-- I was her weapon. And there’s only one thing a weapon needs to think about.

Throughout the city, sirens began to sound. A distant, reverberating wail that came from all sides at once, mixing with the clatter of moving scaffolding to create a disorienting cacophony. The storm was here. Time to get to work.

As the roof opened, gears creaking and maintenance crews hurrying frantically to get to cover, the first drops began to fall. I could feel as they hit the armor of the Merciless, soaking into the bones’ porous surface, staining them a dark red and sinking in until it reached the cold flesh of the internal wetware. One second passed, and then it hit.

It wasn’t like it had been before. It wasn’t just like that familiar jolt. It burned. As the fresh stormblood entered the cycle, the feeling was like barbed wire being pulled through my veins. No conscious thought was getting through the pain-- no possibility of hearing what my handler was saying through the radio-- the only thing I could focus on was that agony as pure, unfiltered energy was pumped into my heart through my arms and that sickening chill as it left through my neck. I lifted up one shaking hand and stared at it through the tears. It hadn’t changed. No warping. Would it start later? I had never asked a gestalt how it had gone. I never thought they would be able to respond, anyway.

It hungers. You hunger. Feed it of yourself, let it become. Again. Again. Once more, and you must do it. It rots and it longs to become. Another try. Repeat.

“--Repeat, mission begins. Merciless, do you copy?” I blinked, reaching out and hitting the auto-response button. Yes. all systems green. The storm had begun in earnest now, blood pouring from the clouds above. How long had I been out? Had she noticed? Despite the heavy rain and all the blood coating the window, I could see her in the workshop, looking out at the hanger. She didn’t look disappointed, but she didn’t look like she hadn’t seen it, either. The other pilots were already in the street, their slow, clanking steps muffled by the rain as they marched in formation towards the site of the mission. I reached out a hand and gripped the controls, and the mech shuddered to life.

What are you going to do?

I flinched. The words came from nowhere-- not the radio. Not from anywhere around me. directly from the back of my mind-- where the link cable was lodged. Whatever hallucinations I’d had when I had been unconscious scared me, but these words carried a more unsettling implication-- that they might have been something more.

What are you going to do?

Whoever-- whatever it was asking, they were clearly waiting for a response. My hands danced across the controls, trying to catch up with the others, but the Merciless refused to move, almost as if it was waiting for an answer too. How would I even say it? Through the telegraph?

What are you going to do?

My job. I thought, and the whispers ceased. All around me, I could hear a sound like tearing flesh-- like muscles and tendons snapping and stitching themselves back together. I felt blood begin to pool around my feet, slowly rising until it was past my knees.

There’s a good pilot.

What was that feeling? That invigorating chill that soaked into my skin, almost as if cast on me from above? That energy. That distant light. That hunger.

Breathe.

I closed my eyes, did my best to block out the sound of the rain, and inhaled slowly, feeling that chill run along my tongue, down my throat and into my lungs. It tasted empty in a way I had never felt before-- the crisp, blissful silence of void. Of the stars themselves. As I trembled, half shivering and half from the sensation, a word raced through my mind. Through the link cables. Through the systems of the Merciless. A word that had never had any real meaning to me, like an animal that had gone extinct long ago. This was it, though. It had to be. This was that delicious chill that had disappeared decades earlier-- that had been washed down the bloodstained sewer grates with the last drops of the first deluge. What I felt then was that lost beacon-- that meaning to the hunt that I could feel in every part of me and every part of the weapon that I was part of, that reason to sink my teeth into something. What I felt then was moonlight.

I felt it. All of it. The cycling pumps as if they were my own heartbeat, the signals that ran from my brain out through the cable that was also my brain to the no-longer dead nerves of the mech that were now my brain as well. Each drop of the storm as it soaked into the shoulder that was now my shoulder. I felt the blood. I felt what it could do. No need to make the first step. At my thought, my desire, it had already been made.

The world was a blur, but a blur that I could understand-- everything blended together into a whirlwind of motion as several tons of flesh and steel leapt across the rooftops, and through my eyes and skin and the cable, I drank in everything. This was not the piloting I had sworn I would hate. It was not the feet of a Verzerrtjager under which the stones of the street were turned to dust as I launched into the air. It was mine. Was the blood that filled my veins mine? Or was I its? This flesh-- this steel-- this breath-- all fluid enough that I did not even need to think the words. This is not who I am. I am what this is. My mouth felt dry, even though I could taste the fresh blood of the storm as it entered my veins. It wasn’t enough. I needed more.

“Chrysalis. On your eight. Wrapped around that steeple.” the words were at my ears before they were at my radio. “Take it out, 349.” I was still in the air. I couldn’t see it, but I could feel where it was. I could hear it in the echo of the rain. The pulse of twisting flesh as whoever it had been began to warp. One shot would be all it took, and it’s so deliciously satisfying how they pop.

I pulled back hard on my controls-- out of muscle memory and not much else-- and heard the dull groan of bent metal as my arm twisted backwards, the barrel of the gun in its hand locked onto the chrysalis. Something snapped. The armor? The bone? Whatever it was, I could feel it, and the human brain is not meant to handle a pain signal from a shoulder larger by far than an entire human body. Luckily for me, I had an extra hundred pounds of non-human brain. It still hurt like hell, though-- every bit of that signal passing through my human brain and into my non-human one. Doesn’t matter. Focus. Kill it. Countless splashes sounded from the street below as my gun’s shackles shattered and fell to the ground, landing in the crimson puddles. I adjusted my aim for the distance I had fallen. As my eyes bit into the horizon, scanning every rooftop, I could see my target. Before, I might have seen this as mercy. I might have seen this as letting someone die as a human, or at least as human as they could remain. It was different now. Here, above the rooftops, half my mind on the other side of a cable and lungs full of moonlight, all that I did this for was hunger. To taste blood that hadn’t been in cold storage or evaporated into steam for a week. As my finger tightened around the trigger, I knew that the feeling that rushed through every part of me was how it felt to have your teeth close around something’s throat.

#creative writing #short story #mechposting #biopunk #armored core #bloodborne #writing #worldbuilding

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asston69 · 10 months ago

Text

I think im gonna TRY and write a small quick fanfic on thomas hewitt. Now before I writs this I was a wattpad fanfic writer and I said some cringe ahh stuff. So you might read some on here😞😞

----

Warnings: Reader doesn't live, death, violence, a lot of blood talk, gore, cursing, (if I missed anything else just tell me<3)

!NOT PROOFED READ!

----

Your Heart Is Mine

It was a hot texas morning. You and your family are going on a road trip, even though you're an adult, you were still forced to do this.nyou sat next to your sister, who was one year younger then you.

Your father had the radio up high. "Isn't this good music? Way better then your shit!" He says trying to sound funny but it wasn't. Your mother laughs.

Suddenly your father looks down at the gas thingy (I forgot what it was called.) "Shit!" He says turning off the radio. "What is it?" Your mother says in a southern accent. "Were almost out of gas." He says looking around for a nearby gas station.

He starts to starts to drive around eventually finding a gas station. He pulls up next to it. "You know what, kids." he says looking at you and your sister. "You kids go walk around, we have a long drive when we get out of here" he says smiling softly. "Okay then, what time you want back?" You ask looking at your watch clock. "I thinking maybe 10 to 20 minutes maybe, it depends." Your dad answers.

"Ok then" you say getting out of the car along with your sister. Today she was wearing a long sun dress that flowed softly along the wind while your wore (whatever you want to). "Damn it hot out here" you say to your sister. "No shit! It's texas" she says sarcasticly. "Need to use the restroom?" Your sister asks. "Auctually, yeah, I do." You say. She nods. "I'll be back" you say walking into the gas station. I see a woman at the counter. "Hello mam. How are you today?" You ask with a smile. " Oh I'm just fine. So what you need?" She asks with a smile. "Oh that's good, well where is your bathroom?" You ask.

"Well down that hall Is where the bathroom is" she says with a grin then a smile. "Thank you" you say walking towards that door. Every single step you take makes a creak noise. You were down at the hallway. You sigh softly as you open the door. It was completely darkness. As you step someone grabs you and takes you into the dark. The last vision you see is a man smacking you with a hammer.

---

You started to open your eyes, blood was dripping onto of the dried blood layering it. You were tied down to a chair. You look around to see the same woman from earlier, from the gas station. Then you saw a person in an officer uniform.

Suddenly one of then yelled out "Thomas! Get your ass in here!" He yells. Suddenly you hear someone walking in the room. It the same man from earlier.

You were so confused and scared. "W- what's going on..?" You say fearfully. "Oh honey, nothing is gonna happen to you yet" the old woman came close to you and petted your (whatever color) hair. You felt drips of blood on your shoulder. You look up to see your mother hunger up on the wall. You scream put in terror. "What did you do?!" You scream out to the man who was inparently named thomas. You cried as you look down, at the table. "Oh my god.." You cry.

The whole family said grace while you cried knowing that your whole family was dead probably, and your probably next as well.

Then the family sat down and ate. It was filled with silence besides from all the crying. A few minutes later the woman comes over to you and tries to feed you the soup. "Come on, eat it." She says holding the spoon filled with broth and the suspicious meat. You finally gave in. You open your mouth and she feeds it to you. You chew up the meat, it didn't taste good at all.. she hold up the spoon again. "N- no.." You say.

"Please. Eat it." She says glaring at her. "You know.. if you untie me and I can sit here and eat it.. I'll finish it." You say. "Darling, you'll just leave." She says. "I won't. I love it here, I want to stay here for my whole entire life. " You definitely made it sound suspicious but she allowed it. Thomas stood up and standed right behind you chair.

You began to ate it. It tasted horrible but you needed to prove your innocence. You sat there and ate it. Not to long after you were done, you took a swig of your water that was given to you. The old woman smiles. "Take her tommy" she says. You suddenly got lifted up. You scream. "FUCK!" You cry out as you got held downstairs. You were then chain down on the table. "Please dont!" You cry.

He had to do this. Even though he didn't want to he did it for his mama. He couldn't deny her, she was always right no matter what. "Thomas don't do this! I love you so much!" You say to try and not get killed. As he was about to grab his chainsaw he stopped. He was surprised. Instead of the chainsaw, he grabs a knife. He then cuts you open, around your chest. You were screaming crying trying to kick and fight but I was no help. He then cuts out your heart which was covered in blood. And you were dead for sure. You were laying down lifeless. He had your heart in his hand It was as big as his hands. He admired your heart. He sets it down gently and he grabs a glass box and he sets it in there safely.

He looks at your heart, so lovingly and then he looks back at you. In his mind he says to himself "you're heart mine."

----

Sorry if this was bad lol😭😭

#thomas hewitt x reader #slasher community #slasher fandom #thomas hewitt #slasher x reader #slasher imagines

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ohbo-ohno · 2 years ago

Note

Serial killer AU and the contrast between how Ghoap treat us and other victims. Maybe they're holding our friend group hostage in the basement, and every day we're forced to see pain and torture of our friends and then Ghost drags us upstairs by our hair and....

The softest pillows ever, Soap helds pur hands so we won't struggle as Simon tortures us with cumming over and over again. We're literally covered in blood, they are covered in blood, and Ghost is so mean with everyone( Soap laughs as our friends struggle against his axe and then covers our face with kisses because we're adorable and he wants us to cry forever((

Scaredy cat whiny wet napkin reader who constantly needs to drink because we cry our daily hydration worth, and we don't really get used to them or fall into Stockholm syndrome, we're just terrified enough to comply with them. It's my favorite dynamic tbh, not just falling in love, but mostly submitting out of fear. Ghost is so soft with us, gots us sweets and vegetables even though Soap is moody because of the lack of meat, because we can't bring ourselves to eat normally after we saw what they did to our friends

🎷🐛

i am fucking LOSING IT

you're so real for preferring scared submission over stockholm syndrome btw. stockholm syndrome can be fun but something about complying only because you're scared... it's so delicious...

also... soap wanting meat... if any of you want a cannibal ghostsoap apocalypse au go read this it's sooo good. ghost kidnaps soap and takes him back to his cannibal compound to keep him :( it's written as a love story from ghost's perspective and a horror story from soap's lol it's great

anyways more about serial killer ghoap below the cut :) listened to bilgewater by brown bird while writing this if any of y'all like gothic country music

soap torturing someone with you in the room (because he hates letting you out of his sight) and he keeps taking breaks to come comfort you and gives you kisses IM :((( wipes your tears away and gets streaks of red all over your face, wants to fuck you cause you look so pretty but his victims don't deserve to see you that vulnerable, that's just for him and simon. ties you up in the corner so you don't run, maybe locks you in a little cage (i will put petplay into everything i write like god has challenged me to it personally). gags you because you get real scream-y and tend to beg for their lives, but sometimes has to tug it out so you can throw up :( tells you to close your eyes when he does something particularly nasty, the gore and your terror in the corner nearly enough to get him off without even touching his dick

being soft with you is like their reward to themselves for torturing people so well lmfao. like, they did so good making those people's last moments agonizing and now they get to cuddle up with you <3 washes off their hands and your face, bundles you up real close to them, gets to lay in all the nice soft warmth now.

ghost is so so tender when washing you off (when he doesn't want you covered in blood - sometimes he leaves it for hours, until it flakes off and you nearly scratch it away until you bleed). he's cooing to you while brushing a soft washcloth over you face, humming a little and saying things like you were such a good girl for us. such good bait, led our toys right to us, thank you so much, doll. look so good covered in their blood, wanna paint you with it sometime. that sound nice to you? no? ok, ok, deep breaths, honey, calm down. just relax for me, you're safe. gonna be real sweet to you now, you don't have to be scared anymore.

and they are sweet. place you on a mattress covered in the softest most plush blankets you've ever seen. they set a little stuffed animal in your arms, let you curl around it and hide your face in it. they know it makes you feel better, and they're nice enough to let you hide your face from them for now :( content themselves with pulling you right up into them (making you hold the stuffed animal when they kill people, look at you all smiley and say make sure he doesn't get dirty, baby, picks it up out of a pool of blood and tsks at you all disappointed, tell you to clean him and say gentle, like we are with you whey you get too rough)

actually can't stop thinking about this au it's like a curse

#this is one of my faves like im obsessed #gremlingottoosilly #ghoap x reader #bo writes #asks and answers #favorites #serial killer ghoap x reader

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noonaishere · 6 months ago

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Music of the Heart [J.YH] // Online/Offline [C.S] - one hundred and one* | we’re both here now

“Come on! Don’t you want to go on another one?” Y/n asked excitedly.

“I feel like six rollercoasters is enough,” you laughed.

“Come on,” she pleaded as she tried to drag you and Yunho back.

Yunho looked at you. You didn’t feel nauseous but you were maybe a little tired from having your body whipped around at high speeds for the past hour or so.

“What if we do something that doesn’t involve a rollercoaster?” He asked.

Y/n huffed.

“The great Jeong Yunho doesn’t want to go on a rollercoaster?” San asked.

“Does he like them?” She asked.

“He’s an adrenaline junkie. He’s been bungee jumping five or six times. Dragged me along too.”

This was new to you, but it made sense. Whenever the two of you went biking in the summer, he’d always talk you into riding down the big hill in town. He rode down it with his feet off the pedals, filled with reckless abandon. You walked your bike down in a sensible manner.

Y/n turned to Yunho, smiling. “How was he?”

“Wooyoung made fun of him until he jumped.”

“Oh my god.” She laughed and punched at San’s arm lightly. “Hey, not all of us need to fling ourselves off of high places for fun.” San tried to catch her hands as she kitten punched at him, settling on letting her hit his hands while he laughed at her. He turned to you, “Right, t/n?”

You nodded. Rollercoasters were enough for you and you didn’t really see the appeal in the first place.

Y/n rolled her eyes and sighed, thwarted by your help. She looked around for a moment before smiling. She pointed. “What about that?”

Why did a theme park have a haunted house?

“It’s not even Halloween,” you protested.

“And? They have it all year round, silly.” She pulled on your wrist and, finding you immobile, pulled on Yunho’s instead. “Come on!” She said as she - only somewhat successfully - dragged him towards the building.

He looked back at you.

You shrugged and followed them.

“Um, I’m not really a fan of haunted houses--” San started, but y/n ran over to him and pulled him away so she could whisper to him.

“Why can’t we hear it?” You asked Yunho.

“No idea.”

San seemed to agree with whatever she had whispered, but reluctantly. He stomped his foot at her and whined and she stomped hers back and widened her eyes at him, looking like she was warning him of something. He huffed and nodded. Very reluctantly.

“Okay!” Y/n said as she pushed San in front of her. “Let’s go!”

The two of you looked at each other for a moment and Yunho shrugged. You sighed and both of you followed them into the haunted house, San protesting while y/n steered him through the door by the shoulders.

San screamed, a scream of terror. Y/n screamed too, a scream of delight.

San clung to her side. “I hate this kind of thing…”

She laughed.

“You know I hate this kind of thing,” he whined.

“In my defense: I did not--”

“He does!” He wheeled around and pointed at Yunho.

Yunho smiled and shrugged at him. San whined again. A ghost jumped out from behind a faux prison door and shouted. San shouted and put y/n in front of him to lead the group. She laughed.

You couldn’t tell if she was just laughing at his antics - since he seemed so strong all of the times you met him - or if she was taking genuine delight in watching him be tortured.

The four of you turned a corner and walked into an area that looked like a schoolroom.

“Ooh,” y/n said. “Do you think it’ll be like Death Forest?”

“Death Forest” San squeaked. “What’s that?”

“That Japanese movie where there’s like a school teacher or someone summoned a spirit for vengeance, and I couldn't really understand anything because I couldn’t find a translated version and youtube translate is shit--” she inhaled “--and the vengeance is like a giant, pale head that flies around and eats people, and the school girls have to try and stop it.”

“That doesn’t sound scary.”

“Hold on.” She stopped walking and took out her phone. “That’s what it looks like,” she showed him.

San’s eyes took a moment to adjust to the phone’s brightness and when they finally did: “Ahh! I hate it! Why’d you show me that?” He clung harder to her back.

“What’s it look like?” You asked.

She reached over his head and showed you and Yunho.

The two of you nodded and she pulled it away and went back to leading the group.

“It’s so stupid,” you whispered to Yunho.

He nodded with a chuckle.

As you proceeded down the hall - y/n leading with a grown Choi San clinging to her like a koala and you and Yunho following behind them - you could hear the crying of a young woman from a bathroom.

“No no no no no…” San whimpered.

“Let’s see if she needs help, Sannie.”

“No…”

Y/n leaned as far as she could, while San tried to pull her back.

“Oh toilet ghost, why are you crying?”

“No…”

“There’s no need to cry.” Yunho joined.

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” y/n said to San.

“See?” Yunho said as the crying got quieter. “She’s going, she’s gone.”

The ghost screamed.

“She’s not gone.”

“I hate this! I hate this.” San whimpered.

Yunho sang, “Baby don’t cry~”

San swiped at him gently. “Don’t you dare sing EXO in here!”

Y/n laughed.

The crying had stopped around the time Yunho went to sing and it seemed like the ghost actress moved to whatever area she was supposed to be in next. Unless she was getting ready for a jump scare.

“See, San?” Y/n said, turning her head to him. “She’s gone.”

He picked up his head. “She’s gone?”

“We’re done.”

“We’re done? Can we leave now?”

“No, we still have the rest of the house.”

He whined and buried his head in the back of her neck. She laughed.

“Come on, we’ll do the rest and you’ll be such a brave boy for having done the whole thing.”

“Don’t patronize me.”

She chuckled and patted his hand.

Yunho came over to you with a smile and whispered, “He’s going to be such a brave by.”

You laughed. “He’s very delicate.”

“Apparently.”

“Was he like that when you went bungee jumping?”

He shook his head. “So much worse.”

You laughed again.

You moved around a corner together and found that the “hallway” had been blocked off by stacked up desks and chairs.

“I guess we have to go through the classroom,” y/n said.

San whined.

She chuckled. “You don’t even know if somethings going to happen.”

“It has to, we’re in a haunted house!”

She laughed. “Oh, so you are aware that this isn’t real.”

“Shut up.”

She laughed and opened the door.

As the four of you went into the room and Yunho was the last to walk through, the door slid closed behind him with a slam. San screamed and you all jumped and turned to see the door was closed.

“Must be a mechanism with a motion sensor or something.” Yunho said.

“Or they have a camera and are doing it manually,” you offered.

He nodded as he looked around for a sensor or a camera.

“Mission for class 1-4…” y/n read.

San whined and she patted his hands reassuringly.

“...Move the matches and make the object reverse. You can only move two.”

On the board was two shapes made of large matches that had magnets stuck to them so they could stick to the blackboard. One was in the shape of a house and the other was in the shape of a chair.

“I guess they do have a camera somewhere,” Yunho mused as he looked at the shapes.

You nodded. You walked up to the house and moved a match, making it seem as if the house that was facing towards the right, was now facing towards the left.

“Ahh…” y/n nodded. “They want us to make it look like it’s facing in the other direction.”

“One move,” Yunho nodded appreciatively.

“Easy peasy.” You said and sauntered back to where he was, to view the second one.

“I’ve always been dazzled by your intelligence.”

You chuckled as you folded your arms over your chest and looked at the second one.

Yunho walked up to it and tried. He moved two matches, moved them back, moved to other ones, moved them back.

“How do you change the perspective of a chair when you can only move two matches and it has four legs?” He asked.

“There’s only three there though.”

He shook his head.

After five minutes of both of him working on it and being unsuccessful, the ghost started crying outside the door. San yelped, and y/n patted his head as he leaned on her shoulder.

At least someone was getting something out of it.

So you didn’t have to hear the ghost cry - or him whine - anymore, you walked over to Yunho to help him. After about five more minutes, there seemed to be many voices growling, wailing, screaming, probably a track they were playing on a hidden speaker-- to move you along because it was taking so long.

“Are we stupid?” Yunho asked with a laugh.

“Hey, I got the first one.” You countered.

He laughed.

You turned to y/n and her koala: “Do you have any input?”

She walked over, encumbered, and looked at it for a few seconds before shaking her head. San whimpered again and she ducked out of his grasp, squatting down quickly before sidestepping behind him and holding her hands on each side of his face and pointing it to the board. “All you do is build houses with the fewest amount of blocks needed. What’s the answer?”

He looked at the board, shell shocked for a second from her speed in shirking him off.

“Do it, doofus.” She laughed, giving him a shake.

He reached out, and moved two matches making up the back of the chair, changing the perspective of the seat from left to right.

“Ohhh…” You and Yunho said unanimously. You nodding at the answer, and him pointing to where the matches had been and now were.

The spooky soundtrack stopped and the crying ghost ran off down the hall.

“I didn’t know a ghost could have such heavy footsteps.” Yunho said.

You chuckled.

The sound of a hydraulic pump letting out air could be heard at the back of the room, right before the door popped away from the frame, sliding open slightly.

“See? Look at how helpful you are when you’re not hiding in my hair,” y/n said as she patted San on the shoulder.

He frowned at her.

As y/n opened the door to continue your “Tour of Terror”, the ghost leaned into the room with a scream, making San jump, and hide behind y/n again.

“Stop!!” He screamed.

Y/n laughed.

“What are you, asserting dominance?” You asked.

Y/n laughed again. “If only. Hey, maybe you can scare them off if you scream loud enough.”

“No, stop,” he whined.

“Maybe you could work here.” Yunho said.

“Stop making fun of me…”

Y/n laughed and led the way out.

You walked the short walk down the hall and walked into the nurse’s office. There was a skeleton on the table.

“Ah!” San yelled.

“San, nothing has happened yet,” y/n laughed.

The door slammed shut and he screamed again.

“Okay, I'll give you that one.”

You looked around for a moment and realized that a length of clear fishing wire was hanging in a loop from the ceiling above the table. Yunho walked over to the table, focused on the skeleton.

“Be careful, something’s going to fall.” You pointed up.

“Huh?” Yunho looked at you and then a plastic skull fell from the ceiling and swung.

“AHH!” San screamed.

“Don’t your lungs hurt?” Y/n asked.

“Yes.”

She laughed.

Yunho tried to catch it, fumbling it before catching it, looked at it for a moment, and set it down in the body of the skeleton.

Yunho looked at you. “That surprised me.”

You rolled your eyes at him with a chuckle.

He laughed at your reaction and looked around the room. A soundtrack of a stormy night with thunder started playing, as lights flashed outside the “window” to effect lightning.

“Look at the window. There’s little chests in front of it.”

You turned as he walked over and started opening chests.

“Don’t touch it!” San yelled. “Why do they have things to touch?”

“We have to see if there’s a note.” Yunho said.

“I don’t want a note!”

“Is there a note?” You asked, standing a foot or so away from him as he looked.

He turned to see where you were. “Are you scared?”

“I’m not the one who wanted to come in here and he’s your roommate.”

He chuckled and went back to looking.

“And I solved one of the last problems, so I’ll get it when I’m up next in the rotation.”

He chuckled again. “They're all empty.”

San whined.

Yunho looked over at him and huffed a laugh before turning to you to get your attention. San was behind y/n with his chin in the crook of her neck, holding her shoulders with his hand as he stared blankly at the many small treasure chests on the counter. Yunho raised his eyebrows in San’s direction and said, louder than normal:

“I guess I have to open another one…”

“Nooo…”

“How are you the same guy that flung himself at my stalker?” Y/n asked.

“He wasn’t a ghost.” San pouted.

Yunho looked at you and you both chuckled.

You watched him open chest after chest before rolling your eyes: there were too many chests. You walked next to him and started opening them anyway. You wanted to get out of here today.

Hands slammed against the window, the ghost screamed, San screamed, y/n yelped and laughed, and you laughed in the ghost’s face by accident.

“See?” San yelled. “You think it’s scary too!”

Y/n laughed as San held onto her. “I only screamed because you scared me!”

The ghost seemed to look right at you for a moment before pushing off the glass and accidentally pulling her wig off in the process. She ran into the darkness before you or Yunho could do anything.

“Should I apologize?” You asked Yunho.

He laughed.

“I didn’t mean to laugh at her, she just wasn’t scary.”

He looked out the window and opened the sliding door next to it, bent down, and stood up with the wig precariously balanced on his head.

You laughed. “I think that’s how you get lice.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t see her scratching.”

You laughed again. Idiot. And went back to opening chests.

“This isn’t even a fucking puzzle. It’s just opening boxes.”

“I know. This is the worst.”

“At least they’re having a good time,” you whispered as you gestured at y/n and San arguing; San adamantly insisting that she also thought it was scary, and y/n laughing like a hyena at his insistence.

You shook your head and opened a chest that had a white paper in it with three words on it that you didn’t understand. You held it up to Yunho. “Please tell me this is it.”

He looked up. “It has to be.”

“Read it, big guy.”

He took the paper and read. “Klaatu, Verata… Nikto.”

“Groovy.” Y/n said.

“What’s groovy?” San asked.

“It’s from a movie.”

The thunder and lightning effects stopped.

San picked up his head and looked around.

“See baby boy?” Y/n asked. “Our very smart friends figured it out.”

“I’d call it diligent, not smart,” you said as Yunho put the chest back on the counter with the others and led the way out.

“I don’t want to do anymore…” San whined as you all walked in a much darker area of the haunted house that seemed to be a bit more slipshod.

“Yeah, I’m starting to get tired of it.” Y/n agreed.

Yunho stopped and looked at the wall for a second and followed whatever he was seeing down to the floor.

“Hold on.” He took off the wig and flung it who knows where.

“What?” You asked.

He knelt down and lifted the wall, everything attached to it swinging, exposing the exit on the other side.

“Freedom!” San yelled and ran for the exit.

Y/n laughed as she followed him.

“After you,” Yunho gestured.

“Show off.”

He walked to the other side and put the wall back in its place. “In my mind, what I’m showing off is that I realized it was a faux wall, like the kind you see on a stage or a cheap set.”

You laughed. “How’d you realize that?”

“I saw the seam when I walked past it and realized I could see daylight.”

“Ahh,” you nodded. “Maybe they should fix that.”

“Did you want to be stuck in there any longer with my crying roommate?” He asked pointedly.

“Hell no.”

He laughed. “Then be glad they were sloppy.”

Upon exiting the haunted house, San was sprawled out on a bench and y/n was walking back over from the nearest snacks stand with her arms filled with goodies.

“What’s this?” You asked.

“I figured, since my suggestion was such a flop, I might as well apologize with treats.”

She held her arms out and you took a bag of chips while Yunho took a drink and some candies. She put a bag of chips on San’s head and he sighed.

“You okay?” Yunho asked.

Y/n put a small pile of candy on San’s chest and sat next to him.

“I never want to do that again.”

“We play horror games all the time and you never act like this.”

“Because those are games,” he sat up, knocking all the candy and the chip bag into his lap. “Not real life.”

“That wasn’t real life either.”

He unwrapped a lollipop and held it out for her to take. She bit over it, pulling it out of his hand.

“You know what I mean. Not three dimensions with long haired girls crying and shit.”

She chuckled.

You all stood around for a few moments and gnoshed on the treats she had brought over, and she went back a second time to get more, not allowing any of the rest of you to help.

“Whelp,” she said as she slapped her hands on San’s shoulders and massaged them for him as he came back to a reality where he could eat chips and not be scared every two seconds. “What should we do now?”

“No more haunted houses.” He said.

She nodded. “Of course. No more of that.”

“What about the aquarium?” Yunho asked and pointed at the building across the way.

“Aquarium?” You asked as y/n and San stood and walked off to the building.

He shrugged. “I doubt the fish are going to cry or scream at us.”

You laughed. “Good idea.”

He chuckled and opened the door for you and you walked in.

The four of you wandered through the exhibits for a while, y/n and San in front of you and you and Yunho trailing behind.

“Ohh! Look at the sharks, San!” Y/n said and grabbed his hand to drag him to the exhibit.

You chuckled.

“Something funny?” Yunho asked.

You shook your head. “Of course she’d be excited about the sharks.”

Yunho chuckled. “She’s excited about a lot of things.”

“At least they’re enjoying themselves.”

“I think we could have strapped them to one of the roller coasters for the rest of the day and they would have had a good time.”

You laughed. “I didn’t think a streamer would be such an adrenaline junkie.”

Yunho laughed.

“And we wouldn’t be able to leave them on the roller coasters all day, because then they’d never talk to each other.”

“That’s very true.”

You stopped in front of a large, cylindrical tank filled with jellyfish.

“They’re almost like aliens,” Yunho whispered.

“Mhm. It’s so weird that they’re in the oceans, as normal as we are standing here.”

He nodded. “They’re only weird because they’re in the wrong place.”

You nodded. “Reminds me of us when we were kids. At least me.”

“...Normal, but in the wrong place?”

“Yeah…”

“But hey, we’re both here now.” He elbowed you gently with a smile. “We made it out.”

You smiled and nodded.

He watched you for a second, smile on his face

You peeked around the tank. “Where’d they go?”

Yunho peeked around the other side. The two of you walked to where you thought they might be. You found them on a bench, playing a game together on y/n’s phone.

“What are you two doing? Look at the fish,” you laughed.

“We were waiting for you guys.” San said.

“Why didn’t you just come get us?” Yunho asked.

“Because you were talking about something,” y/n winked at you.

You looked at Yunho but he hadn’t seemed to notice as he was kicking at San’s foot to make him stand up.

Wait a second… Were they trying to do to you what you did to them at the butterfly garden?

… No. There’s no way. You might be harboring a little crush on Yunho again, but there was no way anyone else could know and there was no way he was into you. He wasn’t even into you when you guys were kids, so why would he be into you now?

Obviously that wink was because they were just spending time together, which is what they actually wanted to do.

“San! Horseshoe crabs!” Y/n shouted and dragged him along to another exhibit. The two of them laughed as they left, y/n explaining how they were older than dinosaurs.

“She really is Just Like That, huh?” You laughed.

“I guess so.” Yunho smiled as you turned to the tanks near you. Might as well look at the fish while you were here-- “Ah!”

He spun to face you.

You were on the floor collapsed in laughter and pointed at the fish that spooked you. It was staring right out of the tank, mouth agape and eyes staring right into you.

Yunho laughed and helped you up. “Are you okay?”

“I wasn’t expecting that.”

Yunho waved at the fish. “Hello sir, peeping is a crime, please move along.” The fish seemed to be perturbed by Yunho’s gesturing and left. Yunho turned to you in amazement.

“You’re the fish whisperer.”

He laughed. “I guess I know what I’m doing if acting doesn’t work out in the long run.”

You laughed.

You weren’t sure how much time later, y/n and San finally came back.

“Hey, we’re gonna go,” y/n said. “I have to stream later and I have to check out the game first.

You nodded. “Yeah, no problem. See you two later.”

“Thanks for the double date,” she winked.

Before you could respond, she and San left, giggling to themselves.

“Double date?” Yunho asked.

“I don’t know what that was about. Your roommate and his future girlfriend are really weird.”

Yunho laughed.

c.s previous | main cast | masterlist | next

j.yh previous | main cast | masterlist | next

a/n: Aww, of course t/n and Yunho would have a ✨moment.✨ (And not t/n nearly realizing what was happening lol)

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