#it's all a comfort and I'm going to clutch it to my chest and Survive god damn it

[midnightwind]

woke up with a headache and have felt like exhausted and meh all day and wondering why

fully forgot today was essentially National Background Radiation Day

[pochipop]

＃HOMICIPHER !! ♡ — DWELLING, ROTTING, SURVIVING (MR CRAWLING X READER).

#. synopsis! — speaking isn't the only way to understand, and he's oh so gentle .

#. characters! — mr crawling .

#. warnings! — canon-typical dark content + setting .

#. word count! — 1.7k .

#. alt accounts! — @ddollipop (nsfw) @hhoneypop (moodboards) .

#. others! — navigation & masterlist .

#. a/n! — hi, i posted, please stop bullying me in my inbox :(( - all jokes aside, thank you guys for all the nice messages and compliments! & happy pride to my lgbt followers! funnily enough, don't think i've ever "come out" on this blog, but if it's not obvious, i'm bisexual lol so there's that!

You found yourself pressed against a cold, damp wall in what you could only assume was a room close to the belly of this labyrinth-like building. Breaths came in shallow, frightened gasps as the lights overhead flickered ominously, like they were trying to warn you of impending danger. . . Danger that you felt sting your chest like needles poking through your skin. The oppressive silence surrounding you was broken only by your intakes of air and the soft, almost imperceptible sound of something —or someone— (or maybe a mixture of the two, in this God-forsaken place) nearby.

Squinting into the gloom, a familiar shape emerged from the dark hallway, slipping into the room with you and pausing in the doorway. You felt relief take hold of you.

Mr Crawling. . .

That, of course, likely wasn’t his real name, but you didn’t speak in the language of clicks, noises, and chirp-like sounds that he did, and he didn’t speak with your tongue either. It was for that reason in particular that you’d bludgeoned his head with a crowbar not long ago, to which he sulked in a corner, bleeding and whining, and you were left to feel terrible for hurting the first entity that had tried to go out of his way to show you true empathy in a way you understood.

Apologizing didn’t even begin to feel like enough. Probably because you were at least ninety percent sure he didn’t understand what you were saying anyway. Helping him with the wound perhaps made it slightly better. . . But also not really, because even now as he skims across the ground to where you are, there’s a sense of guilt that weighs heavy on your heart.

Pale, grey-skinned and moving like any non-human mammal of sorts, his face is mostly obscured by the long, stringy black hair that falls in vine-like, clumped strands all the way to the floor from his hunched position. There’s an unsettling, animalistic grace to the way he approaches, but you don’t flinch this time when he puts the flat of his cold palm against the crown of your head, as if trying to soothe your breathing. All of that initial fear has been replaced by a strange comfort of sorts, and you look up at him, thankful for his presence now more than ever.

He tilts his head, as if listening for something, and you watch him warily with the same crowbar clutched in your fist. A part of you felt bad carrying it around like that with his blood still smeared on it, but here, you knew it was foolish to venture around without a weapon of some sort. Not protecting yourself for the sake of his feelings was, unfortunately, not an option as far as you were concerned, but thankfully he didn’t seem to have any opinion on the matter.

“Mr Crawling,” you whisper softly, reaching out to take his hand into your own.

He seemed to really respond to physical touch, and if language was always going to get in the way, you figured it was best to bridge the gap in another manner. This was the next best thing you could think of.

His head raises, and you suppose he’s trying to meet your gaze, though you can’t see his eyes through the mess of his hair.

“I need to understand you,” you say.

Ironically, that’s a bit of a hopeless endeavor in this sort of environment. It’s not like you have all the time in the world to pick up a new, completely unrelated language to yours while fighting for your life. Still. . . Gesturing had been helpful previously, especially for directions. The hooded figure you ran into first was quick to point around, that severed hand that had guided you for a bit was just as poignant in that area, and the silver-haired entity with a blindfold over his eyes had also tried to communicate with you in that sense as well. So why couldn’t you do it vice-versa?

“Me,” you point to yourself, “you,” you point to him.

He stared blankly for a moment, then seemed to come to an understanding. His had retracted from your head to point at himself, then to you, a clicking noise coming from the back of his throat. You smile. It was a small victory amongst a series of devastating losses, but you were keen on taking it and running with it as far as you could stretch it.

“Okay,” you breathe, talking more to yourself than to him. “Let’s try this then. . .”

Feeling a surge of determination, you touch your stomach and then mime eating.

“Hungry. Eat.”

At this point, you were still too anxious to have an appetite, but you knew you’d need food eventually. You were hoping he’d be able to help you with that somehow. Up until this point, you hadn’t seen any evidence of there being food around here, —no containers, boxes, or wrappings, but he seemed to understand your gestures and mimicked you; sitting back on his knees to rub his stomach through his filthy t-shirt, then nibbling on an imaginary item.

He looks back to you, as if seeking approval. You smile, hoping he understands that to be a sign of good will, then nod your head to drive home the association. Beneath his swath of hair, he smiles too, and you catch a glimpse of his eyes through the curtain of black strands; dark and thoughtful.

“Good,” you murmur, feeling slightly relieved. 

If nothing else, this was progress. You spend a while longer trying to communicate basic needs and warnings: things like yes, no, stop, come, drinking, sleeping, and a thank you in the way of patting his head. You’re not sure he understood the depth of it by any means, but he did seem to enjoy it. . . Like a puppy. The thought made you smile genuinely and absentmindedly, if only for a moment. The clicks and chirps he makes are mostly lost on you, but the noises are comforting nonetheless. This rudimentary bridge of understanding soothes you just a little, and you find yourself feeling very thankful that he’s here in the first place.

He has your face cupped in his hands now, as if he’s inspecting you. . . Or perhaps admiring? That is, until you feel his body tense and all his little sounds abruptly come to a halt. A small growl reverberates from the back of his throat and his wide smile droops into a frown. Suddenly, he’s roughly dragging you along, tugging urgently on your arms, to which you comply and follow along with him, scooting across the floor until you reach a shadowed alcove. You hadn’t even noticed it before, but he seems to know his way around this place like the back of his cold, grey hand.

He covers your mouth for a moment, then shakes his head. You cover your mouth, take your hand away, then shake your head no, just to ensure to him that you’ve understood. He pats your head then crouches in front of you, using his own body as a makeshift shield for yours. His long, spindly arms cage you against the wall. Fear rises inside you once again, though not because of him and his actions. Rather, the faint, rhythmic thuds of footsteps have begun reverberating through the hall just outside, and you recognize the harrowing pattern they click in.

Mr Scarletella.

You encountered him once before and felt every hair on your body stand on end. The way he moved through the halls with a menacing flow that sounded almost eerily melodic, and the strange, unsettling red glow that seemed to exude off him that nearly drew you in like a moth to a flame. The steps echoed off the walls of the building and your heart began to hammer against your ribs. Mr Crawling moved closer as he came into view through the doorway that lacked any actual door to close, his long, black hair tickling your nose ever so softly. Dressed in scarlet and carrying his ever-present umbrella, you decide quite readily that you’ve seen enough, closing your eyes and focusing on the cool feel of Mr Crawling’s skin, on his musky scent (like mildew and a bit of rot, which isn’t necessarily pleasant, but it’s not like he can really help it down here.)

Though you’re no longer watching, the entity dripping in scarlet moves with an unsettling, almost predatory grace, glancing about the corridors as if he’s searching for something. Or someone.

Once again, Mr Crawling presses closer to you. Now, you’re able to feel the way his body trembles with fear, and you realize that he’s just as terrified as you are, though you can’t tell if that fear is for himself, for you, or for both of you at once. And it’s not like you can ask. Still, you open your eyes just long enough to look up at him, Mr Scarletella in your peripheral as you force a smile and touch the crown of Mr Crawling’s head, offering what little comfort you can. He still quivers, but seems to appreciate the gesture, though he doesn’t risk a happy chirp.

The danger passes as the man in scarlet disappears down the hallway, then turns the corner. You let out a silent sigh of relief and Mr Crawling relaxes after several moments of continued tension, finally going limp and releasing you from against the wall. He slumps onto his knees, which seems to be his most comfortable position, and he looks at you clearly through the darkness. In that moment, it feels like you’ve understood one another perfectly. 

“Thank you,” you whisper sincerely, though you know he can’t really understand you.

You’re just hoping the gratitude comes across somehow, but at the risk that it won’t, you touch your chest over top of where your heart’s still beating like a drum, then touch his chest in the same place. It dawns on you that you don’t feel a heartbeat at all, and you almost pull your hand away. . . But something stops you. Something that says even if you’re right and he’s something less (or more) than human, —it doesn’t matter as much as the kindness he’s shown you. So your hand lingers until you softly pull away.

He grabs your cheeks again and holds them delicately.

[midnight-bay-if]

heyy, first off just want to say that i absolutely love the story so far and i'm so excited to see where it'll go in the future <3

anywaysss, how would the RO's react to the MC having to be used as like a honey trap to get info for a mission?

(also my first time doing an ask so if this is messed up, i apologise)

(Thank you so much! I'm also excited, haha. And it's not messed up at all! Don't worry!)

S: They see the benefits of such a plan, but it isn't their favourite method of completing a mission. It often leads to too many complications, most of which would be thrust upon your shoulders should things go awry. It leaves you at the forefront of danger, which they will never be entirely comfortable with. So you had better believe they would be lingering close by, just in case.

"I will have eyes on you the entire time, darling. If you feel uncomfortable, or you believe your cover to be blown, do not hesitate to call upon me. I will be beside you in an instant."

Rain: They don't like it. They feel sure S should be able to develop a better plan that doesn't involve you acting sweet for such a dangerous person. It isn't jealousy but genuine concern for your safety. They at least trust that S won't let anything too nefarious happen, but there is no way they can sit still while it's happening.

"Are you sure about this, MC? Perhaps I could do it instead?" It sounds ridiculous out loud. Rain does not have the confidence for such a thing. "Fine. But I'm going to be watching. If I sense anything off about their body language, I'm intervening. I can't lose you."

Taj: "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

Their vehement refusal holds no real orders. They fell for you exactly as you are; they would never try to change who you are. But their displeasure is palpable. They hate everything about the idea; the danger, the charm, the temptation, all of it repulsive. The sweet, whispered words you share in the dark and under blankets are supposed to be theirs. They want them to be. Perhaps it's greedy, but it doesn't feel that way when they are utterly starved for you.

"There has to be a better way, Koel. Lean on me. Work with me. Let's do this together.

N: They go quiet. What could they possibly say? Luring people with sickly sweet nothings or sensual promises of pleasure has been their weapon of choice for a very long time. Even you did not escape its clutches. People use whatever is at hand to survive. They cannot begrudge you the same, but... this feeling in their chest... it hurts. Indeed, you must realise so much of their facade has been stripped back since meeting you, and all their soft, soothing melodies are yours and yours alone.

"I will be waiting close by, my dear. If you need me, I will be whispering on the edges of your consciousness. Do not hesitate to call."

Umbra: Unsurprising that another would find you so perfectly alluring, but... they do not like it. "There must be a better plan," they suggest hopefully, tugging at their sleeves in a self-soothing gesture. "I could easily corner them in a dark alley and scare the information out of them." It wouldn't be any particular hardship; they understand how horrifying they are. But you deny it. You always do. Soft, brave, kind; it's who you are. You see that in them, too, but the truth is, Umbra is only that with you.

"If they hurt you," they warn, danger edging its way back into their voice, "there will be no where in any world for them to hide."

[amevello-blue]

Yo back up Donny tried to comfort Raph? This I gotta see

Yes but first of all you have to sit through my rant about this entire scene

They're all standing back to give Donny his space with Leo. They're all worried, hands clenched, tense, but Raph's the only one with his arms crossed over his chest. He's close off right now. They're sharing vulnerabilities, emotions. Raph is not. He doesn't want to. He doesn't want anything to show.

Raph scoffs and jokes "I think you got him hanging on your every word, Don." And Leo stirs. Casey's the one who comments on it, saying, "I think he heard you, Raphy."

Everyone looks kinda intent on this revelation, surprised, but determined. Raph genuinely looks surprised and stunned and almost dare I say frightened? Some of that emotion is leaking through.

Then Mikey does his story, and Raph is... less than impressed. His arms are crossed over his chest again, he's scoffing, he's insulting Leo, saying he's not waking up because he's afraid.

He gets upset. "He got his butt whooped, and now he's too chicken to come back and face it!"

Mikey looks worried, upset, but Donny gets this moment of... Realization. He knows what Raph's doing. He knows Raph's going to say things he doesn't mean. He knows Raph.

Donny says, "that's enough, Raph." He doesn't scold him, or get mad at him about it. Just. Set his hand on his shoulder and says that's enough. That's enough getting angry at Leo when we all know that it's not Leo you're angry at.

Raph's trying really hard. He turns away from Donny. He's squeezing his eyes shut. He's trying not to cry. This is the comforting part I mean.

He shakes Don's hand off, which surprises Donny. Implying this method has worked to calm Raph down before.

"Well I say who needs ya? It's not like we can't get on without you playing fearless leader." Interestingly when Raph says that they'd be fine without him, it focuses on Leo, who is bruised and unconscious and spent hours in the rain trying to escape the Foot because he couldn't bring them back to April's. He knew he couldn't bring them back to April's. He could have gotten help there, but that would risk putting his family in danger.

Then, when you see Raph again...

He's crying. And Donny's shock has turned to genuine concern for Raph.

And he turns away from Donny more, and Donny's expression softens from concern to understanding. The fact that this scene is set up like this, where Raph is crying and Donny is the one watching him in the background, it hits me a certain way. Donny doesn't cry. Not after Kirby, not after Honeycutt, not when he realizes that he's going to have to kill his entire family to stop the Shredder. (In Exodus and in SAINW.) But Raph's here, crying, at their first big defeat. One of them has been defeated, broken, and only lived because their enemy was playing with him like a cat toy.

And Donny is RIGHT THERE.

Anyway, Raph tells the story of how he accepted Leo's leadership when they were kids, that strongest and bravest do not necessarily make for the best leader who makes the best decisions for the team.

And he's struggling again. "I don't even know why I told you that story. I guess I just... What I'm tryin to say is..." And he can't finish his sentence. He just trails off he clutches at his head, his face, he can't look at anyone, can't let them see the expression he's making.

And Leo, who has only reacted to Raph's voice this entire time, is only shown to be reacting to Raph's voice, stirs again.

Splinter reassures him this time. "Your brother hears you, Raphael. He understands."

And Raph, he doesn't say anything. He just. Goes to the window. And imo is processing the fact that he knows they can't survive without Leo. They need their fearless leader (a nickname that Raph gave him in the first place.) That's what that story meant. They need Leo. Raph needs Leo.

anyway the whole scene makes me incredibly emotional. The farmhouse arc wasn't just a Leo arc, it was very much a Raph arc as well. It was learning his brother isn't fearless. Isn't invincible. Leo is breakable. Raph literally helps Leo put himself (and his swords) back together. And I don't think Raph would have ever realized that Leo needed that kind of help if this scene hadn't happened earlier.

Cause the thing is, Leo was afraid. He was terrified of coming back and facing that failure. Failure is SUCH a big part of his character, his fear of it, his fight against it, and Raph... Raph hit the nail on the head. But telling stories of the times Leo was strong, the times that his family has needed him, was what brought Leo back.

And I think Raph realized at that point that. Maybe Leo needs help sometimes. Maybe he isn't Mr Perfect Ninja Son. Maybe Raph can be the one to help.

[allthemeniveloved]

It Will Come Back - Arthur's Ending

Summary: Arthur's ending, and John's fate is revealed.

wc: 5.3k

ao3 link

Tags: SMMMUTTTT, Arthur Morgan x fem!reader, fluff, hurt/comfort, angst, cream pie, body worship, oral (f receiving), p in v, unprotected, brief mentions of violence, body worship, arthur morgan is all about aftercare

a/n: I pray that everyone who voted for Arthur's ending is satisfied! I'm definitely feeling more comfortable writing smut nowadays but not perfectly where I want to be, but that's okay. Work has been much busier than normal lately with the holidays, but I plan on working on John's two-part ending throughout this week to hopefully post by next weekend. Enjoy! <3

P.S. I don't know what is going on with my ao3 but when I pasted the story from my google doc, everything was double spaced and I lost all of my italics and things and I'm not sure how to get it back. So apologies.

John slammed his fists against the bars, his voice desperate as they backed away. “Arthur! Don’t leave me here!”

Arthur turned back briefly, his jaw clenched tight. “We’ll come back for you, I swear it!”

“Arthur, please!” John shouted, gripping the bars of his cell, his voice raw with desperation as the sound of approaching guards grew louder.

Arthur turned back, his jaw tight as he tried to reassure him. “John, we’ll come ba—”

Before he could finish, a sharp pain exploded across his jaw as a guard’s fist connected, sending him stumbling back against the wall. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth as he regained his footing, drawing his revolver in one swift motion and firing instinctively, the shot tearing through the guard’s skull with a sickening crack, sending him stumbling back. The guard hit the ground hard, his keys clattering to the floor with a metallic echo.

“Arthur!” John’s voice rang out from his cell, sharp and desperate as he saw the glint of the keys. The chaos of boots stomping toward them and shouted commands filled the hallway, but neither man had time to think—just act. The corridor erupted in chaos as more guards poured in, their boots thundering against the stone floors. Arthur and Sadie fired back as they retreated, each shot precise but frantic, their survival instincts driving them forward.

John pressed himself against the bars of his cell, stretching his arm through the narrow gap until his fingers brushed the edge of the keys. “Come on, come on…” he muttered, his breath hitching as they slipped further away. Summoning every ounce of strength, he forced his hand through the gap, ignoring the scrape of cold iron against his skin. Finally, his fingers closed around the keyring, and he yanked them back, clutching them tightly in his shaking hand.

John wasted no time, fumbling with the lock on his cell door. His hands trembled, slick with sweat, but the mechanism clicked, and the door creaked open just as he watched the last of the guards chase Arthur and Sadie from the building. John slipped out as quiet as he could, his heart pounding in his chest as he glanced over his shoulder. John darted down the hall, the shouts and chaos receding as he vanished into the night. The noise behind him was deafening—the sound of Arthur and Sadie holding their ground against the guards—but John didn’t look back. He couldn’t. All he could do was pray they’d make it out alive, just as he had. 

One Week Later

The abandoned shack nestled in the rolling green hills of Big Valley was far from luxurious, but it was quiet, hidden, and—for now—safe. The air outside smelled of damp earth and pine, the wind rustling softly through the tall trees surrounding the property. Inside, the light of the late afternoon sun filtered through the cracks in the wooden walls, casting warm golden streaks across the floorboards. You stood near the hearth, coaxing a small fire to life as Arthur sat at the wobbly table in the corner, cleaning his revolver with practiced care.

It had been a week since the chaos at Sisika, and though the two of you hadn’t spoken much about what came next, there was a quiet understanding between you—this was where you needed to be, together. It felt strange and fragile, this rekindled closeness after so many months apart, but it also felt like home in a way you hadn’t experienced in a long time.

“You alright over there?” Arthur’s voice cut through the quiet, his tone soft but tinged with that familiar edge of concern. He looked up from his work, his blue eyes scanning you as if to confirm that you were, in fact, okay.

You nodded, offering him a small smile as you straightened from the fire. “I’m fine, Arthur. You don’t need to keep asking.”

His lips quirked into a faint smirk, though his gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary. “Can’t help it,” he muttered, turning his attention back to his revolver. “You’ve got a knack for trouble, and trouble’s been followin’ us like a damn shadow.”

You rolled your eyes playfully but couldn’t ignore the warmth that spread through your chest at his protectiveness. Crossing the room, you leaned against the edge of the table, watching him work. The way his hands moved—steady and sure, with a careful precision that spoke of years of practice—was mesmerizing. You reached out impulsively, your fingers brushing lightly against his as he reassembled the gun.

Your eyes drifted to his hands as he worked on his revolver. They were rough and calloused, the hands of a man who had lived a hard life, yet they moved with such care and precision it was almost mesmerizing. His fingers worked steadily, reassembling the weapon with ease, the faint metallic scrape of metal against metal filling the quiet room. You found yourself lingering on the scars and faint nicks that lined his knuckles, each one telling a story you’d never hear but could imagine all too vividly. There was a certain grace in the way he handled the gun, a gentleness that seemed at odds with the violence it represented. As he rubbed a soft cloth along the barrel, his thumb brushing the edge, you couldn’t help but think how those same hands had protected you, steadied you, and held you with a tenderness that few would ever believe Arthur Morgan was capable of.

You also couldn’t help but to notice the warm light of the shack caught on the strong lines of his neck, drawing your attention to the veins that stood out faintly against his sun-kissed skin. They shifted subtly with every movement he made, the steady rhythm of his work bringing them into focus as his hands reassembled the weapon with quiet precision. You couldn’t help but linger on the way they traced down toward his collarbone. It was mesmerizing, the way even the smallest details about him seemed to capture you, leaving your heart fluttering as you watched the quiet intensity with which he worked.

“Arthur,” you said softly, your voice drawing his eyes back to you. His gaze softened immediately, and he tilted his head slightly, waiting for you to continue. “I’ve been thinking… after everything that’s happened, I don’t think I’ve properly said thank you.”

He frowned slightly, clearly uncomfortable with the sentiment. “For what?” he asked gruffly, setting the revolver aside as he gave you his full attention.

“For everything,” you replied, your fingers lingering on his hand. “For coming back into my life when I needed you most. For keeping me safe. For just… being here.”

Arthur exhaled slowly, his jaw tightening for a moment before he reached out, his hand settling on your waist as he gently tugged you closer. “You don’t gotta thank me for that, darlin’,” he said quietly, his voice low and warm. “Ain’t like I could stay away from you even if I wanted to.”

The sincerity in his words sent a flutter through your chest, and before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned down to kiss him. It was soft at first, tentative, but when his other hand came up to cup the back of your neck, the kiss deepened, slow and deliberate, like he was savoring the moment while remaining gentle. When you finally pulled back, your forehead rested against his, both of you breathing a little heavier than before.

“You know,” you murmured, a teasing lilt in your voice, “for someone who acts all gruff and tough, you’re a real softie.”

Arthur let out a soft laugh, his thumb brushing absently against your side. “Only for you,” he admitted, his voice low and gruff but filled with quiet affection.

His fingers reach out to trace along your jawline and down the column of your neck over your quickening pulse, the act sending goosebumps over your arms. You can’t hide the rosy blush that flushes over your cheeks and nose as Arthur’s eyes roam your features, drinking in the sight of you like a man dying of thirst. His voice was low and husky as he spoke. 

“Have I told you how much I’ve missed you, darlin’?” 

“Once or twice.” You barely whisper. 

He stood from his chair to stand in front of you, now towering over you as he trapped you in between the kitchen table and himself. His hands slid lower on your body, skimming over your shoulders and down your goosebump ridden arms. Arthur leans in to press a delicate kiss to your collarbone, lips lingering on your soft skin. He gently nips at your pulsepoint causing a soft moan to escape your lips.

Arthur’s quiet desperation for you had settled into every unspoken glance, every lingering touch, every fleeting moment of vulnerability he tried to mask behind his usual gruffness. After so many months apart, the ache of losing you had become a part of him, a constant undercurrent that no amount of danger or distraction could drown out. Now, with you so close again, it was almost unbearable—the way his chest tightened every time you smiled at him, or how his hand brushed yours and he had to resist the overwhelming urge to pull you closer. 

The tension between you hung thick in the air, unspoken but impossible to ignore. His hand twitched at his side like he was fighting himself, unsure whether to move closer or keep holding back. You could feel the weight of his emotions—months of longing, of regret, of something deeper he hadn’t yet named—radiating from him, and it made your breath catch in your chest.

“I can’t keep my hands to myself anymore,” he muttered, his voice low and rough, trembling with barely contained emotion. Before you could respond, he leaned in, his other hand coming up to cradle your face as though you might disappear if he didn’t hold you steady. But when you didn’t, when you leaned into him and your hands gripped the front of his shirt, it was like a dam breaking. His lips pressed harder against yours, the quiet desperation he’d been holding back for so long pouring into every movement. His hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you closer, his body tense with the force of everything he’d been trying to suppress.

It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a release, an unspoken confession of all the months he’d spent aching for you, watching from the sidelines, convincing himself he had no right to feel the way he did. “Darlin’,” he muttered against your mouth, “I have to feel you again. I’ve missed you, I’ve missed every part of you.” Your mouth hung open at the confession, and before you could respond, his hands were on the backs of your thighs, effortlessly lifting you onto the wooden table. Your hands clutched at the fabric of his shirt to steady yourself as he roughly set you down and slotted himself between your legs. Everyday, his physical strength mesmerizes you. 

Arthur’s large hands cup your breasts, thumbs brushing over the sheer fabric of your nightgown. He groaned at the feeling, his own arousal pressing persistently into your thigh. His lips found yours once more in a searing kiss, pouring all of his pent up desire into it. His hands continued to roam your body, memorizing every single dip and curve and gently kneading your soft skin, wanting to imprint you into his very soul. He needed you like he needed air. When he finally pulled back, his eyes were dark with need and his voice hoarse.

“I adore you,” he said as he tugged impatiently at your nightgown, desperate to feel your skin on his own. Once discarded across the room, Arthur took a moment to simply stare at you, drinking in the sight of your naked form. 

“Fucking perfect, darlin’,” he breathed before lowering his head to capture a rosy nipple between his lips. Arthur sucked greedily, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud as his hand came up to massage your other breast. He could feel you arching into his touch, your soft moans spurring him on. 

Arthur sank to his knees, pressing reverent kisses onto your inner thigh. He could smell your arousal, the scent driving him wild. He glanced up to your hooded eyes, seeking permission and you hurriedly nod, your mouth partly agape at his desperation. 

At your will, he dove in like a man starved, his talented tongue delving between your folds and alternating between broad strokes and circling your clit, determined to drive you mad. Arthur moaned at the taste of you, his hands gripping your hips to death as he savoured your sweet taste and the sweet sounds spilling from deep in your throat. 

Your moans grew louder and more desperate, your back arching off of the wooden table beneath you as Arthur slipped two fingers inside, working them in tandem with his tongue as he curled them gently to hit the perfect spot inside that made you see stars. Soon it became hard and fast, his tongue never ceasing his assault on your clit as he felt you tightening around his thick digits. 

With a final flick of his tongue and a twist of his fingers, Arthur sent you tumbling over the edge. He lapped up your release like a dog, savouring the taste of you and burning it into his memory while letting you ride out your high on his mustache, the stubble sending shockwaves through your body, all the way down to your toes. 

Arthur’s hands never leave your body as he presses open-mouthed kisses to your stomach, his arousal-soaked beard making your sensitive skin shiver. His large hands cup your ass, squeezing and kneading as he grinds his hardness against you, his jeans quickly becoming soaked.

“Look at what you do to me,” he growled against your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. He sits up, reaching for the buttons of his shirt and union suit, and your gaze moves down to where his cock strains against the fabric, a large wet stain coating his crotch. Now it was your turn to memorize him in his most primal state. 

“Oh, Arthur-” you moan out as he sheds the last of his clothing and his large cock springs free, already dripping with precum. It’s been oh-so-long since you’ve felt those veins inside of you, and it’s apparent in your gaze at him. He massages his swollen head through your folds, coating himself in your sheen. 

“Careful baby girl,” he drawled, his voice low and teasing, “Keep lookin’ that pretty, and I might just forget to pull out.” That alone forces a whiny moan out of you and he couldn’t help but to let out a small chuckle at how pathetic you had become for him. 

Arthur teased your entrance, the soft tip nudging against your opening but not quite breaching. 

“I need to hear you say it, baby girl.” 

“Please, Arthur, I want you-” He waited no time before pushing his full length into you, a moan abruptly cutting off your words. 

“Need,” he emphasized, “I need you.” He corrected.

“Yes Arthur, please, I need you.” Your voice quickly turned desperate.

“That’s it, baby girl,” he groaned as he began to move slowly, torturously, burying himself to the hilt over and over as he allowed you time to adjust. 

“Always so tight for me. I know it’s been a long time, sweetheart,” he rasped, his fingers digging into your hips so hard it’ll surely leave bruises. At your breathless plea, Arthur couldn’t hold back any longer. He set a steady rhythm, each thrust equally deep and powerful, hitting that spot within you that made you cry out. 

Arthur leaned forward to tightly grip the edge of the table by your head to keep steady as he pounded into you. He captured your swollen lips in another searing kiss, swallowing your moans as he drove into you over and over again. It was clear that your bodies remembered each other, moving together in perfect sync as sweat-slicked skin slid against skin. 

He broke apart from you and his voice came out low and rough, heavy with emotion. “I missed you, darlin’. Missed you so much it damn near killed me. Thought about you every day… couldn’t help it.”

You felt a slight pang of guilt twist in your chest as you watched him, the weight of leaving him behind all those months ago lingering like a shadow you couldn’t shake. But no matter how far you’d gone, no matter how hard you’d tried to bury it, you’d missed him deeply, achingly, in a way that made being with him now feel like coming home.

“I love you, Arthur,” you confessed once more into his neck as he continued to pound into you relentlessly. “Fuck, I love you!” You cried out. 

“I love you too, baby girl,” he moaned as he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead, hips never faltering. 

One of Arthur’s hands left your hip and snaked between you both to circle your clit, rubbing the over-sensitive nub in time with his thrusts. He could feel you getting closer, your walls fluttering and tightening around his cock. 

“That’s it darlin’, cum for me,” he encouraged, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his own release. He gritted his teeth, determined to hold off until you found your peak. For him, your pleasure came first - always. 

Arthur’s hips snapped forward as his fingers worked your clit harder. When your orgasm finally hit, it was like a dam bursting. You cried out, back arching off of the table as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you, and he couldn’t get enough. Arthur groaned at the feeling of you coming undone on him, your walls clamping down on his cock like a vice.

“I meant what I said earlier, about you looking too pretty,” he groaned as he watched you writhe underneath him. 

“I know you did.” You smiled sweetly at Arthur, eyes blown with lust. He took that as your permission and buried himself to the hilt inside of you, his hips jerking against yours as he came. His cock twitched and pulsed as thick streams of his hot seed spurted deep within you, painting your inner walls. Each spasm of his member sent another wave of pleasure coursing through you, both of you shuddering at the intensity of it. 

Arthur’s head fell forward, resting against your shoulder as he rode out his own aftershocks. He felt his cum mixing with your own, creating a warm, slick mess between your joined bodies. The sensation of his release flooding through you sent a primal thrill through him, a sense of possessiveness and satisfaction. 

Slowly, he began to move again, his softening cock still nestled inside of you. He rolled his hips lazily, grinding against you to prolong the moment. Arthur’s hands roamed your body, caressing your curves with reverence. The overstimulation on your clit caused your hands to fly to his chest, gently nudging him off of you. He couldn’t help but to chuckle before pressing a kiss to your temple and sitting back up and pulling out of you. 

He grabbed a clean rag by his forgotten revolver and dipped the corner in the warm water in the sink before cleaning you up completely, then himself. You sit up and he offers his hand to help you down from the table, his hand on your hip to steady you as your feet plant on the ground. You two are moving together in perfect tandem as you lift your arms and he pulls your nightgown over your head without ever speaking. He untucks your hair from the back of your dress, pressing one final kiss to your forehead before dressing himself in his union suit. 

The rest of the evening passed in a comfortable rhythm. You prepared a simple meal over the fire while Arthur repaired a loose hinge on the front door, muttering about “damn drafty shacks��� and “how in the hell anyone lived here.” When you teased him about being domesticated, he shot you a mock glare but didn’t deny it, his faint smile betraying him.

Later, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the room grew dim, Arthur pulled a spare blanket from his pack and draped it over your shoulders as you sat near the fire. He sat beside you, close enough that his arm brushed against yours, and when you leaned into him, he wrapped an arm around you without hesitation, his hand resting protectively on your back.

You couldn’t help but admire the way Arthur always seemed to know exactly what you needed, whether it was a blanket wrapped around your shoulders on a cold night or a quiet word of reassurance when your thoughts got too heavy. He took care of you with a steady, selfless devotion that made your chest ache, as if his sole purpose was to make sure you never carried more than you could bear.

“You don’t gotta worry so much,” you said softly, tilting your head to look up at him. “We’re safe here, at least for now.”

Arthur’s lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze fixed on the fire. “Safe ain’t a word I trust anymore,” he replied, his voice low. “ But I’ll make damn sure nothin’ happens.”

His words settled over you like a promise, and as the fire crackled softly, you closed your eyes, letting the steady beat of his heart against your shoulder lull you into a fragile peace. 

-

The small town of Strawberry was quiet in the mid-morning sun, its wooden buildings bathed in golden light as Arthur rode down the main road. He adjusted his hat, his sharp eyes scanning the streets as he guided his horse toward the general store. They needed more supplies if they were going to last the week out at the shack—a little coffee, maybe some salted meat—and he figured it wouldn’t hurt to check the post office while he was here.

Sliding out of the saddle, Arthur tied his horse to the hitching post and stepped inside the tiny post office. The scent of ink and old wood greeted him as he approached the clerk, who looked up from his ledger with a polite but weary smile.

“Anything here for a Tacitus Kilgore?” Arthur asked gruffly, leaning a forearm on the counter. The alias felt strange on his tongue, but it was safer this way.

The clerk nodded, rifling through a neat stack of letters before pulling one out and handing it over. Arthur glanced at the envelope, his brows furrowing as he noted the sender: Jim Milton. It wasn’t a name he recognized outright, but something about it tugged at the back of his mind. With a curt nod to the clerk, he slipped the letter into his jacket and left the post office, his pace quickening as curiosity gnawed at him.

Outside, he found a quiet corner near the edge of town, away from prying eyes. Leaning against a fence, he pulled the letter out and opened it carefully, his jaw tightening as his eyes scanned the words inside.

Tacitus,

I hope to God you’re still alive to read this. I barely got out that night. Whatever distraction you and niece Caroline stirred up—it was enough. I owe you my life for that, though I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to repay it.

They’ll notice that I’m gone soon enough, so I can’t come back just yet. Not to the family, not to that life, at least not for a while. It’s all falling apart, and I know it’s only a matter of time before it crumbles completely. But there’s something I need to ask you. Something I can’t leave unsettled.

Look after her. Please. She’s stronger than anyone I’ve ever known, but I know you see it too—the way this life is tearing her apart. If there’s anyone I trust to keep her safe, it’s you, Arthur.

If this is goodbye, then thank you. For everything.

-Jim Milton

Arthur folded the letter slowly, his thumb brushing over the edge of the paper as he stared out toward the busy and muddy streets of Strawberry. The knot in his chest grew tighter with every word replaying in his head. Look after her. The plea rang louder than the rest, and it hit him harder than he cared to admit. John had made it out alive, but the weight of the letter—the finality of it—felt like a blow.

Arthur let out a heavy sigh, raking a hand through his hair. Arthur loved you. He never stopped loving you, and now it felt like John was passing the torch, entrusting you to him in a way that made his chest tighten with equal parts guilt and longing. He shoved the letter back into his jacket and mounted his horse, his mind racing as he rode back toward the shack. 

When Arthur rode back into the clearing where the shack sat, you were tending to the small fire outside, your focus lost in the rhythm of the flames. The sound of his horse’s hooves snapping twigs underfoot pulled you from your thoughts, and you stood quickly, brushing dirt from your hands. The look on Arthur’s face as he dismounted sent your heart racing—something had happened.

“What is it?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly. “Did something happen in town?”

Arthur didn’t answer right away, his broad shoulders tense as he pulled the folded letter from his jacket. He walked toward you with slow, deliberate steps, the paper held carefully in his rough hands. His eyes softened when they met yours, but there was a weight behind them that made your stomach twist.

“It’s from John,” he said, his voice low. He handed you the letter, his fingers brushing yours briefly before stepping back to give you space. “Go on, read it.”

Your breath hitched as you unfolded the letter, the name Jim Milton scrawled at the bottom catching your eye. You quickly scanned the words, your hands beginning to tremble as the message sank in. Relief flooded your chest first—he was alive. He’d escaped. But the finality of his words, the way he said he couldn’t come back, hit you like a blow. The line asking Arthur to look after you made your chest tighten painfully. By the time you reached the end, tears blurred your vision, and the letter slipped from your fingers, fluttering to the ground. It made you nauseous. 

A part of you felt an immense, aching relief—John was alive, safe, free from the horrors of Sisika of what might’ve been if he’d stayed there any longer. That knowledge alone should have been enough, yet it wasn’t. The sharp sting of knowing you might never see him again gnawed at you, the thought of his absence carving a hollow space in your chest that you weren’t expecting. You realized, with a bittersweet clarity, that a part of you would always love John, no matter how much time passed or how different your lives became. But there was also a quiet comfort in his words, in the way he had trusted Arthur to care for you, as though he had given you permission to move on, to find peace and happiness even if it wasn’t with him. It was a fragile sort of freedom, one that left you conflicted and raw, but it wasn’t quite enough to keep you from breaking.

“I—he’s alive,” you whispered, your voice trembling as the tears started to fall. “But he’s gone, Arthur. He’s really gone.”

You sank to your knees, your hands covering your face as the emotions overwhelmed you. Relief mixed with sorrow, the thought of never seeing John again cutting deeper than you expected. Arthur was by your side in an instant, his strong arms wrapping around you and pulling you against his chest.

“It’s alright,” he murmured, his voice rough but steady as he held you. One hand rested on your back, the other brushing softly through your hair as he let you cry into his shirt. “Let it out, darlin’. I’m here.”

For a long moment, you let yourself break down, the dam of emotions you’d been holding back finally bursting. Arthur didn’t move, his presence solid and comforting as his fingers continued to stroke gently through your hair. When your sobs finally subsided, he leaned back slightly, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. His blue eyes were filled with something soft, something unguarded, and the sight of it made your breath catch.

“I know this ain’t what you wanted to hear,” he said quietly, his voice laced with emotion. “But… maybe it’s a chance to think about what comes next. What we want next.”

You blinked at him, your tears still wet on your cheeks. “Arthur, what are you saying?”

He hesitated for a moment, his jaw working as he tried to find the right words. Finally, he exhaled deeply, his hands tightening slightly on your arms. “I’m sayin’… I’m tired of all this,” he admitted, his voice low but firm. “The runnin’, the fightin’. I don’t want it anymore. What I want… is to put it all behind me. To start over completely, wiith you.” He said simply, his eyes steady on yours. “Ain’t nothin’ left worth holdin’ onto back at the gang. But with you… I think we could have somethin’. A life. Somethin’ better than all this madness.” 

You pulled back slightly, your mind reeling. The thought of settling down, of leaving everything behind for good, felt impossible. But the way Arthur looked at you, his steady, unyielding presence grounding you, made the idea seem… not so far-fetched.

“I’ve been runnin’ so long, Arthur. I don’t even know what a normal life looks like anymore.”

Arthur smiled faintly, the corners of his mouth lifting in a way that softened the rough lines of his face. “We’ll figure it out,” he said, his voice quiet but filled with certainty. “You don’t gotta have all the answers now. But if you’ll trust me… we can make it work.”

For a long moment, you searched his face, the sincerity in his gaze stirring something deep within you. Finally, you nodded, your voice barely above a whisper as you said, “Alright. Let’s try.”

Arthur’s smile widened slightly, his hands cupping your face as he leaned down to press a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. “That’s all I needed to hear,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. 

You can’t help but to bite back a bit of a chuckle. “You know, for a man talkin’ about settlin’ down, you sure don’t strike me as the domestic type,” you teased, your grin widening when he shot you a mock glare. Arthur chuckled under his breath, glancing down at you with a crooked smile. “I’ll figure it out,” he said, his tone light and teasing. “Hell, can’t be harder than outrunnin’ the law, can it?” 

“Well, I don’t know, Arthur,” you teased, your grin widening. “Domestic life might just be the thing that finally breaks you.”

Arthur shot you a playful glare, “Break me? Nah,” he retorted, his voice dripping with mock confidence. “I reckon I’m tougher than I look. I’ll get a knack for this sorta thing… eventually.” He gave you a lopsided grin.

You shook your head, your laughter softening into something warmer as you looked at him. “Guess we’ll see,” you said quietly, your teasing tone still there, but the weight of your shared future hung in your words.

꧁✰꧂꧁✰꧂꧁✰꧂꧁✰꧂꧁✰꧂꧁✰꧂꧁✰

tag list: @photo1030 @fwitolei

[neesieiumz]

𓆩☆𓆪 | 𝙾𝚄𝚃𝙻𝙰𝚆 ⸺ ⚞𝚁𝙴𝙸𝙽𝙴𝚁 𝙱𝚁𝙰𝚄𝙽 ⚟

⸻ synopsis ⫸〖 it's not every day a criminal breaks into your home, huh?〗

⸻ warnings ⫸ sm*t. 18+ wild west!au. part i of the gold rush anthology! bar-maid!reader. robber!reiner. black-coded reader. female reader. afab anatomy. p*rn with plot. full nelson position. fingering. a bit of dacryphilia. reiner threatens reader with a gun. the two of them get comfortable with each other really quick. reader calls her mother a bitch in this. reader was raised by her late grandmother cause her mother abandoned her. Erwin is in this, who was also raised by reader's grandmother. sheriff!erwin. erwin sees reader as a niece/daughter. annie and bertholdt are also in this, but they don't matter.

⸻ writers note ⫸ this has been sitting in my drafts for the past two months because I wanted to finish the next part of the anthology. I just finished the Erwin one, so I'll upload it when I'm halfway done with the Eren one or fully complete it.

⸻ word count ⫸ 5.7k

masterlist. | next part in the anthology |

Heavy boots sunk into the mud, and loud voices called out to the dark forests. The sounds of horses neighing, catching up against his hunched-over form. He ran as fast as he could, dodging the trees and branches, boots snapping the sticks and stones within the wet ground. Hand clutching the bleeding wound, he glanced around, looking for something, anything to get him out of this situation. His partners were long gone, taken into arrest by the law. They told him to run, to get out while they distracted them. 

He tried his best to blink away the tears, the sudden burn possibly due to them being mixed with the sweat dripping down his face. He’ll get the rest of them out, he resolved, he first has to survive this. Glancing up and around, a large shadow was right up ahead. Squinting, the blur came into focus, before revealing a small home. It was well kept, but all the lights were out, which was all Reiner needed. He jumped the fence, flinching at the sudden stab of pain in his abdomen. He limped towards the back door, pulling out his old trust lock pick before jimmying with the lock. He hissed out a yes as the door creaked open, before hobbling right inside. Gasping, he leaned against the door, hearing the sounds of the law running by. 

“What the…”

A voice called out, before suddenly, a dark glow illuminated the room, revealing a decently sized kitchen. A gasp rang out, as Reiner looked to the light, seeing someone standing there. 

Fuck…

He pushed himself up to his feet, immediately running over to you, who immediately screamed before running away, possibly to your bedroom. Despite his injury, he had just enough adrenaline to catch you, pulling your arm back. He muffled your screams with his hand, wrapping you in one big hold as he dragged you away from the hall, before taking you right back to the kitchen. He could hear your muffled whimpers against him, the feeling of your body shaking against him. 

He pressed his lips against your ears, “just stay quiet for me darling, and all will be right.” 

Reiner pressed himself against the counter, waiting for the sounds to go away. As he did so, he could hear your own sounds beginning to quest, however, the feeling of wet salty tears began to soak his hand. Just as they were beginning to go away, a sudden loud knock came out the door, jilting the both of you. 

“Y/n, it’s Erwin, are you awake?!”

Reiner cursed under his breath, heart pounding away at his chest. He stepped away from the counter before looking at the door, seeing a tall figure standing right at the door. He then looked back down at you, before telling you not to scream. Slowly he let go of your mouth, removing his hand from you before grabbing the top of your dress, wiping away the slowly drying tears on your face. 

“You gon answer that there door, and pretend like I’m not here. Say whatever you gotta say, alright…?”

You nodded your head quickly, and he nodded his own, before taking you by the hand and draggin you over to the door. He stood at the side, one hand still pressing against the wound while the other, pulling out his revolver, holding it up. You glanced over at him, seeing him nod his head. Taking a deep breath, you reach over, unlocking the door with the key still stuck on the knob before opening it up just a little bit, enough to see the sheriff of your town. Erwin Smith, a man both you and many people in this town respected. He was very close to your family, especially your grandmother, having helped her many times while she was still alive. So seeing him and talking to him was an easy occurrence for you.

“Hello there Erwin,” you let off a smile, hoping it wasn't wavering too much.

He let off his own warm smile, “hey there cherie, hope everything’s okay?”

You nodded your head, “everything’s fine, was just about to head to sleep when you knocked.”

For kickers, you looked behind him, seeing a bunch of horses and men standing on the front of your lawn, “what’s going on here?”

He looked back to see the people before looking back at you, “well we were trying to catch someone, and he ran right through here. I was hoping you saw something?”

You pondered a bit, before shaking your head, “haven’t seen a thing sheriff, sorry. Everything was dark for me.”

He hummed, before reaching down, pulling out a sheet of paper, “if you're so sure, take this. His name Reiner Braun, a dangerous felon known for robbin’ and shootin’ people.”

You slowly took the folded sheet, before peeling it open, those familiar eyes brown malice staring right back at you. 

You looked up at Sheriff Smith’s warmer ones, smiling, telling him you’ll keep on the lookout for him. He nodded, before turning around, and heading back to his own horse. As you waited to watch him go, you could hear a sudden thump right beside you. Closing your door, you glanced over to the right only to find the very man now slumped on the floor. The hand that was holding his side was now soaked with blood, the sounds of his slow, heavy breaths echoing in the living room. You glanced over at the door, at the muffled sounds of the sheriff telling his men to move out and continue looking before looking back at Reiner.

Letting out a defeated sigh, you walked away heading towards your kitchen before going to your sink and picking up an old tattered rag. Dampening the rag, before grabbing a bucket, and filling it up with hot water. Before walking back to the dangerous criminal, you bent down, grabbing the small bucket your grandmother deemed an aid kit, along with the bucket of hot water. Walking back to your living room, where Reiner Baun, which was apparently his name, was now writhing and bleeding out on your grandmother’s hardwood floors. Bending down, sitting at your knees, you grabbed the dirtied dress shirt he was wearing before slowly unbuttoning it. His large body dripping with sweat, you removed the shirt as much as you could, revealing the irritated wound. 

You took the rag, leaning down before removing his bloodied hand from the lasting wound. Slowly, you pressed it against it, applying as much pressure as you could. He fought against you, but his strength greatly dropped, allowing you to continue to press against it. He let out deep heavy groans, all dripping with pain. Soon, the tattered rag was soaked with blood, removing it before dipping it in the hot water, washing off most of the blood before pressing right back on. Soon, the wound stopped bleeding, just enough for you to get the gauze and the large sheets of cotton to wrap it. 

Once you did so, staring down at your shotty work of a doctor, Reiner’s own eyes slowly opened, looking over at you. 

“Should have let me bleed out on your floor,” he let out a low raspy groan, still in pain.

You scoffed at that, “and let you ruin my grandmother’s floors? She’ll rise up from her grave to scold me with a hot comb.”

He let out some formance of a chuckle, smiling a bit. Taking a deep breath, you stood up before heading down your hallway Stopping at the small closet, you owned it before taking the few spare pillows and blankets out. Walking back, you found the area where you left him empty before seeing him rest right on your couch. Pursing your lips together, you walked over to him, before handing him the blankets. 

“Here, sleep as much as you can, then I want you out of my house, all right now?”

He blinked at you, smirking before taking the sheets and pillows from your hands. 

“Thank you mighty kindly, cherie,” he cooed, placing the blankets on the couch beside him. 

You hummed, before glancing back at your kitchen. He’ll probably need something to eat so he can heal faster… is what you thought to yourself before walking towards the kitchen. He said nothing, only turning his body as much as he could, watching you walk away. His eyes lingered on your backside, before looking away, focusing on his accommodations for the night. 

Pulling out some bread, some meat, and other things from your ice box, you made him a couple of sandwiches. You took it to him as well, seeing him all laid out and spread out on your couch. Tongue poking out your cheek, you handed him the plate. 

“Just for you to heal faster, body can’t work without something to fuel it,” you said, turning around once he took it. 

He said nothing, although his smirk said all his words for him. You took the lamp that illuminates the kitchen, before walking away. Just before you walked inside your bedroom, his voice called out to you, 

“Good night, cherie!”

You turned your head and glared at him for a few seconds before walking back into your room. He let out a chuckle, before taking the sandwich, taking a large bite from it. 

Slowly opening your eyes, the feeling of sunlight beaming through the trees and through your window jolting you awake. Lifting yourself up, stretching with a smile on your face as you look around your room, ready to clean yourself up and head into town for work.

Three… two… one…

A frown immediately overtook your face, oh wait…

Pushing yourself off your bed, and grabbing your robe off of the bed frame, you flung your door open. Slowly stepping into the room, carefully listening for anything that didn't sound like your creaky footsteps. As you reached the living room, no sign of the man from last night on your couch. Glancing around, not seeing him in your kitchen or hearing him in your parlor room either. Nothing was missing either, luckily. Least he had that courtesy, you thought to yourself. 

That’s when your eyes caught onto something sitting on your kitchen counter. Walking towards it, eyes widening as your eyes locked into two stacks of cash sitting one by one, a piece of paper sitting under it. 

Picking up the paper, you gazed over it, 

For all your troubles cherie, now and in the immediate future, 

⸺ r.b

You couldn’t fight off the excited smile, as you picked up one of the stacks, sniffing it before squealing. 

“Oooh, my mother would tell me to return it… too bad that bitch wasn’t the one who raised me!” 

You placed the money in a hidden area in your room, before getting ready for work, which was at a bar in town, the only one within the area you lived in. The town was large, a farmer’s town with miles and miles of land tended by a multitude of farmers all around. It would probably be called a city to others, but you weren’t like them city folk. Wearing a creme dress, shoulderless with loose, wave-like sleeves. You paired with skin-colored pantyhose while placing your work shoes in a bag. You put on your walking shoes and grabbed your keys and other things you need before heading off, locking up the entire house, especially your back door. You walked through the pathways in the forest, glancing at all the heavy footsteps and horseshoe grooves within the damp ground. 

You soon made it to town after fifteen minutes of walking, waving at the locals around town before making it to your destination. Despite it being early in the morning, the bar was bussing with all different walks of life. Smiling at the bands of men calling out your name, waving at them before arriving at the bar. You shuffled into the bar, waving at your friend, who was serving three people at once. She owned the bar, inheriting it from her deadbeat of a father. The two of you had been friends for a long time, ever since your mother had sent you here when she moved to the “sophisticated” parts of town. 

“Hurry up and get up here! There’s orders to be taken, you know!” She said, giving one man his tall glass of beer. 

You headed to the back room, placing your bag down, before switching into your taller heels, with cotton-padded into them for a bit more comfort. You’ll be on your feet all day. Looking in the mirror, swiping your lips with gloss before placing your long plaits into two pigtails, tying them with matching creme bows before walking out. As you walked out, you grabbed an apron, tying it around your waist as you took your station around the bar. 

Your friend sighed in relief as you helped her out, taking the few plates in her hands before asking which table they went to. 

“The Garrison boys over there in the back, and there should be a few more coming out.”

Nodding your head, you took them down, plastering a smile on your face as you approached their table.

The morning continued like that and continued well into the afternoon as well. Your job was a rush, but the pay was very good and included a mountain of tips as well. As night approached, things slowed down just about as all the men soon had to return to their wives or head down to the secret club behind the old platoon which their wives didn’t know about. The door chimed open, glancing up and only for Sheriff Smith along with a few of his men standing right there. 

Glancing over, you see your friend tidying herself up, pulling her long locs out of her deflated ponytail, and letting them fall. Smirking at her, with her not even looking at and flipping the bird before carefully walking over to the area they had overtaken. As she spoke, having a shimmering smile while she looked down at Erwin who sent her his own award-winning smile right back. You looked back down at your work, which was wiping down the counter and preparing for you to head back home. Your shift was over soon since your coworkers didn’t like you walking back while the moon was too high at night. 

They had once asked you to consider actually moving into town, but you wouldn't have it. This was the home you were raised in, the home your grandmother had raised your own mother in. 

“Cherie, wait a moment,” Erwin’s familiar voice called out to you, just as you put the rag away, preparing to head to the back room to get your things. 

You turned around, seeing the tall man tower over you. You don’t know why, but your heart began to slightly pound. 

“Can I help you, sheriff? This ain’t about last night, isn’t it?”

He grimaced a bit, “m’fraid it is, lemme walk with you to the back?”

You glanced over at your friend, who looked between the two of you, shrugging her shoulders and nodding her head before focusing back on the others in the bar. The two of you walked together down the small hallway before reaching the small room where all the workers had placed their own things. He opened the door for you, thanking him as you walked inside the room. As you found your things, Sheriff Smith began to speak. 

“As you know, last night, we were chasing a very dangerous criminal, who had reached the forest where you live.”

You nodded your head, “yes, and you knocked on my door and you asked me if I had seen anything, and I told you that I had not.”

He nodded his head, “yes, yes you did. We continued to look through the forest, but he was gone. Like he disappeared within the wind, cherie…”

You nodded your head, “yes… is there something else you wanna say, Erwin?”

“This morning my men conducted another search, to make sure we didn't miss anything, and we found heavy footsteps… leading away from your home.”

Your heart dropped to your knees, lucky your back was still turned away from the sheriff so you turned to pack your things, flinging off your shoes as you pretended nothing was wrong. 

“Heavy footsteps, leading away from my home… is there something you wanna say, sheriff?”

Heavy boots walked closer and closer to you, as you turned around and faced him, face calmer. 

“I just wanna know the truth, cherie, you know you and I go way back. Your own grandmother helped raise me after my father died. You're like a niece to me, and I hate to see you in some trouble.”

You took a deep breath trying to calm your beating heart, however before you could say anything, the door suddenly slammed open, revealing an out-of-breath officer. 

“Sheriff, the other two thieves escaped their cell!”

The tall man cursed, hissing under his breath before running out of the room, not even glancing back at you. Once he was gone, hearing the muffled sounds of the rest of his men following suit after him, you let out a breath of relief. You soon walked out of the room, grabbing a box of food from one of the chefs for dinner. You waved goodbye to your boss, before walking out of the bar, the cooler air of the night hitting you. It was still hot, so there was no need for a jacket as you walked away, heading towards the forest into your home. The walk to your home was quicker than the walk to the bar, soon arriving at your home. As you began to pull out your keys, you could hear muffled sounds inside the home.

No…

Inserting the key, you flung your door open, seeing three figures lounge around on your grandmother’s couch. 

Locking eyes with familiar hazels, seeing him smirk before lifting up his glass, holding a beer, “hey there, cherie.”

You could almost scream. Instead, you stepped inside your home, closing the door before dropping the bag right onto the floor. You glanced around the room, seeing your table and floors all messed up and dirt tracked all over your floors, and you could almost guarantee that your icebox was nearly empty. You stepped over the trash, ignoring the two unfamiliar pairs of eyes watching as you approached the larger blonde man. 

You stared down at him, with him looking you in the eyes. Unbreaking your stare, you pressed your hands roughly against the side of his waist, right where the wound you wrapped was. He cursed, screaming as you did so. 

“Yeah, that’'s what you get, now y’all better clean this fucking house or else!”

The two others with him snickered at Reiner, seeing him being kicked around by you. Hearing their laughter, you turned towards them, eyes sharp in glares. 

“Don’t think I ain’t forget yall yet, yall get up too and clean this fucking house! Or else, I’m getting Erwin down here!”

Immediately the two of them shot up, one of them towering over you all like a giant. You pushed them all around, making sure they picked up all the trash and scraps they had put on your floor. You rested on your couch, entertaining yourself while you ate your food, still hot luckily. They were kind enough to chop up some wood for your fireplace, enjoying the warmth as they picked up the last of their mess. Once they were finished, the two unknowns had plopped down onto the couch, while Reiner made himself comfortable right beside you. He leaned down, mouth wide open, trying to get a bite of your food, but you pushed him away, grimacing as he laughed out loud. 

“Think you can fuck up my house, and eat my food, you have another thing coming,” you mumbled, eating the bit on the spoon. 

“Aww come on cherie,” he mumbled, landing his head on your shoulder, “i'm still hungry!”

You rolled your eyes, “go and find something else to eat, maybe in prison, where you all belong.”

He smirked, “and yet, you still hadn’t turned us in, cherie. Plus, I paid you kindly for your services, thinking that “immediate future” was a joke huh?”

You rolled your eyes again, scoping up the last bite, before hovering the spoon in front of his face. He glanced in between the spoon and your face, before eating it, humming as he did.

“Thank you kindly, cherie.”

Ignoring the warm feeling his raspy voice gave you, as well as the looks the two others gave each other before glancing back at the two of you. 

“How long you are staying here, Reiner, along with your two little friends, because Sheriff Smith is sniffing around me,” you gasped slightly before extending your hand, smacking him in the head again.

“Hey!”

“Be careful where you stepping when you leave next time, cause they was sniffing around and saw your fucking footsteps!”

He suddenly smirked, “‘next time?’ huh?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, before raising your hand at him again. He immediately held his hands up and surrendered, scooting a bit away from you. Annie and Bertholdt snickered, looking at the two of you. Getting up, walk towards your kitchen to put away your bowl. Reiner followed after you, a teasing smile on his face. Cleaning off the bowl, drying it, and putting it away, feeling him stand dangerously close behind you. Drying your bowl before pushing past him, heading towards your living room. 

“So I’m assuming you're staying the night once again?”

Reiner nodded his head, leaning against the wall, “hope you're alright with that, cherie.”

You narrowed your eyes at that, “didn’t I tell you to stop calling me that?”

He shrugged his shoulders, tucking his hands into his pockets. You glanced over at the three of them, before rolling your eyes.

“I’m gonna take a bath, y’all better figure out how y’all gonna sleep.”

You sat amid your room, ignoring the sounds of the felons taking shelter within your home. Sitting at the vanity table your grandmother had the in-town carpenters built for you when you turned fifteen. You looked over at the set of picture frames, mostly filled with photos of you and her, one with Erwin as well. Picking up one of the picture frames, the last birthday you were able to celebrate with her before she passed. 

“Is that your grandmother?”

Screaming, jerking up, knees hitting the table, as you turned, seeing blonde hair in your peripheral.

“God, don’t do that!”

He stood straight up, watching you as you turned around in your seat, still holding the frame. 

“And to answer your question, yes, yes it is.”

He held out his hand, and tentatively, after glancing between his face and his hand, placed the frame in his hands. He looked down at it, smiling a bit at your wide smile, arms wrapped in the smaller frame of your grandmother. 

“The two of you look alike,” he says, handing you the frame.

Your mouth curls up into a slight smile, and you place the frame back on your vanity, “everyone used to say that about us, and that used to include my mother as well.”

His eyebrows quivered at that, “your mother? Is she still alive?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, “yep, sipping on fancy margaritas and livin it up in the big city with her rich old-ass husband.”

“Forgot she had her own mother and a daughter too, didn’t even come for the funeral, even after me and Erwin sent letters.”

He hummed, “Sheriff Smith?”

You nodded your head, “after his own daddy died, my grandmother watched after him. My mom and he were sweethearts once, but she decided this lil ole town was too small for her but taking care of her daughter was too big for her.”

“What about your father?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “never met the man, grandma always told me she’d wring him by his neck if she ever saw him again. Says he’s the reason my mother took off to the city and never looked back, but I think she was putting blame on anyone but her.”

Facing the mirror, the lamp illuminated the side of your face. You could see Reiner still standing behind you, his face cut off from the mirror. Crossing your legs, feeling a slow, churning throb in between your legs. 

“I like to think she would have helped you when you first arrived at my door, despite threatening me with a gun. She always had a knack for getting in trouble, and helping people who didn’t deserve to be helped.”

You could feel his hands beginning to rest on your shoulders, his actions not stopping your spiel. 

“Which is why, had my mother come through that door when she was still alive, she would have taken her back in on the spot.”

He hummed, leaning down towards you, seeing a few of your tears rolling down your cheeks. His face lingers over your shoulder, looking over at you. You glanced over, looking at him straight in his eyes.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to rant about my life, you’re still a stranger technically.”

You began to move away, but his hands tensed, keeping you right in your seat. His left hand moved from your shoulder, sliding across your chest, reaching up to your neck. Letting out a shaky breath, shivering as he moved your head back towards him. 

“Don’t gotta apologize, cherie,” he mumbled, thumb stroking your cheek.

Your body turned as well, your leg swinging over the bench as you faced him fully. Your body, responding to some unknown force, leaned forward towards him as he leaned closer to yours. 

“Reiner,” you gasped, right before he rushed forward, lips capturing yours.

The kiss was deep, and heavy, as his hand stayed tight at your neck, his other, sliding down your body. He grabbed at you, pulling you right into his lap. Your moan was muffled by the kiss, your hips slowly grinding into him. His hand soon left your won, settling right on the other side of the bottom before effectively picking you up. Unremitting as he approached your bed, placing you right on it. For a moment, he let go of the kiss, reaching down and unbuttoning his shirt, before pulling it off his body. As he threw his shirt onto your hard-wooden floors, your own hands reached up to his buckle belt, feeling his erection press up against his jeans. Reiner smirked down at you as you unbuckled, sudden haste pushing you. Getting the tough fabric off, Reiner did the rest, leaving him in nothing but his boxers. 

He soon leaned back down, climbing in between your legs before capturing your lips into his once again. Your hands slid up to his face, the feeling of his scruff against your hands and face. His hands slowly slid up your thighs, going right under your nightdress, gripping at your waist, pressing further into you. You could feel him pressing into you, the feeling intensified by the pressure he placed on your waist, easily keeping you grounded against him. His hands soon left your own, one pressing against the back for your thigh, pressing it as far as it goes. The other moved down your dripping wet pussy, two large fingers easily spreading your lips with ease. Gasping for breath, immediately choked on a moan as he pressed one finger, entering slowly within you. He moved from your mouth to your neck, as he moved his fingers in and out of you slowly. His lips were still wet, allowing him to leave soaked kisses against your skin. 

“Reiner,” you gasped, fingers weaving into his hair, messing up the blond strands. 

Back arching as his pace quickened, the lower half of your body trembling under him as you pulled harder against him. He whimpered against your skin, the feeling of you pulling his hair eliciting a deep feral feeling within him. Everywhere was heated, the air, your skin, your thin nightdress bunched up at your waist. Drool dripped from your tongue as you took everything he gave you, everything and more. 

“Lord,” you sighed, body aching all over, “I really shouldn’t be doing this, lord.”

Reiner chuckled, “I can go ahead and stop, if you need me to?”

You twisted your hand in his hair, “you bet not.”

He said nothing, chuckling one more time, but his kisses continued, trailing down to your chest, dipping into the valley between your chest. At the same time, he pressed another finger into you, your arousal coating his fingers. Your slip dress had long fallen off your shoulders, allowing him to reach them with ease. His journey continued down lower and lower, his hand still lingering on your thigh sliding down. The two of you hadn’t noticed the lantern dimming in the background, as the room was soon engulfed with darkness, nothing but the high moon shining over the two of you. Shuddering, twisting against your blankets as he plunged his fingers deep inside you, resting his head against your stomach. 

“Damn, didn’t think you’d be good at this, fuck…” you sighed, as your hips surged up into the air. 

“...that a challenge, cherie?”

Despite the immense arousal and pleasure flowing through your veins, you smirked down at him, “take it as you want, cherie.”

His eyes darkened, his unrefined look getting more and more feral. Reiner suddenly pulled his fingers out of you, taking a quick sniff before placing them in his mouth, tasting your arousal. Suddenly, he rose up, towering over you, before grabbing both of your legs. Squealing as he pulled you up from the bed, easily carrying you into the air. His hands grasping at your ass as he held you up, holding you up in the air. Your hands couldn't help but wrap around his shoulders, looking down into his eyes. 

“Reiner, what are you doing—” you started before being cut off by a loud gasp escaping your lips. 

You hadn't noticed him shifting his boxers, before feeling him sink into you deeply. Your sounds hadn’t deterred him though, his tight grasp on you as he moved you up and down his cock. The sounds of your moans echoing through the mid-sized room, the feeling of your tight wetness, only urged him more, deep, raspy moans spilling from his own mouth. His fat cock stretched out in ways others hadn't yet before, muddling your mind as he moved in and out of you. His brute strength allowed him to pull you nearly off him with ease, before plunging right back into you. His hips slamming into you, the possibility of leaving deep dark gnarly purple bruises all over your inner thighs. 

“Sosososo good, sos deep, oh my god!” Your mouth slurred on their words, head thrown back in euphoria. 

“What was that you were saying before?” he suddenly questioned, pulling almost completely out of you, leaving only the tip. 

Gasping, whining at the sudden prolonged loss of him. Your whines and squirms did nothing for him, only smirking up at you as he awaited your answer. His hands fondled you, squeezing your bottom rigidly.

“Tell me how good you feel, and maybe I’ll continue.”

Convulsing, aching for him to continue, your resolve fully crumbling. Reaching out towards him, your shaking arms attempt to pull him towards you. 

Your mouth spelling with pleas, “please please don’t stop, god I take back what I said. Keep fucking me just like that.”

He took in your words, his smirk getting wider and wider as you twisted, tears threatening to fall down your face. With no other words, he slammed back into you and continued pummeling you as if nothing happened. You clung onto him, and your head was thrown back as he did so. Reiners's efforts and actions electrified you, feeling your body jerk, a familiar pounding feeling building up within you. 

You let out a gasp, before letting out, “Oh god!” hissing as you came, clear liquid spilling out of you. 

Your cunt clenched around him, causing him to groan deeply, grounding his face into your shoulders as his thrust became erratic. His unsteady movements caused you to choke, his heavy breath rumbling right into your ear. 

“So good, fuckfuck,” he growled, slamming into you a few more times before letting off one final groan. 

Letting out a shaky moan, feeling him suddenly pull out of you, feeling his release land right on your stomach and thighs. Breathing heavily, legs shaking as he slowly lowered you onto the bed. Reaching over, grabbing his shirt that had landed right on your bedpost, using it to wipe away the mess. 

“Can’t have you getting pregnant now?” Is all he said, wiping away his mouth. 

You rolled your eyes, smacking him on the head as he threw his shirt back onto the floor. Just as you began to cover yourself up in your sheets, you felt movement beside you. Looking back, seeing Reiner getting into the bed with you. 

“Aht! What the hell you doing?! If you don’t get out?!”

“Aww, come on cherie, don’t make me sleep out here on that little couch. Nearly broke my back the last time I slept there. Plus,” he added, gesturing down to his wound, “I’m still wounded.”

You narrow your eyes, “didn’t seem like you were injured just a few minutes ago.” He still didn't budge, causing you to roll your eyes at that, “fine, but you better make some damn breakfast before you fucking leave.” 

He smirked, agreeing to your demands before continuing to pull the blankets up and around the both of you.You turned back over, snuggling into the bed, feeling Reiner’s weight shifting beside you. His eyes burned into the back of your head for a few seconds, before suddenly feeling an arm sling over your body. You rolled your eyes but suppressed the smile appearing on your face before snuggling yourself into his warm embrace

taglist: @kanekisfavoritegf @daisynik7 @where-the-blackbirds-sing @nathalunalune @secretanimesimp @kentucky-fried-me @levin4nami @liv-vy @mortqlprojections @invisible-mori @desiray562 @liliorsstuff-blog @sophiiluvvs @magictrump @ventdavi154 @ircngirl @lostinbeidou @missmadness123 @introvered-violinist @dior-fawn @saway4ma @reallongwire

[lotus-n-l0ve]

HIS TRANQUIL EMBRACE

— Geto Suguru x Female Reader

I Found My Forever Home In Your Soothing Arms.

*⁠.⁠✧ SYNOPSIS : When late at night you don't find your husband beside you. You go out to find him only to find him in the office.

*⁠.⁠✧ WARNINGS & TAGS : Husband!Suguru, wife!reader, workaholic!Suguru, mention of abuse, late night talk, peaks, cuddling, 1.2k words.

*⁠.⁠✧ — NAVIGATION // JUJUTSU KAISEN MASTERLIST

DO NOT PRESS [READ MORE] IF YOU ARE NOT COMFORTABLE. MINORS DNI, IF YOU DO THEN IT'S YOUR OWN RESPONSIBILITY.

Your feet padded on the floor as you made your way through the dark and gloomy hall. Drowsiness, heavy on your eyelids. In the middle of the night, your sleep broke due to the need to use the washroom.

When you were done, you noticed the empty side of the bed where Suguru was supposed to be. The bed sheet on his side was perfect and wrinkle free, meaning he has not come back to bed. You shook your head in disbelief. That workaholic of a husband of yours. But there is always a limit as to when to take a break.

You stopped in front of a wooden door, gold work carved into it. You raised a hand to knock but then changed your mind, instead you twisted the golden door handle and pushed the door open, walking inside.

The room was mostly dark, only a table lamp lighting up the room. Your husband sat behind the table, a file opened in his hand. A pair of spectacles resting on the bridge of his nose. He looked like a man straight out of romance novels. Suguru averted his eyes from the white sheets when he heard the door open only to be greeted with the adorable view of his sleepy wife trudging towards him, the long night gown dragging on the floor.

Suguru's eyes narrowed as he put the red file on the table, "Why are you up this late, Sweetheart?"

You didn't bother answering. You just slipped between his hands, dropping yourself on his lap and settling on. Your legs dangled on one side while you wrapped your arms around his torso, snuggling into his warm and strong chest. Suguru couldn't help but snort. You looked like a baby snuggling in his chest.

"How long are you going to work? Did you forget that you have a wife?" You mumbled, your fingers playing with his shirt's button.

"Just a little more." He ran a hand on your arm and placed a kiss on your forehead, "Why don't you go back and I'll join you as soon as I'm done?"

"No, thank you. I'm way too comfortable to move now." Your hands wrapped around his firm torso.

You closed your eyes, ear pressed on his chest as you concentrated on the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Suguru let you be and picked up the file again. His father had given him the responsibility of a big project and Suguru definitely did not want to let his father down.

Silence filled in the room, only the occasional noise and page flipping. You tried to go back to the dreamland but instead you were led back to the nightmare. It was the time when Suguru was yet to appear in your life. Those gloomy days when you were barely surviving.

You have never known who your father was. He walked out of your and your mother's life eight months into the pregnancy. Soon after your mother fell into the dangerous trap of drugs. You were mostly raised by a grandma in the neighbourhood. She tried to save you from your mother's clutch as much as she could but soon enough she passed away, leaving you unprotected under your mother.

She would bring home different men everyday to hook up, to forget all her sorrow in sex. She didn't care if you saw doing the act or not. She always blamed you for her misfortune. To her, you were the reason her husband left her. He didn't find her beautiful after her belly grew. You were the bane of her life.

All the household work was left on your shoulder. The little money she made by hooking up was mostly spent on her drugs, whatever she gave you was not even enough for a bread. Often days you went to sleep with an empty stomach along with the beating from your mother. You were, after all, her anger venting machine.

You silently endured the abuse, physical as well as mental. After you turned fifteen, you ran away from home and moved to Kyoto. There you rented a one studio apartment with some money you had saved and got yourself multiple jobs to support yourself.

You completed your studies and started working in the infamous company, 'Iazami', as an intern. Years later, when you were twenty one, your life came to a stable position. In the company you met Suguru for the first time.

You knew him, everyone who used the internet knew him. He was the oldest son of the Geto family. 'Izami', founded by Akira Geto, dominated the hospitality industry. The company is now led by Suguru.

You first met him when he needed someone to fill in for his secretary and your HR recommended you for that position. You were nervous, working directly under the President put a ton of pressure on you. Suguru was professional. He liked things being done perfectly and on time. He knew when to be stern and not.

Soon you got to know the soft man under the disguise of a stern boss. You worked as his temporary secretary for one month and that one month was enough to make you fall for that man. You two developed a special bond, a bond, you knew, was not a simple boss and employee one.

After you transferred back to your previous position, you thought that everything had ended. Your story ended before it could even began. After all, what could happen between a billionaire, someone who literally owns the country and a simple intern. But you were quickly proven wrong.

The next day you found yourself face to face with Suguru. His hand held out for you as he uttered those words 'Will you go on a date with me, Y/N?'

Life after that felt like a tornado. Your lonely days were replaced with fun times with Suguru. Your bland dinner was replaced with cooking with him, going on dates, late night cuddles. Everything felt so ethereal that you worried it was all just a dream but Suguru made sure that you knew it was very much real.

You dated for three years and now you were married for two. The nightmares that haunted your nights before were overshadowed with Suguru's love.

You blinked your eyes, the sleepiness that you were feeling had now vanished with the thoughts of the past. Your head lifted to rest on the crook of his neck.

"Suguru?" You called him, your low voice appearing loud over the dead silence of the night.

Suguru hummed, one hand reaching to run it through your tangled hair. You smiled, almost like a drunk one.

"Have I ever told you how much I love you?"

Suguru chuckled, "Are you trying to get me to go to bed?"

"No…………. Is it working?"

"Yep, definitely working." Suguru closed the file, abandoning it on the table as he picked you up in his arms, "Let's go and get your beauty sleep."

He looked down when you didn't reply, only to see you already asleep. You snuggled in his chest again and this time you finally reached the dreamland instead of the nightmares because you knew this time Suguru was here to protect you from any harm. You found your forever home in his soothing arms.

© 𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐔𝐒-𝐍-𝐋𝟎𝐕𝐄 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑, 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 — all content rights belongs to LOTUS-N-L0VE. do not plagiarise any works and do not repost or translate onto any other sites.

All the rights and credits of the characters, gifs, songs and pictures used here belongs to their rightful owners.

[quigonswife8]

Okay: Leon Kennedy x reader

Leon thinks you die, so when he sees you alive he never wants to let you go again.

gif creds: @halfwayriight

Bold = Leon

You + Luis: normal font

Italics = Ashley

-

"(Y/N)!"

His voice cracks, breaking through the chaos of the night. His eyes, wide- shock filled. His body is frozen in place, almost as if an invisible force is willing it to. His heart picks up speed until it feels like it's going to give out, and his right hand reaches out in desperate need to touch you- to grab you and pull you.

Though as the building collapses, and that face he loves so dearly disappears from sight, it doesn't feel real.

"(Y/N) NO!"

The 27 year old begins to run towards the building, when he's suddenly stopped by the roof above collapsing and knocking him out.

....

....

"Ugh my head."

Leon's eyes slowly open, welcoming the dim night. He looks around the room, confused, and that's his eyes land on Ashley and Luis. Still disoriented he attempts to sit up which fails, as the pain from his head shoots back and leaves him groaning again.

"...where.."

"Leon!"

Ashley having just realised he's awake runs over to him, and hugs him.

"You're awake!"

"What..."

"You were knocked out."- Luis finishes, a few cuts and bruises on his face. "...we managed to find you before you were killed, and we brought you here." the Spaniard waves his hand. "...and lucky we did..."

Leon groans and clutches his head, his mind a swirl.

"(y/n)...where's..."

Leon looks around the room, having not remembered what happened yet.

"Where's (y/n)..."

Luis and Ashley exchange a look; Ashley looks near tears, and Luis is doing a perfect job of hiding his emotions. An unspoken silence between the two leads Luis to jog Leon's memory which he wish he didn't have to do.

"They're...they're gone-"

The door being thrown open so suddenly grabs the attention of the three. They look over at the door, almost-expecting to see one of those Ganado's because what's new. Though when the three focus ahead, they all look shocked...Leon especially, who stares wide-eyed.

His partner, his lover, they're standing at the door. One hand on their side, cuts and bruises scattered on their face. They look weak, disoriented, yet despite that, manage a smile.

"I'm here-"

Your eyes widen when Leon is over to you in no time, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you tight against his chest. He gasps, he clings to your body like he's making sure that you're there and he's not imagining things. He lets out a soft sob, his hands clinging clinging once more, the blood covering you touching him.

"You...you're-"

"I'm here baby..."

Despite the amount of pain you're in, that you wanna pass out, being in Leon's embrace is soothing now that you're back in his arms. Leon keeps you close to him, to his heart, and the two of you stand there, while Ashley and Luis watch on with smiles.

----

Leon glances over at you every so often, making sure you're still breathing.

"They're alright...physically."

The doctor tells Leon, jotting down some notes in his book.

"...mentally..." the agent nods, knowing already, cause why wouldn't you be mentally okay after all that you went through.

"Can I stay?"

"Of course."- the doctor nods. "I'll let you two be alone."- and he leaves the room and shuts the door, leaving you and Leon alone once again. Leon, who approaches the bed and sits down, his right hand intertwining with your left.

He watches the way you breathe, the way your mouth is slightly parted. The cuts and bruises on your body an example of your survival, and the bandage around your torse reminding him that he almost lost you.

It feels surreal; one minute he had seen you "die", the next you were back in his arms safe and sound. The last 24 hours have been insane but with you alive and well, things are already better. Leon squeezes your hand softly, not enough to wake you, but enough to let your subconscious know that he's there.

Leon gets comfortable on the chair, and spends the next few hours just watching over you until you wake.

-A few weeks later-

"Home sweet home."

Leon comes up behind you and kisses you on the cheek before hauling the stuff inside; you had offered to help, though Leon was insistent on doing it all himself.

"So glad to be home."

He places everything down by the couch, and turns to face you; his eyes soften, he smiles when you smile they're smile is so beautiful, and proceeds to walk back over to you.

Leon leans down, and surprises you when he wraps his arms around you, and scoops you up, his lips meeting yours in a loving kiss. You kiss him back, being spun around by Leon, who can't stop smiling.

"I love you Leon."

Leon swoons hearing those words, it never fails to make his heart hammer. Oh how he loves you so much, he's just so happy to have you in his arms alive and well, and now the two of you can spend time together which means more than anything.

"I love you too sweetheart. Now, let's go and relax." and, with his arms still holding you, and the softest smile ever on his lips, he carries you over to the couch.

[motherjoel]

I’d love to read a forbidden love story where the reader is maybe Maria’s sister. Obv she doesn’t want her lil sister and Joel to fool around and I think it’s interesting to see how well they hide their relationship and how Maria is going to react when she finds out.. and Tommy too

Thank you for even considering this request

something special (joel miller/reader)

PART TWO

thank you so much for the request! I'm sorry if its a bit different from what you expected but I just kinda started writing and didn't stop!

wc: 2.4k

warnings: uhhh kissy kissy smoochy smooch, some cursing, idk pg-13

a/n: yes i know Maria's backstory is different and her and her dad started Jackson but lets just pretend here alright!!!!

just a side note- thank you all so much for reading and commenting on my works! arms tonite did way better than i expected and it just makes me very happy haha, so thank you!

-

-

Your lungs were on fire. One step after the other, breath ragged and uneven. You weren’t sure what you were running from, but you had a feeling it wasn’t cordyceps. You’d done this time and time again- the chase. It was never you on the other end as the chaser, though, with the nefarious things you were up to. Except, this time, you knew it was a nightmare. It was recurring, at least 3 times a week, and you’ve learned how to train yourself into recognizing reality from your dream hellscape. You woke with a start, clutching your chest and gasping for air. No matter how many times you went through this, it never got any less horrifying. It was simply something you learn to manage.

When people think of a zombie apocalypse, they think that the biggest threat would be the zombies. Emotionless, blood, and brain-thirsty monsters whose only goal is your demise.  But the people… it's the people that are the real monsters. These people- the things they are willing to do for survival- well, it's simply inhumane. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t resort to that dark side every once in a while. But when there's no law enforcement, the sick and twisted people of society tend to take advantage. They harm others for the means of pleasure, not survival. You were never one of those people.

Jackson had been your home for about 5 years now, and you were considered an important part of the community. You remember reuniting with your older sister for the first time. It didn’t feel real when you first saw her come up to you on that horse- you thought you were hallucinating, maybe the cold had gotten to you. But that wasn’t a figment of your imagination- it really was Maria. 

Maria had always been incredibly protective of you- you were young when the breakout happened. Too young to make it on your own. Only, you didn’t. Maria was by your side for the first 10 years, but when you got separated during a food run, you both assumed the worst for each other. But, five years later, there you were in her arms once again.

Joel was still getting used to life in Jackson. It had only been about a week, but he didn’t think he ever would get used to this feeling of safety for him and Ellie. And, the people, Joel thought. These people have no idea what loss is. It didn’t seem fair for him and Ellie to have this sense of comfort- not when Tess never got to experience it. And she never would. 

He and Ellie were eating breakfast in the dining hall the first time he met you. Tommy was with the two of them, being the only person Joel really knew in town. He’d been giving him the tour, slowly, throughout the week, and Ellie had already seemed to make herself at home. This was evident in the way she scarfed down her eggs- Joel had to remind her to breathe every once in a while. Maria had been chatting with you near the kitchen before noticing the three of them. She made her way over to sit, you following behind a few steps. 

“Joel, Ellie, this is my sister, Y/N,” she introduced you. You offered a small smile and a wave, to which Joel nodded. You were a pretty girl, and he knew that. Pretty girls normally didn’t bring a bit of heat to his face, but there was something about you that made him squirm.

“Hey, I’m Ellie,” she introduced herself. She looked to Joel, whose eyes hadn’t left you since you walked over to the table. She nudged him with her elbow, muttering a small “Joel”  before he came to his senses.

“Oh, I’m, uh, Joel,” He said, nodding again. 

“Nice to meet you Ellie, and ‘uh Joel’,” you smiled before sitting down across from him. Joel looked down, embarrassed that he stuttered in front of you. What the hell was happening to him? 

“So he’s your brother, Tom?” you asked. Tommy wasn’t a fan of the nickname, but as his wife's younger sister, you felt it was your place to get on his nerves. 

“That would be right. Though the old man’s got about 10 years on me,” he joked as Joel shook his head.

“Hm. Y’all got good genes,” you laugh, throwing a wink Joel's way. He avoided eye contact.

“No, no no. That is not happening,” Maria told you as you raised your hands in defense. Joel and Tommy looked confused. “She has dated a family member of every one of my boyfriends,” she said. Ellie laughed.

“The fuck is this, sweet home Alabama?” Ellie laughed before Joel nudged her. You had to come to your own defense.

“Hey, hey, it wasn’t like that,” you said, Maria gave you a look, “it was only two! Just Jeff and Chris! Oh, well then there's Brian, but it was his second cousin so does that really count?” you asked. Ellie giggled to herself. 

“Well, whatever the case, you don’t gotta worry about that. I don’t think Joel’s exactly smooth with the ladies,” Ellie said, mumbling the last part. Joel nudged her again- she thought she might start to bruise. 

“Oh shit, remember that one time, back in the day, at that bar in town? Ahh, what was it called… well, anyway, Joel met this girl there and-” Tommy started before being cut off by Joel. 

“That is enough outta the two of you,” he silenced them before giving you an apologetic look. Tommy and Ellie laughed to themselves before the topic was changed. Small talk consumed the table, and breakfast ended fairly quickly. There was a mention of gathering at the bar in town that night- Joel was strongarmed into going by Tommy. Though it wasn’t exactly a scene for kids, Ellie wasn’t going to go. She’d rather die than watch a bunch of old people get wasted, as she so lovingly put it to Joel. 

So, here he was, standing in front of his mirror, pinpointing every single one of his flaws to himself. His flannel was clean, at least- maybe too colorful? And his hair- maybe he’d have Maria cut it before- no, no, it’s fine. Why does he even care how he looks? He hasn’t cared for a good 20 years- probably much longer than that, actually. But when Ellie wolf-whistled at him as he made his way down the stairs, well, he’d be lying if he said that his confidence didn’t get a little boost.

The bar was a short walk from his place, and luckily he made it there at the same time as Tommy and Maria. They made their way inside and to the bar, where a few others were already sitting. Joel took notice of you sitting on the opposite side of the bar, next to a man about your age. He realized now just how out of his league you were. You were younger than him, prettier- what could he give you that a younger man couldn’t? He knew he was getting ahead of himself, but he still felt disappointed.

He didn’t notice you glance over in his direction, your pupils dilating as you breathed in the sight of him. Shit, did he look good. His hair was nicely combed- did he use gel? His shirt looked nice, tucked into his jeans. You could tell he put in the effort. It’s been a while since you’d seen a man put in the effort. You’d been so busy staring at him that you’d forgotten about the man next to you, who hadn’t stopped talking the entire time. 

“And I haven’t spoken to him since,” the man next to you finished speaking and you snapped back to reality.

“Oh, hm, that’s interesting,” you said, stirring your drink.

“Oh yeah? Who was I just talking about,” he asked.

“You, uh, you were…” you started, furrowing your eyebrows. 

“Jesus, you weren’t listening to me at all,” the man said, standing up from his seat with a huff. “Man, bitches like you just waste my time,” he said, bumping your shoulder with his as he walked past.

“Excuse me?” you asked, standing from your seat.

“You heard me!” he turned around. “And to think… I was gonna give you a chance with me tonight,” he said, shaking his head. Joel laughed at this from down the bar, drawing both of your attention. He didn't even realize he had laughed until the man asked “What's so funny?”

“Oh, well, I just find it funny that you think it's you giving her a chance. That’s all,” he shrugged before turning back to his beer.

“Man, fuck you and your bitch,” he said, making his way toward the door.

“Hey, watch it,” Maria said to him, noticing the commotion. Joel stood with a fire in his eyes. Tommy placed his hand on his chest, holding him back from doing something he may regret. 

“Whatever,” the man dismissed himself and left the bar. You were embarrassed- you didn’t mean to cause a scene, but god was that guy an awful storyteller. Staring at Joel was much more interesting. 

Things had calmed down a bit after a few minutes, but you hadn't moved from your position on your barstool. Slowly sipping your drink, you pondered simply going home. That was before you felt a presence on the stool next to you. You looked up to see Joel there, his brown eyes boring holes into your own. 

“Well, hello there partner,” you said, offering him a smile. He normally wasn’t fond of people making fun of his accent, but it was cute when you did it. God, was he really calling another person cute?

“Hey, Y/N. Listen, I’m sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have gotten involved, and-” you cut him off by placing your hand on his arm.

“Don’t apologize. It was sweet, what you said. Not many men do shit like that anymore,” you said, removing your hand from his arm. It felt colder now.

“Shit like what?” he asked, waving down the bartender for another beer.

“Shit like… I dunno, being nice to women?” you wondered aloud. It was the unfortunate truth- but the Miller boys must have something special in their DNA.

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that darlin’,” he said. He didn’t mean for the darlin’ to slip out, but it only felt natural. 

“Yeah, well, you’re a breath of fresh air,” you replied.

The two of you sat there for a few hours more, simply chatting. Tommy and Maria left a while ago- not that you'd noticed. You also didn’t notice that you were the only two people left- at least not until the bartender cleared his throat. The two of you awkwardly shuffled to the exit, Joel putting your jacket over your shoulders as you stood outside the bar.

“Well, I had a really great time tonight,” you told him.

“Me too,” Joel smiled, looking at his feet. What was he supposed to do now? God, he was so out of practice. Invite you back to his place? Well, Ellie was there, so probably not. Hug you goodbye? Kiss you goodbye? No, god no, that's way too fast! Or was it? Life isn’t the same way it used to be. Dating isn’t the same. Lord knows Joel hasn’t gotten the chance to really experience either in a while.

“It’s nice out, isn’t it?” you asked, looking at the stars. “You have a porch, right?”

So here you were, sitting on a couch on Joel’s porch with a bottle of wine between the two of you, laughing like you hadn’t laughed in years. You were inches away from him

“So, tell me… why do you always go after your in-laws? Is it some sort of… thing?” Joel asked. He would be horrified at the thought of asking someone this sober, but he was one too many glasses in and he was curious.

“No! No, nothing like that. It just seems to work out that way, I dunno,” you blushed, taking another sip.

“I guess that works out in my favor,” Joel says, a soft smile on his face.

“Yeah, I guess it does,” you turned to him only to realize your faces were inches away. You could smell the wine on his breath as your eyes flickered between his own and his mouth. The two of you leaned closer- really, as close as possible before Joel speaks.

“Is this okay?” he whispers, licking his lips.

“Shut up,” you said before placing your hand on the side of his face and leaning in, closing the gap between your mouths. Your lips slotted perfectly into his as they moved rhythmically with each other. His hand began to reach for your waist as you pulled at his hair, deepening the kiss. Your tongue flickered on his lips as you set the pace, speeding up your feverish kisses. He put both of his hands on your hips, and with a hop, you were on his lap, straddling him. It just felt so natural- your hands in his hair, his hands brushing the skin under the hem of your shirt. They were warm and callous and really big. You really would have fucked him right then and there.

“Hey, yo!” you heard from across the street. Maria. Next, a whistle from Tommy. You jumped off of his lap, quickly, as your sister ran up to the porch and grabbed you by your arm. “What the fuck Y/N?!” she yelled, dragging you off the porch.

Joel watched as you staggered away- the hem of your shirt was bunched and he could see the skin his hands were on just moments before. His mind was hazy as he observed you. You looked back at him and gave him a wink before Maria dragged you home. 

“Man, I’m gonna be in for a treat tonight,” Tommy complained, half-jokingly as he sat next to Joel on the couch. “What the hell was that?” he asked Joel incredulously.“I don’t really know. That was her,” Joel said- it didn’t make sense to Tommy, as he assumed Joel was just a mumbling drunk. But that was her, that was you, and Joel decided at that moment that you were something special- something he can't lose.

-

-

a/n: tysm for reading this all! i finished writing this and am posting this while high so pls excuse if there's any mistakes i just got antsy and wanted to post something

[southtopaz]

PSYCHO KILLER - SCREAM

Summary: in which Iris Morris has to navigate her personal relationships while surviving a psycho.

Warnings: Fem!reader, angst, violence, swearing, mention of knife, stabbing, mention of death, Amber freeman x Fem reader, Tara Carpenter x Fem reader, multiple parts.

Word count: +3,5k

A/n: the story will follow the events of Scream 5 and 6. English is not my first language, so I apologize for any grammatical mistake. Also I use Alycia Debnam Carey as Iris face claim but you all can use whoever you might like.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

 Iris stepped softly into the hospital room. Tara was engrossed in her phone, headphones on, seemingly unaware of her presence.

The room was quiet except for the soft beeping of monitoring equipment that kept track of her vital signs. A small, wheeled bedside table sat within arm's reach, holding a bottle of water and a stack of magazines. As Iris slowly moved into Tara's line of sight, Tara jumped, clutching her chest in surprise.

"Jesus christ, you scared me".

"Sorry, I didn't mean to spook you". Iris stared down at her feet not really knowing what to say.

"What are you doing here?" Tara made herself comfortable in her bed.

"Sam asked me to keep you company".

"Well I'm not going anywhere as you can see". The carpenter girl jokingly gestured at her broken leg.

"She's worried about you, we all are". Iris looked up to Tara, already finding the girl staring at her.

"Even you?" She whispered.

"Of course, I can't wait for all this to be over so you can be safe". She then quickly added. "So we can all be safe".

"So... what are you watching?". The girls continued to make small talk trying to ignore the last conversation they had but it wasn't too long before Tara just couldn't take it anymore.

"Iris" Tara carefully called out to her. The other girl nodded at her to continue. "About the other day..."

"Tara, I think it's better if we just let it be". Iris turned her head away unable to mantain eye contact. "Maybe it's time to forget and start over, it had been a long time and I'm tired of fighting". Iris was being honest, what happened with Tara hurt her but with everything that was going on it just seemed so minuscule. They could die at any moment and here she was, being petty at something that happened when they were 15.

"What letter?" It's like Tara didn't even hear what the other girl said, she just needed to ask the one thing that had plagued her mind for the past two days.

"What?"

"You said you wish you never gave me a letter". Tara threaded carefully into her next words. "Iris you never gave me a letter".

What

What

What the fuck

"Tara please, I'm trying to forget and be nice, don't make it hard".

The carpenter girl incorporated herself as best as she could while mantaining eye contact. "Iris you need to believe me, I have no idea about that letter and I know for a fact that I never sent you that text you talked about". Iris went to stand up but Tara was faster and gripped her hand forbiding her from leaving.

Tara was basically desperate at this point, she needed Iris to believe her. "Please, I would never lie to you".

Iris felt her mind shatter into million pieces as she realized that everything she had believed for the past two years might had all been wrong.

"You... you never read it?".

"No, look I don't know when you think you gave me that letter but I never received it so It couldn't have been me the one that wrote you that text. I would never do something to hurt you Iris". The girl felt her eyes watered at the despair in Tara's voice. She never knew why Iris hated her out of nowhere but now that she knew it was because of something she had no idea of, she needed the girl to understand that.

"Fuck". Iris didn't want to believe her at first but Tara's eyes reflected nothing but sincerity and she just knew that she was telling her the truth. She felt like the most stupid person in the world. "How is it possible?"

"When was this? I need you to tell me everything".

"It was in september two years ago, I wrote you a letter and I left it in your locker in where I knew you would find it".

"You left it in my fucking locker?". Tara was looking at her incredulously.

"Yeah? I'm sorry I didn't have the guts to give it to you in person".

"Why not? What did it say?"

A deep blush raced up Iris's cheeks as she looked at everywhere but Tara. The girl noticing this called out her name.

"It was me writing about..." she stuttered, her voice seemed to fail her at the moment. "About my crush on you". Iris felt Tara take a sharp intake of breath as her mouth hung open.

"I didn't know how to tell you in person, so I wrote it in hopes you would understand, but you never saw it".

"You had a crush on me?" Of all the things Tara expected, that was nowhere on the list. Her heart thundered in her chest, her cheeks flushed a deep pink, and she struggled to find her words.

"Umm yes but don't worry it was like a thousand years ago so it's totally in the past". She hurriedly tried to assure the girl. "I'm sorry".

"What else did it say?". Tara asked once her voice seemed to find the words again.

"That I would give you some time to think of your answer whatever it might have been and to meet me in our place at 7pm".

"At the tree house on 97 street".

"Exactly". Iris nodded at her words, remembering the place she hadn't put a foot in two years. "I waited for three hours and you never showed up and then I received that text".

"I wasn't mad because of the rejection, I would've dealt with it. I was mad because you didn't even show up and then sent me a text telling me how disgusted you were by me and then the next day you acted like nothing happened". Iris felt a heavy knot of remorse settle in the pit of her stomach. "And now It turns out it wasn't even you, you had no idea".

Tara squeezed her hand tightly and Iris squeezed back. "I'm sorry Tara, I hated you for something you had no idea, I should've known".

"I don't blame you, you let yourself be vulnerable, something that I know it's not easy for you". Tara reassured her with a little smile as she caressed the palm of her hand with her thumb. "And you thought I turned my back on you in the worst way possible, I would've reacted in the same way if it was me".

"You know, you don't have to be so considerate, you can tell me to fuck myself, you would be right".

"Probably, but honestly? I don't give a shit, I just want us to be okay". Tara leaned forward helping Iris dry her tears. "It might take us a while to move on and forgive but there's nothing I would like more".

Iris hugged her and both of them felt like some weight left their shoulders. They missed each other despite everything and now they could finally heal. After some time in silence just enjoying each other's presence, Tara asked another question that came into her mind.

"Did you put the letter in my locker around mid September?" Iris looked at her with a confused face. " Strange question I know, but I remember there was a day where I lost my phone for a whole day. I thought I lost it and then I found it on my locker the next morning".

"I thought I looked past it but what if I didn't, and someone took it, wrote you that text and then left it back there without any trace?".

Iris paused in thinking, it seemed far fetched to think someone would do something like that but the thing is, she did write that letter on September 16th. She remembered because it was three days before a short trip she took with her mom. "I did wrote it in mid September, but how could some random person know about it?".

"It doesn't have to be a random".

"What you mean?".

"Did someone know about your feelings?". Tara had a hard time saying those words without blushing like crazy but Iris didn't notice while being deep in thought.

"Well I only told Mindy and then one time talking about it with her, Amber overheard us and then I had to tell her too". She had a thoughtful face. "Then it was Mindy the one that came with the idea of writing you a letter and Amber and me thought it was a good idea".

"So Amber knew"

"Yeah? What about it?"

"Iris, only one person knew my locker combination apart from you and you guys started dating an year after we stopped talking". Tara's heart sank as she thought that maybe the reason her and Iris drifted apart was her own best friend.

No. Absolutely no way. Iris refused to think her girlfriend had anything to do with the letter incident. This was Amber, the girl she was in love with, the girl who had been there for her and made sure she always felt loved. She would never do something like this. "No Tara, you're wrong, I don't like what you're implying".

"I'm sorry, but can you tell me it sounds that insane to you?".

"Yes it does, this is Amber we are talking about, my girlfriend and your best friend".

"And you think I enjoy feeling this way? I wish I were wrong," Tara said, her jaw tightening with every word. "Look, all I know is that if I had received that letter, everything would be different now."

"Why?" Iris whispered, her voice barely audible but resonating with both of them.

"Because I would've been on that fucking tree house the moment I finished reading it". The implications of her words weren't lost in any of them but Iris didn't want to dwell on it, so she excused herself for a moment and left the room to clear her mind.

She came back a few minutes later and both of them silently agreed to stop the conversation. Tara knew that maybe it was too much for Iris and even though she knew something wasn't right she decided to let it go. She had just gotten her best friend back, she wasn't going to ruin it.

The two of them started watching TV, laughing at whatever comment they would throw till the eerie creak of the floorboard shattered the otherwise peaceful atmosphere of the room. Both girls looked at each other in alarm and Iris stood up getting closer to the door.

"Hello?" She peeked her head to watch the hallway and she saw no one. The deputy that was supposed to watch over Tara was gone. The place seemed oddly silent, making both girls tense.

"No one is here". Iris muttered. "I don't like this".

Suddenly the lights go off and Tara gives a little whimper. "Fuck this, we need to get out of here". Iris ran around the other side of the bed and helped Tara take out the cables attached to her body. Tara took Iris's hand, and the brunette lifted her into the wheelchair close to her as she felt jolts of pain shooting through her leg and hand. She could see Tara's tears making way through her face so she squeezed her shoulder tightly as a way of reassurance and started moving the wheelchair.

Once they got through the door and into the hallway, Iris's phone went off scaring both girls to death. She had forgotten it in Tara's room.

"Let's keep moving" Tara whispered to her and Iris obediently keep walking without making a sound.

Tara let out a whimper as she felt pain in her ankle but all Iris could do was grab her hand in comfort and keep on strolling so they could get out of there fast. Suddenly Tara cried out in alarm, her hands snapping to her mouth. Iris peered around the corner, and her eyes widened in astonishment. There was a police officer laying in the floor with blood pooling around his body. Iris got closer to his body in search of his gun and it was gone.

"Fuck, the gun. It's gone". Just as she was about to say something else, they heard a loud crash coming from somewhere else. Iris froze for a moment, unable to think before a cry from Tara woke her up from her stupor.

"We're going to die". The carpenter girl silently cried.

"Tara, look at me". Iris cut in before the girl started to spiral into desperation. She crouched down to her level and grabbed both of her cheeks between her hands. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you okay? Someone dares to touch you and I'll fucking kill them". Tara's lips tremble in fear but she nodded at her friend's words.

"Let's hide in that room". She quickly grabbed the wheelchair and turned it around, hurrying towards there as fast as she could.

Now inside the room, she tried to find some kind of weapon they could use and she saw a telephone. The line wasn't working but they could use it to punch someone. She signaled Tara to grab it. Iris eased the door shut just enough to still be able to peer into the hallway. As they heard footsteps getting closer to them, Iris positioned herself beside Tara and they both got ready to attack. 

A figure appeared at the door and Tara quickly punched them with the telephone as Iris threw herself at them to push them into the wall, putting them far away from Tara.

"Goddamn it!" Richie screamed while touching the back of his head.

"Richie?" Tara asked as Iris separated herself from the man. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Sam called. She said that you were in trouble" Richie explained himself, preventing Iris from getting closer to him. "Did you just push me into the wall?" Before Iris could ask him more questions, they saw a Ghostface mask appeared behind him and both girls shouted in horror.

"BEHIND YOU" Iris shouted putting herself in front of Tara as Richie turned around fast enough to prevent Ghostface from stabbing him right in the neck, instead he sliced him in the arm.

The masked attacker kept on trying to hurt him while Richie prevent him from doing so by blocking his wrist until he was slammed into the door dropping unconscious.

He gradually shifted his gaze from Richie to Iris and Tara, who were paralyzed with terror. Ghostface seemed to take another long second to observe Iris tilting their head to the side. He took a step towards them and Iris prepared herself as she grabbed a heart monitor and threw it at him, managing to put him to the ground for a little bit. She quickly grabbed Tara's wheelchair and got her out of the room.

"Tara you need to keep moving, I'll distract him" Iris didn't wait for an answer as she  push the wheelchair as hard as she could, making it move on its own. She tried to ignore Tara's calls to her as she turned around and came face to face with the attacker. For a moment everything seemed to still until Ghostface made a swing at her. She managed to dodge it and punched the attacker in the stomach. She heard a slight grunt coming from behind the mask before he lunged forward at her knocking the air out of her lungs as both of them fell to the floor. Ghostface made no attempt to stab her but he grabbed her head and slammed it against the floor enough times to make her dizzy. He then let go of her and started walking towards Tara who was still trying to push her way forward.

A faint ringing of a cell phone echoed in the hallway as Iris tried to stand up while her head felt like it was about to explode. She had a hard time trying to stable her vision but she could still hear Tara's cries.

"Hello, Samantha," his voice echoed through the floor. Iris tried to stable herself while pushing her body against the wall. 

"Richie can't come to the phone right now," he said darkly, resuming his slow walk down the corridor while playing with his knife. "He's discovering what happens to those who stick their noses in things that doesn't concern them."

"I'll tell you what". Ghostface proposed an idea.  "You can choose. I'll only kill one." After moments of silence, she could only assume Sam was talking, Ghostface spoke again.

"Who do you want to hear die?

"Really?" he asked. Iris managed to stand up as she started to silently make her way towards Ghostface "You can't save your own sister? All you have to do is say kill Richie".

Suddenly he pushed Tara out of her wheelchair and the girl screamed in agony as she fell into the floor. Just as Tara started to crawl away from him and Ghostface tried to attack her, Iris threw a fist into the side of their head making them stumble in shock. As they turned around, Iris jumped them and quickly threw another punch into the mask that made her whole arm burn in pain. While he was distracted by the punch, Iris lunged forward at them and straddle their hips as she kept throwing punches at them, the attacher trying his best to dodge them, but she could hear the slight grunt of pain coming from him.

"Don't fucking touch her" as she said those words referring to Tara, a new wave of rage overcame Ghostface as he gripped tightly into his forgotten knife and stabbed her in the thigh, making her yelled out in pain.

"Iris no please leave her alone". It seemed like Tara's words only infuriated him more, as he took out the knife and pushed her off her. He stood up and once he saw Iris on her knees clutching at her bloody thigh, he kicked her in the head, making her fall into the floor for a second time but now unable to move as she felt the blood oozing from her nose.

Ghostface grabbed the telephone again and spoke.

"Or say, 'Kill Tara" he pretended as if nothing happened. "And I'll make sure to hit all the organs I missed last time."

Iris couldn't hear nor see anything, all she could feel was pain and despair at feeling completely useless and unable to save the people she cared about. "I can also just kill Iris, she fought so hard, it would be such a shame, isn't it Samantha?".

"Fuck you!" Tara yelled out from the floor, groaning as she pulled herself along the floor.

"Last chance to save one" Ghostface remarked for the last time, hovering over Tara with his knife up high. "Choose."

"Why are you doing this?" Sam sobbed over the phone.

"You want to know why, Sam?" Ghostface growled "Maybe it's because you're a selfish bitch, who can't even make a decision to save the life of someone you love. Maybe you're too weak for this franchise."

The elevator doors slid open with a faint chime, showing Sam and Dewey inside and suddenly Dewey started shooting at Ghostface, making him quickly take cover in another room.

"Iris!" She heard Dewey called out to her as he helped her stand up. "Are you okay?" He took notice of all the blood in her face.

"I feel like shit, Richie is passed out in that room". She weakily pointed the place she was hiding at first with Tara. "I can't move Dewey, just leave me here and make sure everyone gets into safety".

"Shut up Iris, I couldn't save your sister but I can save you". He wrapped his hand around her waist and quickly helped her walk until they got into the elevator, once he made sure she could stand for herself, he went to look for Richie. Iris felt her head spinning as she focused on watching Sam helping Tara. She felt a smile crept into her face as she saw the girls getting closer to safety.

Dewey managed to pick Richie up from the floor and they were both making their way to the elevator where the other three girls were waiting.

"Shit Iris you're bleeding". Tara pressed a hand in her cheek inspecting her closely.

"It's okay don't worry". Iris put her hand on top of her and smiled softly through her pain.

Just as Dewey and Richie were getting closer to them, Ghostface jumped at them and tried to slice Dewey in the face while Richie tumbled backwards. Dewey managed to dodge Ghostface's attacks as he pulled out his gun and fired at him but he got out of the way before any bullet could reach him.

Ghostface push Dewey to the floor, the gun slipping from his hands. Now on top him, Ghostface pushed the knife down to his chest, while Dewey forced him away by hitting his head against theirs.

"Not today". Dewey grunted with pain as he grab his pistol from beside him and pulled the trigger three times, hitting the attacker right in the chest as he fell backwards into a shelve, covering him with glass.

Dewey quickly stood up and shoved Richie forward as they entered the elevator and presses the button to the first floor. Iris let out a sigh of relief when she saw everyone safe and what seemed to be the death of Ghostface.

"The head". Dewey stopped the doors from closing. "You have to shoot them in the head or they always come back". He explained as he was already making his way back to the scene.

"Dewey no don't you dare come back". Iris pleaded with the man as she tried to hold into his arm to stop him.

"Dewey who gives a fuck?" Sam hissed wildly as she held into Tara.

"I do" he smiled softly at them and stepped out of the way. Iris tried to follow after him but Richie wrapped his arms around her preventing her from moving as the doors closed, letting Dewey alone with Ghostface.

"NO FUCK NO"

[krispycreamcake]

Weeping Angel

From author: I'm in the mood for ayayui angst, so here's a short story I pulled out my ass

A gush of wind flew past her threads of gold, causing her to shiver uncontrollably. The night wrapped around her frail frame like a velvety cloak, studded with iridescent stars, decorating the darkness into something that could only be described as straight out of the palm of God.

She clutched her rosarie, blue fingers wrapping around the red gems on the cross. She silently prayed for forgiveness, for repentance, for survival. God wouldn't answer, he couldn't hear her over her screaming cries. As her fingers brushed past the stone walls of that oh so cold mansion, she could only think of all the horrible atrocities that she'd been through, of the vile acts that have been committed in those very walls to not just her, but to hundreds of women alike.

Her footsteps quiet and swift as she took off, shoes nowhere to be seen. Her bare feet crunched the leaves and pebbles under her as she muttered quiet prayers. Vampires were nocturnal, they were built for the dark, molded by Satan himself to hunt any creature that dare show its face in the pale moonlight of the earth.

Wrists were bruised blue and black from the chains Ayato had put her in. She can't remember what led to the argument but she did remember how he threw her to the floor and choked her almost completely lifeless. She woke up bound to the dungeon's walls for who knew how long until Subaru set her free. His eyes filled with guilt and disgust as he watched her from the balcony, waiting, lurking, for the right time to leave.

Yui's heart raced as the creatures of the twilight zone all started to harmonize, singing, begging for her to turn back, go back to the only home that would accept her as she was. She shook her head and ran further into the forest, randomizing her directions so it'd be harder to track her down, or at least that's what she hoped for. Could she truly outrun a vampire? Outrun Ayato?

Why was she even running? She's only endangering herself with a false paradise, her dream to make it out of there alive was just that, a dream. No- no, she had to keep running, she had to keep moving. The reason doesn't even matter now, what mattered was that she made it back home. Home... What a strange word. After everything, did she even have a home anymore? If everything she's learnt about her father- NO! She kept doubting herself, doubting even those around her. At that rate, she'll never hear the chatter of strangers on the streets again, or smell her father's cooking, or see the way the sky lights up for the Nagasaki lantern festival, she'll never feel the safety of her bedsheets comforting her after a scary movie.

She can't give it all up, she can't lose her sanity, she can't lose herself. The path in front of her was pitch black, she couldn't even see her own two hands. Snap. Her body froze as her breathing came to a halt. Yui's feet were glued to the ground below her. Her heart pulsed beneath her supple flesh, trying to burst through her chest. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on its edges as this beastly abomination lurked closer to where she was. She didn't have to guess, she knew it was Ayato, she could feel his predatory gaze stalking her. After living with them for so long she grew accustomed to the sound of his movements, of his footsteps.

She held her breath and in an instant she made a run for it in a random direction. Taking off with as much stamina as her body could siphon. Before she could take two steps in front of her, she felt her wrist get twisted as it was yanked backwards, almost popping her arm out of her socket. The injured female cried out in pain as the aggravated red head wrapped his arms around her body, her back pressing into his stomach. Ayato buried his head in the crook of her neck as tears flowed from his prey, almost choking on them.

"Let me go Ayato- Stop it! You can't do this to me anymore!" Yui screamed as she thrashed about, trying to free herself. Ayato slapped his hand over her mouth, refusing to look up from her neck. "Just shut up! I get it! I fucking get it! You want to leave-to run away with some other man and live some kind of fantasy! Well too bad.... I'm all you get.... All you have so you better-"

"ENOUGH AYATO!" Silence drowned them both as neither decided to take reign of the conversation. Yui decided to speak up knowing that Ayato would just turn this whole thing around on her. "I don't want other men- sometimes I don't even want to leave, all I wanted was you..." Ayato spun her around, clutching her bony shoulders, holding her still in place as he watched the expression on her face.

"Wanted?" Ayato repeated. If his heart could beat, it would be going crazy right about now. A cold sweat overtook him as his panicked gaze scanned her lifeless one. "I thought that maybe if we met each other under different circumstances we could've actually been friends, but..... Holding onto thoughts of 'what ifs' is only making me more miserable day by day." Ayato's grip on her began to falter as his body convulsed and shook.

"We can still-" Yui covered her ears and shook her head. "Just stop it Ayato, please! I'm not done." Yui said as she began to tear up once more. "It's gotten to where it isn't just me this is affecting, i- we can't live like this and it's become apparent that you're not going to change." Ayato gulped as a small stream of tears made its way down his face. Her heart aches as she wished she could just wipe his tears and make this all go away, but this isn't something that she can just make disappear, not this time.

"Heh..... Even when you're in so much pain, you're still thinking about others, after everything I've done to you. God you stupid woman, why can't you just be selfish for once!?" Ayato shouted out at Yui as a flood of emotions enveloped him.

"I am! I AM!" Yui retorted back almost violently. "I am being selfish Ayato... I'm not talking about you." The desperate vampire blinked away his tears. "Well who the HELL are you talking about?? There's no one else but us!" Yui's throat grew dry as she tried to figure out how to word her thoughts. Ayato grew impatient and began to shake her shoulders, demanding an answer.

"I'm pregnant! I'm.....oh god-.........I'm pregnant." That last part came out as a whisper as she fell to her knees and began to sob into her hands as Ayato stood there dumbfounded as the world around him began to spin. He crouched down next to her and wrapped his arms around her once again, taking her into his chest. "Yui-" His words were cut short as blood began to pool in his mouth.

Yui sat there as her hands clenched Subaru's knife. She split his flesh open and watched as the crimson liquid dyed her hair and clothes. His limp body fell with a thud as she wailed like a ghastly banshee, screeching into the night sky, as she held his pale face in her equally pale hands. Tears poured onto his bloodied body, coating him in cold mourning. She couldn't fix this, she couldn't pretend that she was ok anymore. Ayato was simply irredeemable.

[winters8child]

It´s been a long, long time

Chapter 90

My hands trembled as I stared at the positive pregnancy test in my hand, unable to pull my gaze from the reflection in the mirror. I could hear Steve pacing on the other side of the door, his footsteps like a metronome ticking down the seconds of uncertainty. Sam had quietly excused himself, leaving to sit by the lake, giving us space for this moment.

"Sweetheart, everything okay in there? It’s been a while," Steve's voice, filled with concern, broke the silence.

I had been frozen in place for what felt like hours, hoping—irrationally—that the result might change if I just waited long enough. But it wouldn't. I knew that. And the moment I stepped out of this bathroom, it would all become real.

Steve would be ecstatic, overjoyed in a way that made my heart ache. But as for me... I wasn’t ready to feel that same joy. I was scared—worried about everything that could go wrong, and whether we were ready for this.

I took one last deep breath, trying to steady myself for Steve's reaction, and stepped out of the bathroom, the pregnancy test clutched in my hand. With an uneasy smile, I held it up, my voice trembling as I said, "It’s positive. I’m pregnant."

Steve’s eyes immediately lit up with joy, a glimmer of tears forming, though he tried to remain composed for my sake. He gently took the test from my hand, looking at it with a soft, solemn smile. "Ok," he said, his voice calm and measured. "Maybe we should get a few more tests, just to be sure." His hand found my arm, rubbing it in soothing circles, offering comfort even though I could see the excitement barely contained behind his eyes.

Steve sat me down at the kitchen table, his gaze fixed on mine, his brow furrowed with concern. "So, what do we do now?" he asked softly, the weight of the moment settling in.

I stared down at my hands, unable to form a coherent thought as memories of my first pregnancy came rushing back—the one I hadn’t even known about until it was too late. The fear, the grief. My heart pounded in my chest as I struggled to find the words.

"What if I can't have a baby?" I whispered, my voice barely audible. "What if the serum in me... what if it doesn’t survive?" My throat tightened as the words tumbled out, my voice shaking with uncertainty.

Steve reached over, gently holding my trembling hand. "But that was because of the procedure, not the serum," he said softly, his thumb brushing over my knuckles in a soothing motion.

I looked up at him, my eyes filled with doubt and fear. "We don’t know that, Steve. If that happens again..." My voice broke, tears welling up as I struggled to hold it together. "I don’t know if I can take it. Not again." A tear slid down my cheek, the weight of the past and the uncertainty of the future overwhelming me.

Steve moved closer, wrapping his arms around me, his embrace warm and protective. "I know you're scared," he whispered into my hair, his voice gentle. "But you're not alone in this. We’ll get through it—whatever happens. And I’ll be right here, every step of the way."

I pulled away slightly, searching his eyes for any hint of doubt. "But Steve," I whispered, my voice trembling, "I can’t even go to a doctor. And how are we supposed to raise a child while we’re on the run?"

His face softened, and he reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. "We’ll figure it out," he said calmly. "We can find a discreet doctor. If not in this town, then maybe in the next one over. There’s always a way." I leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his embrace as a heavy sigh escaped my lips. "I'm so scared, Steve. I can't even feel happy, and I hate it," I admitted, my voice trembling as I clung to him.

He tightened his arms around me, his hand gently stroking my back. "I know," he whispered softly, pressing a tender kiss to the top of my head. "But we’re in this together. You’re not alone."

His words were a small comfort, but the fear still lingered, gnawing at the edges of my thoughts.

Later that evening, we sat Sam down to break the news. There wasn’t much point in hiding it from him—he had been the one to get me the test, after all. He smiled and congratulated us, but I could see the unease in his eyes. The reality of what this meant for our future hung over us all, even as we tried to focus on the joy of the moment.

The next day, Sam brought back a few more pregnancy tests, just to be sure. Each one came out positive. I couldn’t shake the constant nausea, barely able to keep food down, but strangely, it reassured me. As long as I felt sick, I told myself the baby was still there.

Steve doted on me in every possible way. He wouldn’t let me lift a finger, always asking if I was okay or if I needed anything. His attentiveness was endearing, even though it sometimes felt overwhelming. He had already started reading books on parenting, which was sweet, but I wasn’t ready to think that far ahead. The idea of motherhood seemed so distant, even with everything happening. I was still struggling to wrap my head around the present, let alone the future.

In my darkest moments, my mind would drift back to the child I lost, the baby who never had a chance at life. The grief would hit me like a wave, and I’d find myself crying uncontrollably, guilt and sorrow from years ago crashing down all over again. I thought of Bucky, of the love and pain intertwined with his memory, the feelings I had buried deep inside my heart. They were always there, hidden but never truly forgotten, and now they resurfaced with a vengeance, making everything feel even more complicated.

Sam had asked the doctor at the local clinic if he could bring his "wife" in for a pregnancy check-up. It was easier to pretend I was Sam's reclusive spouse who preferred staying in the cabin. People in town were already gossiping about the mysterious man who appeared once a week for supplies and then disappeared again. Introducing Steve into the equation would only add fuel to the fire and make things even more suspicious. So, we kept it simple, even if it meant living under yet another layer of secrecy.

The doctor prescribed me vitamins and scheduled another check-up in a month. We paid in cash, and he didn’t ask any questions beyond our names. We were now known in the clinic's records as Jane and Laurence, the newlywed couple.

Sleeping became increasingly difficult. Though I wasn’t far along, I found myself tossing and turning every night, struggling to find a comfortable position. I’d wake Steve with my restless movements, and each time, he’d pull me close, gently caressing my still-flat stomach. In the middle of the night, he’d make me tea or even cook entire meals, only for me to throw them up again. His patience and care were unwavering, even as my condition took its toll on both of us.

He would whisper sweet nothings into my ear and shower me with kisses, even managing to make me giggle amid all the turmoil. A tiny flicker of hope began to stir in my chest, like a flower daring to bloom after a harsh winter.

But nothing in this life was fair; no happiness seemed to last forever. All hope was shattered when Hydra burst through our bedroom door in the middle of the night, coming for me and my baby.

Next Chapter

[heygirltimeformorning]

Title: Satellite

Summary: Buck gets a building dropped on him and the world shatters into a million pieces.

Notes: idk man, I like hurt/comfort Buck and Eddie Diaz slowly losing his shit and being inappropriate in a hospital room (not like that, you filthy animal) and happy endings, so, that's what I'm working on. There are other things in the works, but this is my debut chaptered fic (which is terrifying, okay, my greatest fear fr).

Important content notes: there's medical stuff, so if that bothers you, please move along.

*

“Firefighter Buckley, do not –” Bobby’s voice is firm over the radio, but there’s an undercurrent of – something. Worry. Buck is sprinting towards the building, towards the woman hanging out of the fourth story (or maybe fifth story) window, screaming, and there’s no time for a ladder, for another rescue attempt, and Buck just plunges, headfirst, into a building that is actively coming down.

And, look, usually it’s fine. Eddie holds his breath, because what will probably happen – what has to happen – is that it’ll be a close call, but Buck will get the woman and get both of them out, and Bobby will be pissed but also kind of proud, and –

The building creaks, and a row of windows on the third floor shatters.

“Buck!” Bobby’s voice has a note of panic in it. “Get out of there. That’s an order, if you ever want to work as a firefighter again –” Bobby cuts off as the building groans, sways, and then, way, way too fast, collapses in a heap of smoking rubble.

Someone is yelling about evac, but Eddie can’t focus, because his best friend has just been buried by –

“Maybe he was up high enough,” Hen is saying, running right next to him – all of them running, full tilt, towards the rubble, towards the approximate place Buck would be, and Eddie knows that positivity is Hen’s thing, that she’s probably just saying that for her own benefit, but Eddie feels like he’s going to be sick, even as he clings to Hen’s words. Buck survived having a fire engine dropped on him. Buck was struck by lightning and died for 3 minutes and 17 seconds and he still came back to Eddie. Buck won’t leave him. Not like this.

It takes an hour to get through the rubble to find him, Chimney finally shoving something aside and finding one of his boots, and the 118 swarms on the scene as Hen and Chimney run to get the backboard and the gurney, leaving the rest of them to dig Buck out.

Buck is still and pale under the ash and debris. His eyes are closed, but Hen presses her fingers just under his jaw and nods. “I have a pulse,” she confirms, and Eddie feels something release in his chest, because he’s alive, and they can handle anything else that happens.

“Chim,” Hen says, nodding to the cervical collar, which Chimney straps into position, and then they’ve got him up and on the gurney, sprinting towards the ambulance. This isn’t as bad, Eddie thinks, as the lightning, because he’d been dead when they got him down from the ladder after the lightning, and he wasn’t dead – he was alive. He had a pulse, and Hen had an oxygen mask on him, but that meant he was breathing. Buck twitches, and Eddie feels a swoop of relief, only for it to plummet into absolute dread when Buck’s body stiffens, his arms coming up to clutch against his chest, fingers curled, legs going stiff and his back arching off the stretcher. “Decorticate posturing,” Hen says grimly. “We need to go. Now. Cap, radio ahead and tell them to have the neurosurgeon ready,” she says, and Eddie feels the ground tilt.

There are, he knows, things worse than death.

*

Coming soon to an AO3 near you :D

[the-tomcat-disposable]

Me & Your Ghost

Summary: Andrew is grieving :3

This happens after Into The Mind.

CW: hurt and comfort in a sense, death & grieving

Andrew gasped and coughed as he broke his way out of the well and placed the fence post back in place. He recognized the world immediately and choked back tears that kept pouring as he looked around at the several structures scattered across the superflat landscape.

"This— I know this world," he sniffled as he wiped at his swollen eyes frantically, "this was our superflat world where he tried to show me how to build better..."

His fist hit the desk as the black figure stood around the corner of a nearby build, watching. "Why?! Chris! Why did you bring me here? Why are you dragging me along?! What is happening?!"

Andrew noticed a trail of signs illuminated by torches once he looked back at his screen, which he was sure weren't there seconds ago. He groaned and forced a chuckle, "ohh this again..." he muttered as he spun around, looking for a dark figure— the Smiler or Chris, whichever one shows up here if at all— and overlooked him as he hid.

"Chris, I know you're in my game somehow. Get out here!" he yelled. He stood and watched for a few moments before crying as he approached the signs. "Chris... I'm sorry I— I'm really sorry I didn't play with you more often. Are you really gone for good?"

He muttered something through his tears as he read the first sign.

[ He will not find you here. Time is not in your favor, though. ]

"Chris... cut the cryptic messages, just tell me— was that true? The— the diagnoses, the patient file, the records. You can't...— are you dead?" Andrew pleaded for answers as he walked towards the next sign and burst into tears upon reading it.

[ Yes. I am sorry, Andrew. I miss you. ]

Andrew sobbed into his hands for minutes, "I always kind of knew... I didn't want to...— fuck. Chris... You're gone, and I'm never going to see you— the real you— again. I never even got the chance to meet you in person... I was too late."

Chris watched from afar, clutching his chest with blocky hands. He wished he was able to get closer, to do anything but stand there and reach out a hand that can't be held. He, too, wished that this wasn't how things ended for him, and constantly dreaded what would happen if Andrew let his guard down for too long at the wrong time. Andrew was strong, he knew this, but he knew how the smiler played his games.

Andrew sniffled hard with a raspy "ow" as he sluggishly approached the next sign to read. There was another well not far from here.

[ Get back up. Remember me. Remember how much fun we had together. ]

Andrew huffed, "I know, I'm trying. I remember all— well, most— of it, but what will that help? I'll never get you back."

[ I am still here with you, I will always be. Remember me. You are my best friend. ]

Andrew sniffled and blinked away tears. "Are...?You're not... you can't— you're dead! I'm talking to your ghost, not you! It's not the same."

Chris hid behind a different structure as Andrew ran around the foot of a cobblestone statue of a Steve skin built to look as though it's in ruins, punching the mossy cobblestone and peaking inside its hollow leg to find a double chest with nothing except a bone inside, taking it silently. before exiting the structure to read the next sign.

[ ... ]

"Nothing? Nothing? Seriously?! No 'everything's fine'?!" Andrew hissed, considering closing the game and crying himself to sleep in the middle of the day. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. "Alright, what do you have to say next?"

The sign was placed on a poorly built fake creeper— two blocks of lime wool and a creeper head on top— the torches were placed on the sides and resembled arms. Andrew finally smiled for the first time in a while.

[ Remember when you put these everywhere in our creative worlds? ]

Andrew laughed (a genuinely laugh, though it was very dry), "I seriously thought they'd scare you so I put them in caves before you switched to survival. We had a lot of fun building really stupid things to scare each other. Yours always were better than mine..." Andrew looked around at the builds, punching towards one in the distance that looked like a creature from hell and hoped that it wouldn't start moving.

The next sign was placed at the base of a diving board that Andrew remembered the both of them working on. Andrew had never understood why Chris was so hesitant to work on the pool, but it looked more pool-like than if Andrew had built it.

[ Water makes your clothes cling to you. It feels like a cold hug. I wish it lasted. ]

"Um..." Andrew looked at the diving board, unsure if he wanted to go underwater again, "that's... um... that's not cheering me up, man."

Chris watched him hesitate reading the sign atop the diving board, before he decided that he'd check it out and climb back down. Once he reached the top, he looked into the pool and then at the surroundings. He recognized his several practice builds and Chris's across from them, then the well.

[ Remember how we would punch each other off of this? We had fun. ]

Andrew smiled again, "for old time's sake, yeah, I'll jump!"

He fake screamed as he fell into the water with a splash, and emerged with a satisfied sigh on the other side of the pool. "I missed that... Chris, I wish you were still here. Maybe you could've punched me off just then. Or— no, don't."

Chris looked on as he watched Andrew assess the height of the pool and jump, saying "ow" out loud as he took a few hearts of fall damage. There was another sign directly in front of him, then a few more before the well.

[ Your laugh brought me joy. I'm glad that we met. ]

Andrew's words caught in his throat as his eyes began tearing up again, "I miss you, Chris."

[ I miss you, too. ]

Andrew began sniffling again, looking back at their builds as he reached the next sign. "I'll miss this place. I wish we could build more stuff on it together, but..."

[ It's not your fault that you didn't know I was gone. ]

Andrew went quiet as he stared at the sign. He began to question what happened to Chris, if his family had held a funeral or...— oh God— was his family even there for him when he passed? Why had no one ever contacted him to tell him the news? Why did he have to learn in the way that he did?

Andrew slowly approached the next sign.

[ I should have told you sooner of what troubled me. I am sorry. ]

The tears came pouring out again as Andrew approached the next sign. "I miss you, Chris. I should have found a way to figure out what happened to you a lot sooner... but—"

[ What was done has been done. Look ahead now, Andrew. ]

Andrew looked at the well silently, and turned to look behind him as he felt eyes on him. Chris stood clearly in the open for a few seconds, then walked backwards until Andrew couldn't see him anymore.

"Chris—"

[thedepthsoffandomminds]

Maze runner the scotch trials- chapter twelve -

Previously chapter.

Masterlist

Newt kept you tight against his chest the whole helicopter ride, Minho clutching to your hand. He had just killed a friend and you knew he needed your comfort as well. A part of you wanted to never forgive him and a part that wanted to cry for him.

The helicopter landed and you all started piling out. It took four men to carry the crate that Mai Mai had been slung into.

There was a growling scratch from the hills and the soldiers started firing.

“Cranks, we got cranks!” You hear someone shouting and you're ushered along with the others inside the towering building. Inside soldiers were rushing about, some doing their duties and others helping to defend outside. It was the biggest room and largest number of adults you could remember seeing. You clutched to Newt's side.

You're shown to a room that had a table filled with food and were told to wait there. You all ate until you felt sick and it was good.

“Nothing like my stew.” Frypan remarked. You all giggled. The door opened and a thin man with stubble on his face walked in

“You kids doing all right? Sorry about all the fuss. We had ourselves a bit of a swarm.” He said.

“Who are you?” Thomas asked.

“I'm the reason you're all still alive. It's my intention to keep you that way. Now, come with me. We'll get you kids squared away.” He leads you through the halls and corridors,

“You can call me Mr. Janson. I run this place.

For us it is a sanctuary, safe from the horrors of the outside world. You all should think of it

as a way station. Kind of a home between homes. Watch yourselves.”

“That mean you're taking us home?” Thomas tries to keep up with him.

“A home of sorts. Sadly, there wouldn't be much left of wherever you came from. But we do have a place for you. A refuge, outside the Scorch, where WICKED will never find you again. How does that sound?” He grins over his shoulder.

“Why are you helping us?”

“Let's just say the world out there is in a rather precarious situation. We're all hanging on by a very thin thread. The fact that you kids can survive the Flare virus… makes you the best chance of humanity's continued survival. Unfortunately, it also makes you a target, as no doubt by now you've noticed.

Beyond this door lies the beginning of your new lives. First things first…” he uses an ID badge to open a door into a long corridor, “let's do something about that smell.” He grins and shows you all.into the shower room. It's one big room with around twenty shower cubicles. At one end is a long bench with several piles of clothes and towels on top. Each one with a name written on a slip of paper. You grabbed the one with your name on and placed it on a wooden chair beside the cubicle you had chosen. A woman in a blue uniform tells you to drop all your dirty clothing outside the showers. It felt strange to strip yourself in this foreign place but the water was warm and soothed your aching bones. You watch as Gally's blood washes from your hands and you use the provided cloth to scrub at your body. You realise now that you had several cuts and bruises on your body that stung with the soap. You hissed at the pain.

“You okay?” You hear Newt ask from the cubicle next door.

“Yeah, I'm okay.” You call back. You turn off the shower and use the towel to dry yourself before bringing the clothes in to dress yourself. The clean underwear feels good after wearing the same three pairs for the last three years. You pulled the soft cotton t-shirt over your head along with a pair of cargo pants. The fresh socks felt wonderful on your feet as you slid them into new black boots. Newt came over to you drops of water still dripping from his blonde hair.

“You ready?” He asks you and you add a dark blue hoody to your outfit. You follow Newt out to the next room where doctors were taking Minho and Teresa through some tests. They did it with you too. You would go between each station and they would test your stamina, your strength, your health. One nurse took seven miles of blood from you.

You see a woman walk over to Teresa who was sitting on a bed and pull the curtains across. ‘that's weird’ you think to yourself. The nurse clicked her fingers in front of your face.

“We'll need a urine sample.” She repeats

“What? Why?” You ask.

“To make sure you aren't pregnant.”

“Whoa what the hell? Of course I'm not!” You gawk at the question. Though you supposed it made sense you had been trapped in a maze with thirty six teenage boys.

When the tests are finally done you, Newt, Minho, Frypan and Winston are led into a large mess hall. There were easily another hundred kids in there. Your group go to the counter. You weren't hungry after the table of food from earlier so you just took a drink and some biscuits. The boys fill up their plates however.

“Where do you think they've taken Thomas and Teresa?” Winston asks as you all sit at a table.

“I don't know, but I don't trust it.” You sigh.

“What do you mean?” Minho asked.

“I don't trust her.” You admit.

“Three years you waited for another girl and now you're jealous?” Frypan laughed. You kicked his shin under the table playfully.

“I'm not Jealous I just…I dunno, it's a feeling.” you shrug again.

Two boys come over and sit down at your table.

“Hi Newbies.” The larger of the two said with a wide grin.

A man walked over to you with a clipboard in his hand.

“Y/n, the doctors have asked to see you.” he says stoically. You glance quickly at the other boys as you stand up.

“Don't worry, I'm sure you won't be long.” The man smiles. You follow him out of the mess hall and down a corridor to a small room that has only two chairs and table in it.

“Please sit down, they'll be with you in a moment.” The man says before shutting the door. A few agonising minutes passed until a woman in a white lab coat stepped in. She had a pile of papers in her hands, that she shuffled through.

“Nothing to worry about, y/n. I just have a few things to go over with you.” She sat down across from you.

“Okay so firstly your results came back and you are not pregnant.” She laughed.

You raise your eyebrows and nod, “oh yeah, I mean I was worried.” you replied sarcastically.

“Okay, are you aware of your blood status? You have an extremely high count of the enzyme that W.C.K.D look for. One of the highest we've seen in fact.”

“Okay, and what does that mean?” You ask, feeling even more suspicious.

“Well, only that we are surprised you were put into the trials. Normally they wouldn't put you in…from what we've seen at least.” She appears to correct her language.

“We wanted to give you an opportunity. Your memories back.” She says.

“Just me? Did you offer anyone else theirs back?”

“We taking it slowly. Your friend Teresa has already agreed.” She gave you a smile that you think must work.to persuade other people. You make it look like your considering the concept.

“It's a fairly new procedure you see, we haven't tested it on many of you yet.” There is a little panic in her voice. “Um, if it's okay I'd like to wait till you've tested it a bit more. I don't want to risk losing my current memories.” you shake your head and get up from the table, “I can go back to the others now?” You point at the door.

“Yes I suppose.” The doctor stood and opened the door, letting you out, “take her back to the mess hall.” She ordered the guard.

“Oh, is Mai Mai okay? Where is she?” You ask.

“The tiger? Yes I believe she is doing well, down with the other animals I'd say.” She says to you, before turning and walking away. Her words did little to ease your worries. You return to the mess hall just as Jansen starts calling out names.

“Good evening, gentlemen. Ladies. You all know how this works. If you hear your name called, please rise in an orderly fashion, join my colleagues behind me, where they will escort you to the eastern wing. Your new lives are about to begin.

Connor.

Evelyn.

Ev!

Justin.

Peter.

Allison.

Squiggy.

All right. Settle down.

Franklin. And Abigail. Now, now, don't get discouraged. If I could take more, I would. There's always tomorrow. Your time will come. Go on, eat up.” There was a round of applause as the chosen few walked to the doors behind Jansan. The boys all started talking but you ignored them, resting your head on Newt's shoulder, drawing invisible circles on his arm with your fingers. It wasn't until Thomas abruptly stood up and rushed across the room.

“Hey, Teresa? Teresa!” You can see her through the window being guided somehow with the same woman you had just spoken to.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Jansan stopped Thomas with a gentle hand on his chest.

“Where are they taking her?”he asked frantically.

“They just have to run a few more tests. Don't worry, they'll be done with her soon.” He tried to put on his calmest smile.

“Is she okay?”

“She's fine.” he gestured for Thomas to go back to his table and he reluctantly returned to you all.

An hour or so later you are all told to go to bed and one of the guards leads you all down a long corridor.

“Okay boys, this is your room, y/n you'll be bunking down th-”

“No way!” All five boys spoke at once.

“She stays with us.” Newt grabbed you and put you behind him so you were firmly between them all.

“We've got orders lads, don't complicate things.”

“She stays with us.” Newt says again punctuating each word.

“Whatever. Just no funny business.” The guard shakes his head and walks away.

“Thanks guys.” You say as you all walk inside.

“I could get used to this," Newt says, laying back on the soft bed. You laugh and climb on to one of the bunks.

“What do you think those guys want with Teresa?” Thomas asks you all.

“Now, if there's one thing I know about that girl,she can take care of herself.Don't worry about it.” Newt reassures him. You each climb into your beds and get coasy before falling asleep. The real beds with real pillows felt amazing.

You're woken up a few hours later by a noise in the bunk below.

“Hey. Down here.” A voice whispered.

@fandomfan-102 @deanstolemydragon @afalls14universe

[siilverwiitch]

Fandom: 文豪ストレイドッグス | Bungou Stray Dogs

Characters: Nakahara Chuuya & Dazai Osamu

Language: English

Words:617

AO3 Link

“So your brother's European?” Dazai asks, turning to the redhead next to him. The gentle breeze moves his hair onto his cheek as he watches his friend's reaction. “How's that work?”

“He's French and not my brother,” Chuuya states before looking at Dazai. “And your guess is as good as mine.”

A silence falls over them as they look out into the bay.

“Either way, does that mean you're French? It would explain your taste in wine.”

“I'm not French, you ass,” the redhead snaps. “I don't know why that blonde bastard insists we're brothers!”

“You look similar.” Chuuya’s head turned to the brunette, a sharp glare aimed the boy's way.

“The fuck's that supposed to mean, shitty bastard! We look nothing alike, we're not even the same nationality.” Chuuya becomes louder and more frustrated as he responds.

“Hair,” Dazai responds, tugging on the length of hair running down Chuuya’s shoulder. “It's even on the same side.”

“Fuck you.” Chuuya stands, his body tense with frustration.

“I would let you, but I don't swing for that team, my dear slug,” Dazai responds, pulling Chuuya back down. “Sit down and breathe. Your head's gonna explode if you keep this up.”

After sitting down, Chuuya puts his head in his hands and makes a frustrated noise. “The fucking jewel trade is easier than this bullshit.”

“Did I go too far?” Dazai says quietly, leaning forward to try and see what emotions Chuuya is hiding behind his hands. “You can smack me if it will make you feel better.”

Before Dazai can fully finish his sentence, he feels the familiar sensation of Chuuya hitting him, though there is no pain. Chuuya’s punch had no anger behind it and was more of a stress release.

“Slug, I'm wounded. Your punch has broken me.” Dazai dramatically clutches his chest and falls back against the concrete, a small smile on his face.

“Idiot.” The redhead watches Dazai with a small laugh. “God, you're dramatic. You've taken worse hits than that; you'll survive.”

“No, I can feel the sweet release of death.” Dazai reaches his hand to the sky before grabbing Chuuya’s arm and pulling him onto the concrete with him. “Feeling better?”

The only response he receives is a punch to his ribs. “I'll take that as a yes.”

Chuuya huffs, trying to suppress a grin, but it breaks through. He looks up at the stars beginning to twinkle in the evening sky. "Why do you always know how to push my buttons?"

"Because, my dear slug," Dazai says, his voice uncharacteristically soft for a moment, "I know you better than anyone else."

Chuuya rolls his eyes but doesn't pull away from Dazai's side. "Doesn't mean you have to exploit it every chance you get."

Dazai laughs, a genuine sound that echoes in the night air. "It's what makes our partnership so dynamic."

"Dynamic," Chuuya repeats with a scoff. "That's one way to put it."

They fall into a comfortable silence, the tension from earlier melting away. The sound of the waves lapping against the shore fills the space between them.

"You know," Chuuya says after a while, "for all your bullshit, you're not the worst person to have around."

"High praise coming from you," Dazai teases, nudging Chuuya with his shoulder.

"Don't let it go to your head."

"Too late."

Chuuya shakes his head, but there's a hint of a smile on his lips. "You're impossible."

"And yet, you tolerate me."

"Someone has to keep you in check."

Dazai grins. "And you do a damn good job of it."

They sit there, side by side, two figures against the backdrop of the vast bay, finding solace in their strange, yet unbreakable bond.