#the eternal suffering of having no time to write
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I want to connect two specific points I noticed in the film: Herr Knock’s blind loyalty as a vampire familiar, and what Orlok’s particular flavour of villainy reveals about our current societal fears. I’ll link this back to Jeffrey Jerome Cohen’s 1996 essay "Monster Culture (Seven Theses)"
Herr Knocks – Providence and Deliverance
Knock is closely associated with the word providence, which he exclaims at least half a dozen times throughout the film. Providence means preparations for future eventualities, and Knock embodies this concept.
As Orlok’s familiar, Knock is the linchpin for everything that leads to Orlok’s arrival and the chaos he brings to Wisborg. Yet, Knock’s last word is “deliverance.” To be set free… In my opinion, this marks his moment of emancipation from Orlok’s control. In his final moments, seeing the stake driven into his heart, Knock seems to experience an untethering from the Orlok’s hypnosis, freeing him from his unpaid labor and misplaced loyalty. It is really quite sad that loyal followers of a leader like orlok sometimes are royally mucked around, their blind loyalty to an uncaring leader makes them think they will be the exception to the cruelty inacted by those leaders, and they often come to realise to late that they are equal victims to everyone else
Through Knock’s scenes, we see why he is so deeply invested in serving Orlok. He believes the hospital attendants who imprison him will suffer under Orlok’s wrath because Knock sees his loyalty and labour as deserving of vengeance by the Count “I relinquish him [Orlok] my soul”. He truly thought he would be rewarded—made an immortal “king of rats,” as he puts it. Yet, when Thomas drives the stake into Knock’s heart that’s when he realizes his efforts were all for nothing. His despair is palpable as he declares, “He [Orlok] broke our covenant… for he cares only for his pretty bride.”
This is fascinating because, up until this moment, Orlok comes across as someone who is so anal about bureaucracy and formal agreements. He meticulously follows the process of purchasing a home, ensuring both Thomas and Ellen “consent” to her marriage to him and getting that in writing. This obsession with bureaucracy makes sense—it serves noblemen and landowners exceptionally well. Deeds and contracts outlive people, and being skilled in navigating bureaucracy consolidates power. That’s important to keep in mind because bureaucracy is intentionally designed to be inaccessible to most of us.
However, Orlok’s betrayal of the covenant he made with Knock reveals something critical: Orlok doesn’t actually respect oaths or agreements. His motivations are purely self-serving—he’s driven by the desire to consume, to spread chaos and disease, and to feed from Ellen. He doesn’t even want Ellen to be immortal or to make her his eternal companion. Other creators on this app have pointed out that Orlok, as a vampire, isn’t interested in creating legions of vampire followers or taking over the world. The rats carrying the plague is but a by-product of his presence, not his end goal. He’s singularly focused on consumption, especially Ellen.
“Like every plague, it’s only desire is to consume all life on earth, it is a force more powerful than evil. It is death itself”
This obsessive focus becomes his downfall. After feeding on Ellen all night, Orlok becomes so consumed by his desire that he literally cannot pry himself away from her to escape the sunrise. Orlok had his self-preservation functions on airplane mode!!!!
Count Orlok’s ulterior motive… pure chaos demon.
Jeffrey Jerome Cohen’s Monster Theory breaks down into seven theses, and one that really sticks with me is the third: the monster is a harbinger of crisis. To me, the best adaptations of old films or stories are the ones that actually have something new to say about the world we’re living in now. So if we look at Nosferatu as a harbinger of crisis, the question is—what crisis does it reflect today?
We’ve gotten used to villains who are calculated, objective geniuses with whole manifestos about why they do what they do. Sure, they’re crazy and wrong, but they’ve thought about it. They’re engaged in some twisted version of logic, and there’s something almost reassuring about that.
But the crisis we’re facing now? It’s different. Over the past two decades, we’ve seen the rise of malignant right-wing populist leaders, but what’s scarier is how unhinged and chaotic they’ve become. They don’t have a plan, they’re not following any kind of strategy—they don’t even seem to know what they want. They’re just out to cause as much destruction as possible, purely for their own amusement.
Honestly, it’s way scarier to have my life in the hands of a clueless buffoon running on chaos than a malicious, calculated villain. At least with the latter, you can predict their next move, even if it’s terrible. With the former, there’s no logic, no plan—just pure, unpredictable chaos. That kind of crisis feels uncontainable, and it hits a nerve in a way a traditional, mastermind villain doesn’t.
This is where monsters like Nosferatu come back into play. They’re not just relics of the past—they take on new meaning depending on the crises we’re dealing with now. And right now, the kind of chaos and destruction we’re seeing in the real world feels exactly like the kind of horror a monster like Nosferatu could represent.
Nosferatu is a chaos demon, completely overtaken by his insatiable hunger—a bottomless pit of desire to consume. His obsession with a woman he’s desperate to devour comes at the expense of his own life and countless others. And honestly, I could be describing a number of right-wing populist leaders right now! We might convince ourselves that blind loyalty will protect us from their cruelty, but we have to remember—we have far more in common with their prey than with those ravenous predators.
#nosferatu#here knock#count orlok#ellen hutter#ellen x orlok#orlok#robert eggers#this was originally a TikTok video I did
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Finally working on my requests.
…slowly
They’ll be done. One day. Maybe after midterms.
#ao3 fanfic#ao3#witcher fanfiction#writing#jaskier x eskel#eskel#jaskier#jaskel#midterms#the eternal suffering of having no time to write#did we really need to write two essays for one English midterm
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OOC:
#just the assistant (ooc post)#on the tablet#(one of these days I'm going to rewatch D.AMIEN and be so damn annoying about it xD )#(I just think it's such an interesting time to write in. A man with no memories; trapped in an eternal moment)#(an encounter with someone who may or may not know him; and may or may not be able to help)#(or would their help make things worse?)#(he's a sleepwalker trapped in an empty nightmare. The longer it goes on the more his grip loosens)#(if the events never happened would Celine have been left with a husk of a brother?)#(and - this blog lore btw - was she aware that her actions mimicked the neglect Damien suffered his entire youth?)#(like; imagining knowing how badly your own brother was treated; only to decide to implement a similar mindset to 'protect' him)#(like; sure; Damien regains memories; but Celine dismisses a proper conversation. How much does he actually know?)#(did she leave him vulnerable to troubles once he left? That's what screwed Dante up. He was corrupted almost instantly)#(anyway hi Ryn if you see this I'm gonna write a good reply when I'm on my laptop tomorrow :D )#(actually wait one last question. Does anyone else ever think about the fact that Celine willingly kept everything a secret?)#(she noticed him have a moment of awareness and stomped it flat. Was that for protection? Would him knowing something break the seal?)#(I mean; I have it that it was because Damien's soul was alive in a place of death - adding to his corruption later)#(but what else might be a reason? :O )
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No spoilers.
Just that it killed me.
From the first to last.
…
…
…
I need a season 3.
#good omens#good omens 2#neil gaiman#neil gaiman and terry pratchett#michael sheen#david tennant#I’m ready for fanfics on this#fanfics where I write an OC of myself scolding the idiocy the angel has done#I’m ready to fight#I’m ready to hurt#I’m ready for him to suffer worse that he shall never smile again as an eternal punishment!#at the same time don’t want to cause I don’t want him to be upset when he already is#my poor babies… I NEED A FREAKIN SEASON 3#SOMEONE GIVE THE DAMN WRITERS WHAT THEY FREAKIN WANT ALREADY!!!!#okay. a little spoiler in my tag#i was not prepared#not in the ways I hope to have this show to end on season 2#NOW THERES MORE THEY NEED TO COMPLETE AND FIX#god. sent me back to episode 1 when I was laughing and smiling with joy of their presence#not bruised with no way of healing in episode 6#I’m scared for our flag means death now 😭💔
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Max Lord should have been a villain longer at the beginning of jli. He got like what twelve issues? of being vaguely ominous before out of nowhere he decides to grow a conscience and beat the computer to death. He doesn't even do anything. His plans for the jli are so vague that they're non-existent. It's just suddenly oh noooo I feel bad for being mean :( Genuinely wish that I could write because I would rewrite his entire everything to be better. Let him do some actual villain shit before being a good guy it could have been so good
#maxwell lord#max being a twist villain in retrospect? stupid. max being a villain in the beginning? could have been fucking perfect#he feels so wasted. character of all time and all they ever do is shoot him and leave him in a coma#you have no idea how desperately i need to make ten million max fics#except i cant write anything unless i have a very specific idea in mind and i DONT#im in agony#i wish he had enacted some kind of villain plan that wasnt to add someone to the team#i cant think of a single thing he does other than expand the roster#and the switch is so sudden like.. give him time. we did not need to shove his entire arc into one issue#someday im going to find a character to latch onto thats well written and i wont have to create an elaborate new story in my head for them#but today isnt that day! instead I have chosen eternal suffering#maybe one day ill find a good way to unleash every horrible thought about him ive been bottling up#but for now. everyone is spared#also hi ant i specified which max its about this time :) just for you
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i was sitting here wondering why i can focus on writing only when i'm at school or around other people and then it hit me that when i'm in public i am, in fact, forced to write as i cannot focus on stimming instead and Wow . it makes sense (<- has set themself a deadline for tomorrow and is not even in halfway)
#the eternal struggle of not being able to focus when it's quiet and not being able to focus when i have music in bg either#like. the noises of other people are literally just perfect for me#i'd end this waaay sooner if i had school during the past two weeks..........#on the other hand i was in school at friday and even though i had a lot of free time i did nothing so#ok but tbh there were only 6 people me included so still too quiet#and i felt bad#i'm suffering so bad. tsukasa tenma i'm going to do you so dirty this year i'm so sorry#i'm never writing birthday pieces ever again#(a lie. i'm going to write nene's character study for her birthday anyways)#and yeah i decided to ramble about my writing sorrows on here bcs lol#i think that's an accurate place#sooo uh#ri says the less serious things. the tag#that would do it
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marry me
i literally dont have a single fucking coherent thought rn. like just the prospect of stringing words together to write a review is a sisyphean task i will not survive
#☆ asks#☆ hon#like oh ok so u want me to die? u want me to perish and suffer and live in torment for all eternity? u are threatening my life as we speak?#i may have to save part 2 to read another time genuinely i think my organs would explode if i read both in one sitting#EATING HER OUT WAS SO CRAZY OH IM ISCK IN THE HEADD#no one writes batshit insane demented fics like u do and i fucking love it#u are doing for the people what we are not brave enough to do and i commend u for that#i feel as normal about sunghoon as u do about jayke. which is to say: not one fucking bit
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Okay excellent points.
I like to think that it’s not even uncommon in the wolf world either. Derek grew up with the “you might not catch disease, but you could catch a baby, so practice safe sex” or something. Derek always used to roll his eyes because that happens to people like Josh from Satomi’s pack, not him.
He’s better than that, he thinks. And, of course, years later, he’s so eager to finally have something -anything- of Stiles that he’s not even paying attention when the condom breaks. All he can do is hope that he is not preg, and give a fake little laugh when Stiles says “Good thing you can’t get pregnant, huh?” as Stiles is walking out of the door.
Because being pregnant? That would be so amazing awful, and how would he even tell Stiles, huh?
He couldn’t possibly ruin Stiles’s life like that. Not when it’s just started. Not when he’s already taken Stiles’s teen years from him with all those supernatural crises.
Derek does what Derek does best. He clams up about it. Disappears from Beacon Hills for months 5-9, and comes back with baby Eli. He just stares at anyone who asks who Eli’s mother is, and eventually everyone just knows not to ask.
So, Derek relaxes into the silver fox we saw in the movie. It helps that Sheriff Stilinski takes it upon himself to help Derek. And if the Sheriff is helping because all he can see is himself trying to raise Stiles after Claudia died? Well, that’s no one’s business but his own.
And Derek is grateful because not only does he have help, but Eli can get to know his granddad and know what a loving pack feels like.
And, yeah, when Stiles comes to visit his dad it’s awkward. Unbeknownst to Derek, Stiles is heartbroken that Derek ran off and had a baby so close to when they slept together. Stiles thought maybe there could be more, but obviously Derek was not into him like that.
And the awkward is too much to handle, so Stiles comes by less and less. Until it’s been 10 years since Stiles had been home, only keeping up with his dad through FaceTimes, voice calls, and texts. His dad offering info about Derek without Stiles having to ask.
And that’s how they go on. Getting little bits of information from the Sheriff about each other.
And when Derek dies? Stiles tries to go home for the funeral, but he has a panic attack as he’s boarding the plane. The flight attendants won’t let him on the plane until he calms down. He does but he misses his flight. Meaning he misses the funeral. He didn’t want to go anyway. He didn’t want to see Derek lowered into the dirt. Not the way his mom was. The way Allison was.
But Allison came back, somehow. That’s what Stiles does on the plane ride back to LA, think about the “somehows” that would allow Derek to come back. And on the car ride to Beacon Hills, he starts to cement his plans. His eyes are burning with exhaustion from the drive, the plane, the tears. So, when he sees Eli for the first time in 10 years, he’s sure he’s hallucinating.
And when Eli gets a sniff of Stiles, he rushes to hug Stiles because he smells like pack. The kind of pack he didn’t have since his dad died, and he had to move in with Scott and Allison.
Stiles tries his best to keep Eli out his plan to revive Derek, but the kid just won’t mind his own business. And Stiles has a flash of being so grateful to his father for his boundless patience when Stiles was constantly getting into something.
And the more time Stiles spends with Eli the more he realizes just how similar he and Eli are. Stiles wants to feel flattered that Derek raised a boy who was just like Stiles, but all Stiles feels is scorned. Because here is living proof that Derek didn’t hate Stiles for his personality, and the more he thinks about it - the more confused he gets.
He stops being confused and starts being suspicious when he visits his third wolf pack and see three same sex couples with a pregnant partner.
Eventually it’s well over a year later. Eli and Stiles have been disappointed time and time again, but neither one wants to call it quits. So, they don’t. They push harder. Stiles is barely sleeping, hardly eating, and the Sheriff is getting more worried every day.
Scott, for his part, has been telling Stiles to just give it up. Move on. He’s been saying that from the beginning. At least Sheriff Stilinski and he lived and he should be glad that no one in his family died. Yikes.
That conversation did not go well. It started with Stiles ripping Scott a new one and ended with Eli living with the Sheriff and Stiles.
Eli nearly dies twice, sticking his nose in where it didn’t belong. Stiles tries but fails to ban Eli from the effort to revive Derek because Eli refuses to listen and sneaks in anyway. And Stiles can’t have his son going off and doing something dangerous on his own. He won’t lose two Hales to the Hale Martyr Complex.
One day, while Stiles is sitting on the stump of the Nemeton, something just clicks. Stiles presses his hands into the stump until they phase through. Until Stiles falls into the between, Bardo. And there is Derek Hale, smiling, waiting for Stiles to bring him back. Because Derek knew if anyone would, it would be Stiles.
This time when Derek Hale is resurrected, Stiles makes him swear he won’t die again. Derek, for his part, swore that when he got out of there. When he saw Stiles again, he would be honest. About everything.
So he is. He stumbles over his words. Can barely look Stiles in the eyes as he confesses his love for him and Eli’s parentage. His palms are sweating as he talks, but he muscles through. And when he’s done, Stiles kisses him. Hard. And when they pull away Stiles says “We will talk about this later. First, we need to go see our son.”
And Derek’s heart just cracks open and oozes over 15 years worth of love for Stiles that has been building up. Derek tosses his head to the sky and howls - long and loud. He gives Stiles a brilliant grin when Eli’s howl answers and just takes off through the woods towards Eli.
The wind and Stiles laughter whips through his ears as he rushes to his son.
And that’s what happened before and after the movie :)
Everyone on here talking about Stiles mpreg but let's think this through. What makes more sense, that Stiles carried Derek's baby to term and left forever? Or that Stiles knocked Derek up unknowingly on their single hookup where they both got so awkward afterward not able to express their feelings that he left for 15 years to avoid it and Derek was too self sacrificing to tell Stiles and became a single dad? And Derek, Mr. Strange werewolf biology who aside from general werewolf shit like aging differently and shifting, can also fully turn his body into an actual wolf. Now who is more likely to have this baby? A seemingly cis male human like Stiles? Or Werewolf Derek with his already strange werewolf biology?
#furthermore#can we get some more mpreg fics where the two don’t hate each other#but instead they are forced apart by circumstances out of their control?#I don’t wanna watch those two beat up on each other verbally bc one got the other preg#I wanna watch them suffer and cry because they were separated#I wanna watch them claw tooth and nail to get back to each other#I want them to reunite and say how they never thought they would see each other again#the non!mpreg one should cry and say how they couldn’t believe they’ve missed so much of the child’s life#and lastly#I expect them to rain hell one whatever force separated them#iamveronica#does this and it gets me every time#because the force of their love means there are no walls#no borders and nobody that could ever stop them from reuniting#and to think that child will grow up with such a strong willed love?? yes please#I’m gonna have to write this huh#sterek#and we’re chatting#my fic#I guess#I didn’t mean to write that#it’s midnight here and I’m hyper fixated#anyway#eternal sterek#mpreg!derek#teen wolf#fuck jeff davis#I guess this is a#teen wolf the movie fix it fic
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❝lethal lust❞ | qimir x fem!reader
pairing: qimir x fem!reader
summary: smut without plot, little bit of angst! ep6 left me speechless so of course i had to write something
warnings: english is not my native language, p in v, ocean sex (don't recommend), fingering, backshots against a rock, little bit of violence, established relationship, qimir being too fine
now playing, lust for life by lana del rey
The stones were cold, running through your numb bare feet. The lukewarm wave from the ocean soothed the pain, gently caressing your skin with its rhythmic ebb and flow. The ache slowly vanished as you dipped your ankles deep into the water, letting the waves cling to your calves.
You woke up later than intended today, exhausted and sore from last nights encounter with the jedi. You suffered many injuries, the outcome of being out of practice for many months. You were fortunate to find yourself this morning with only scars left, your lethal wounds healed and mended. You could never count on your fingers how many times Qimir saved your life. The number of times he healed your wounds, no matter how little they were. He hated seeing you injured, harmed in any way. You wanted to pay him back but you had no idea how. Any time you asked him he responded with, I have you. That’s all that matters. You always felt a little guilty.
“Are you gonna just stand there or join me?” You heard him spoke, few meters away from you, relaxing in the ocean, guarded by a circle of large rocks. He had his back turned to you, his hair pushed back, wet, dripping with to his shoulders. You saw his scar many times, but never got quiet used to it. You wanted to find that person who gave it to him and make them suffer for eternity. One day, he promised you.
Lifting up your hands to your robe, you slowly untied it, letting it fall on the shore, taking your time to get into the water.
After a few seconds you finally reached him, putting your hands on the side of his arms, your chin resting on his shoulder. His skin was hot, despite the cool temperature around you. You felt his hands reach out for your legs under the water, caressing your skin with his fingers.
“You saved me there,” you broke the silence, lifting your hand to play with the ends of his hair. “Again.” Last night, Yord almost separated your head from your shoulders and if it wasn’t for Qimir pulling you away, you wouldn’t see him turn to face you now. His eyes were set low, softness blending it with yearning. His hands danced their way from your thighs to your waist to pull you closer to him. You could feel every curve of his, every small movement against your skin, and even after hundreds of times, you never got used to the striking feeling it brought you.
“You would do the same for me,” he simply added, tilting his head, scanning you with his eyes.
“But I never do.” You replied, ashamed, shaking your head. “You never need my saving. It is always I, who needs it.” You felt embarrassment crawling to your cheeks but returning his intense stare. He never broke eye contact; it made you nervous.
“You’re saving me every day,” smile danced on his lips as his hand reached your jaw, his thumb resting on your cheekbone. “By being here with me.” His voice was soft, teasing. “I lost everything a long time ago, and I thought I was at peace, that it fit me. But all I needed was someone by my side, someone to share the same feelings, desires, dreams that I do. You found me.” His thumb moved in circles on your cheek, making sure you heard every word he let out.
You didn’t dare to even blink, admiring every movement of his lips, his eyebrows, the way his eyes kept circling your face.
“You’re saving me simply by returning the love I give you.” He repeated before slowly leaning in to give you a small kiss on the top of your nose.
“But-“ he didn’t even let you start, placing his wet hand against your mouth. You saw the smirk on his lips, the desire to kick him in the shin growing stronger every second.
“No arguing,” he said, more steadily and loudly. “Please,” you heard him add, lowering his voice back.
You didn’t want to argue either, but you wanted to do more then just to breathe next to him. You wanted to help him when it came to battle, protect him from potential harm. It was like arguing with a wall. He knew you were powerful, almost his equal. But the fear of getting you hurt made him keep you away from the fights he so often faced.
Okay.
You thought to yourself, before feeling his hand move away from your mouth, to let it rest against your hip. His other hand found yours, lifting it up and pushing it against his abdomen. His eyes never left yours and you could slowly recognize the desire within them.
You remembered, years back, when you still trained as a jedi, any sign or hint of desire forced you to suffer the jedi punishment. As a jedi, especially as a padawan, you could never let these thoughts even fly around your mind. If you even dared to share a though, you were destined to dark side. That’s what you were taught. Until you met Qimir. You were both padawans, both training to be the next jedi knights. So when you saw the glimpse in his eyes, you realized you might not be the only one. That it’s normal to feel those things. It’s normal to want. And for months you despised yourself, but Qimir helped you. Helped you how to deal with those feelings. Taught you.
When you two were later found out, you were forced to leave the Order, as for Qimir, you never found out what they did to him. He never told you, not even after years when you found each other again, leaving you wondering. You wanted to avenge him, hurt those who hurt him. Why did he suffer for things you were too a part of.
You didn’t know how long you stood there for, how long he held your hand against his torso, or how many times the waved washed over you. You started to get cold and Qimir wasn’t blind to it. You stood still as he lowered his gaze to your shoulders where he slowly rested his hand. His fingers tracing your scars, slowly moving his way up your collarbones, to your neck, tickling your jaw, until he placed it next to your ear, curling his fingers to get underneath your hair. His other hand, still underwater let go of yours to push it to your lower back, centimeters above your ass.
He didn’t say anything as he moved in closer, his lips brushing against your face. You started to feel the heat between your legs grow stronger, his smell driving you crazy. Closing your eyes you let him leave wet marks on your skin, bending his knees to circle down to your chest, his nails pressing against your back dimples.
You didn’t realize all while doing that, he was slowly pushing you back until you were met with a hard texture of the rock behind you. It wasn’t necessarily comfortable but when Qimir’s lips attacked your breasts, all of the discomfort left your mind.
Instinctively your hands moved to his, still dripping wet hair, enjoying the sensation of his mouth. His tongue started circling your hard nipples, his fingers lightly tugging on your hair. Moans started to leave your mouth as his other hand squeezed your ass, his mouth never leaving your tits. Lifting your arm to hold on onto his, as he kept pulling your hair.
Even in the water, you could feel the wetness already forming between your thighs, his touch clouding your thoughts and any form of previous opinions.
He knew exactly how to make you want him, how to touch you and how to keep you on the edge. How many times he made you straddle him during training sessions, how many times he walked around naked just to pass by you. He enjoyed the teasing, and you knew it.
You were aware of every touch of is and when his hips met yours, pushing you with force against the cold stone, you had to bite back a moan. He was already rock hard, resting against your abdomen.
He quickly moved away from you, his hands and mouth leaving you only to find his fingers right between your legs, brushing against your bundle of nerves. You cried out, not expecting him to be so fast. Most of the times he waited till tears formed in your eyes, wanting to see you so desperate and needy just to feel his touch. He wasn’t wasting time today. He needed you. And he needed you now.
“You’re needy this morning.” He purred, grin on his face as he looked down at you. You were, you had no intention of denying it. His fingers worked magic on you, teasing your entrance as he roughly attacked your neck, making you dizzy, not sure where to put your focus on.
You pressed your hands against his chest when you felt his fingers thrust into you, receiving a sharp intake of breath from you.
Fuck.
You never comprehended how his fingers alone could make you feel so good. Sometimes you prefered it. But nothing ever topped the way his tongue worked on you. The way he devoured you whole like he wanted to eat you. The way he made you sit on his face with full strength, how he almost made you faint one time from orgasming too many times just on his tongue.
Your brain was empty, only focusing on his fingers, thrusting in and out of you while his thumb circled your clit. His mouth marking your neck, leaving bunch of red marks around. He loved marking you.
“Qimi-“you failed to speak, his fingers making you see The Force itself. You were absolutely useless. Pressed against a rock as Qimir pounded into you with his thick fingers.
“Yes, darling.” He responded to your nonexistent question. Your eyes were closed, focusing only on the pleasure but you could see the stupid cocky smile he had on his lips right now. He loved seeing you so desperate, drowning in his touch.
“Fuc,” you wanted to speak but his fingers shut you up every time they moved inside of you. You were so close. You could feel his force, intensifying your pleasure, making it way harder to keep your legs steady.
“What do you want, I can’t hear you.” Jerk.
So close. You could feel it. You grabbed his hand, digging your nails into him as your legs started to shake, orgasm approaching fast.
Or it would, if Qimir didn’t move his hand away, leaving you feeling empty, unsatisfied and angry.
“What did you wanna say?” he asked, stupid grin on his face. His hair was slowly drying, few strands falling into his face. His lips plumb and pink, his chest covered on salty drops of the ocean. You wanted to eat him.
“You fuck.” You whined, shoving your hands against his chest. It only widened his smile. You ought to expect it when he grabbed your hands out of reflex, bending them to make you turn, forcing you to be face to face with the rock you were just now pressed against. Groan left your mouth out of both pain and shock, his one hand holding both of your wrists against your beck, your ass to his already leaking cock.
You tried to hold yourself against the rock as you felt his strength against you. You felt him against your ass, closing your eyes wanting nothing else than him right now. His free hand slowly moved your hair away from your back so he could trace your spine down to your ass, which he then aggressively spanked.
“You need to be more loud next time.” He ordered, pushing you against the rock one last time. His rough actions weren’t anything new to you, it often happened after a battle. Once he had you bent over against a random building, few minutes after being attacked by a group of bounty hunters.
You were powerless against him, so you decided to rest your face against the rough texture of the rock, only feeling his hand holding your wrists together.
“Tell me when to stop,” he breathed out as he brushed himself against your entrance, the water making it more difficult to see, but that didn’t stop him. You could feel him against your folds, trying to hold back a moan.
Without any warning he pushed forward, burying himself inside of you. Both of you cried out at the same time, trying to compose yourself, feeling him spreading your walls, not even halfway in yet.
“Qimir fuck.” You shout out, his hand finally leaving yours so you could hold yourself against the rock as he slowly started to push himself deeper, as much as you allowed him to. No matter how many times he used you, you never got used to the feeling of having him inside, filling you to the fullest.
His hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you steady as he began to thrust roughly. You knew he’d leave marks on your hips based on how strongly he was gripping you, pounding into you mercilessly.
You used all your power to keep yourself standing, gripping any part of the rock, not caring about the bruising you’d be left with.
“Fuck, you feel so good.” He growled, pounding into you harder, sliding in and out of you. His one hand left your hips to reach out for your hair, pulling your head back.
You felt his breath on you back as he pulled you against him, his thrusts becoming sloppier, hungrier. He was close. His chest pressed against your back, his hands finding your breasts, fondling them, not stopping abusing your g-spot.
"Qimir, please," you whispered, reaching out to hold onto something, for your legs started to feel weaker, the water splashing around with every thrust of his distracting you.
"I know," he breathed into your ear, chills travelling down your spine. Without warning, he pulled himself out of you, turning you back to him again, your back scratching against the rock. Lifting you, you wrapped your legs around his hips as he pushed himself into you again, thrusting harder than before. He leaned against the rock, his arms around your head. You ignored the pain of your back being pushed repeatedly against the rock and only focused on his cock filling you up so good, hitting all the spots you never reached yourself. Your arms wrapped around his torso, your nails leaving long marks on his back.
"Please," you begged, feeling yourself closer than before. You felt him starting to twitch inside of you, both of you so close. Two more thrust into you, he panted, feeling his climax building up inside of him. He couldn't hold back any longer, his hips bucking wildly as he came hard inside of you, filling you up with his cum. At the same time, you felt your walls contract around his thick cock, feeling him fill you up as your eyes filled with tears from the intense orgasm.
You didn't realize or hear the loud crash as Qimir pushed too hard against the rock next to your head, cracking it in half before it fell into the water, splashing the both of you with a huge wave.
Your hair was now dripping wet, curling at the ends, leaning against Qimir's chest, who tried to regain his composure. Both of you stood there for a few seconds, staring at the cracked stone lying in the water next to you.
You flinched at Qimir's arms, holding you tightly against him. He didn't bother to move and decided to stay inside of you for as long as you let him.
"Next time," you murdered, raising your head to look at him, his eyes still dark, filled with lust. "on the shore, please."
#star wars qimir#qimir smut#qimir x reader#osha x qimir#qimir#qimir the acolyte#acolyte ep6#the acolyte#star wars smut#star wars anakin#starwars#star wars#starwars fic#qimir fic
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𝐫𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐬𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐝 ₊ ⊹
obsessed!optimus prime x human!reader obsessed!megatron x human!reader obsessed!starscream x human!reader
summary: various mechs react to your injury. didn't specify what happened to reader in starscream' part so you can fill the gaps yourself
cw: angst, hurt, graphic injury (reader), blood and gore, possessiveness, obsessive thoughts, very ooc starscream
word count: 2700
thank you!! <33
i may write the 'next part' for other bots too when mood for angst comes back...
He reacted too slowly, missing the leap by mere seconds. Didn’t make it in time to shield you from the stray projectile, which struck directly at your side, piercing the abdomen and immediately knocking you to the ground. He deals with the attacker without hesitation, taking down the Vehicon that had ambushed you during your ride. Quickly moves to your side, shielding from further threats. Something he should have done from the very beginning.
Your eyes are closed, and chest heaves rapidly, chasing after the blood slowly spilling from your wound. Optimus realizes he has never seen your equivalent of energon before. He’s seen bruises and scratches but never blood. Once, he was curious about what it might look like, how it would behave outside your body. Now, he would give everything to erase this image from memory.
He feels disgust—not with you, never with you—but with himself. Because he let this happen. Because your suffering and the scar that will forever remind you of his failure are his doing. He looked into your eyes and swore to protect you at all costs, even at the cost of his own life.
He failed. As always. But you should not bear the harvest of his incompetence.
And to think, he once desired to be your partner, to bear the title of conjunx. Now, as he considers it, the thought feels like a cruel joke.
He’s convinced his entire body is aflame, as though he’s sharing your pain. As if the projectile had torn through his own frame. You deserve this pain, he thinks. Should suffer more, take this burden from you and carry it himself, and preferably, bear it for the rest of his life—an echo of failure, a reminder to never let anything happen to you again.
“[Name]…” he tries, his voice unworthy of a Prime—weak, strained, fighting against his own voice box. “I beg you…” He wants to add more, but physically cannot.
No response. He clenches his servo so tightly that it begins to tremble, energon soon dripping from the stress. The vision of your death flashes through processor. Then remorse, fury, and grief. Days spent admiring you, fantasizing about the future twist into self-torment, revisiting the image of your lifeless body before him because he acted too late.
Cannot allow that future to come to pass. You will not give your life for his mistake. Even if his passion never bears fruit, even if your smile continues to haunt him in his dreams, even if your closeness is limited to shared rides, he will not let you go. He is willing to endure the worst tortures, walk through hell and back, starve and ruin himself just so you can see another sunrise.
“Ratchet, ground bridge. Immediately.” The true Prime emerges. Stern and decisive. “Bring surgical tools.”
The medic arrives swiftly. Unlike his leader, Ratchet doesn’t take an eternity to overcome the shock. He gently lifts you onto his servo and takes you to the base, directly to the operating table. Optimus follows closely behind, optics fixed on you, desperately searching for signs of life.
Optimus doesn’t leave your side, staying through the operation, watching as Ratchet stitches the wound with his trademark precision. The medic refrains from his usual muttering about caution. One look at Optimus’s empty faceplate, devoid of any visible emotion but still fiercely focused on you, reveals the terror within. The fear and guilt have burrowed so deeply that even after the procedure is finished, with you unconscious but stabilized and safe, hooked up to an IV, Optimus does not leave you.
Wants to etch this image into his memory, so it becomes his specter. A motivation to reflect on himself, on your relationship. He must become better, more attentive, and less distracted. Because he isn’t sure if another failure like this would break him. If you were to end up on the operating table again, would he join you in death? Even though he knows it’s a lie. No matter how battered life makes him, no matter how many heartaches you bring him, he is compelled to continue the fight.
He longs to take your pain away. To bear it himself, to atone for his sins. And so he does, staying by your side without pause. Doesn’t eat, doesn’t rest, merely existing and waiting for you to wake up, incapable of doing anything else. He knows the team is worried, that they check in on him, bringing energon, begging him to rest, offering to take over the vigil, but he refuses every time. This is his burden, his failure, and he will not place it on anyone else. He must atone.
Intends to suffer alongside you until you fully recover. He doesn’t expect you to forgive him; doesn’t even dare to hope for it. But will the horror fade into the fog of an unpleasant memory if, from time to time, you grant him the same look you once did?
You lie in his servo, small, trembling, barely alive. Your entire forearm is crushed, and the side of your torso bears claw marks—a result of your encounter with a Vehicon who wasn’t acquainted with human fragility. Megatron’s soldier only intended to carry the runaway back to his master, not realizing that grabbing you by the arm would cause such devastating harm. It wasn’t done on purpose, nor was there any intent to deliberately hurt the partner of the Decepticon leader. Well, it didn’t matter anymore, now that the Vehicon lay dead with several holes in their frame.
Despite the carnage, Megatron doesn’t seem fazed. He carries you to the medbay with his familiar proud stride, showing no signs of stress. Calm and cold-blooded, unnaturally so. Yet his optics remain fixed on you, monitoring you, searching for signs of agony.
"You will survive," he states firmly, words resolute.
This composure is a bluff, a rational decision to avoid spiraling into destruction and despair. You didn’t need his wrath right now, silently demanding rescue. There would be time later for him to unleash his fury, to drive the message into everyone’s heads that if a similar situation ever occurred again, it wouldn’t end with just one Vehicon. He wouldn’t be so composed next time.
"I do not permit you to die," he adds.
In the recess of his servo, blood pools—your reminder that you urgently need medical attention, but also his. Perhaps for the first time since you set foot on the Nemesis. He clings to that need, even though he wishes to experience it under different, more fitting circumstances.
The medic is already waiting in the medbay, preparing the operating table for a small human. Knockout straightens at the sight of his leader and gestures to the empty table, where you are carefully placed. The silver mech steps back but does not leave the room. He intends to witness the procedure, to maintain complete control over it, even if he isn’t the one holding the tools. Needs to be certain that the only thing you leave this room with is scars from the operation. He allows no thought of any other outcome.
"My liege," Knockout begins, but Megatron’s optics remain locked on you. "I must inform you that I’m not yet fully versed in human anatomy."
Fury begins to seep through in the form of bared dentas.
"Well, I trust you are versed enough to save their life."
"Yes, I will do my best, but I must emphasize that the likelihood—"
"Knockout. You have exactly three nanokliks to make a decision. Your life or theirs. What is your choice?"
The medic bows submissively and picks up his tools. "Understood, my lord."
Megatron stays present throughout the entire procedure, closely observing as the bleeding gradually subsides and your body begins to regain its shape. He should be pleased that you’ll survive and soon be able to sit in his servo again—this time not bleeding out. Perhaps you’ll even look at him a bit more kindly when you learn that he personally carried you to the medic and dealt with the wretch who spilled your blood.
Yet his mind keeps returning to the feeling of utter panic he experienced when he saw you barely alive, with a cascade of crimson flowing from your wounds. He hadn’t expected anyone to provoke such a reaction in him—a sensation of dread, of helplessness. It lasted only a moment, swiftly transforming into rage, but it was enough to take him by surprise. Normally, he considers hypotheticals a complete waste of time, but he can’t stop wondering: what if you had died? He knows you won’t, because you belong to him. But if you had truly left him, struck him in his most vulnerable spot by taking yourself away—would anyone have been able to stop him? To halt the devastation before it consumed even him?
"There’s a strong chance they’ll survive," Knockout reports, wiping his servos clean of the unpleasant, human blood.
"I cannot rely on a ‘strong chance,’ Knockout. I need certainty," he growls. "So… is everything fine with [Name]?"
"Yes, my lord. However, they must rest extensively, preferably under the close supervision of a me—"
He doesn’t finish the sentence, as Megatron has already lifted you back into his servo. "I will decide that," he interrupts. "Expect frequent visits. Be prepared." With that, he leaves the medbay.
A claw gently strokes your head, tousling your tangled hair. You’ve already spent too much time in the company of the narcissistic medic—as if he would ever allow you to remain there without his constant vigilance. No, he had sworn to care for you, and not even death could meddle with that vow.
At first, he thinks it’s a weak start to a joke. You like to tell him jokes, maybe that’s how you got to his spark and shaped it into your likeness. He never considered them exceptional, and they were rarely funny, not measuring up to the quality of those from his home planet. But sometimes, they made life more bearable than he’d ever admit because they were yours, and then they became private, reserved just for the two of you.
But the closer he gets, and the larger your figure becomes, the prologue turns cruelly engaging. Because you’re lying motionless on the ground with your eyes closed, and blood seeping from your side. You show no signs of life.
He mass-shifts even before transforming, landing sharply on the ground, pedes digging into the surface.
"[Name]!" he yells. Kneeling beside you, knees sink into the soft earth, staining them with dirt. But his focus remains entirely on your small, unmoving body. "Would you be so kind as to stop joking? Get up!"
Because if this is a joke, it’s exceptionally cruel.
His claws tremble as he brings them closer to you, gently brushing your cheek, trying to rouse you. To make you show him any sign that everything is okay, even though he knows it’s not. As always, he tries to deceive himself, convince himself that you’ll come out of this unscathed, and that the horror before him won’t leave a mental burden behind.
"You fool," he hisses. "This isn’t funny, not even a little, do you hear me? Get up!" Voice cracks, and his strokes quicken. "Ha ha, you got me. Congratulations, one of your pathetic jokes finally caught me off guard. You can stop now..." He’s no longer stating; now, he’s pleading — for mercy, for another dose of humanity that you had mercifully bestowed upon him, even though he never truly deserved it.
With uncharacteristic tenderness, he pulls you into his arms, yearning to feel some sign of life against his body—proof that this isn’t the end. Your heart beats rapidly; feels it drumming against his chassis, granting him temporary peace. But it’s fleeting, as panic swiftly regains control. He doesn’t let it show, the terror boiling inside. He holds you tighter. Optics stare into nothingness as he tries not to think about the implications of your condition and what consequences it might lead to.
"Wake up, do you hear me? Now!" he screams desperately "[Name], please, I feel like I’m losing my mind."
No, you won’t leave him. You can’t do this. You mustn’t.
A faint groan catches his attention, and he gently pulls you away from his chassis to inspect your face. Apparently, you heard his plea, because a grimace appears on your pale face. Starscream can’t discern what it signifies. Pain? Despair? Confusion? Whatever it is, it softens his features, revealing hope that this is, in fact, a poor joke.
You blink rapidly, revealing bloodshot, unfocused eyes that lock onto him. Your chest begins to rise and fall more quickly. And even despite the horror you must feel, the pain burrowing deep into your body, the confusion and exhaustion, you manage to smile for him. As if you had a reason to.
"Star..." you whisper.
"Yes, yes, I’m here! You’re never to scare me like this again, do you understand? Never." His last word is a growl, though his servos remain gentle.
Hearing your voice anchors his thoughts, letting him focus on the possibility that things will be alright. That you’ll both come out of this unscathed, because this entire farce was driving him to madness. But he realizes he doesn’t want to hear you say his name as though it were for the last time. As if it were a farewell. No. You promised him eternity. You broke him, reprogrammed his processor to think only of you, infected his body to make it weep when he hadn’t seen you for too long, and now you intended to leave him? No. He won’t allow it. You swore eternity, and you will keep that promise. Otherwise, it would prove he truly didn’t deserve softness. That he was never meant to know comfort.
"Frag," he curses, lowering his helm because, for some reason, he can’t bear to look at you. Instead, he notices the crimson stain on your side growing, overtaking your shirt and slowly reaching your pants. His olfactory senses are assaulted by the metallic, unpleasant smell, and he concludes that this must be the scent of human death. "Did he do this to you? Hurt you? Violate you?"
Did Megatron finally find out about your relationship? Recognized you as a weak point, a tactic to get to him in the most devastating and cruel way? He searches his memories for provocation, an act of defiance, another attempt to seize power, though he’d recently tried to keep his head down, to behave. For you, so this would never happen. But Megatron needed no particular reason to strike. Especially not him.
Vents a sigh of relief when you weakly shake your head, but it’s not enough to restore calm. You’re still suffering, still bleeding out, and he is powerless. Usually, such powerlessness was closely tied to irritation when he lost control over his own fate. Now, he feels only a chilling terror in his lines at the thought of losing you. Of losing the love you gave him.
"Good... That’s good." It’s not good. Nothing is fragging good.
Your eyelids begin to flutter again, as if you’re fighting with yourself to stay conscious. You try to focus on him, keep your gaze fixed on a single point, but your eyes refuse to cooperate, rolling back.
"[Name]?" your chest rises and falls rapidly. "You must hold on, do you hear me?! Hey, hey! Focus!"
"S-Star..." you try, even quieter than before. "It hurts... help..."
"Stay with me, now. Please," his voice cracks. "You won’t leave me alone, will you? You promised..."
"It hurts..."
"I know, I know, hold on." He repeats himself. Knows how to get out of this situation, to use the last resort. It involves enormous risk and danger, especially for you, but he can’t hesitate any longer. Can’t wait. Can’t lose you.
He sends a message to Ratchet.
"Just a little longer, [Name]." He soothes, though he no longer knows who needs reassurance more. "Don’t make me die with you."
#transformers x reader#optimus x reader#obsessed!optimus#optimus prime x reader#megatron x reader#obsessed!megatron#starscream x reader#obsessed!starscream
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𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 - 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐣𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠
brother's best friend!jay x fem!reader
୨୧ genre: smut, MDNI! | words: 4.3k | cw: mean!jay, brat!reader, a looot of bickering lol, slight degradation, jay is a little manipulative, nipple play?, oral (f & m receiving, head pusher!jay), unprotected sex (hell no), creampie (+ lmk if i missed anything!!) ୨୧
hanna says: biggest thank you to my favorite jay girly, my other half and the one who motivated me to start writing on here in the first place. thank you for proofreading a lot and for letting me yap 24/7, this one's for you mwah @brklynbabyjay
mature content under cut, minors do NOT interact!
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2:47am, your phone read when you grabbed it with a sigh after tossing and turning in your bed for what felt like an eternity. the heat in your room felt oppressing – the flimsy sheets might as well have been a double blanket and your pajamas felt like a winter coat despite barely covering any skin.
with a sigh, you got up from bed and tiptoed to the kitchen. with each step down the stairs you felt the air getting just a little cooler and your tense muscles relaxing just a little more.
you flicked on the light above the sink, before grabbing a glass from the top shelf. it slipped right through your sweaty palms and landed directly in the sink before you could catch it. it didn't break, but the noise cut through the silence of the night so loudly and suddenly that you were sure it could have woken up at least half of the neighborhood.
"fuck," you whispered to yourself, wiping off your sweaty palms on your silky shorts and carefully grabbing the glass from the sink.
just as you thought no one had heard your little accident, a sudden, sleep-laced voice broke the silence again and startled you to a point you almost dropped the glass another time.
"are you kidding me?"
you didn't have to turn around to know it was jay's oh so humble self standing in the kitchen door.
"enlighten me, what's your problem this time?" you asked, although you knew the answer. you kept your back to him as you filled the glass with ice cubes and cold water, waiting for him to reply.
jay's jaw clenched at your words. you had woken him up, just as he'd fallen asleep after hours of tossing and turning on the sofa, trying to somehow ignore the heat that pressed down on him like a weight too heavy to carry. and now you had the audacity to ask stupid questions?
"it took me forever to fall asleep and you wake me up cause you can't even hold onto a glass?" he snapped. his voice sounded less sleepy now – still raspy but regaining the usual edge he had to it whenever he was talking to you.
he was your brother's best friend and you'd known him since forever. you were sure the two of you had gotten along back then, when jake brought him over for the first time – sometime in his first year of high school when you were still in middle school. but just a little later, he'd started to pick fights with you every chance he got, which eventually led to him mostly ignoring you, and if he did talk to you, his voice always had that annoyed undertone.
for a moment, you didn't say anything, bringing the glass to your lips and taking a sip, letting the cold run down your throat and hoping it would somehow also cool off the anger that started to bubble up in your chest.
as you stayed silent, jay's gaze remained on you, only now noticing the light blue silk pajamas you were wearing. they were unnervingly short – more skin than fabric, really – and it annoyed him even more how the shorts outlined your ass perfectly, your plush cheeks just slightly exposed from how little coverage the piece of clothing provided.
when you finally turned around, his eyes shot up to your face immediately. you took in the sight in front of you: jay's messy hair and the way his shirt clung to his torso a little more than it usually would – you were pleased to see that he was suffering from the summer heat as much as you were.
"well," you broke the staring contest between the two of you, involuntarily trying to look meaner than the other, "if you didn't sleep in my living room, maybe you wouldn't have to bother me."
jay's eyebrows shot up at your remark. "or if you were a decent person for once and weren't so inconsiderate–"
"i'm inconsiderate?" you interrupted him. "that's rich coming from someone who moved in here two weeks ago and thinks he can make the rules," you huffed.
jay's jaw clenched another time as he took a step toward you, but you didn't back down. you looked up at him, returning the same fiercey look he gave you.
"you think it's fun living with you of all people?" he asked through gritted teeth, his taller figure hovering over you.
"no, but it's not my fault your girlfriend kicked you out," you replied, keeping your voice steady although your heart started to pound in your chest at the way his eyes narrowed slightly. yet, a tiny pang of amusement at how your words seemed to affect him joined the nervousness of wondering how far you could push him before he snapped.
oh, now you were curious.
"honestly, i'm not surprised," you added, your voice not faltering even when he stepped so close your bodies practically touched. "if you were only half as much of an asshole–"
"shut. up." he snapped, accenting each word.
the corners of your lips shot up into a smug grin. "can't stand me talking back to you?"
"i can't stand you in total."
"i never would have guessed," you replied sarcastically, taking a step back to casually lean your back against the kitchen counter. you brought the glass of water up to your neck letting the cold condensed water on its outside cool your skin. "wonder why you hate me so much, though. i don't remember pissing in your cereal when we were kids."
jay's jaw tightened even more. he was so annoyed. there you were, standing in the stupid kitchen with your stupidly short pajamas showing way too much of your skin that looked so. stupidly. soft. and you were bashing him, although he should be the one to talk you down right now. god, he couldn't stand you and how fucking hot you looked when you were snappy.
"you just make it hard not to," he replied, his voice laced with more annoyance than you'd ever heard from him before.
you chuckled at his words, the sound making his blood boil even more. what was so funny about him being annoyed, borderline angry?
"listen, jay bae," you said sarcastically as you put the glass down on the counter behind you, "if you want to stay with me and jake, you'll stop acting like i'm some kind of tragedy. you either ignore me, or you at least pretend to get along with me. deal?"
for a few moments, he just looked at you, his eyes still full of frustration. then, he suddenly stepped forward, his hand reaching for the back of your neck and his lips crashing onto yours harshly.
you were too shocked by his sudden action and the rush of warmth flooding through you to react. he pulled back just as quickly as he'd leaned in, leaving your lips cold with the shadow of his, and looked at you as if searching your eyes for a reaction.
"what the fuck?" you asked, still taken aback.
you wanted to take a step back, but the kitchen counter was already pressing against your back. jay smirked at the shocked expression on your face.
"i said shut up," he repeated his words from earlier that night, as if that would suddenly validate that he'd kissed you. he placed his hands on the counter directly next to your body, trapping you between him and the cold marble surface.
"you don't get to–"
he leaned in again, his lips brushing along the curve of your neck. you felt his breath against your skin, and despite the heat he radiated, you shivered – your words caught in your throat.
you could have pushed him away – should have pushed him away, really – but instead, you stood there, too stunned to move, with your heart violently pounding in your chest.
his hands found their way from the kitchen counter to your hips, fingertips pressing into your clothed skin in a way that made you almost feel his frustration.
the warmth of his breath brushed against your neck, and you couldn’t help but close your eyes. you could feel your breath coming faster and your mind growing foggy as his lips traced a line to your collarbone, leaving a heat that shot right down to your core.
“w-what are you doing?” your voice was barely louder than a whisper, but it was enough to make him pause.
"pretending that we get along," his lips brushed against your neck as he replied.
your breath hitched as he slid one of his hands under the thin fabric of your silk top, his fingers digging into the skin on your waist as he held you.
you wanted to push him away, really. everything told you to do so. but instead your hand found its way to the back of his head, pushing him towards your neck again. you couldn't make sense of it, but the way his lips brushed harshly against your skin, and the way you fisted his hair slightly whenever his teeth grazed against your skin, felt like you could finally let out the frustration that had been building up over the past two weeks of living with him.
"you're so goddamn annoying," he mumbled, pulling away from your neck only to push your top up your torso, over your head, and mindlessly discarded it on the floor.
just as you were about to cover your bare skin, he attached his lips to it again, moving from your neck to your collarbones and down to your chest. his hands found their way to your shoulders, holding you in place as he sucked one of your nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it and causing you to shiver, despite the hot summer air. you bit your lip to hold back a moan, yet you leaned into his touch, your eyes fluttering shut at the sensation of his tongue against you.
"speechless suddenly?" he asked as he pulled off and brought his lips to the other side of your chest.
"fuck you," you mumbled back before quickly pressing your lips together. your fingers were still tangled in his hair, keeping him close to you, but you would not give him the satisfaction of a moan.
"a little more patience," he grinned, before swirling his tongue around your sensitive skin another time.
his words suddenly made you hyperaware of the situation. you shouldn't have let him kiss you in the first place, much less help him to take off your top by voluntarily lifting up your arms. as the realization hit, you quickly pulled him off of you.
"you're disgusting," you said, trying your best to not sound as breathless as you felt.
"oh please," he grabbed your wrist to hold you in place as you attempted to pick up your shirt, "the way you're acting, you're practically asking for it."
"asking?" you echoed in disbelief. he was insufferable. "you have too much of an ego, don't you think?"
jay narrowed his eyes. "no, i think it's the truth," he said, letting go of your wrist and leaning down to your neck another time.
you swallowed hard. "stop playing games, jay," you said in a warning tone, yet you didn't push him away as his teeth grazed your skin again.
"you started the 'game', and you're losing it, darling," he replied, the nickname dripping with sarcasm.
you hated to admit he was right. maybe it was just your sleep-deprived mind, or maybe it was cause the air was so unnervingly thin, but his touch sent shiver after shiver down your spine, covering you in goosebumps and sending waves of heat through your body all at once. even his annoying words started settling between your legs and no matter how much you pressed your things together, it just wouldn't stop.
"look at you," jay said in an amused tone as his eyes flicked down to your legs, your thighs subconsciously rubbing against each other, "bet you soaked your pretty panties for me and i didn't even touch you."
a wave of heat shot up to your face. you didn't know if it was from embarassment or anger, but you didn't bother trying to hide it. "oh please, jay, you couldn't even make me cum if your life depended on it," you said, the words slipping past your lips before you could stop them.
he looked up, his eyes flashing with something you didn't understand as they met yours. "bet," was all he said before sliding your flimsy shorts down your legs, making sure to cup and squeeze your ass just once after he'd taken them off.
before you could react, he knelt down in front of you, harshly grabbed your thighs to spread your legs, and pressed his tongue flat against your clothed core.
your knees buckled slightly at the sudden contact, and you swore you could feel jay's stupid grin. "like i said. soaked." he murmured as he pulled the wet piece of fabric to the side.
"shut up," you whispered, not quite trusting your voice when the way you felt his breath against your wet core already caused you to clench around nothing.
"someone's sensitive," he whispered back, the airflow hitting your skin yet again.
"i said shut up," you repeated, and without wasting another thought, you grabbed his hair and harshly pulled him to where you needed him the most.
jay immediately licked a stripe along your folds, humming in satisfaction. "mouth so dirty but your pussy's so sweet," he mumbled against your skin before focusing his tongue on your clit.
your eyes fluttered shut, only to open again shortly after, as you failed to suppress a quiet moan. the sound went straight to jay's cock, causing him to hum against you another time as he sped up his movements, eager to pull another moan out of you.
he succeeded when he pushed his tongue into your leaking hole and his nose brushed against your clit. you sounded so sweet, he could cum only listening to you – but he'd never admit that.
you pulled on his hair harsher, subconsciously bucking your hips forward for him to reach deeper, as your legs started to shake more. jay grabbed one of them and rested it on his shoulder, never stopping to lap up everything your cunt gave him.
just as you felt your orgasm approaching, your legs closing around jay's head with a force that almost made him dizzy, he pulled back.
your eyes shot open and you looked down to him with an almsot bewildered expression on your face. he looked so hot with your slick covering his lips, his chin and parts of his nose, but right now you really just wanted to punch that stupid grin off his lips.
"seriously?" you asked as he stood up and wiped his chin with the back of his hand. "i was so close to–"
"so i could make you cum," he cut you off with the same annoying grin.
you didn't reply. instead, you tried to bend down to grab your clothes from the kitchen floor, but jay held your wrist again.
as he didn't let go even after you'd shot him a glare, you rolled your eyes. "congratulations, jay. do you want a trophy for your efforts? i didn't think you were so committed to win the gold medal in orgasm delivery–"
"shut up, will you?" jay interrupted, the smirk quickly replaced by his usual annoyed demeanor. "you're playing so hard to get when–"
"maybe you're just hard to want," you cut him off again, but he only raised his eyebrows.
"right," he replied, sliding one finger through your folds and collecting your wetness, the sudden contact drawing a surprised whimper from you. you quickly bit your lip, mentally cursing yourself for letting the sound slip.
"doesn't seem like 'hard to want'."
you glared at him for a moment, before averting your gaze. without another word, jay grabbed your arms and turned both of you around so he was standing with his back against the counter and you were in front of him.
before you could open your mouth to speak, jay placed his hands on your shoulders and firmly pressed down, causing you to sink to your knees in front of him.
"so much talking when you could just put that damn mouth of yours to use," he murmured.
the words made you gulp, but for some reason, they also sent a new wave of excitement through you.
one of his hands moved to cup your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. "let's see if you can only talk big or if you're actually useful for something, hm?" he asked, the tone of his voice almost soft.
the question annoyed you as much as it challenged you. eager to prove him wrong, you hooked your fingers under the waistband of his shorts, pulling them and his boxers down in one go, and only hesitating slightly when his hard cock sprang free.
"backing down?" jay cooed, his thumb gently caressing your cheek.
you didn't reply, just wrapped one hand around his length, gliding your thumb over his leaking slit to use the precum as lubricant, before slowly pumping your hand up and down.
jay hissed at the contact, his hand tightening around your chin and the other gripping the counter behind him to steady himself.
his reaction made your lips curl up in a victorious smile, but you knew you could do better. you stopped your movements, waited for him to look down at you with a puzzled face, and licked a stripe from his base up to his very top. you closed your lips around it and swirled your tongue just for a second before releasing it again while looking up at him through your lashes.
jay groaned quietly, his hand leaving your chin and finding its way to the back of your head instead, where he gathered your hair in a makeshift ponytail before pushing your head closer to him again. his other hand reached to tap on your lips, which you wordlessly parted just enough to close them around his tip again.
jay pushed your head closer, letting you take his length into your mouth – inch by inch until you gagged around him and he grinned smugly.
"can't take more?" he teased, but you were determined to wipe that damn grin off his face.
you breathed in through your nose and moved your head forward in one go until your nose hit his pelvis and you could feel his tip against the back of your throat, swallowing around it to suppress another gag.
the feeling drew a surprised moan from jay that caused you to look up at him with teary eyes. you swallowed again, humming in satisfaction as you received the same reaction.
"c-can't believe you're actually good at something," jay stammered. "do that again."
you obeyed, the feeling causing his eyes to flutter shut and his head to shoot back with another quiet moan.
he slowly pulled your head off his cock only to harshly push it back forward again after you'd swirled your tongue around his tip. he continued, his movements growing faster and rougher as his hips started to thrust forward every time he brought your head close – hitting the back of your throat each time, while you tried your best to not gag and he tried his best to not moan too loudly, not wanting jake to hear.
your hands reached to grab his thighs, attempting to somehow ground yourself when he slammed his hips forward another time. your jaw was tense, your eyes were burning from the tears that dared to roll down your cheeks, your head hurt from the force with which jay pulled your hair together, and yet all you could think about was finally making him cum and proving him wrong.
as his hips stuttered and his breaths started coming ragged, he held you in place, your nose pressed against his abdomen and the tip of his cock against the back of your throat. you eagerly hollowed your cheeks and swallowed again, pushing him over the edge.
"stay there," he ordered in between quiet moans. you felt his cock twitching as ropes of his cum ran down your throat. you quickly swallowed, yet couldn't stop a little from running down your chin as he finally pulled off.
you quickly wiped your chin with the back of your hand and stood up on shaky legs, shivering at how your arousal made your thighs stick together.
jay looked at you, his chest still rising and falling quickly. "hard to want, hm?"
"my god, fine. just fuck me already," you replied, your voice laced with frustration, which caused his lips to curl up into a little smile.
he turned you around and firmly pressed his hand on your back to guide your chest down onto the cool marble countertop.
"beg for it," he said in the most casual way possible.
you turned your head back and looked at him in disbelief. "seriously now?" you tried to stand up straight, not willing to feed his enormous ego more by begging, but his hand stayed firm on your back as his other slowly pumped his cock a few times before he guided his tip up and down your sensitive folds.
you clenched your fists, trying to move your hips back against his, but jay stepped back.
"i said beg for it," he repeated sternly.
when you hesitated, he lifted his hand from your back, attempting to step away fully. you squinted your eyes and mumbled out a quiet "please." you felt the embarrassment wash over you, but you just really wanted to finally feel him.
"what was that?" jay asked, stepping closer again.
you sighed. "please, jay," you repeated, still quiet but a little clearer than before. a hint of relief rushed through you as you felt jay's hand on your back and the tip of his cock against your needy hole again.
"please what?"
srew that. you were desperate but not desperate enough to ruin your pride entirely.
"you know what, fuck off, i–"
the words caught in your throat as jay suddenly pushed his entire length into your aching hole, knocking the air out of you. the stretch was so intense that you desperately searched for something to hold onto, but jay didn't give you any time to adjust as he pulled out almost entirely only to snap his hips forward harshly again, drawing a chocked moan from you when his tip hit your cervix.
"gonna finally put you in your fucking place," he said, hissing at the way your walls sucked him in so perfectly with each thrust.
"j-jay..." you whimpered once the pain gave way to pleasure, hating yourself for giving in to him, but also not caring enough to make him stop.
he groaned lowly at the way his name rolled off your tongue, mixing perfectly with the sounds of your wetness and his skin slapping against yours.
"takin' me so well," he mumbled in between his thrusts. you felt so warm and tight around him, the moans you tried to muffle clouding his mind until there was nothing left but you and the way you felt.
the sudden praise caused you to clench around him involuntarily. his hands moved to grab your hips, holding you in place as he continued to pound into you. he looked down to where your bodies connected, watching as his cock disappeared in your pretty cunt with each thrust.
"you're so stupid," he muttered, slipping back into the way he alway spoke to you, "for ever letting other idiots have their way with you when i was right there all the time," he blabbered out, slamming his hips into yours even harder.
you wanted to speak back, but each thrust knocked the air out of your lungs all over again as you placed your hands on top of his to somehow ground yourself.
"so tight for me," he mumbled at the way your walls clenched around him the closer you came to your high. "mhh, so wet"
"o-only for you," you managed to slur, way too far gone to realize what you'd just said, only focusing on the tight knot in your stomach that was dangerously close to snapping.
"jay, i-", you cut off as your orgasm washed over you in waves, each feeling heavier than the one before. jay brought one of his hands to your mouth to cover it, muffling your moans as his own high hit him at how strongly you clenched down on him.
you felt his cock twitching inside you before the warm ropes of his cum painted your walls white. he thrusted into you a few more times, sloppy and less energetic, riding out his high, before coming to a halt.
he took a few seconds to catch his breath. then, he quickly pulled out of you, the sudden feeling making you hiss. as you slowly lifted your chest from the counter, turning around on wobbly knees, jay had already pulled up his shorts again.
he bent down, picked up your pajamas and threw them in your direction. you caught them, wordlessly putting them back on as the reality of what had just happened started to crash down on you.
jay walked past you, opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water, before giving you one last glance and heading toward the door.
"wait," you held him back. he turned around to look at you, raising his eyebrow in question.
"what," you hesitated, "what... are we doing now?" you asked, averting your eyes and looking at the floor in front of you instead.
jay shrugged. "pretending that it never happened," he said casually before walking out the door.
© dazzlingjaeyun, 2024. please do not copy.
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Back From Hell
Pairing: Dean Winchester x witch!reader
Warnings: Details of hell, the silver knife test, shower together but nothing NSFW, angst, fluff with hint of angst at the end
Summary: After you sacrafice yourself to save humanity from demons trying to harness your powers, you die and go to hell, only to be ressurected. In the aftermath, the first thing you do is find Dean.
Word Count: 3156
Heat, blistering heat hit your face and suffocated your lungs. The hair on your face singed off and you felt your skin peel in flakes off your body and the sounds of screams deafen your ears. Something pierced your body, feeling like thousands of needles scratching blood from your flesh the moment it returned, and the singeing of your body started over once more. The squeal of a heavy iron door shrieked through wherever you were, and a tall, dark figure entered.
In a low guttural tone it spoke, “Had enough yet, witch?”
You didn’t answer, closing your eyes and ignoring the figure.
“Speak!” He raised his hand and a large blade thrust through your stomach and back out again.
You screamed in agony, spitting blood onto what seemed to be the floor, “I thought” you gasped for air, “I thought you hadn’t even started with me yet.”
The creature smiled and pulled out a large iron, lit flaming orange from heat. With slow, long strides, it approached you, running a long-clawed finger over the heated metal.
�� “Well, in that case, I’d like to see how you feel about your spells now, witch.”
In a swift movement, he pressed the burning iron into your skin and began writing in ancient script. You wailed curses in pain as the scorching end of the metal carved into you.
In a matter-of-fact tone, you heard his voice start again and the singe of the metal into your skin pause, “You could join us and make all this stop. Indeed, your magic would be of great value to us.” “Think about it, witch. You’d never endure this again. All for a simple commitment.”
“Fuck you.” You spat blood at the form.
A low chuckle emitted from the being, “It’s a shame really.”
He pierced your side again, “You’d do so well.”
The torture continued for what could have been hours, days, or weeks longer before you were left alone once again to suffer the same eternal cycle of struggle. You knew time was passing because the routine would stop and start over. It played on and on in the same loop as a broken record, bound to never be shut off. After every 1000 cycles of time, the figure would come in again, usually with a different introduction, but always with the same request. You had died sacrificing yourself to kill a line of demons rampaging through the human world. Using the last of your strength and the legendary magic you possessed, you died after destroying them. Now you were stuck here, in an endless loop of dread.
The day you got out was no different. You awoke with the same terror drowning your senses and making breathing almost impossible. Volcanic heat violently erupted against your skin and began to suffocate you again. The heat was unbearable and boiling tears swept down your face and into your ears. You cried and screamed against the pain and began counting down the cycle repeats until you endured whatever form of torture hell created today. Around the 200th sequence you started hearing unfamiliar noises in the distance. Your stomach churned thinking it was some new creative device to instill pain on a new level. The shrill scream of the metal chamber door opening came early this time and you looked up to see what it was. A tall bright figure stood at the doorway and confidently walked towards you. In the flash of an eye, you felt yourself being picked up and carried away.
“Whatever this is,” you mumbled, “I won’t join you.”
A strong, calm voice answered you, “Be calm, this is your deliverance.”
“What are you on about?” You looked towards what you thought would be the face, dazed and confused. The landscape around you seemed hazy and you didn’t understand what was going on.
“You maintained proper loyalties. This is your reward.” The voice came again, “Now sleep.”
When you awoke again, you awoke in a dark airtight room. You gasped for air but found little. Feeling around, your finger was pricked by the splinter of wood, and you began to understand where you were.
“That’s right.” You thought, “I died. Am I alive? How do I get out?”
With little air left to breathe, you muttered your spell in Latin, “let me out”
Violently, with sudden force, the ground around you began to shake and become disrupted. All around you, the wood disintegrated into ash and the ground piled into heaps around the grave. A gust of spinning wind lifted you and released you with a thud onto the grass next to your burial site. You gasped for air, clawing at the ground and squinting to see from the sudden change in light. Your head pounded as you laid there reeling from what had just occurred.
When some of your strength had returned, you sat up and looked around. There was a headstone with your name carved roughly into the stone and the remains of old flower stems strewn about. You wanted to scream for someone, but you knew no one would answer. You wanted Dean, but you knew he wasn’t here. There was no telling how much time had passed since you died and now, but you knew you had to get to civilization. Out in the distance, you heard cattle and followed the sound. Your legs were shaky and uneasy on the ground for the first time since who knows when. Feeling came back to your feet, and you started towards what you thought was life.
After some time, walking through thick woods, you came out into a clearing with a gravel road running around the edge of the tree line. You walked down the road and past the cattle, listening for any sort of engine or signs of humanity. Once you had walked about twenty minutes or so, you came upon a small gas station on the outskirts of a little town, complete with a few run-down cars in the front lawn piled together as some sort of decoration.
A bell dinged when you opened the door and a kind looking man looked up from his newspaper at the counter. You looked at the date and nearly doubled over. It had been exactly a year since you died. For a year, you had been enduring the torture of hell. There was no telling where Sam and Dean were at this point.
“Everything alright dear?” He asked, a concerned look glazing over his face.
“Oh, I’m alright.” You answered with a small smile, “Where are we? My car was stolen from me while I was camping.”
The man gave you your location as some small town in South Dakota that you didn’t really catch and then started asking questions about the assailment and if you needed medical attention or the police.
“I’m fine, thank you. It was a beat-up thing, nothing special. How far are we from Sioux Falls?”
“I’d say we’re about an hour’s drive. A bus comes through here heading towards there in about fifteen minutes if you want to catch it. The next one comes in the morning.”
“That’s great. Thank you.” “Do you have a bathroom?”
The man happily pointed towards it, “Of course. Down that little hall and to the left.”
Once you were in the bathroom you locked the door and threw up. There was nothing being spit out but for the feeling of adrenaline you had knowing how long it’s been and not knowing where anyone was. A few moments passed and you pulled yourself together and collected your thoughts.
You scoffed at yourself silently, “I don’t need a bus to take me to Dean. I just need a simple spell.”
With the same confidence you held so many times before, you recited your incantation and watched on as you were pinpointed to his direct location. The small bathroom you were in became Bobby’s study room. Sitting at the wooden table, you saw Dean hunched over an old leather-bound book with stacks of others piled high around him. Heavy purple bags hung under his eyes as he read. You couldn’t tell what he was reading about, but you had your guesses. Suddenly, Dean looked up, and turned to face your general direction. He huffed and returned to his book. This hadn’t happened before.
You heard him mumble, “Nothing’s watching you stupid, you’re just tired.”
Silently, you headed outside of the bathroom and began for the door.
“I’ll just wait outside for the bus, thank you!” You waved.
“That’s alright. Have a good one.”
Bus or no bus, you weren’t waiting. You ran behind the building where you were sure no one could see you and began another spell, this one to take you to Bobby’s house. A strong gust of wind blew around you and dust kicked up causing you to close your eyes. Your feet lifted off the ground and the next thing you knew, you were being knocked back onto the ground with force. You groaned, rolling over on the ground and slowly picked yourself back up. You hadn’t been this tired in a long time and you didn’t think the sudden use of so much magic was helping either.
Wordlessly, you walked towards the front door. No one would believe that it was you, especially not Bobby. On the porch you questioned how you’d enter. “Surprise, I’m alive” didn’t seem like the best option, but there didn’t seem to be a better route. You put your hand on the knob of the door and beckoned it to unlock. The click under your fingers signified the effectiveness of your deed and you silently walked inside. Closing the door behind you, you listened for noise. You heard the familiar creaking of the kitchen floor and silently crept through.
You peered into the room, not seeing anyone, but sensing that someone must be there.
Almost whispering, you said aloud, “Dean?” “Bobby?” “Sammy?”
The moment you stepped inside, a strong arm wrapped around your body and the cool touch of a blade’s edge rested on your neck.
Dean’s voice, laced with fury and hate filled the room, “What the fuck are you?”
“Dean it’s me. It’s me! I don’t know why, but it’s me!” Your hands clawed at his arm, trying to get him off you.
“I don’t believe you.” “It was you watching earlier, wasn’t it?”
Before you could answer, you heard running coming from some other part of the house, into the kitchen where you were, “Dean what’s wrong?”
Bobby came in wielding his gun and aimed it at you, “Who the hell are you?” He roared.
“Don’t shoot!” You yelled, “I’m Y/N, I’m telling you! Do the tests! Do it!”
Dean’s grip loosened just enough at the offer so that you could disarm and throw him over you. You knew Bobby was trained on you now and you had to be quick. From in front of you, Dean came swinging with the knife he had just picked up, making you duck and jump out of the way.
“I’m telling you the truth!” You swore loudly, “I’m not some demon, Dean.” “Bobby, put that down!”
“Like hell you are.” Bobby spat at you.
From where he was, Bobby threw a pitcher of holy water at you, waiting for you to ignite somehow.
You spat the water out of your mouth and blinked hard, moving from Dean’s aim as you did. With a shriek, you slipped across the wet floor and into the counter with a thud. Your hip would be bruised after that.
“Dean, hold the fort, I’m getting the flames!” Bobby ran out of the room and left you and Dean alone.
Seeing you vulnerable, Dean jumped onto you, trying to slash at whatever he could before you threw him off you again, cringing a bit when he hit the ground and got right back up to swing once more.
“Dean-” You were exasperated, “That’s enough!”
You threw your arms out and light pulsated from your fingertips. Everything froze in the room where it was, unable to move. Bobby came running back in and before he could make it inside, you sealed off the entrances to the kitchen with a clear wall. His screams for Dean could be heard from the barrier you made. He could see everything happening but couldn’t do anything.
“Give me this!” You took the silver knife from Dean’s hand and stood in front of him, your eyes welling up after getting your first good look at him in months.
He looked worse in person. His eyes were red and heavy bags sagged his skin. His undereye was stained purple and a small stubble had grown out. It looked like he’d been wearing the same clothes for more than a day now, and sleep was nowhere to be seen from him.
You sighed and dragged the knife across your forearm, “If I were some monster, I couldn’t do this.”
Blood spilled from the spot you dragged the blade over and you softly gasped in pain, squeezing the area once you knew Dean had seen it.
With desperation, you looked at Dean, “Good enough?”
While he was still frozen in place, tears streamed down his cheeks and you released him from the hold, still maintaining the walls to keep Bobby out. You wanted to see him, but you needed Dean first.
Dean released from his frozen state, throwing himself forward at you and pulling you to your knees. He wept as his body shook, arms wrapping in a death grip around you. You cried too, not minding the blood that was now dripping onto the floor. Dean pulled back after a few moments and looked you over. His hands went from being tangled in your hair to wiping the tears off your face and dragging his fingers along your jawline.
“It’s really me Dean.” You cried, “I told you I’d always come back to you.”
“I tried to find you.” He sobbed, “I promise, I tried to find you.”
You raked your fingers through his hair, “You’re okay Dean. You did a good job.”
“Sammy. He left a little while ago to get food.” Dean started rattling things off out of pure shock, telling you about things you hadn’t asked him for, gauging your every reaction to see if you were real.
“Y/N!” You heard Bobby call from the other room, “Let me in damn it!”
The boarder dropped between the kitchen and hall, and he came barreling in, scooping you up into a bear hug and wiping away his tears.
“We haven’t stopped looking for a way to get you back since you died.” He said, “It’s not been the same.”
You talked for a second before turning back to Dean who grabbed you once again, not letting you go this time. The two of you stood there forever, basking in each other’s presence. There was little to say but for the occasional “I love you” and “I missed you”. Sam had come back and fondly dropped all the dinner he had just picked up in shock.
Hours came and passed, and the day turned into night. You were disgusting from being in a casket from a year and smelled like dirt and grime. Dean hadn’t left your side all day and wasn’t planning on it anytime soon.
You mumbled against his chest “I need a shower.” The two of you were laying on the sofa in silence.
Dean sighed and pulled the two of you off the couch, wordlessly walking you upstairs into the room he was staying in and shutting the door behind him. He kept constant watch over you to make sure you were still there. No matter what you were doing, he was there. It was impossible to do anything alone, even use the bathroom. Dean was convinced you’d slip away, and he’d never see you again. The sound of the shower’s running water pulled you out of your thoughts. Sincere green eyes looked in yours as he hooked his fingers around the hem of your shirt.
“You’re fine.” You said softly.
With permission to proceed, Dean pulled your remaining clothes off and did the same for himself, guiding the two of you under the hot stream of water. You flinched feeling the water for the first time in what felt like 100 years, startling Dean.
He searched for an obvious indicator of what was wrong, “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” You answered, “Just not used to this.”
Dean nodded, “tell me if you get uncomfortable.”
From the corner of the shower, Dean grabbed a bottle of your shampoo and lathered it in his hands after you had washed the dirt off your body.
“You kept that?” You asked astonished, tears welling up again.
“Smells like you. I couldn’t get rid of it.” “The day I got rid of it was the day I accepted that you were gone.”
Dean held you close to him and washed your hair as warm tears streamed down your face. You sniffled and Dean looked at you again, wrapping you in a warm embrace and letting his own tears flow.
“I didn’t know what to do without you.” He said honestly, “I can’t function without you.”
“I’m sorry Dean.” You said into his shoulder, “I never wanted to leave you.” “I had to.”
“I know. It’s our job.” He sniffled, “You did a good thing.” “Let’s just not do it again.”
“Agreed.” You chuckled, feeling the last of the conditioner he had run through your hair rinse out.
The two of you dried off and changed. He gave you a set of sweatpants and one of his t shirts you always liked to wear. Wordlessly, the two of you fell onto the bed and held each other closely. His breath fanned against your skin in a warm sweep.
“Hey. Look at me.” He said, his fingers resting under your chin and pulling you to look at him, “Are you okay?”
You hadn’t thought about this yet, only being concerned that you were breathing and with Dean. The flashes of what you currently remembered from hell blipped against your memory and the spaced look you gave Dean told him what he needed to know before you said it.
“No.” you answered calmly, “But I know I will be.”
Dean looked at you and spoke sternly but softly, “Don’t hide anything from me. If you have a nightmare, wake me up. If you start feeling all weird about it tell me. I love you Y/N. I don’t want you to hurt.”
“I promise.” You answered, “I love you two.” It was a little while before you felt yourself drifting to sleep, but after a while you managed to. You’d deal with the nightmares and daydreams about hell later. For now, all that mattered was that you were back where you belonged. You were back with Dean.
#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester imagine#dean winchester one shot#dean winchester fanfiction#dean winchester fic#supernatural fanfiction#supernatural x y/n#supernatural x you#supernatural x reader#supernatural imagine
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i love your writing so much !!!! it’s kinda similar to another story you have but i was wondering if i could request your take on the twisters scene towards the end when tyler’s leg gets stuck under the debris in the town square ?? like reader is the one running over to him completely worried & stressed because her man is hurt 🥺
Not leaving
Pairing: Tyler Owens x Reader
Summary: Y/N races to save Tyler, trapped under debris after a tornado, refusing to leave his side until he's safely rescued.
Chapter Warnings: Intense storm danger, injury, descriptions of pain, and emotional distress.
The town square was a scene of devastation, the aftermath of the tornado leaving a trail of destruction in its wake. Buildings were reduced to rubble, cars overturned, and debris scattered everywhere. The air was thick with dust, the scent of rain and earth mingling with the acrid smell of smoke from a nearby fire.
Y/N’s heart pounded as she navigated through the wreckage, her eyes scanning the chaotic scene for any sign of Tyler. The last time she’d seen him, he had been trying to help a group of people take cover in a nearby building. But when the tornado hit, everything turned to chaos, and she’d lost sight of him.
“Tyler!” Y/N’s voice cracked as she called out, desperation lacing her tone. She clambered over a fallen tree, ignoring the sting of a cut on her leg, her only thought to find him, to make sure he was okay.
Suddenly, she spotted him—pinned under a massive piece of debris in the middle of the square. His face was pale, and he was struggling to move, pain etched across his features.
“Tyler!” Y/N screamed, rushing to his side. She dropped to her knees next to him, her hands shaking as she reached out to touch his face, to reassure herself that he was still there.
“Y/N…” Tyler’s voice was strained, his breath coming in short gasps. “I’m… I’m stuck.”
Y/N’s eyes filled with tears as she took in the sight of his leg trapped under the heavy debris. She could see the pain he was in, the way his hands clenched into fists as he tried to fight it.
“I’m going to get you out of here,” she promised, her voice trembling but determined. “Just hold on, okay? I’ll get help.”
She looked around frantically, but everyone else was either injured or already helping others. There was no time to wait for someone else. She had to do this herself.
“Stay with me, Tyler,” Y/N said, her voice tight with emotion as she crouched down and tried to lift the debris off his leg. It was heavy, far too heavy for her to move on her own, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t going to let him suffer, not for one more second.
Tyler groaned in pain as she strained against the weight, tears slipping down her cheeks as she gave it everything she had. But the debris barely budged, and she could see the anguish in his eyes.
“Y/N, stop…” Tyler managed to say, his voice hoarse. “You’ll hurt yourself. I… I’ll be okay. Just go get help.”
“I’m not leaving you,” Y/N choked out, shaking her head. “I’m not leaving you here, Tyler. I can’t.”
She tried again, her muscles burning with the effort, but the debris still wouldn’t move. Frustration and fear clawed at her, and she let out a sob, her hands trembling as she gripped his.
“Please, Tyler… just hold on a little longer,” she whispered, her tears falling onto his skin. “Help is coming, I promise.”
Tyler’s hand squeezed hers weakly, his eyes softening despite the pain. “I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. I promise.”
Finally, she heard the shouts of other rescuers approaching. Y/N turned to see a group of first responders rushing toward them, their faces grim as they took in the scene.
“Please, help him!” Y/N cried out, stepping back to let them work.
The rescuers quickly assessed the situation, then moved in with tools to lift the debris. It felt like an eternity as they carefully freed Tyler’s leg, Y/N watching with bated breath, her hands clenched tightly together.
When they finally managed to lift the debris, Tyler let out a pained groan, but Y/N was there in an instant, holding his hand and whispering reassurances. They quickly stabilized his leg and prepared to move him to safety.
“You did it, Y/N,” Tyler murmured as they lifted him onto a stretcher. His voice was weak, but there was a faint smile on his lips. “You saved me.”
Y/N leaned down, pressing a kiss to his forehead, her tears of relief mingling with the dirt and sweat on his skin. “I’m just glad you’re okay,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I couldn’t lose you, Tyler. Not now, not ever.”
As they loaded him into the ambulance, Y/N climbed in beside him, never letting go of his hand. The storm had passed, but the fear of losing him still lingered, a shadow over the relief she felt at having him alive and safe.
“Just rest now,” she whispered, her thumb brushing over his knuckles gently. “I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere.”
Tyler’s eyes fluttered closed, exhaustion overtaking him, but his grip on her hand remained firm. And as they sped away from the wreckage of the town square, Y/N knew that no matter what storms they faced, they would face them together.
Requests for Tyler are open be free to send in as much as you wish!
tagging some:
@senawashere
@saviorcomplexrry
@cevansbaby-dove
@saynotononsense
@missdottie
@willowisp7
@taorislover94
@eloquenceinpurple
@86laura11
@rosiahills22
@jessicab1991
@kmc1989
@shanimallina87
@eternalsams
@teen-antisocial
@katiemcrae
#tyler owens x reader#tyler owens x you#tyler owens fanfic#tyler owens#twisters fanfiction#tyler owens imagine#tyler owens x y/n#tyler owens smut#dad!tyler owens
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Some facts about Harding gathered from the banters
I went through all companion banters on DanaDuchy's channel after playing the game to write down all facts about companions/the world that I haven't seen brought up anywhere in the game as a writing reference (and for funsies).
Note: This list may not be exhaustive. I might have missed some something or didn't write it down because I considered it common knowledge. If you have anything to add, please DM me or send an ask! (do specify what banter the information is coming from, though)
Note 2: Posts from this series (mostly) don't include information from banters specific to quests or between companions and faction members. I plan to do another playthrough to capture more of those and will add any relevant info to the character posts.
Other characters' posts: Bellara, Davrin, Lucanis, Emmrich, Neve, Taash. I'm also planning a post about just the Lighthouse some time later
Family and past:
Harding's parents split up a few years ago. Her father lives in Amaranthine. She's okay with that and thinks her parents are happier apart
Harding’s mother never taught her how to cook, she's entirely self-taught
Harding carries around the first letter her Mother sent her after joining the Inquisition
Harding doesn't have siblings
Harding had a mabari named Contessa who passed away from old age
(If in romance) Taash offers Harding to get a mabari together
Time with the Inquisition:
Back in Skyhold, Solas once told Harding he was sorry dwarves couldn’t dream
Harding thinks that if she had never joined the Inquisition, she probably would’ve got married and tended to goats
Harding volunteered for the Inquisition because their soldiers kept scaring the sheep because they all had super old maps. And because she didn't want to spend the rest of her life watching sheep
General:
Harding likes sandwiches, they are one of her favourite foods
Harding finds Treviso very beautiful (who doesn’t)
Harding would bring a bow, clean socks and a spoon to a deserted island
Harding likes books about blood and gore
Harding doesn't like killing, but she doesn't feel bad about it. She compares it to farmers having to kill wild animals that get too close to their land, as sometimes a quick kill can prevent more suffering (i.e. if a wolf gets inside your sheepfold, your own animals will die in pain)
She says that this kind of mindset is the reason why a lot of Inquisition scouts came from farmers, as they need to kill people when necessary (even if those people aren’t their enemies personally), but don’t go out looking for it
Harding likes almonds. They are crunchy :)
Harding is fascinated by Minrathous’s nightlife
Harding doesn't drink alcohol
Harding really likes puns
Harding has fought a Stormrider dragon before
Harding has a detailed and decorated scrapbook with her kills (with doodles. Including a cute giant spider)
Harding never visited Nevarra before the Veilguard, though she had heard of Cumberland’s Summer Exhibition. Emmrich disregards it as just a market with a horse show
Dwarves and magic:
Harding finds herself more hungry than usual since getting hew new powers
Neve and Emmrich hypothesise that Harding developing Titan powers may have increased her lifespan (or even granted her eternal life)
Harding describes using her magic as “touching something vast and eternal, a well, deep inside”. Lucanis says that it sounds similar to him using his demon powers
Relationships with companions:
Bellara, Neve and Taash call her “Lace”. Davrin and Lucanis call her “Harding”
Emmrich calls her "Harding" most of the time, though he calls her "Lace" on two occasions (in a banter about Emmrook, and the one where he talks about seeing her aura differently after he becomes a Lich)
Harding grows special plants for Davrin to help him mask the griffon smell in his room
Harding grows truffles for Assan
Harding lets Assan sleep on her
To Lich!Emmrich, Harding appears different from other dwarves. She has a special aura (but it comes and goes)
Harding buys an enchanted barbed arrow to take out Lucanis/Spite if push comes to shove. She later tries to give it to Lucanis and apologises, but he insists she keeps it as a sign of his trust
Harding finds Teia intimidating because she is “polished” (Lucanis disagrees but notes she keeps good track of all utensils Viago poisoned at the table)
Teia called Harding fearless in a conversation with Lucanis
Harding invites Neve to her house in Ferelden after Neve's apartment in Minrathous burns down, in case she wants to get away from the Lighthouse
Harding is very excited about Neve taking over the Threads (“Do they have to kiss your hand?”) and wishes she were a crime boss
Harding once dreamt of Neve stealing her strawberry tarts
Harding starts humming Taash’s name to herself after they get together
About gifts from Taash:
Harding doesn’t use the archery bracer because it feels so special she’s afraid it could get lost or get dirty
She also doesn’t wear the hairpin because she’s afraid to lose it
Taash got the cheese in Minrathous
Conclusion: get Harding cheese, it’s the only thing she isn’t afraid to actually use
Garden and plants:
It's enough to mention a plant for it to start growing in Harding’s garden
The Fade plants normally don’t need tending. However, they may begin to wilt if that’s what you expect them to do
Smuggler’s Rose clouds the person’s mind if you are wearing it like perfume, letting you pickpocket other people more easily
Sage bane mixed with troll moss can be used to treat toenail fungus
#dragon age the veilguard#dragon age#lace harding#davrin#neve gallus#taash#veilguard spoilers#lucanis dellamorte#datv banters#meta#references#flowers.txt
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“Five years?” Shen Qingqiu gasped. “I can’t see my husband for five years, because you can’t write a single fucking page of an adequate plot?”
Shang Qinghua took another step back. He’s been doing it every couple of minutes since he’s burst into Shen Qingqiu’s house, carrying the worst news ever.
“Well, to be completely fair, this particular plot line didn’t make it to the novel!” The hamster of a man squeaked. Shen Qingqiu knew he was making himself look pathetic on purpose. He took great satisfaction in knowing that it wouldn’t help him in the slightest.
“Oh! In such case it’s fine I guess! Your shitty novel didn’t suffer.” Shen Qingqiu snapped his fan open and took a step towards Shang Qinghua. “It’s only a small matter of my marriage, then.”
“Cucumber-bro,” Shang Qinghua pleaded. “I’m so, so sorry, but at least I got here in time, right? What’s five years for immortal cultivators? Painful death would be much worse.”
He was right about that, at least. Painful death that Shen Qingqiu was about to inflict on his ex-best-friend would be horrific.
“I will kill you now.” He said. “Don’t forget to tell me how painful it is.”
Shang Qinghua scrammed. Shen Qingqiu let him, but only because his knees were a little weak and he wasn’t about to embarrass himself by collapsing in the middle of murder attempt.
He took a careful breath and lowered himself on the nearest surface, which turned out to be the floor, but he was at his house and there was no one to witness that. He could sit on the floor all he wanted. Because his husband got himself cursed and wouldn’t be coming back home anytime soon — if at all.
Five years.
Shen Qingqiu sat on the floor of Bamboo House for what must’ve been a long time, because when Liu Qingge barged in it was already dark.
“Shixiong.”
“Liu-shidi.” Shen Qingqiu blinked up at him. “Why are you here?”
“Your disciples worried.”
Ah, Ming Fan and his snitching habits.
“This master is fine.” Shen Qingqiu said. He didn’t try to stand up — his legs have long since gone numb.
“You don’t look fine, do you?”
Liu-shidi, since when are you so talkative?!
Shen Qingqiu frowned and decided not to deign his martial brother with an answer.
“Binghe got cursed.” His mouth said without his consent. “Eternal Heart-Penury Winds. In Lichen Caves. He forgot me and everything connected to me. It’s not for actual eternity, though, if I stay away from him for five years. If I fail, and he sees my face for even a second, then it’s for eternity. How’s that?”
Liu Qingge didn’t say anything. Which, of course he didn’t. What was Shen Qingqiu even thinking, talking to him about it? He knew his Shidi was allergic to feelings of any kind.
It’s just that he wouldn’t see Luo Binghe for five whole years. They’ve been married for four and a half. How was one supposed to react to such a thing?
“I’ll make you some tea.” Liu Qingge muttered and left the room. Shen Qingqiu stayed on the floor, mind just as numb as his body.
#okay besties is this anything?#do we take it to ao3?#is it too gloomy?#what if binghe took a wife while under curse#what then?#would it be entertaining to watch sqq suffer?#svsss#svsss fic rec#svsss fic#svsss fanfiction#luo binghe#shen qingqiu#bingqiu
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HEYYYY! So like every other mf on the planet right now I am in my hunger games era!!
Please could you write a Finnick x Reader where she is selected for the quarter quell (Maybe in her games she was lethal and killed like 10+ people?)
And when Katniss shoots the arena in catching fire she gets taken by the capitol (Like Peeta) and they torture her and shit? Then Finnick and her get there reunion she’s all like battered and bruided and it’s dead sad? Not sure if this made sense because i’m half asleep and dyselxic but let me know😭🤣
Maybe he says “It’s okay baby i got you” ??? x
hey of course i can! i hope u enjoy it babe <3 its a tiny bit long! my apologizes
cw's: angst, mentions of killing/dying, typical thg stuff, torture, ptsd, lmk if i missed anything
You were one of the youngest victors alongside Finnick, being only 15 and having won your games. You were also from District 4. You won the 68th Hunger Games, a few years after Finnick.
When you were reaped, Finnick and Mags were your mentors. Finnick came off as self absorbed and arrogant but once you started talking to him, the more you realized that was total bullshit. He wasn't how the Capitol portrayed him, he was much more caring and compassionate. He was very sympathetic to your situation, having gone through the same things.
During your time in the arena, you were one of the most ruthless tributes of all time. In the beginning, you were easily overlooked. The tributes weren't thinking that you were going to be much of a challenge because of your size and the way you carried yourself.
But that was exactly how you wanted to be portrayed. You tricked the Careers into thinking you were some naïve little girl, stabbing them in the back (literally) the first chance you got. The Capitol loved the turn of events, cheering you on.
When you had come back home, you had finally understood the intensity of what you had done. You had killed a whole group of people, ending their lives permanently. Those people had lives and family who loved them, and now they're gone because of you.
You suffered through months and months from never ending nightmares. Even getting consoled by your mother didn't help anymore; she doesn't understand. You didn't even feel worthy of food anymore.
You closed off Mags and Finnick when you had come home, driving yourself into isolation and depression. You rarely went out anymore, eating one meal a day and slept more than 80% of the day. Even sleeping couldn't mend the eternal tiredness you had, the void that filled your body.
Finnick had felt more than responsible for your pain. He gave you time before he realized he was just adding to your pain. Even when you didn't communicate back to him, Finnick visited you every day. He gave you advice and told you what he had went through after the Games as well. Eventually you opened up more to Finnick, and slowly, he had become your best friend.
He had told you that numbing it wasn't going to make it go away. He reminded you that you had him and Mags to help you with this process, and that you weren't alone despite of how you felt.
He helped you regain your sense of purpose again, your self image again. Finnick had singlehandedly helped you rebuilt your sense of self again.
He saw a part of you in him, that scared 14 year old boy who was trying to go back home to his parents. He never wanted anyone to feel that, especially you.
He promised you that he would never let anything bad ever happen to you again.
During your Victor's tour, Snow had suddenly deemed you desirable by the Capitol, wanting to sell you as he did with Finnick. Finnick couldn't risk getting involved, wanting to protect his family.
Every night in the Capitol, you were always consoled by Finnick. Every time you had to do a favor, you remember walking to Finnick's room to sleep, not baring the thought of having to sleep alone in the cold bed. He was always there, holding your hand comfortingly as you both slept.
The Capitol adored you both, nicknaming you the princess and prince of Panem. The more time you spent with Finnick, the more the media had speculated a relationship between the young victors.
You and Finnick had connected in many ways. Both having the same trauma, it was easy to talk to him and for him to understand how hard it was.
You and Finnick eventually got together a few years later, then getting married (in secret, of course) almost right after. You were both deeply in love.
Finnick found solace in the thought of always having you by his side, remembering that no one could tear you apart. That was until the Quarter Quell was announced.
You and Finnick were sitting at the edge of the couch, listening to Caesar's words carefully as he explained that this year's Hunger Games was going to be very different.
When it was announced that there will be only be Victors in this year's games, you heard dropped. You looked over at Finnick and he shared the same terrified look on his face.
--
When Annie's name had been called, you without any second thought, put up your hand. "I volunteer as tribute."
The crowd gasped and you looked over at Annie and you could tell she was a bit relived but still scared nonetheless. You immediately embraced her tightly, letting her let out a small sob. "It's okay, you're okay."
Mags looked just as terrified and you took her hand. When Finnick's name was called, you felt your stomach drop. Not only were you back in the arena, but you were with Finnick.
You looked over at Finnick and he looked prepared to fight. You both stood up and he grabbed your hand, raising it up in union.
The trainride to the Capitol was pretty uneventful. Finnick had wanted some time to think about the plan and so did you. A part of you knew what he was planning; he kill everyone else in the arena and then eventually himself, all for you.
As you sat on the bed, you felt the sadness and anger turn into numbness. No amount of crying was going to stop the Quater Quell and you had to be smart.
You didn't want to survive without Finnick. You were either winning with him or dying with him. Life would be meaningless without him.
Finnick knocked on your door slightly, before walking in. You looked up at him and he gave you a small smile. He took a seat next to and took your hand.
"I have a plan."
"Finnick, I know what you're thinking, and no. You're not killing yourself for me."
Finnick looked defeated. "One of us has to survive, Y/N. For Annie. For Mags."
You look a deep inhale, looking away from Finnick. "I don't want to life without you, everything would lose all it's meaning without you."
Finnick felt his heart burst into two pieces as he squeezed your hand. You felt your eyes watering again and you couldn't help but let out another quiet cry as Finnick pulled your head in, as he embraced you tightly.
"Shh, it's okay. I promise, I won't... I won't leave you."
--
It had all happened so fast, you couldn't even comprehend what had just happened. One moment, you were with Finnick trying to find Johanna and Katniss and suddenly there was big loud boom. You were relieved for a moment; Plutarch's plan had worked. Until you realized how far away you were from the others.
You were wandering, trying to find anyone until you heard people behind you. You turned and then you saw some unfamiliar faces; suddenly, your vision went black.
Then, you woke up in a white room. You felt like your stomach had dropped out of your body once the realization hit you; the Capitol captured you.
You were strapped down to a bed and you couldn't move or shake it off. The severity of the situation had hit you; even if by some miracle you did escape, where would you go? How would you find your way to 13 and back to Finnick?
You knew how ruthless the Capitol was to everyone who disobeyed them. Your worst fears had come true and there was no getting out of here.
You heard the door open and you saw some Peacekeepers come in and then you saw the person you dreaded to see most; Snow. You felt like your whole had come crashing down, how could this nightmare become any worse?
"Hello, Y/N."
You didn't respond, resorting to stare at the wall in front of you instead.
He tutted disappointedly. "Out of all the tributes, you were the one I expected least to be involved in this mess. You are the Princess of Panem... What a shame."
You still hadn't replied and you hadn't dared to look at Snow. Months and months you spent trying to heal the trauma he had caused you, you were sure if you had to look at him now, you would break.
"I want to take mercy on you, dear Y/N. If you tell me everything you know about the rebellion, I will make sure the Peacekeepers are gentle with you."
You shook your head. "No."
He let out a small chuckle. "Sorry, I couldn't hear you. What?"
"No." You said again, louder.
He hummed in disapproval. "Okay then, you leave me no choice. You are going to regret this."
He nodded to the Peacekeepers and walked out of the room. You were then met with Peacekeepers, loosening the straps then taking you to another room.
If Snow knew one thing about you, it was that being only physical with you wouldn't hurt you enough. He had to hit you were it hurt most.
They threw you in the seemingly vacant room and immediately locking it. You were confused until you heard it.
"Y/N, help me!" Finnick's voice screamed. "Please, help me! Get up and do something, they're killing me! Please."
You looked everywhere in the dark room, trying to find the source. It kept going.
"Y/N, please! Help! What the hell are you doing, just sitting there? You are such a disappointment!" The voice started shouting. "We should've just left you to died in the arena! You are useless!"
Now this was something new. Your body was filled with panic and fear and even though you knew it was fake, you felt like you were going to throw up from all the noise.
Suddenly, Annie's voice came in as well. Then Johanna's. Then your mother's. There was nonstop noise filled with screams for help, shouting with disapproving messages. Your body couldn't handle it; it was so overwhelmed with fear that you started shaking on the ground, putting your hands on your ears but that did little to nothing.
You wanted it to stop. It was too much, you were trembling. It felt like days, just sitting there in that room listening to all those demeaning voices of your loved ones. You couldn't even think straight anymore.
It was so bad you had started to pound your head on the ground, screaming and crying. You had have enough. And then, it all stopped. Silence was foreign for you; your ears were ringing.
You were sitting on the ground, almost lifeless as the Peacekeepers took you away. Your eyes hurt from the tears, your body sore, your ears ringing and your head was pounding.
But you knew that was just the beginning.
--
You were asleep in bed and you were awakened by the door opening, you instantly jolted up. You looked over to see a group of masked men in front of you and you had started to tremble again, silent tears rolling down your face, thinking that the Peacekeepers had come again.
"No, no, no." You started to mumble to yourself.
A man came up to your and took your bruised hand slowly, rubbing it gently in silent empathy. That was the first soft touch you'd felt in a few weeks and it almost stung.
"It's okay, you're safe now. You're going to 13 now."
You had to blink a couple times, trying to process what he said. Was this a dream? You went to pinch yourself but it was real life.
He then helped you up but you couldn't help but stumble; your legs were weak, you couldn't remember the last time the Peacekeepers let you walk for this long.
As you got into the hovercraft, you saw Annie. Your eyes widened as you both ran up to each other, embracing each other. She had started to cry a little bit and so did you.
That was when it hit you. You were going to see Finnick. You were going home. You started crying into Annie's shoulder as she held you. "We're safe now, we're safe."
You had seen Johanna as well but she didn't seem too responsive. Neither did Peeta. You fell asleep on Annie's shoulder on the ride back and for the first time, you actually felt yourself drifting off calmly.
--
There were lots of doctors and nurses looking at you and asking you all sorts of questions and you tried your best to answer them. You were still in shock; you were safe. They couldn't hurt you anymore.
"Y/N?" You turned around to see Finnick. You immediately got up from the examiner's table and ran into his arms, your eyes starting to water up again.
"Finnick," you sighed slowly. You pulled away, putting your hands on his face and touched him as if he wasn't real.
"Are you.. Are you really here?"
"Yes, I'm really here." Finnick looked at you and suddenly his voice transported you back into the dark room. You quickly twisted out of his embrace and his expression changed.
His voice was back and you heard all of the nasty things he had to you. You back away, stumbling into the examiner's table and your breathing became heavy. "No, no, no, please-please go away. No."
You slid down to the floor and you closed your eyes, putting your hands on your ears and rocking back and forth trying to get that voice to stop.
Finnick ran up to you and put his hands on your knees, trying to get you to look at him. His heart broke in half; he didn't know what the Capitol had done to you but now he knows it has something to do with him.
Of course the Capitol would try to ruin him. His eyes started to tear up at the sight of you, in so much pain and panic.
You opened your eyes, Finnick in front of you. You started to cry some more before Finnick slowly went up to you, wrapping his arms around you.
When he had started wrapping your arms around you, your instinct was to push him away but his warmth was welcoming and safe and you started to focus on his touch. The voices slowly drifted away, the sounds of your silent sobs only being heard.
You then gave into Finnick's touch, falling into him and putting your head in his chest as he caressed your back gently, shushing you.
"It's okay baby, I got you. You're safe now, they can't hurt you."
#finnick odair x you#finnick odair x reader#finnick odair#thg finnick x reader#thg finnick#finnick x reader#finnick x y/n#hunger games finnick#finnick odair angst#finnick odair smut#finnick odair fanfic#finnick odair x female reader#thg headcanons#thg johanna#thg fanfic#thg fanfiction#thg rp#thg peeta#thg: intro#thg katniss#thg x reader#katniss everdeen#peeta mellark#catching fire#mockingjay#katniss x peeta#the hunger games x reader#the hunger games fanfiction#the hunger games haymitch#the hunger games katniss
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